Geraint had been lucky, as far as it went; the bullet had passed right through the big muscle at the back of his leg, doing no serious damage. Rani gave him a local and cleaned away the dried blood. Lying on his stomach, he watched her work in the big mirror at the end of the room. Her hands were hard-skinned, almost gnarled, and the last word anyone would have used to describe them was delicate, but her touch was gentle even though he was anesthetized.