Page 15 of Swordheart
He held out his gloved fingers impatiently. “I am not made of dream flesh, lady.”
She took his hand. It certainly felt solid.
There were machines in Anuket City that the artificers made that felt almost real as well, though. She’d gone to the market there with Silas once and shaken hands with a contraption that had wooden fingers inside a glove.
And would that be more or less strange than a man enchanted into a sword?
“Howdidyou come to inhabit a sword, anyway?”
“The usual way.”
“I have no idea what that might be.”
“Sorcerer-smith,” he said, dropping her hand. “Forge the sword, quench the steel in the blood of the one you wish to bind.”
“Really! How much blood does that take? Do you have to use leeches?”
Sarkis stared at the ceiling, his lips moving silently. “I was stabbed through the heart, actually.”
“Dear gods! Didn’t that hurt?”
“A great deal. Are we ready to leave this accursed house?”
“It’s notthataccursed. I mean, the fireplace draws very badly, but you get used to it.”
Sarkis gazed up to heaven again, perhaps looking for strength.
“Howarewe getting out, anyway?” asked Halla.If I am having a dream or a hallucination or if devils are sending me visions to torment me, it is likely best just to go along with what is happening. And on the remote chance that this is, indeed, happening, I will at least be away from Cousin Alver.
“Through the door. Climbing down from the window will take too much time.”
“But it’s locked—” she started to say, and then Sarkis kicked the door down.
CHAPTER 5
The lock held. The door itself held. The doorframe did not. The door shot open with a sharp splintering noise, the bolt dangling at eye level, scraps of wood still clinging to it. It slammed against the hallway wall and rebounded with a bang.
Sarkis drew his sword and stalked down the hallway. Halla’s sense of unreality got even stronger. She’d had sweet herbs strewn on the floor mats just five days ago, she brought the basket up herself, and here they were, crunching softly under the feet of a swordsman who’d come out of nowhere in a flash of blue light.
Very belatedly, it occurred to her that Sarkis himself might be dangerous.
You were hoping he’d kill you anyway, so what does that matter? Your family will still get your inheritance.
And let’s be honest, he’ll probably make much less of a hash of it than you will. You couldn’t even figure out how to stab yourself with a sword.
Sarkis did not look as if he would have any problem stabbing someone with a sword. He looked like the sort of man who stabbed people all the time, possibly before breakfast.
The sound of the door breaking had woken everyone in the house, assuming they’d been asleep. Doors opened. On the floor below her, she heard Aunt Malva’s querulous voice demanding to know what was going on.
“We should go,” said Halla.
“Stay behind me.” Sarkis led the way down the hall, sword at the ready.
Cousin Alver came up the stairs, wearing a long white bedshirt. He squinted up the steps. “Halla? What are you…”
He stopped.
He stared.
