Page 134 of Swordheart
“Traveling alone with a strange man is not the act of arespectablewoman,” said Malva.
Sarkis turned toward her furiously. “I have guarded her as I would my sisters. No one will offer her disrespect in my hearing, man or woman, or they will answer tome.”
He put his hand on the hilt of his sword. Malva slapped Alver’s arm. “Alver! Are you going to let him talk to me like this?”
Alver eyed the sword and Sarkis and said, “Yes, mother, I believe I am.” The bailiff’s lips twitched.
“Ser Sarkis,” said the priest of the Four-Faced God mildly, “we do not threaten violence within the walls of the church.”
“Oh. Sorry.” Sarkis inclined his head. “I fear I am not native to these lands.” He contemplated how barbaric he wanted to appear.In for a lamb… “In my homeland, duels are fought before the altar so that the god may decide the victor.” Which was nonsense, of course, but hopefully impressive sounding nonsense.
“That willnotbe necessary,” said Zale firmly. “Now, if I may draw your attention, gentlemen, to the wording of the will…”
The process stretched out interminably. Halla shivered in the cold room. But at last, the three judges nodded to Zale and Alver, and everyone filed out of the temple to give them time to deliberate.
It took less than ten minutes. The clerk was sweating and refusing to meet Malva’s eyes as he delivered their judgment. “The will is upheld. Mistress Halla is Silas’s heir.”
“What?” said Halla.
“What?” said Malva.
“Really?” said Halla.
“What?” said Malva.
“Thank you, wise sirs,” said Zale, and bowed deeply, while Halla dissolved into tears of sheer relief.
CHAPTER 43
“Well, there was really no doubt,” said Zale, leaning back in their chair. “Or rather, there was no doubt that the will was valid. And I had a few tricks up my sleeve if they didn’t happen to agree with me. The bailiff was the only wild card.”
“It was still amazing,” said Halla firmly.
“Bartholomew’s testimony certainly helped,” said Zale, raising their mug in Bartholomew’s direction. The group was huddled together in the church’s back room, while the priest of the Four-Faced God beamed at all and sundry.
“Will you all come stay at the house tonight?” asked Halla. “I don’t know what state the house is in, but if I can’t get at least the kitchen and a bedroom or two presentable…”
“We won’t put you to the trouble,” said Nolan firmly, glancing over at Bartholomew. “You’ve been through a great deal, you don’t need to start cleaning up for us.”
“I am intrigued, though,” said Bartholomew, glancing at Halla, “by that sword you have been carrying. I fear that I may have undervalued it.”
“This?” Halla set her hand on the scabbard. “Oh, it’s… um… not available, I’m afraid.”
“Our agreement included first pick of the artifacts in the house.”
“Yes,” said Halla, “but it’s not really in the house, is it? And anyway, it’s not mine. It belongs to Sarkis. I gave it to him ages ago. He just makes me carry it around so that people think twiceabout assaulting me. Do you know we got set on by footpads in Archon’s Glory?”
“Shocking!” said Nolan.
“It was. But Sarkis ran them off. He’s good at that sort of thing.”
Bartholomew was undeterred. “Would you be willing to part with it then, sir?”
“No,” said Sarkis. He wracked his brain for some excuse and took refuge in mysticism. “It is originally a sword of my people’s make. It will be… unhappy… if it spends too long among unbelievers.”
(This was purest refined sheep-shit. Sarkis’s people saw swords as tools, not sentient objects, and found the notion of swords having emotions or preferences faintly insulting, as if a human smith had taken on the role of the great god. He was exceptionally conscious of the irony.)
Bartholomew looked as if he might argue the point, but Nolan said, “If it is acceptable, Mistress Halla, we’ll come over tomorrow and begin attempting to catalog the artifacts?”
