The next three days were strangely normal.
Damon distrusted all of them.
On the first, he spent most of the morning between the infirmary and the inner courtyard, being prevented by Ester from doing anything she classified as "unnecessarily stupid."
The definition was broad.
Very broad.
"I'm just walking."
"Too fast."
"That's forbidden now?"
"For you, temporarily."
Damon slowed down.
"Medical authoritarianism."
"Keep complaining. Deep breathing helps your ribs."
He considered answering, then realized he had probably fallen into exactly what Ester wanted.
So he stayed silent.
She smiled.
"You're learning."
"Don't start."
On the second day, he was finally given permission to train.
Train was a generous word.
Ester allowed slow sword movements, without impact, sudden acceleration, or anything that required strong twisting of his torso.
Damon stood in the center of the courtyard holding his sword as if he had only just learned what a blade was.
