Ten Arrows

Chapter 12

"Just get me out of here, will you? We can discuss this later, but right now you're wasting valuable time!"

He gave me an exasperated look that contained a hint of anger.

"What's the point of trying to teach me anything if you're not willing to let me prove to you that I've learned it? Huh? What's the bloody point?! How else do I convince you that I don't need to be treated like some stupid child? You'd probably be dead right now if it weren't for me, and you're worried about a few minutes?! No . . . we can talk now - this is the perfect time." He thrust his jaw at me defiantly. "You're the one wasting it!"

I grit my teeth and took a slow, careful breath.

"Okay. Connor, you have a point," I said quietly. "Thank you for saving my life. I'm grateful you're here, and I'm glad you're learning. And yes, you've caught me with my own lesson - you're officially clever, okay? Now, quickly, ask your Baal-be-damned question!"

He blinked at me, looked pleased for a fraction of a second, and relaxed marginally. Then he narrowed his eyes. "What's Haundsing's problem?"

I shook my head. "That's not my secret to tell, Connor."

"I don't care if it's your secret or not. It's a secret. You know it. I want it. You're in a cage." He inclined his head meaningfully at the bars. "Tell me."

I felt the muscles in my jaw tighten, and I took another deep breath.

Then I chuckled softly.

"You know, I think you may have learned this lesson a little too well. Alright, Connor. It's Theo's sword - the one you stole."

Connor stared at me blankly for a few seconds.

"His sword. But . . . he's got it back!" His expression became both angry and confused. "He's still mad because of that? Because I stole a sword once?"

"There's a scratch on the blade now, by the handle. A deep one. It can't be buffed out."

His eyes went even wider, and his expression became one of incredulity.

"That's what this is all about? A scratch on his sword?! A stupid, accidental scratch on some stupid old sword that doesn't even look like it's been used in-"

"Listen to me, Connor. He made an oath when he found it had been stolen, one involving lots and lots of blood. In all the time I've known him, he's never once broken an oath. He knows you're responsible, and yet he hasn't so much as touched you. Maybe it's for my sake, I don't know. Maybe he's waiting for an apology from you. Who can say? All I know for sure is that he was mad enough to kill whoever took it before. And," I said, gesturing at him, "he hasn't."

"But it's just a sword!" he insisted indignantly, looking the slightest bit troubled now. "He's got tons of them! I know - I've been over there and seen most of them! Why's he making such a big deal out of one stupid sword?"

"I'll give you the short version. His family comes from a long line of duelists. His father died holding that sword. His grandfather died holding that sword. Despite being one of the best swords ever made, I've never seen him use it, because he's afraid it might get nicked. There's a knight who's been in his service for years whose only job is to make sure that sword gets to the arena and into his hands if he's ever mortally wounded. It has a name, for Baal's sake! If he has no children to leave it to, he plans on being buried with it. Do you sort of begin to grasp the picture here?"

Connor looked at the floor, suddenly appearing very uncomfortable.

"And I scratched it," he said, meekly. "But . . . I didn't know! How could I? All that time? Why didn't he tell me? I mean, how stupid is that? How in Hades name could I have-"