learn."
Gilberto smiled crookedly, as if offering an apology. The expression turned him from a colorless executioner into a sad-faced clown.
Tamra studied him from one side. I just smiled back at the man. He looked funny. Boring or strange as some of the Brotherhood could be, I never doubted their abilities. Krystal pursed her too-red lips, trying not to giggle. Wrynn scowled. Myrten licked his lips. Dorthae looked at Talryn, then at Gilberto, without saying a word.
Gilberto acknowledged us, bending forward at the waist. The gesture was formal. "There are weapons on the racks. Please look them over. Pick them up. Handle them -touch at least one of each kind. Whichever one of them feels most comfortable to you, please take that one and sit down on one of the pillows at the end of the room."
The weapons-master's eyes turned cold. "Do not pick a weapon with your head. Do not pick whatever seems the easiest, or the most destructive. The weapons you use must reflect you." He paused. "Later, I will teach you about other weapons." He bowed again and gestured toward the racks.
Gilberto was serious. I knew that. So I edged toward the nearest rack, on which I could see swords-long ones, short ones, and some no bigger than long daggers. I looked at a narrow-bladed sword with a business-like handle, finally nerved myself to pick it up-and damned near dropped it. The chill and almost forbidding feel of the weapon nauseated me. As quickly as possible I set it down, wiping my forehead.
"Heee . . ."
Krystal and her damned giggles. "Go ahead. You pick one up."
She twisted her hair back over her shoulder and reached past me for the sword, easily holding it, turning it in her hands. "It feels fine, but not quite right." She set it down and reached for a slighter, shorter sword, although it had the same narrow blade.
I reached for the sword she had tried, the one I had let go of so quickly. The jolt and chill weren't quite as strong, but my stomach still twisted.
Looking for. Talryn, I wondered what trickery he and Gilberto were up to. But Talryn had disappeared so silently no one noticed his departure, and Gilberto stood at the end of one of the racks, a thoroughly impassive, even bored, look on his face.
Tamra came up beside me, grinning, and reached for the sword that I had tried twice. Her mouth opened as her hand grasped the hilt. Then she tightened her lips, finally setting the sword down. "Not for me." A faint sheen of perspiration had popped out on her forehead.
I repressed a smile and walked down the first rack, looking at the daggers, many of which were finely crafted, even while displaying workmanlike effectiveness. Even running my hands over their hilts told me that the daggers were equally repugnant. I had handled knives before, and I had never felt so repelled. Clearly a spell had been placed on the weapons. But why?
From the corner of my eye, I could see that Tamra was as vexed as I, and her grin had long since disappeared.
The spears were only mildly uncomfortable. Next to them were a row of halberds, their axe-blades polished, glittering. But when I lowered my hand to one of the heavy brass halberds, I thought my stomach would empty on the spot.
Clunk. I pulled away so suddenly that one of the lower and shorter halberds rolled out of its resting place and struck the floor.
Even Gilberto turned toward me, his eyebrows raised.
Despite the look, I left the halberd on the floor. Damned if I was about to risk disgracing myself on the spot by losing what remained of my breakfast.
I waved him off, moving from the edged weapons toward the pistols. I'd never seen one up close, but Magister Kerwin had mentioned them in history, noting their limited effectiveness in warfare because of their unreliability at any distance and the problems created by their complexity, especially their susceptibility to chaos-magic.
I didn't even have to touch them. They were just as unfriendly, although I watched Myrten fondling one almost
Gilberto smiled crookedly, as if offering an apology. The expression turned him from a colorless executioner into a sad-faced clown.
Tamra studied him from one side. I just smiled back at the man. He looked funny. Boring or strange as some of the Brotherhood could be, I never doubted their abilities. Krystal pursed her too-red lips, trying not to giggle. Wrynn scowled. Myrten licked his lips. Dorthae looked at Talryn, then at Gilberto, without saying a word.
Gilberto acknowledged us, bending forward at the waist. The gesture was formal. "There are weapons on the racks. Please look them over. Pick them up. Handle them -touch at least one of each kind. Whichever one of them feels most comfortable to you, please take that one and sit down on one of the pillows at the end of the room."
The weapons-master's eyes turned cold. "Do not pick a weapon with your head. Do not pick whatever seems the easiest, or the most destructive. The weapons you use must reflect you." He paused. "Later, I will teach you about other weapons." He bowed again and gestured toward the racks.
Gilberto was serious. I knew that. So I edged toward the nearest rack, on which I could see swords-long ones, short ones, and some no bigger than long daggers. I looked at a narrow-bladed sword with a business-like handle, finally nerved myself to pick it up-and damned near dropped it. The chill and almost forbidding feel of the weapon nauseated me. As quickly as possible I set it down, wiping my forehead.
"Heee . . ."
Krystal and her damned giggles. "Go ahead. You pick one up."
She twisted her hair back over her shoulder and reached past me for the sword, easily holding it, turning it in her hands. "It feels fine, but not quite right." She set it down and reached for a slighter, shorter sword, although it had the same narrow blade.
I reached for the sword she had tried, the one I had let go of so quickly. The jolt and chill weren't quite as strong, but my stomach still twisted.
Looking for. Talryn, I wondered what trickery he and Gilberto were up to. But Talryn had disappeared so silently no one noticed his departure, and Gilberto stood at the end of one of the racks, a thoroughly impassive, even bored, look on his face.
Tamra came up beside me, grinning, and reached for the sword that I had tried twice. Her mouth opened as her hand grasped the hilt. Then she tightened her lips, finally setting the sword down. "Not for me." A faint sheen of perspiration had popped out on her forehead.
I repressed a smile and walked down the first rack, looking at the daggers, many of which were finely crafted, even while displaying workmanlike effectiveness. Even running my hands over their hilts told me that the daggers were equally repugnant. I had handled knives before, and I had never felt so repelled. Clearly a spell had been placed on the weapons. But why?
From the corner of my eye, I could see that Tamra was as vexed as I, and her grin had long since disappeared.
The spears were only mildly uncomfortable. Next to them were a row of halberds, their axe-blades polished, glittering. But when I lowered my hand to one of the heavy brass halberds, I thought my stomach would empty on the spot.
Clunk. I pulled away so suddenly that one of the lower and shorter halberds rolled out of its resting place and struck the floor.
Even Gilberto turned toward me, his eyebrows raised.
Despite the look, I left the halberd on the floor. Damned if I was about to risk disgracing myself on the spot by losing what remained of my breakfast.
I waved him off, moving from the edged weapons toward the pistols. I'd never seen one up close, but Magister Kerwin had mentioned them in history, noting their limited effectiveness in warfare because of their unreliability at any distance and the problems created by their complexity, especially their susceptibility to chaos-magic.
I didn't even have to touch them. They were just as unfriendly, although I watched Myrten fondling one almost
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