“Rez, I don’t know what to say. This gift is too grand. I don’t think I can accept it.” The words caught in his throat as he said them because he really wanted this sword.

Rezkin held up a hand and shook his head. He knew this would be coming since it was part of the Polite Social Skills he had learned. Anyone other than very close family should always attempt to reject a costly gift prior to accepting. It was now Rezkin’s turn to make some placating statement. The whole exchange seemed frivolous since, in the end, the recipient was still supposed to end up with the item or risk offending the other party.

“You do not have to consider it a gift. It is more of an acquisition of necessary provisions, if you like. We still have a long way to travel, and you need a weapon. Besides, it is difficult to train someone to use a sword if he does not have one.”

Frisha laid a hand on Tam’s arm, “Oh, Tam, it’s so nice, and you really do need one. You must accept Rez’s gift.”

“I am glad you feel that way, Frisha,” Rezkin said with relief. He did not feel like having to go through the whole charade again with her. He laid a leather-wrapped bundle on the table in front of her. “These are for you.”

Frisha’s lips pursed in a surprised o as she untied the leather cord and rolled out the package. Inside were six tiny, shiny knives. The lamplight gleamed off the silvery blades as if fire elementals danced within the metal. The knives did not have a handle or hilt, but the tang was polished and smooth like the blades with the figure of a hawk in flight etched into each one. They were beautiful.

“Are these throwing knives?” Frisha asked.

“Yes, I think it will be a good weapon for you and will allow you to maintain your distance from any attackers. I will train you to use them properly so you do not hurt yourself.”

“Wow, Rez, it’s like Winterfest! Thank you so much,” Frisha replied.

“Yes, thank you, Rez. I really do appreciate this, and I will train hard in honor of your generosity,” Tam said.

Rezkin nodded once. “If I cannot protect you at all times, then I can at least make sure you can protect yourselves.”

Tam glanced up and was the first to notice Lieutenant Jimson standing in the doorway. He waved the lieutenant over and invited him to join them. Lieutenant Jimson was washed and dressed in a crisp, clean uniform, all of the buttons and buckles polished to a shine. His face was shaved smooth, and his short hair was neatly combed. He was the ideal image of an officer of the king’s army.