“But he—he—”

“It is over,” Lord Odfrey said in a tone that permitted no further discussion.

“Be glad.”

Dain sighed and nodded, knowing he must do as Lord Odfrey advised. Perhaps Gavril had learned a lesson from this experience. Perhaps now he would be more tolerant of beliefs that were not his own. Perhaps he might even see some good use in having an eld around.

“Was he much hurt?” Dain asked.

“His leg will pain him for a while, but he will mend,” Lord Odfrey said. “By the king’s birthday, he’ll be well enough to do his part in his knighting ceremonies.”

The king’s tournament. Dain nodded, feeling fresh disappointment wash through him. He would see none of the festivities at Savroix, but at least he was alive and not to be punished. He could accept that as enough.  “Lord,” he said, gazing up at Lord Odfrey, “there is something I would ask you.”

“Yes?”

“It’s about Thum.”

“Yes?”

“You have no squire,” Dain said, frowning as he sought the best way to phrase his request, “and Thum would be good in the job.”

“Would he?” Lord Odfrey said. His voice was neutral. His dark eyes held no expression at all.

This was not promising. Dain frowned and tried to think of a way to persuade him. “Thum is smart, lord, and loyal. He never loses things. He works hard. He would make you a worthy squire.”

“Thank you for your advice, even if it is unasked for,” Lord Odfrey said. “I have already placed him in that post.”

Dain’s gaze flashed up, and he smiled, although to his surprise his spirits suddenly felt lower than before. So Thum would be the one foster permitted to go to Savroix later this summer. Well, he deserved the trip. He was a hard worker and a good friend. But somewhere beneath Dain’s gladness lay an empty feeling that he could not drive away.

“Now enough about Thum,” Lord Odfrey said. “The knights ended your trial, but there are other matters between you and me that are not settled.” Dain swallowed hard, expecting lecture and punishment. “Yes, lord?” Lord Odfrey stared at him, and with a sudden frown stood up and began to pace back and forth. “Damne,” he muttered. “I came here prepared to reprimand you for leaving the hold without permission, for not governing your damnable temper as you should, for causing me more worry than a man should have to endure. Never do that to me again.”

Dain stared at him in surprise. “No, lord,” he said after a moment. “I won’t.” “You must learn discipline. An order is an order. If you like or dislike it, that does not matter. If your commander cannot count on you to obey him in all areas, then he cannot depend on you in battle either.” Dain hung his head. “Am I to be flogged?”

“Thod knows you deserve it,” Lord Odfrey said grimly, then paused next to Dain and ruffled his hair with a gentle hand. “But, no. I think you’ve been through enough.”

Relief filled Dain, and a great weight came off his shoulders. He glanced up and saw Lord Odfrey smiling at him. Dain smiled back, glad that they were friends again.

“Impossible brat,” Lord Odfrey said with feeling. “How did you learn to swing a sword like that? How did you make it flash fire hot enough to destroy a Nonkind?”

“But it will always do so against them,” Dain said in surprise. “Truthseeker is—” “It is not made of magicked metal!” Lord Odfrey said too quickly, as though he perhaps feared that it really was. “I do not own a weapon that is forbidden by Writ.”

“No, Truthseeker is not made of magicked metal,” Dain said, wondering how Lord Odfrey could own such a holy weapon and not know what he had.  The chevard released his breath. “Thod be thanked. I thought you were going to tell me of some power I didn’t—” “It’s made of god-steel.” Lord Odfrey stared at him, looking dumbfounded.  “What?”

“Aye. God-steel. Have you heard of it? It’s rare and very old. The metal is so hard that dwarves who have found pieces of it in places of ancient battles cannot hammer it. They cannot soften it with fire. They cannot work it at all, despite their skill. Some ancestor of yours must have fought in the great battles of long ago.”

Lord Odfrey sank down on the edge of the bed again, as though his legs would not hold him. “Gods’ mercy,” he whispered at last. “I cannot believe it.” “The power was not mine,” Dain said, surprised that Lord Odfrey had even thought so. “Everything lay inside the sword.” Lord Odfrey ran his hand across his face.  “My father was afraid to touch it. I have never carried it in battle.”

“That’s where it belongs,” Dain said. “That’s what it sings for.” The chevard turned his gaze on Dain and frowned. “I have heard it said that the dwarves believe metal sings. You can hear it, can’t you?” Dain’s smile faded. He met Lord Odfrey’s eyes and knew he must tell the truth.  “Aye. I felt it speak to me. It told me its name, and I believed it right to use it. Or, in doing so, have I broken another law?”

“No, lad,” Lord Odfrey said kindly. “You used it for the greatest good possible, that of saving someone’s life.”

“It is an incredible weapon,” Dain said, remembering the feel of it. “I would see you use it—” “Nay!” Lord Odfrey said hastily, standing up again. “My father warned me as his father did warn him, that it is too strong for mere men to handle. And if you are right about its being made from god-steel, then my father spoke truth.  Mortals have no business with such weapons. But you swung it as though it had been made for your hand.”

“Desperation, lord, that is all.”

“False modesty does not become you,” Lord Odfrey said. “By the laws of our church, men cannot own god-steel.”

Dain looked up in alarm. “You will not destroy it, lord! You will not fling it in the river.”

“I should,” Lord Odfrey said, but shook his head. “Nay, I will not. My father told me it was won as a prize in battle by our ancestor.” “It was a very great reward,” Dain said. “Your ancestor must have fought bravely indeed.”

Lord Odfrey nodded and blinked in amazement. “God-steel,” he said softly, looking secretly pleased. “Well, well. Let this be our secret, Dain, kept between you and me. Let the others think you have powers against the Nonkind if they wish.”