on the floor, prone and flat against the boards. He did a quick calculation in his head. They had a little under half an hour before they were supposed to meet the elder Monpress and Eli at the wall. Not much time, but it wasn’t like he could ask the man to wait. He’d just have to be quick. In any case, he thought as his hand tightened on his sword, wasn’t this the kind of challenge he’d been looking for?
“All right,” Josef said. He bent over, laying the wrapped Fenzetti on the floor beside Nico. “You’ve got your deal.”
Sted’s scarred face broke into an enormous grin. “Wonderful! If you put up a good enough show, I might even add something of yours to my trophies.” He cackled and pounded his chest, making the grim collection on his sash clatter.
“I’ll pass,” Josef said, dropping into a defensive crouch.
“Suit yourself,” Sted said. “Start whenever you’re ready.”
Josef balanced on the balls of his feet, swords out. The Heart was on the other side of the room still, but that was fine. He was going to win this without the Heart’s help. Across the room, Sted watched him, arms slack at his sides. Josef chose his spot carefully, a stretch of unguarded muscle to the left of Sted’s ribs, just above his stomach. When he could almost feel his sword cutting the man’s flesh, he sprang.
He threw himself forward, moving with a speed that would have impressed Coriano had the other swordsman been alive to see it, and dashed hard to the right, making a feint toward Sted’s leg. Then, at the last second, he swung his swords around to bite into his true mark, plunging the flashing steel straight into Sted’s flesh. But as the blow came down, Josef knew something was wrong. Sted wasn’t blocking. It wasn’t that he’d seen through the feint; he hadn’t even moved. The man just stood there, smiling as Josef rushed him, not even flinching when both of Josef’s swords landed in his undefended side.
Josef felt a shock move up his arm as the strike hit, but it was all wrong. The impact was far too strong. It was like hitting stone, not flesh. Josef slid with the blow, letting his momentum carry him past Sted. The moment he was behind the larger man, Josef flipped his swords, turning and thrusting them into Sted’s back. Again, the blades struck true, and again that horrible reverberation went up his arm, only this time it was accompanied by a sharp crack. Josef’s eyes widened, and he jumped, landing in a crouch on a crate several feet away.
He held his swords in front of him, grimacing at the two inches missing from the top of his left-hand weapon. The tip had snapped clean off, leaving a square nub where the point should have been. But Sted, who had just taken four killing blows, stood the same as ever. He looked over his shoulder at Josef, and then reached behind him, picking the broken tip of Josef’s sword out of his coat. Beneath the holes the swords had torn when they entered, his skin was smooth and whole.
When he turned, Josef saw Sted’s side was also uninjured, the skin not even reddened from the strike. Sted’s grin grew wider as he watched the realization sink in.
“You know,” he said slowly, tossing the broken sword tip casually in his hand, “when you get an invitation to join the League of Storms, they give you a gift, sort of a consolation prize for leaving your life behind. Some guys choose a longer life, some choose an endless supply of beautiful women, some just want to get drunk with no consequences. I didn’t want any of that. Instead, I asked for skin that couldn’t be cut.” He grabbed the sword tip midtoss and jabbed the broken end straight into the soft flesh below his wrist. Josef flinched, but the jagged metal slid harmlessly over Sted’s skin without leaving so much as a scratch. Point made, Sted tossed the sword tip over his shoulder, where it clattered across the unseen crates and vanished into the dark.
“I probably should have told you that before you agreed to the fight,” Sted said, sinking into a combat stance for the first time. “You can still run if you want.”
Josef’s answer to that was to lob his broken sword right at Sted’s head. Sted dodged easily, but Josef was already moving, running along the crates. He flipped a