Bad Tom bellowed in real rage and hooked Ser Gabriel’s foot, kneed him ungently in the balls and dropped him on the ground. In the process he put his knee behind the captain’s knee.

“You stupid fuck,” Bad Tom bellowed, sweat and spittle dripping off him. “I could ha’ maimed you for life. I had your fewkin’ head in a lock. I might hae snapped your fewkin’ neck. And you would na’ yield. What sport is that?”

Ser Gabriel lay on the sand, face up, his hands clasped between his legs, panting. His right leg lay at an odd angle.

“Damn me. I didna’ mean to hurt you, you loon.” Tom reached down and grabbed the captain’s hand.

Ser Gabriel allowed the Hillman to drag him to his feet, and then he screamed and fell.

He came to almost immediately.

Gabriel gave Tom a shaky smile. “Oh, yes. Let the punishment fit the crime.”

Ser Michael brought him cold water, and he drank.

He met Michael’s eyes.

“You had that coming,” Michael said.

“What’s the matter?” Bad Tom asked. “The little nun? She’s coming.”

Before he was done speaking, Sister Amicia bustled into the yard, her wimple flapping like the wings of a sea bird. She had two other sisters at her shoulders.

She glared about her with disapproval. Bad Tom shrank away. Ser Michael stood his ground.

“Ser Gabriel has re-broken his leg,” he said.

Amicia knelt by the Red Knight, who lay on his back. She ran her hands over his leg and leaned down.

“I must have your word that you will not endanger my healing or refuse God’s gift,” she said, quite clearly. “For a week.”

Gabriel’s face worked, and no sound emerged.

Ser Michael leaned in. “He agrees,” Michael said.

She joined hands with the other nuns, and the three of them sang—a polyphony. And Amicia’s voice soared over their quieter, lower voices, up and on.

When she was done, every man in the yard was on his knees. She smiled. “Don’t let him break it again,” she said.

She rose. Gabriel watched her silently.

In his memory palace, she stood by Prudentia. “I have healed you. But you can’t be so foolish.”

He nodded.

“I’m sorry, Gabriel. I—”

He raised a hand. “I’m sorry, too. But I’m not ready to talk more.”

Her head snapped back. But she continued to smile at him. And slipped away with her two serving sisters.

With Bad Tom on one side and Ser Michael on the other, Gabriel made it to his feet and hobbled to the bench.

“She’s a force,” Bad Tom said, placing his charge on the bench.

“She’s not so little,” Gabriel said. He felt better—for no reason.

Tom laughed. “Not where it matters, anyway. If you’d taken my advice during the siege—”