{14}
Magick and Mettle‘Is something the matter?’
Santha stared stupidly at the sword Dandon had pushed into her hands. ‘Nothing I can put my finger on,’ she replied vaguely.
She stepped down from the slate steps, weighing the weapon in her hands, forcing all her concentration onto it and not Elysh’s bulging eyes. It was a simple blade, no more than twenty-five inches from tip to pommel. The hilt was bone, smoothed and inlaid with polished metal she gambled was silver (so much for hiding in plain sight). The sheath was hardened leather with blue and gold embroidery on its exterior in a design that could only be Dandon’s.
She slid the sword from its scabbard to inspect the blade itself. Inscribed on its polished surface were delicate symbols that ran its length. The cyphers meant nothing
