Orfeus slapped a small pad of gauze over the burn, just to keep anything from getting into it. She stood up, restless and pained and scared.

She couldn’t, wouldn’t go to Primrose for this. She wouldn’t mind her friends Bright and Em seeing her at less than her best, but they were a long way off, in Farflung with its golden fields. If she couldn’t go to any of her favourite people, who was left?

Orfeus pulled on a plainer cloak, warm brown wool though the night was not cold. The weight was reassuring. She wore it to one side, as though wearing a cloak over one shoulder was still in fashion and nothing at all to do with her wounds.

She stepped through her small but close-packed garden, then over the boundary line to her neighbour’s. Orfeus’s garden was mostly flowers and herbs. Nothing here needed watering like the indoor plants did, but the rosemary looked sparse. Soon she might have a pruning day. There was always so much to do, but sometimes songs came to her while her hands were busy and her mind was not.

Linden’s garden was all woody shrubs and a few small trees, the space less intensely packed but overshadowed with spreading branches. Small wonder he hadn’t moved into one of the more concentrated urban areas: hard to cram saplings into a window box or balcony. This property was a tiny patch of woods, like the wilds that once were. Immaculately tidy, though. Orfeus hated it.

There was a lamp at the studio window, though no wasteful lights shone in the rest of the small house. She knocked on the door and stood waiting, shifting her weight from foot to foot. No great loss if he was asleep at this hour.

The light vanished from the window. A moment later Linden opened the door and stood blinking at her, lantern in hand. He had an apron on over his plain clothes, and she caught the whiff of sawdust. “Orfeus?” he said uncertainly. He lifted the lantern.

“No, I’m a wight,” Orfeus said. “Yes, it’s me. Honestly, who else would visit?”

She tended to be sharp, but Linden didn’t take more of this than he felt earned. His lips pulled back from his teeth in a small grin. “At this hour, no one. It’s hardly polite.”

“You need less boring friends,” Orfeus declared. With a shake of his head he took a step back from the door and waved her in.

She followed her short neighbour through into the studio. He set the lantern down on the workbench, and felt around vaguely for another. “Date with Primrose not go well?” he said.