Chapter 7
"I have entrusted to you the safety and security of my person and my home. Have I erred in doing so?" Irons tone was cold and angry, but somehow off. Ian realized after a moment that the discordant thread in his tone was one of barely concealed glee.
Whatever had happened in this room had occurred because Kenneth had engineered it. Irons had probably hired the thieves through a string of intermediaries. Nottingham wondered what Irons had intended to gain with this little charade, but played along. The last thing he wanted to do was let Kenneth know just how well Ian understood him. That edge might save his life some day. Nottingham bowed his head in deference and waited. Irons would tell him soon enough what he wanted.
"Silence is not always the safest answer Ian. The damage to my library is incalculable, as many of the texts were the only ones of their kind. I want the perpetrator dealt with. See to it immediately." Irons raised one hand in dismissal.
"What of the article stolen?" Ian could only refer to the nature of the sunsteel obliquely if he wanted any answers. If he asked directly, he would be met with silence, or worse, a riddle. Truth to tell, he liked those about as much as Sara did.
"The weapon was created to slay supernatural evil. I was never quite sure where it would draw the line as to one such as myself. Were you to handle the blade, it may well try to claim you for itself. The warrior bloodline meant to hold them DOES run in your veins, however distant. I do not suppose you would find it an enjoyable experience; sunsteel blades have limited intelligence and are very domineering." One lip curled up in Irons' usual amused smirk.
Nottingham dropped his head to hide his reaction. This was the first he had heard such a thing of his own past. He suspected Irons had dropped that little tidbit of information to distract and tempt him. A sentient weapon, created and consecrated to the destruction of evil, was a sword fitting for a true knight.
To hint that the sunsteel was his birthright, and then tell him not to touch it, would encourage most men to do the reverse. Ian had seen Kenneth perform such subtle manipulations before, and was not about to be caught by them. He would somehow subdue and bind the blade, or he would destroy it, but first he must find it, "Will the weapon allow its bearer any autonomy, or will it have immediately set out questing for some evil?"
"Given the sword's purpose, I would imagine it is out hunting now. Since it left the mansion, I can only assume it believes me to be a lesser evil. I am not sure whether I should be insulted or relieved. I do wonder what the blade could be seeking?" Kenneth arched a brow, his tone smooth with just a hint of wonder. It was the sound of a man who already knew the answer to the question he was asking.
As suddenly as that, Ian knew what the sentient sword was hunting. Nottingham breathed out her name softly, "Lady Sara."
"Surely this does not surprise you? One man's angel is invariably another man's devil. The Witchblade is the most powerful supernatural entity on the continent, perhaps in the whole world. A religion that gives all the power to the male would be threatened by so much feminine strength. It would threaten their power base. They would see such a thing as a creation of evil. More than that, its nature is inimical to that of the sunsteel. Male and female, night and day, sun and moon." Irons held his hands out to demonstrate their polar opposition.
"Each will attempt to control or destroy the other, but initially they will do so through the medium of their wielders. If Sara Pezzini should fall to the sunsteel, the Witchblade will survive for a time. Only under very specific conditions can it be destroyed. Make sure that time to arrange those conditions is not available by retrieving it immediately." Kenneth stared at Ian, making sure he understood the gravity of what he was saying. This plan of his was not without risk.
Sara Pezzini he could afford to sacrifice, the next wielder could hardly be less tractable than she, the Witchblade he could not. Since the Periculum had somehow already occurred, he could harvest enough of her blood to maintain himself until the next wielder was born. Oh, not as comfortably as he was now perhaps, but it could be done.
Of the two ancient enemies, Jamin, the sunsteel bearer was far more educated in the Mysteries. His response to his two double-crossing accomplices proved that. It was entirely possible that such knowledge would tip the scales in his favor, even though the sunsteel did not have as much raw power to work with as the Witchblade. No matter the outcome, Jamin would be weakened enough from fighting Sara Pezzini for Ian to slay him and recover both weapons.
"If the Wielder cannot stand against the sunsteel, how can I?" Nottingham tilted his head, looking for all the world like a raven eyeing something that it wasn't certain it should eat.
"The sunsteel is vulnerable to the foibles of the religion that created it. I trust I need not explain further." Kenneth spoke in the tone of a disappointed tutor, whose pupil had missed the obvious.
"If the Witchblade should win the day, what would you have me do?" Nottingham waited quietly, as if the answer was of no import, although his mind was screaming in protest at the idea of Sara falling under that curving blade. What had Kenneth meant, 'the foibles of the religion that created it'? Ian racked his brain for answers in the long silence.
"If Miss Pezzini should emerge victorious, she will not do so unscathed. If she is weak enough, finish the kill. If she is not, give her aid. Make her feel indebted to you, which in turn makes her indebted to me." Irons smiled again, his eyes as cold as the Northern Sea.
