“You think that’ll help? If the shock doesn’t kill you, you’ll lose your leg. Which might kill you anyway. You’re not thinking clearly.”
“Nikslaus said the sliver was in the form of a star. Any time I move, it will tear the tissue, letting the gold touch my blood again. I can feel it in there, working its way around.”
Petrik hesitated.
“I appreciate your concern,” Tamas said.
“Concern?” Petrik said. “Yes, for myself. You know what your lackeys will do to me if you die during the procedure? I saw Olem on his way out of here. I’m not an idiot. You sent him away so he couldn’t protest, and Sabon isn’t back yet. They’d tear me apart.”
“Who’d tear you apart?”
Sabon stood in the doorway, paused in the midst of unbuttoning his jacket. The jacket was covered in powder stains, dirt, and burns. It looked like he’d been in a coal mine. He hung it on a peg in the corner. A single cut ran the length of his cheek, the blood already dry, and his hands were dirty and smudged.
“Did you catch him?” Tamas said.
Sabon shook his head. “I’m sorry.”
Tamas bit back a rebuke. Shit. “How’d he get away?”
“A well-rehearsed route,” Sabon said. “Into a warehouse with a false floor, and down into the sewers. Our men are scouring sewer exits, but I’ll be surprised if they find him. Vlora is still tracking him, but he could come out anywhere in Adopest. It’s as if he expected us to catch up with them.” Sabon made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. He stepped over and gave Tamas’s leg a look-over. “You’ve had better days,” he said.
“Right. I have.”
“Will he lose the leg?” Sabon asked Dr. Petrik.
The doctor ignored Tamas’s look of warning. “He might,” he said, “if he has me open it up, like he wants.”
“Why?” Sabon looked to Tamas for an explanation.
Tamas took a deep breath. “Nikslaus’s physician fixed the leg. Before he did, he inserted a golden sliver right up against the bone. It’s star-shaped, to prevent a cyst from forming.”
Sabon’s eyes widened. “The beast,” he snarled. “I’ll take off his hands when I catch him.”
Tamas couldn’t disagree with the sentiment. “If we ever catch him,” he said. “Petrik, I want the surgery.”
The doctor gave Sabon a long look.
“No,” Sabon said. “If you die, the whole campaign will be at risk.”
The campaign, Sabon had said. Tamas almost smiled. Sabon would never admit to being concerned.
“We just got you back,” Sabon said.
“I won’t go on without my magery,” Tamas said. “Petrik, what are the risks if I don’t have you take it out?”
The old doctor frowned. “If what you say is true, you’ll be in constant pain. You won’t sleep, and the exhaustion will keep your body from healing naturally.” He didn’t look happy. “We should take it out.”
Sabon looked from Tamas to the doctor, then sniffed. “Good luck,” he said, leaving the room.
“You wanted to see me?” Adamat shifted from one foot to the other and examined the row of surgical equipment laid out beside Tamas. Surgery had always made him nervous. Too many things could go wrong and it seemed like every year doctors were coming up with a new and painful way to kill you under the guise of medicine. It was an irrational thought and he knew it. The statistics supported the opposite. The ancient practice of bloodletting was becoming more unpopular, while recent ideas about sterilization had begun to spread in the medical field. Survival rates were higher than they’d been since the Time of Kresimir.
The field marshal sat on the edge of an operating table, an impromptu surgery set up in a side room in the House of Nobles. He wore nothing but a towel around his waist and Adamat was amazed at the number of old scars crisscrossing Tamas’s chest. Some were from swords, one that looked like a knife wound, and three pink, faded welts from bullet wounds. He had a bump on his head visible even under his graying hair, and his right leg was red and swollen. To one side, a doctor in a white coat examined his instruments with care.
So Tamas was alive, though the worse for wear. The gossip columns would kill to find out what happened over on Palo Street yesterday and where Tamas had been the two days prior. Adamat decided not to ask.
Tamas nodded. “Have you found my traitor?”
“No, sir.”
“Why not?”
“Not to offer excuses, but I’m doing the work of twenty men.”