Midnight Tides & The Bonehunters - By Steven Erikson Page 0,171

of Keeper? Odd that the Hold should choose a child. Unless the original Keeper had died. And even then ... odd.'

'There is more,' Brys said. 'A resident within one of the barrows was accorded the role of protector. The child, Kettle, believes that person is capable of destroying the others – all of whom are close to escaping their prisons.'

'The Hold, in its desperation, made a bargain, then. What else does this Kettle know of that resident?'

'He speaks to her constantly. He speaks through her, as well. At the moment, he is trapped. He can go no further, and no, I don't know how that situation will be resolved. Ceda, I also spoke to that stranger.'

Kuru Qan looked up. 'He reached into your mind? And showed you what?'

Brys shook his head. 'He made no effort to convince me of anything, Ceda. Voiced no arguments in his own defence. Instead, I was made witness to an event, from long ago, I believe.'

'What kind of event?'

'The bringing down of a god. By a cadre of sorcerors, none of whom survived the ritual.'

Kuru Qan's eyes widened at these words. 'Relevant? Errant bless me, I hope not.'

'You have knowledge of this, Ceda?'

'Not enough, Finadd, I'm afraid. And this stranger was witness to that dire scene?'

'He was. Inadvertently, he said.'

'Then he has lived a very long time.'

'Is he a threat?'

'Of course he is. None here could match his power, I would think. And, assuming he is successful in destroying the other residents of the yard, the question one must face is, what then?'

'It strikes me as a huge assumption, Ceda. Killing the others. Why would he hold to his bargain with a now-dead Azath?'

'One must believe that the Hold chose wisely, Finadd. Do you have doubts?'

'I'm not sure. He has asked for weapons. Two swords. I am inclined to accede to his request.'

The Ceda slowly nodded. 'Agreed. No doubt you were thinking of finding something in the armoury. But for an individual such as this, a normal weapon won't do, even one of Letherii steel. No, we must go to my private hoard.'

'I wasn't aware you had one.'

'Naturally. Now, a moment.' Kuru Qan rose and walked back to the cauldron. Using large tongs, he retrieved the crab, the shell now a fiery red. 'Ah, perfect. Of course, it can cool down some. So, follow me.'

Brys had thought he knew virtually every area of the old palace, but the series of subterranean chambers the Ceda led him into were completely unfamiliar to him, although not a single hidden door was passed through on the way. By the Finadd's internal map, they were now under the river.

They entered a low-ceilinged chamber with rack-lined walls on which were hundreds of weapons. Brys had collected a lantern along the way and he now hung it from a hook in a crossbeam. He walked to a rack crowded with swords. 'Why a private collection, Ceda?'

'Curios, most of them. Some antiques. I am fascinated with forging techniques, particularly those used by foreign peoples. Also, there is sorcery invested in these weapons.'

'All of them?' Brys lifted one particular weapon from its hooks, a close match to the description relayed to him by Kettle.

'Yes. No, put that one back, Finadd. It's cursed.'

Brys replaced it.

'In fact,' Kuru Qan went on in a troubled voice, 'they're all cursed. Well, this could prove a problem.'

'Perhaps I should go to the regular armoury—'

'Patience, Finadd. It's the nature of curses that allows us to possibly find a reasonable solution. Two swords, you said?'

'Why would sorcerors curse a weapon?'

'Oh, most often not an intentional act on their parts. Often it's simply a matter of incompetence. In many cases, the sorcerous investment refuses to function. The iron resists the imposition, and the better the forging technique the more resistant the weapon is. Sorcery thrives on flaws, whether structural in the physical sense, or metaphorical in the thematic sense. Ah, I see your eyes glazing over, Finadd. Never mind. Let's peruse the antiques, shall we?'

The Ceda led him to the far wall, and Brys immediately saw a perfect weapon, long and narrow of blade, pointed and double-edged, modest hilt. 'Letherii steel,' he said, reaching for it.

'Yes, in the Blue Style, which, as you well know, is the very earliest technique for Letherii steel. In some ways, the Blue Style produces finer steel than our present methods. The drawbacks lie in other areas.'

Brys tested the weight of the weapon. 'The pommel needs to be replaced, but otherwise ...' Then he looked up.