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I reached for the wastebasket Sos they chose to keep A hilt protruded about an inch from the papers inside the basket The pommel had the unmistakable pale softness of bone Her in a sheath, about twenty-five and a half inches long overall The sheath rapped in black leather Silver leaf covered the tip of the sheath and about two inches at the top, twisting into a coree, and niello I counted the braided strands: one, two, five total The handle had been painstakingly carved to give the bone just enough texture so if the grip becareen turquoise stone the size of ht-red carnelian graced the poers around the grip The bone ar hands
The blade came free of the scabbard with a soft whisper The seventeen-inch double-edged blade shiht and bound into steel Silver script, delicate and elegant, ran the length of the grooved blade I didn’t speak Arabic, but I’ve learned to recognize soainst evil spirits Hasbiya Allahu la ilaha illa huwa àlayhi tawakkaltu a rabbu al-àrshi al-àzhiod but He; in Hihty Throne
A kindjal dagger Not one of Russian make The profile was too curved This was a kindjal with an Arabic spin on it I balanced the dagger on ed, and the kind of weight distribution that let the dagger sink into the body almost on its own This wasn’t a weapon It was a masterpiece The kind of blade you treasure and pass on to your children
So the falcatas were on the wall, but the kindjal got thrown into the wastebasket Why? If Eduardo didn’t like it, why not sell it? He needed the money
The tiny hairs on the back ofinning to set Someone stood in the shadow of a tree about fifty yards away, half hidden by a low branch I could barely make out a dark silhouette by the darker trunk
Three seconds to the door, five seconds to cover the distance Too long If the watcher wasn’t coet out the door
I leaned forward, focusing on the watcher My body tensed
The shadoas still there, by the trunk Definitely human
Come out, come out, whoever you are
The human shape moved
That’s it Come forward Come out to play
The branch slid out of the way