He took hold of the cold grip and pulled the sword that Bayaz had given him out of its stained scabbard. It looked a slow and ugly thing compared to Luthar's swords, and to Ferro's too, if it came to that. There was hardly any shine on the heavy grey blade at all. He turned it over in his hand. The single silver letter glinted near the hilt. The mark of Kanedias.

'Don't know why, but it doesn't need sharpening. I tried it to begin with, but all it did was wear down the stone.' Longfoot had hauled himself up into one of the trees, and was slithering along a thick branch towards an apple hanging out of reach near its end.

'If you ask me,' grunted the Navigator, 'the weapons suit their owners to the ground. Captain Luthar—flash and fine-looking but never used in combat. The woman Maljinn—sharp and vicious and worrying to look upon. The Northman Ninefingers—heavy, solid, slow and simple. Hah!' he chuckled, dragging himself slightly further down the limb. 'A most fitting metaphor! Juggling with words has always been but one among my many remarkable—'

Logen grunted as he swung the sword over his head. It bit through the branch where it met the trunk, clean through, almost to the other side. More than far enough that Longfoot's weight ripped through the rest, and brought the whole limb, Navigator and all, crashing down into the weeds below. 'Slow and simple enough for you?'

Luthar spluttered with laughter as he sharpened his short sword, and Logen laughed as well. Laughing with a man was a good step forward. First comes the laughter, then the respect, then the trust.

'God's breath!' shouted Longfoot, scrabbling his way out from under the branch. 'Can a man not eat without disturbance?'

'Sharp enough,' chuckled Luthar. 'No doubt.'

Logen hefted the sword in his hand. 'Yes, this Kanedias knew how to make a weapon, alright.'

'Making weapons is what Kanedias did.' Bayaz had stepped through the crumbling archway and into the overgrown orchard. 'He was the Master Maker, after all. The one that you hold is among the very least of what he made, forged to be used in a war against his brothers.'

'Brothers,' snorted Luthar. 'I know exactly how he felt. There's always something. Usually a woman, in my experience.' He gave his short sword one last stroke with the whetstone. 'And where women are concerned, I always come out on top.'

'Is that so?' Bayaz snorted. 'As it happens, a woman did enter the case, but not in the way you're thinking.'