The Alchemist of Souls (Night's Masque, #1)(99)

"Careful, you idiot," he growled, pushing her away.

Then he looked down at the blade, and at the stain spreading outwards from the slash in her clothing.

"Let me see that."

"It's naught but a scratch, I assure you, sir." She pressed her hand to her left side, praying she would not faint. She could not let him see…

"Nonsense, it bleeds too fast. Here, take off your doublet."

Coby stepped back, shaking her head.

"If you want to learn to fight with steel, you have to learn to deal with the consequences," he said. "Now take off your doublet."

She did so, fingers trembling. Master Catlyn pulled up her shirt and frowned when he saw the corset. The blade had sliced into it after nicking her skin, and the bottom edge was already red with blood.

"What is this?" he asked with a laugh. "Are you such an old man you need hold your stomach in with this?"

"Not my stomach," she muttered.

His eyes travelled upwards, paused at her breasts, then examined her face for several moments. She returned his gaze with a strange feeling of detachment. She had imagined being found out in so many different ways – including being injured – that it was almost as if it had already happened.

"You are a girl," he said at last.

She nodded.

"Well, maid or man, that cut needs stitching. Do you have needles and thread here?"

"In the tiring house," she said, trying to breathe slowly.

"Good." He glanced around. "I will also need clean linen. And a candle." He set off for the stage door. "And some wine or brandy, if you have it."

"The candles are in the office, in a box under the table," she rasped. "And if you look behind the stack of new seat-cushions, you'll find a small glass bottle wrapped in a bit of sacking."

"All right." He looked back at her, concern in his eyes. "Take that damned thing off and sit down."

She leant against one of the two pillars and unlaced the corset, listening to Master Catlyn clattering about in the tiring house. He had taken the revelation so calmly, like it was nothing out of the ordinary. She didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed. Mostly she felt like she was going to be sick.

By the time he returned, she was sitting against the base of the pillar, clutching the front of her shirt against her breasts and feeling horribly naked. He knelt at her side, set down his armful of supplies and pulled up the shirt just high enough to expose the wound.

"Hmm, not too long or deep, but a stitch or three will help it heal cleanly," he said.

He rummaged in the sewing basket and produced a skein of silk thread and the curved needle she used for mending props and padded costumes. She winced at the thought of it being stuck into her own flesh.

"Is this the right stuff?" he asked, holding up a bottle. The blue-green glass had a knobbly texture, like cobblestones.

"Yes. Master Naismith bought it from a skrayling apothecary. It is accounted a sovereign remedy for stage nerves."

Master Catlyn uncorked the bottle and sniffed. His eyebrows went up, and he began to cough.

"That should do the job very well," he said faintly.

He took one of the squares of linen and upended the bottle against it. The sharp scents of juniper, mint and distilled spirits filled the air.

"This will sting somewhat," he said, bending closer.

"I thought you wanted me to drink – owww!"

"I did warn you."

He cleaned the wound, probing gently around it with rough-tipped fingers. She had been looking away, staring up at the empty galleries, but now she turned her gaze to his head, which was level with her breasts as he bent over to examine the wound. Her heart felt like it would break free of her chest, it was pounding so hard. Surely he must be able to hear it?

"Right," he said, straightening up. "Now to get down to business."

He began to unstrap his sword-belt. She swallowed hard and clutched the shirt tighter. She was alone with a man, a man who knew her sex and had touched her naked flesh…

"What, you think I would ravish you, and you in such a sorry state?"

Coby looked away, afraid he would see willingness in her eyes. Would it be ravishment if she wanted him?

He slid the dagger scabbard from his belt and put it aside, then folded the belt, right sides together.

"You'll want to bite down on that, if you've never been stitched before," he said. "Your master won't thank me if you bite through your tongue."

He lit the candle with a flint and tinder, then held the point of the needle in the flame.

"W-what are you doing?"

He looked up, smiling. "You're not the only one with a skrayling trick or two up your sleeve. I learnt this one on campaign." He turned his attention back to the needle. "Burning off the grease and dirt helps prevent the wound from festering."

"You're going to stitch me up with a hot needle?" she squeaked, shuffling around the pillar.

"It will cool very quickly," he replied, shaking it in the air. "Here, I'll quench it in your tincture, just to be certain."

The needle hissed as it came into contact with the liquid. Coby shuddered.

"Come now," Master Catlyn said, threading the needle. "If you want to be a man, you'll have to learn a man's courage."