formalities and administer your oath, if you are successful.”
Quin studied the Dreads again. They were armed already, though not with guns. The Young Dread’s right hand rested near her whipsword and her left near her long dagger. With her hair tucked away, she looked much younger than Quin, which made the blank look she wore disturbing, as though she were a child robbed of her natural emotions. The Big Dread had a very different expression, intense and
expectant.
Because he held his body so still, Quin had the impression that this was the only look he had ever worn, as if it had been carved into his features at the beginning of time.
“Our respected visitors are armed,” Briac went on, still speaking of the Dreads, “but they will not participate in the next actions unless forced by circumstance. Let us prove our worth by ensuring that does not happen. Are we agreed?”
“Agreed, sir,” Quin and Shinobu said together, though Quin had no idea to what they were agreeing.
“It is time to don our cloaks,” Briac told them.
These were the ritual words. Despite her confusion about the guns, Quin felt her excitement returning.
Briac and Alistair pulled on their own dark cloaks, fastening them about their shoulders. Turning to the apprentices, they placed cloaks around Quin and Shinobu as well. Quin felt the weight of the thick cloth envelop her. She thought,
My life is finally about to begin.
Then, with smooth, measured motions, Briac drew an object from within his own cloak. All eyes turned to stare at it.
It was a long dagger made of pale stone.
Quin realized she was holding her breath. The dagger was about a foot long and quite dull, clearly not made for cutting. Its handle was cylindrical, built of several stone discs that had been stacked on top of one another—dials that Quin knew could each be turned independently. The dagger was bathed in the orange light of the fire, which it seemed to drain of color and to magnify, creating a pale light around its blade.
It was called an athame. The tool of the Seeker. John had poked fun at Briac’s description—“the most valuable artifact of mankind”—but there was nothing amusing about the ancient dagger now.
Quin had seen this athame twice before, both times with Shinobu, when they’d done especially well in a practice fight. Both times, they had gotten only a brief glimpse. Now her training with the stone dagger was about to begin. In all of human history, only sworn Seekers had ever used it. It lay at the heart of their power.
“The athame,” Briac recited. “The finder of hidden ways.”
Then, quite unexpectedly, he pulled another object from his cloak. This one was not a dagger, though it was something similar. It was made of the same pale stone, slightly longer than the athame, with a simple handgrip at one end, and a flat, dull, gently curving blade.
Quin and Shinobu glanced at each other in surprise. They had never seen or heard of this object before—Briac had kept it entirely secret, a final mystery before they took their oaths.
“The lightning rod,” Briac intoned. “Companion of the athame, whose touch allows the athame to come to life.” He held the implement up for another moment as they stared at it. Then he asked, “Are your weapons ready?”
A final check of their weapons, and Shinobu, Quin, and Alistair answered as one, “Ready!”
The Dreads did not move or respond. They were simply watching.
Briac slid the lightning rod back into his cloak. Then he adjusted the dials that formed the haft of the athame. Each dial had many faces, and on each face was a symbol. Briac was lining up a specific set of symbols along the handgrip.
“Do not think! Do not hesitate!” commanded Alistair. “Hesitation is the enemy of the Seeker!”
I will not hesitate! I will not hesitate!
Quin told herself. She glanced at Shinobu and knew he was repeating the same words in his own mind.
“Prepare yer chants!” called Alistair.
Briac held
Quin studied the Dreads again. They were armed already, though not with guns. The Young Dread’s right hand rested near her whipsword and her left near her long dagger. With her hair tucked away, she looked much younger than Quin, which made the blank look she wore disturbing, as though she were a child robbed of her natural emotions. The Big Dread had a very different expression, intense and
expectant.
Because he held his body so still, Quin had the impression that this was the only look he had ever worn, as if it had been carved into his features at the beginning of time.
“Our respected visitors are armed,” Briac went on, still speaking of the Dreads, “but they will not participate in the next actions unless forced by circumstance. Let us prove our worth by ensuring that does not happen. Are we agreed?”
“Agreed, sir,” Quin and Shinobu said together, though Quin had no idea to what they were agreeing.
“It is time to don our cloaks,” Briac told them.
These were the ritual words. Despite her confusion about the guns, Quin felt her excitement returning.
Briac and Alistair pulled on their own dark cloaks, fastening them about their shoulders. Turning to the apprentices, they placed cloaks around Quin and Shinobu as well. Quin felt the weight of the thick cloth envelop her. She thought,
My life is finally about to begin.
Then, with smooth, measured motions, Briac drew an object from within his own cloak. All eyes turned to stare at it.
It was a long dagger made of pale stone.
Quin realized she was holding her breath. The dagger was about a foot long and quite dull, clearly not made for cutting. Its handle was cylindrical, built of several stone discs that had been stacked on top of one another—dials that Quin knew could each be turned independently. The dagger was bathed in the orange light of the fire, which it seemed to drain of color and to magnify, creating a pale light around its blade.
It was called an athame. The tool of the Seeker. John had poked fun at Briac’s description—“the most valuable artifact of mankind”—but there was nothing amusing about the ancient dagger now.
Quin had seen this athame twice before, both times with Shinobu, when they’d done especially well in a practice fight. Both times, they had gotten only a brief glimpse. Now her training with the stone dagger was about to begin. In all of human history, only sworn Seekers had ever used it. It lay at the heart of their power.
“The athame,” Briac recited. “The finder of hidden ways.”
Then, quite unexpectedly, he pulled another object from his cloak. This one was not a dagger, though it was something similar. It was made of the same pale stone, slightly longer than the athame, with a simple handgrip at one end, and a flat, dull, gently curving blade.
Quin and Shinobu glanced at each other in surprise. They had never seen or heard of this object before—Briac had kept it entirely secret, a final mystery before they took their oaths.
“The lightning rod,” Briac intoned. “Companion of the athame, whose touch allows the athame to come to life.” He held the implement up for another moment as they stared at it. Then he asked, “Are your weapons ready?”
A final check of their weapons, and Shinobu, Quin, and Alistair answered as one, “Ready!”
The Dreads did not move or respond. They were simply watching.
Briac slid the lightning rod back into his cloak. Then he adjusted the dials that formed the haft of the athame. Each dial had many faces, and on each face was a symbol. Briac was lining up a specific set of symbols along the handgrip.
“Do not think! Do not hesitate!” commanded Alistair. “Hesitation is the enemy of the Seeker!”
I will not hesitate! I will not hesitate!
Quin told herself. She glanced at Shinobu and knew he was repeating the same words in his own mind.
“Prepare yer chants!” called Alistair.
Briac held
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