The old man did not move, but stared down at the sword, slowly moving his eyes along its length. Then he let out a long slow breath.
‘When I heard Gavor’s tale, I couldn’t believe it,’ he said, softly. ‘But it’s here. Actually here. In my hands. I still can’t believe it.’ He looked up at Hawklan. ‘You don’t know what this is, do you?’ he said.
‘It’s a very fine sword I believe,’ Hawklan offered, tentatively.
Andawyr shook his head in amused amazement. ‘A fine sword,’ he echoed to himself. Then his voice fell to a whisper as if the walls themselves should not hear. ‘This is his sword. Ethriss’s sword. Left at Anderras Darion when he went to face Sumeral at the Last Battle. Small wonder it slew the heart of that... trap, and protected your arm.’
Abruptly, his face broke up as if he were
