Read Online Sword of the Bright Lady by M.C. Planck - Free Book Online

from outside interrupted them. Karl stepped over to the blanket-shrouded remains of the door and ripped them down, one hand on his sword hilt.
    Svengusta frowned at him from outside, looking at his twice-ruined doorway.
    â€œCardinal, I believe you need to see this,” Svengusta said. Behind him was a short, powerfully built man carrying a long package wrapped in a blanket. The man bowed and sweated, far more nervous than anyone else Christopher had seen dealing with priests. But he couldn’t be a criminal. By his dress he was clearly a craftsman. By those arms, Christopher was going with blacksmith as his trade.
    â€œForgive my presumption, Lord Cardinal,” the man begged.
    â€œNone needed, Journeyman. You have a right to be here,” the Cardinal answered. Explaining to Christopher, he said, “This is the girl’s father, Dereth.”
    The man looked guiltily at the bundle in his arms and launched into an explanation. “Some seasons ago, I displeased certain members of the guild by poorly chosen remarks. Hence I found myself with more time than work. My pride was chafed, and I thought to prove something to myself, though I am not by rank licensed to make weapons.”
    â€œSo you made one anyway.” Faren shrugged. “That’s not a crime, as long as you don’t sell it or stick it in anybody. Why is this relevant?”
    â€œI thought to make something that none could accuse me of illegal commerce yet would still display my skill. Oft times I have visited Pater Svengusta’s chapel, to give thanks to the statue of the god for safe travel for me and mine, especially for my daughter, who has walked many times to and from this village, and often alone.”
    Apparently the Cardinal did not find the heedless ways of lovestruck girls to be pertinent. His hands twitched, seeking an opportunity to interrupt the smith and send him packing.
    Dereth got the hint and skipped to the end. “And so I made this.”
    He unwrapped the blanket to reveal the sword inside.
    Not just any sword, but a katana, the naked blade lying on the woolen blanket draped over the man’s arms. The suba was iron instead of bronze, but otherwise it was a perfect copy of Marcius’s weapon from the wooden frieze. Christopher hungered for a closer look. With a weapon like that, Hobilar’s armor would hardly matter.
    Faren’s reaction was surprising. The Cardinal was speechless.
    â€œI thought I served my own pride and pleasure, my lord,” the smith said humbly, “but now I dare to think I served the will of the Bright Lady.”
    â€œMay I see that?” Christopher asked, entranced.
    Everyone else looked to the Cardinal for permission, who nodded approval while frowning in dismay.
    The smith reverently offered the weapon’s hilt to Christopher. Even in the confined space of the kitchen, he could tell it was an excellent match for him. It was exactly the right length and weight for his height. But more importantly, it seemed alive in his hand.
    â€œNo clearer sign can I imagine,” the Cardinal said slowly. “This must be the work of Marcius. Your coming was prepared for.”
    â€œNonsense,” Christopher replied. “You heard the smith, he had his own reasons. It’s just coincidence.” He could accept alien super-science, but he wasn’t about to surrender to mysticism. Christopher was only half involved in the conversation. The sword in his hand kept distracting him, like it wanted to be swung. He studied it closely. “Did you hammer-weld in an edge of harder iron?” he asked the smith.
    Dereth looked crushed. “No, Pater. I did not know to do this.”
    â€œIt’s okay,” Christopher reassured him. “It’s still an excellent blade. But with the superior tensile strength of the steel backing, you can afford to put a sharper edge of brittle iron here.”
    â€œYou know much about swords for a priest,”