one

her leg and her ribs, she was not sure she was still walking wounded.
Master Visanior looked up as she came into the barracks. "You again. Though I told you to stay out of trouble." Paks said nothing. How could she fight and stay out of trouble? "Hmmph," the surgeon went on. "Stubborn as a fighter always is. Well, let's see the damage." She fumbled at the thongs fastening her greaves, and he helped draw them off, and the boot beneath. A large, hard, dark-blue swelling throbbed insistently. The surgeon poked it; Paks clenched her jaw. "Not broken, I don't think, but it's taken damage. What was it?"
"Pike butt."
"And you've that broken rib, too. Anything else?"
"No—nothing like that, anyway."
"Good. If this hasn't damaged the bone, it'll hurt for ten days or so, but it'll heal. Try not to hit it again. Stay off it as much as aan