Both hands were missing a finger-obviously other victims had tried to defend their skinds-though the Tailor did not seem to miss them much.
The blades on the right were just as long and lethal, though these were slender and pointed, like giant sewing needles.
The fingers on his left hand ended in broad blades, each as long as a dagger. But Jacob let the light explore further, over the bearded, dirt-caked face, the gruesome clothes, which at first sight simply looked like poorly tanned leather, and on to the gross hands with which the Tailor plied his bloody trade. He uttered an angry grunt and swatted at it as if it were an annoying bug. The Tailor did not like the probing finger of light.
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