The Game of Kings, Dorothy Dunnett - Lymond, Will, Turkey Mat
Turkey Mat had said once, “You only have to look at his hands, to know the truth of him.”
The Master was slim and sly, he used his fair, delicate face as a canvas to draw men out. A thousand times a day he contorted himself into one grotesque caricature after another.
At every turn, Will Scott had been wrecked by that taut, terrible power.
Mat was right, the gnarled, scarred hands held the truth of Crawford of Lymond. Their reclaimed delicacy had been hard-won.
But Will had been caught in the piercing blue gaze and never took the warning.