Duncan discovered that standing was considerably more difficult than offering lifelong loyalty.
He took Nero's hand and let himself be pulled upright, managed perhaps half the movement under his own strength, then stopped with a rough sound as pain caught beneath his ribs.
Nero steadied him before he could fold back toward the ground.
"That sounded unhealthy."
Duncan breathed slowly through his nose, one hand pressed against his left side beneath the torn edge of his dark coat. Blood from the wound in his shoulder had soaked through several layers, although that appeared to bother him considerably less than whatever Nero had done to his ribs against the limestone.
"At least one is broken."
Hale glanced over from his position nearer the residence. "Probably more."
Duncan looked at him.
Hale had watched most of the fight with enough professional detachment that the assessment carried rather more credibility than Duncan seemed to appreciate.
