Zephyr sat upright on the sofa chair, staring straight into the serious blue eyes of the man sitting across from him.
“They say in battle, the sword of a warrior is the warrior’s life, and his everything, do you agree with that concept, Zephyr?” Rand asked.
“Yes, I do.”
“Good,” The man said. “Now, if I were a warrior that would make my hostages my sword. And now you are asking me to lose my sword.” He exhaled, leaned forward, gaze still fixed on Zephyr’s face. “You have been able to convince me to let your friends go. But I need a reason why I should do it. Why should I throw my sword away?”
“Because in this case you don’t need it,” Zephyr answered. “If a warrior has his enemy hostage, chained in a place he could never break free, then of what use is his sword?”
Rand’s eyes squinte
