Is that an order? He does not know the hierarchy here. To be on the safe side, he does as requested.

'It seems whole,' he says, after a perfunctory poke.

'But what of it? Trickery and witchcraft. Your devices are not of the world, yet you tell me I live. You are a liar, monsieur. Do you damn me with kindness? Perhaps. I no longer care.'

He draws the mended arm across his chest. It aches. He puts it back next to him, and lies still.

'What would you have of me?'