Inside the armory, the thick stone walls diminished the racket outside. Weapons were stacked like firewood; piles of bucklers and full-body shields, racks of spears, bits and pieces of plate armor on every surface. Whistling through his gapped teeth, Speros strode toward a row of swords, hefting one and then another, pausing to eye Ushahin. At last he nodded, satisfied, and offered one, laying it over his forearm and extending the hilt. “Try this one, my lord.”

It was strange to watch his hand, his finely made hand, close on the hilt. Ushahin raised the sword, wondering what he was supposed to discern from it, wondering what his Lordship expected him to do with it.

“Very nice!” Speros grinned at him. “Shall I teach you a few strokes, my lord?”

“I have seen it done,” Ushahin said wryly.

“Ah, come now, Lord Dreamspinner.” Speros plucked another blade from the row and tossed aside his sheepskin cloak, taking up an offensive stance. “If I were to come at you thusly,” he said, aiming a slow strike at Ushahin’s left side, “you would parry by—”

Ushahin brought his blade down hard and fast, knocking the Midlander’s aside. “I have seen it done, Speros!” The impact made every misshapen bone in his body ache. He sighed. “This war will not be won with swords.”

“Maybe not, my lord.” The tip of Speros’ sword had lodged in the wooden floor. Lowering his head until his brown hair spilled over his brow, he pried it loose and laid the blade back in its place. “But it won’t be lost by them either.”

“I pray you are right,” Ushahin murmured. “You have done your duty to Tanaros, Midlander. I am armed. Go, now, and leave me.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Speros went.

Ushahin gazed at the blade in his right hand. The edges were keen, gleaming blue in the dim light of the armory. He wished, again, he knew what his Lordship expected of him. Since he did not, he found a scabbard for the blade and a swordbelt that fit about his waist and left the armory.

Outside, the blood-bay stallion was waiting, its reins looped over a hitching rail. Beneath the murky pall of smoke that hung over the place, its coat glowed with dark fire, as though it had emerged molten from the furnace and were slowly cooling. It stood unnaturally still, watching him with its wary, intelligent gaze.

“Have we come to a truce, you and I?” Ushahin asked aloud. “Then we are wiser, in our way, than our masters.”