Ventus by Karl Schroeder

Karl Schroeder / Ventus / Page 203
A dark silhouette with a sword appeared at the top of the
stairway.
"Jordan!" He stopped, and let August catch up to him.
The man was clutching his side, where he had been wounded
last night.
August grabbed Jordan by the shoulder and shook him.
"What's going on?"
"What do you mean?"
"Don't you try that with me," said August in a deadly
tone. "My sword-wound!"
"What about it?"
"There’s a shallow cut there that looks fresh, but I can’t
feel anything deeper. It’s healed!"
"Uh..."
"And why were two of Controller General Turcaret's men
invading your chamber?"
"I don’t know!"
"You! Stop!" Several men with swords had appeared at
the top of the stairs.
"Later, then. Go!" August shoved Jordan down the last
few steps. This time Jordan didn't hesitate, but ran. The ring
of steel echoed after him as he shouldered open the door to the
courtyard, and then he was dodging between statues, as the
sounds of the fight faded behind him.
Axel tried for the fifth time to stand. "Go to hell!" he
muttered. Concentrate, he told himself. Think of a way out of
this.
The damned controller kicked him in the ribs. It didn't
hurt much, but there went his equilibrium again. Whatever it
was they'd spiked his drink with, it had gotten past his usual
immunities, and so far the diagnostic nano hadn't caught it.