bathed and changed, still not believing she was alive. Picking up the sword, she went to find her friend.
Myles was awaiting her in his morning room. A room like this would never have been found in a fortress like Trebond: the huge windows overlooking the valley were too vulnerable to enemy archers. Here at peaceful Olau, Myles could see his fields, the distant village, even the Great Road on a clear day. Now he sat in a deep chair, watching the rain streaming down the glass. A steaming pitcher and two mugs were at his side.
“Have a toddy,” he said, handing a filled mug to her. “You look as if you need it.” Alanna stared at the steaming liquid, trying to remember what she was supposed to do with it. “Drink up, lad,” Myles urged gently. He drained his own mug and refilled it, watching her.
Alanna sat carefully in a chair, staring out the window. Finally she raised the mug to her lips and sipped. The hot liquid sent ripples of fire running through her. Perhaps she was alive, after all. She took another large swallow, and another.
“I thought I was dead,” she said at last. “I guess not.” She handed him the sword. “Here. I found this in the tunnel.”
Myles examined the sword carefully without taking it from the scabbard. He ran his fingers along the sheath, rubbed the metal fittings with his thumb and squinted at a candle flame through the crystal. “What happened?” he asked as he looked the sword over.
She told him in a few brief words, watching every movement of his face.
“Is the crystal magic?” he asked finally.
“I don’t know. My magic doesn’t make it work. It only—it only came to life when I quit fighting to stay alive.”
“I see,” he murmured. “You accepted death—and the stone saved your life.”
This didn’t make sense to Alanna, so she ignored it. “Aren’t you going to draw the blade?”
Myles looked out the window thoughtfully. “Storm’s letting up,” he observed.
Alanna shifted impatiently in her chair. “Well?”
“No—I’m not. You are.” Myles held the sword out to her.
“I can’t!” she protested. “They’re your ruins. It belongs to you.”
Myles shook his head. “You haven’t been paying attention. I was compelled to bring you here. You opened the passage when I’ve tried to do it for years, and failed. Something happened down there, and the sword protected you. And don’t forget the storm. I can take a hint, Alan.”
“It belongs to you,” she protested, almost tearfully.
“It never belonged to me.” He thrust it at her. “Let’s see what she looks like, lad.”
Reluctantly Alanna stood and took the sword. The hilt fit her hand as if made for her. She closed her eyes and drew the sword.
Nothing happened. She glanced at Myles, embarrassed. Her friend was grinning at her.
“I feel silly,” she admitted.
“After what happened this morning, I was expecting something dramatic, myself. Well?”
Alanna hefted the blade. It was thinner than a broadsword, and lighter, with a broadsword’s double edge. The metal was lightweight, with a silver sheen. She lightly touched a thumb to one edge and cut herself. Grinning with delight, she tried a few passes. It felt wonderful in her hand.
“What will you call her?” Myles asked.
She didn’t question Myles’s calling the blade a “her.” “Seeing’s how it brought such a reaction from—from—”
“From whatever guards the ruins?” the knight suggested.
“I guess that was it. Anyway, seeing’s how it brought on a storm and all so fast—how about ’Lightning’?”
Myles raised his mug in a toast. “To Alan and Lightning. May you never meet a better blade.”
Alanna drained her own mug. “Uh—Myles?” she stammered, sliding her blade into its sheath.
“Hm?” The knight was not deceived by her innocent tone.
“I—I would rather nobody else knew about—well, what happened. Could—could we just say I picked Lightning from your armory?”
“You’ll tell Jonathan, won’t you?”
“Of course. But—I don’t want anyone else to know. If that’s all right with you.”
“Certainly, lad. As you wish.” Myles refilled his mug, wondering what—or who—Alan was afraid of.
Alanna expected people to notice Lightning—she would have been hurt if they hadn’t. Even Duke Gareth asked about it, as did Captain Sklaw. “Not enough weight,” the Captain grunted when he first lifted it. When he tested the edge, the look on his face changed to one of respect. “It’ll do,” he said finally. Alanna had to be content with that. Everyone accepted the idea that Lightning was a gift from Sir Myles, though Alanna told Jonathan the truth, privately. The Prince was fascinated by her