Page 26 of Swordheart #1

“There is also the separate matter of the sword.” She picked up the sword, drew it partway out. The steel made an almost silken noise against the scabbard. The etched words that Halla couldn’t read winked in the light.

The hand clasped in hers was suddenly gone as Beartongue clicked the sword into the scabbard.

“Now,” said the bishop quietly, “we are alone. You may speak freely, Halla. The White Rat is very old and nothing shocks Him any longer. Are you in danger?”

“Danger?” said Halla, baffled.

“Your enchanted companion,” said Beartongue. “Do you fear him? Has he harmed you? Does he have any hold over you? We can have you safely away, if you do not wish to stay in his company.”

“I… oh!” Halla’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh! You think he might really have kidnapped me, or he’s threatened me or something like that? Is that what you’re asking?”

“That is indeed what I’m asking.”

“Oh no, no. Sarkis would never do anything like that. He’s really very kind. I mean, he mutters about burning my civilization to the ground a lot, but that’s just his way. Although I don’t know that he likes me very much. He counts to very high numbers sometimes.”

Beartongue blinked slowly at this.

“Anyway, he saved me from Cousin Alver and got me away when they sent the constables out. And didn’t let me kill myself.

He wouldn’t hurt me. Actually, I don’t think he can hurt me.

He’s supposed to guard the owner of the sword.

Although he did manhandle me into quite a few ditches those first few days—no, not in a mean way!

” she added, as the bishop began to look alarmed.

“I mean, we were being chased by the constables on horseback, because of the stabbing. Did I mention the stabbing?”

“You mentioned that your companion fought a guardsman, yes.”

“Right. He got stabbed. Well, both of them got stabbed. Roderick worse though. Oh dear! We’ll need to sort that out with the constables, too, won’t we?”

Bishop Beartongue put her chin in her hand. “This will be substantially more difficult if the guardsman is dead. The Temple will need to make inquiries, but if it is, indeed, merely… a tragic misunderstanding… perhaps we can help to smooth that over as well.”

Halla sighed with relief. “That would be good.”

Beartongue tapped a finger on the scabbard before her. “If you wish,” she said, almost diffidently, “the Temple will purchase this sword from you.”

“What?”

“Purchase. It is an artifact of the sort that none of us have ever seen.” She smiled abruptly, and looked half her age. “Or you are charlatans of incredible skill, and I will be losing a large amount of the Temple’s money to you. But at that point, I would say that you had earned it.”

“How would someone fake that?” asked Halla, distracted by the notion. “You might be able to do the blue light with phosphor of some sort, but then we’d have to make Sarkis disappear…” She chewed on her lower lip.

Beartongue frowned.

“Sorry,” Halla began. “I get interested in things.”

“It’d be easiest if he wasn’t here to begin with,” said the bishop of the White Rat thoughtfully.

“If you have very good mirrors, you can do extraordinary illusions, making someone appear to be somewhere else. But if you could afford to get a glass of that size made and silvered, you wouldn’t be asking for our help with your estate.

And I’ve no idea how you’d get the glass in here, and your companion moved the chair when he sat down, so someone of flesh and blood is definitely in his place. ”

Halla leaned forward, fascinated. “How would you make a mirror glass that large?”

“I know it’s possible,” said the bishop.

“But only done in a very few places—Anuket City is one, actually—and even then, I’m told that nine out of ten break in the process.

It has something to do with the heating point of lead and the impurities in the sand, and they guard the secret jealously.

There was a wonderworker, I’m told, who worked with hot glass, and they made amazing mirrors, but that was a hundred years gone and only a few survive. ”

“What if we had a wonderworker who could turn invisible?” asked Halla. “That would be a lot easier, wouldn’t it?”

“If your companion is one, that would explain it,” admitted Beartongue. “But I sheathed the sword while he had turned to watch you go into the hall, and he still vanished, even when he was unaware of it happening.” She tapped her fingers together. “We would need a way to test for that…”

Halla snapped her fingers. “Bars!”

“Bars?”

“You could do it with bars, or a grate if it was big enough. You summon him in one room, then sheathe the sword, pass it through the grate, and unsheathe it. He’d appear next to the sword again, and then you’d know he wasn’t just invisible.”

Beartongue nodded slowly. “That would work. Although…”

She cleared her throat sheepishly, apparently realizing that they were getting rather far from the matter at hand. “Probably an additional few tests would be required before we could pay you. But at any rate, we are prepared to offer you a high price for the sword, if you wish to part with it.”

“Sell the…” Halla finally focused on the other part of the sentence. “I can’t sell Sarkis! He’s not mine!” Halla frowned. “I mean, he’s sort of mine, I suppose, but I can’t sell him! He’s a person!”

Bishop Beartongue nodded. “I thought as much. A shame, but an understandable one.”

She drew the sword.

The familiar blue fire swirled upward and left Sarkis standing just behind Halla’s chair.

“Well,” said the bishop, nodding to Sarkis.

“If you will leave your information with my clerk about where you can be reached, we will be in touch tomorrow, when we have an appropriate priest ready to travel with you to… Rutger’s Howe, was it?

And then we will see what can be done about your inheritance. ”

Halla nodded and stood up. “Thank you for your help, Bishop Beartongue.”

“Of course.” Her eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled. “Thank you. A very unusual situation. I’m glad that the Temple will be able to help. And if I may offer a note of caution?”

Halla raised her eyebrows. “Yes?”

“Be careful who you tell about the sword. Such an object may breed greed. The fewer people who know, the safer you are.”

“Oh.” Halla frowned, glancing at Sarkis. “I don’t think we’ve told anyone but you and the priest at the front. And some of the people in line may have guessed something…”

“Good,” said Beartongue. “Stay safe. And thank you.”

They turned to leave. As they neared the door, the bishop said, “Sarkis.”

He looked over his shoulder.

“You were right.”