Page 6 of Swordheart
On the other hand, being locked in Alver’s attic for the rest of her life would not be interesting. In fact, it would likely be a combination of horrific and horrifically boring. Surely death was preferable to that.
“Well,” she said out loud, trying to bolster her own courage. “My mother’s clan were raiding cattle and slaying their enemies only a generation ago. Some of them probably still are. Let’s go.”
Let’s godid not seem like very good last words, so she added, “I commend my soul to any god that will take it.”
It occurred to her suddenly that the sword might very well be rusted into its scabbard, in which case she’d feel rather stupid about standing here, bare-breasted, commending her soul to the gods.
She drew the sword.
There was a crack like silent thunder and blue light pulsed around the sheath. She immediately dropped the sheath, but the light was faster. It ran over her hands and down her wrists. She clutched the sword hilt in sheer astonishment.
The blue light shot around the room and coalesced into a figure. It was roughly human-shaped, although man or woman or both or neither, she could not tell.
It could be a demon for all I know.
She threw her empty hand up in front of her to ward off the blaze of light. When the light faded, leaving orange afterimages on her eyes, there was a man standing in her bedchamber, in the narrow space between the chest and the night table.
“I am the servant of the sword,” he said. “I obey the will of the—great god, woman, put on some clothes!”
CHAPTER 3
Halla lowered her hand slowly, her mouth hanging open.
A man just came out of the sword. I drew the sword and he appeared.
Oh gods, it’s magic, isn’t it? Something horrible and magicky happened.
It was possible that she’d gone mad with grief and was hallucinating. Halla had no illusions about her grip on reality. But if she were hallucinating, would she really have included a man coming out of the sword and yelling at her to put on more clothes?
Well… yes. That is exactly the sort of thing I would do.
Her possible hallucination had staggered back and thrown his forearm across his eyes, apparently to block out the unexpected sight.
She pulled her shift up so that her breasts were covered. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Wait, he just appeared from aswordandI’mapologizing for scaringhim?
“I’m not scared!” The man in question was trying to scan the room while not looking anywhere near her. “I’m used to being summoned on the battlefield, not a brothel!”
“This isn’t a brothel! I’m a respectable widow!”
“You aren’t dressed like a respectable widow!”
“I wasn’t expecting company!”
The servant of the sword looked at her cautiously through his fingers. Seeing that she was at least covered by her shift, he lowered his hand. “Sorry,” he said, sounding as if the word was getting dragged out of him. “Didn’t mean to give offense. I just wasn’t expecting to see that… ah… much of you, that’s all.”
“I’m not offended,” said Halla. “I think we… errr…”Not scared. He got very prickly about the word ‘scared.’ “… startled each other.”
“You could still be wearing a bit more,” he said reproachfully, keeping his eyes very obviously above her collarbone.
Halla looked down, realized that anyone looking at her would know that it was quite cold in the room, and fumbled for her dressing gown.
“I’ll take it you were not summoning me deliberately, then?” the man said, trying not to look.
“No! I didn’t know you were in there! Err—youwerein there, right?”
“In where?”
