He jerked in surprise and worry and was about to exclaim when the wound to his side pulsed angrily, and he had to settle for gritting his teeth and hissing quietly. As always, the pain would continue for nearly a dozen heartbeats before waning. Mullin, Shadow Tower's maester, had done his best, and the wound was washed in boiling wine and stitched, but it healed slowly. Thankfully, it didn't fester, but every now and then, he would get a sharp stab of pain when he made a sudden movement.