Page 27 of Swordheart
The shepherd’s building was roughly circular, made of stones piled together and bound with clay. The roof was thatch, dry and cold and partly fallen in. Half the stones had collapsed in the back and brushwood had been dragged in to fill the gap, but clearly no one had felt the need to effect repairs.
To Halla, it looked like a palace.
Sarkis had her stay well back as he entered the building, butsoon turned and gestured to her. “Nothing,” he said. “Owls, maybe, but they’ll be out hunting now.”
“I don’t think owls are dangerous.”
“Perhaps not the southern ones.”
“Are northern owls dangerous?”
“Some of them.”
“Which kind? What do they do? Do they eat p-p-people?” Her teeth were chattering.
“You’re cold,” said Sarkis.
“So are you.”
He looked down at his arms, which were covered in gooseflesh. “Fair enough.”
“Do you want to go back in the sword?”
“That won’t do much to warm you.”
“No sense in both of us being miserable.”
He shook his head. “I’m not fleeing back to a hunk of metal and letting you freeze. I am your guard, lady, as long as you wield the sword.”
She wrapped her arms around herself and managed a chuckle. “And supposing someone takes it away from me?”
“No,” said Sarkis. “It’s your sword, until you sell it or give it away, or die. And I am your servant until you sell me or give me to another.”
“Or die.”
He inclined his head.
“So you’re stuck with me?”
“Yes.” The way he drew the word out into a sigh made Halla think that he was probably contemplating that fact right now.
“How do you know? If I’ve given the sword away or if someone’s stolen it?”
Sarkis shrugged. “I’d know.”
“Is that what happened last time? Someone sold the sword to Silas? Or gave it away?”
“I don’t know. No one drew the sword for a long time. I was killed, and the man I protected died very shortly after.”
Halla’s eyes went wide.
“The sword wouldn’t draw for a few days after that, while I recovered,” he explained. “Likely they thought it was rusted into the sheath and useless. From there, I suppose, it was spoils of war. I had no wielder until you drew the blade.”
“Great-Uncle Silas found many things in the market in Anuket City,” said Halla. “I’m surprised he never tried to draw it.” She frowned, remembering the manticore skull. “Although given the way he enjoyed leaving strange things around the house, perhaps he didn’t think of it. He wasn’t any sort of warrior. He just liked odd things.”
Sarkis looked over at her and frowned suddenly. “I’m lighting a fire,” he said. “As small as I can manage, but I’ll be a poor guardsman if I let my charge freeze our first night out.”
“Is it safe?”
