Ventus by Karl Schroeder

Karl Schroeder / Ventus / Page 212
Calandria cocked her head to one side. "Explanation?
Regarding what? That we saved your man here from death
requires no explanation--unless you are one of those who
would not save a life unless it profit you. That we hid him? It
was at his own request. He was a bit ashamed of himself after
breaking the rules of the house."
"And why are you dressed for riding at this late hour,
lady?"
"Considering the kindness I’ve done your man, Mister
Boros, I think I’m entitled to keep that to myself."
He scowled. "May I remind you that you are a guest in
this house?"
"Not for much longer," she said. "And I am not the guest
who transgressed the rules," she added, nodding significantly at
August, who shrank back.
Linden folded his arms. In this light he appeared quite
menacing, slim and poised, with his sword loose at his side.
The blond hair cascading down one shoulder was bound with
black ribbon. Standing this close to him, Calandria caught a
scent of leather, horses and sweat. "Speaking of transgressing
rules," he said with some irony, "the Winds might be upset to
know just how much science you carry around with you, Lady
May."
She didn't reply. "Our poor August, here, was done for,
by his own admission," Linden continued. "Someone tried to
disguise a freshly healed sword wound with a new and
shallower cut, but it’s a clumsy job. Especially since there's a
corresponding scar on his back. I've never seen such a pair of
scars like that before... most people with that sort of wound
don't last a day. Now August assures me his blood is actually
rather thin, making it difficult for him to clot a cut finger. He
says you did something to him... something scientific, which