He glanced from me to her and back again. The mirth died out of his face, as heat from a bed of ashes, and left it cold and gray.
“I fear that may not be, Monsieur,” he said gravely. “Our way is not your way, as you will soon know for yourself. But, at least, I can give you a friend in place of the one you have lost here in our service.”
He signed to Claire, and she ran to an adjoining room, returning in a moment with a sword in a scabbard of stout leather.
“Gird him,” he said.
She came to me shyly, and taking the old scabbard from my belt, clasped the new one there. I trembled at the touch of her fingers, and gripped my hands behind me to keep my arms from about her. I could see the red blood surging in waves over cheek and neck as I looked down at her, but only when she had finished the task did she lift her eyes to mine for an instant. What eyes they were—dark, lustrous, with the white soul looking out!
“Draw your blade,” commanded the other.
As I obeyed and its polished sides caught the firelight I saw it was no ordinary weapon.
“Test it,” he said.
She came to me shyly