“Could you find my knife?” Han asked. “I think it’s down below. It was knocked loose when I fell.”

The dorm master descended the steps, returning a few minutes later with Han’s knife. Han slid it into its sheath and eased to his feet, still leaning against the railing.

“Anything broke?” Blevins asked.

“My collarbone. Maybe.” Han trailed off, mumble-minded from the pain.

Blevins grabbed Han’s left elbow as if he thought he might fall. “We got to get you to Healer’s Hall, then. Let’s hope Master Leontus isn’t out this evening.”

“Just a minute. I want to take a look. See if there’s a loose board or something.” Over Blevins’s protests, Han hauled himself back up the stairs, gritting his teeth against the pain in his shoulder and arm.

Ah. Someone had stretched a heavy cord knee-high across the stairs just below the fourth-floor landing, where a person wouldn’t see it if he was in a rush. Drawing his knife, he cut it free and stuffed it into his pocket before he went back down to Blevins.

“What I thought,” Han said. “Loose board.”

Fortunately, Master Leontus was in his office. It was very different from the matriarch’s lodge. There were none of the bundles of herbs and jars of unguents that Willo kept handy. No tools for extracting the essences of plants. No patients convalescing in back rooms. Everything was scrubbed up and orderly, plain and empty, save a shelf of books of healing charms. Peculiar.

The wizard healer diagnosed a broken collarbone, a fractured cheekbone, a split scalp, and various bumps and bruises.

Blevins left to tell Dean Abelard that Han Alister was with Leontus and so would not be able to make their appointment.

That was one bit of good out of it, anyway. Like they said about summer fever—it might kill your friends and family, but it was bound to kill off some enemies, too.

But Abelard sent back word that she wanted to see him anyway, soon as he was done.

Han laid back on a table so Leontus’s proficient could wash the blood out of his hair and clean out the wound in his forehead. It had bled like crazy, but he’d had worse. One more scar to add to the collection.

Bluebloods back in Fellsmarch hired wizard healers, but they never set foot in Ragmarket. Being healed by wizardry was a peculiar business. Leontus laid hands on Han’s collarbone, and a cool flow of magic seemed to wash the pain away. Han felt better and better while Leontus looked worse and worse. The wizard paused when Han guessed they were about evens.

“How do you feel, my boy?” Leontus asked, trying for heartiness. He’d lost color, his eyes had clouded, and his skin glistened with sweat. “Maybe not perfect, but…?”