The order was no surprise. Nottingham knew that Irons had grown concerned over the intractability of the new Wielder. No doubt Kenneth intended for the weapon to weaken Sara, maybe even defeat her. It was always amazing to hear Irons plotting. No matter what happened, he was prepared to strengthen his position.
Knowing himself truly dismissed, Nottingham swept out of the room. The silk tails of his tuxedo fluttered softly behind him in his haste. It was vaguely annoying, but he did not feel that he had time to change. Not if he were to save Lady Sara.
"I have entrusted to you the safety and security of my person and my home. Have I erred in doing so?" Irons tone was cold and angry, but somehow off. Ian realized after a moment that the discordant thread in his tone was one of barely concealed glee.
Whatever had happened in this room had occurred because Kenneth had engineered it. Irons had probably hired the thieves through a string of intermediaries. Nottingham wondered what Irons had intended to gain with this little charade, but played along. The last thing he wanted to do was let Kenneth know just how well Ian understood him. That edge might save his life some day. Nottingham bowed his head in deference and waited. Irons would tell him soon enough what he wanted.
"Silence is not always the safest answer Ian. The damage to my library is incalculable, as many of the texts were the only ones of their kind. I want the perpetrator dealt with. See to it immediately." Irons raised one hand in dismissal.
"What of the article stolen?" Ian could only refer to the nature of the sunsteel obliquely if he wanted any answers. If he asked directly, he would be met with silence, or worse, a riddle. Truth to tell, he liked those about as much as Sara did.
"The weapon was created to slay supernatural evil. I was never quite sure where it would draw the line as to one such as myself. Were you to handle the blade, it may well try to claim you for itself. The warrior bloodline meant to hold them DOES run in your veins, however distant. I do not suppose you would find it an enjoyable experience; sunsteel blades have limited intelligence and are very domineering." One lip curled up in Irons' usual amused smirk.
Nottingham dropped his head to hide his reaction. This was the first he had heard such a thing of his own past. He suspected Irons had dropped that little tidbit of information to distract and tempt him. A sentient weapon, created and consecrated to the destruction of evil, was a sword fitting for a true knight.
To hint that the sunsteel was his birthright, and then tell him not to touch it, would encourage most men to do the reverse. Ian had seen Kenneth perform such subtle manipulations before, and was not about to be caught by them. He would somehow subdue and bind the blade, or he would destroy it, but first he must find it, "Will the weapon allow its bearer any autonomy, or will it have immediately set out questing for some evil?"
"Given the sword's purpose, I would imagine it is out hunting now. Since it left the mansion, I can only assume it believes me to be a lesser evil. I am not sure whether I should be insulted or relieved. I do wonder what the blade could be seeking?" Kenneth arched a brow, his tone smooth with just a hint of wonder. It was the sound of a man who already knew the answer to the question he was asking.
As suddenly as that, Ian knew what the sentient sword was hunting. Nottingham breathed out her name softly, "Lady Sara."
"Surely this does not surprise you? One man's angel is invariably another man's devil. The Witchblade is the most powerful supernatural entity on the continent, perhaps in the whole world. A religion that gives all the power to the male would be threatened by so much feminine strength. It would threaten their power base. They would see such a thing as a creation of evil. More than that, its nature is inimical to that of the sunsteel. Male and female, night and day, sun and moon." Irons held his hands out to demonstrate their polar opposition.
"Each will attempt to control or destroy the other, but initially they will do so through the medium of their wielders. If Sara Pezzini should fall to the sunsteel, the Witchblade will survive for a time. Only under very specific conditions can it be destroyed. Make sure that time to arrange those conditions is not available by retrieving it immediately." Kenneth stared at Ian, making sure he understood the gravity of what he was saying. This plan of his was not without risk.
Sara Pezzini he could afford to sacrifice, the next wielder could hardly be less tractable than she, the Witchblade he could not. Since the Periculum had somehow already occurred, he could harvest enough of her blood to maintain himself until the next wielder was born. Oh, not as comfortably as he was now perhaps, but it could be done.
Of the two ancient enemies, Jamin, the sunsteel bearer was far more educated in the Mysteries. His response to his two double-crossing accomplices proved that. It was entirely possible that such knowledge would tip the scales in his favor, even though the sunsteel did not have as much raw power to work with as the Witchblade. No matter the outcome, Jamin would be weakened enough from fighting Sara Pezzini for Ian to slay him and recover both weapons.
"If the Wielder cannot stand against the sunsteel, how can I?" Nottingham tilted his head, looking for all the world like a raven eyeing something that it wasn't certain it should eat.
"The sunsteel is vulnerable to the foibles of the religion that created it. I trust I need not explain further." Kenneth spoke in the tone of a disappointed tutor, whose pupil had missed the obvious.
"If the Witchblade should win the day, what would you have me do?" Nottingham waited quietly, as if the answer was of no import, although his mind was screaming in protest at the idea of Sara falling under that curving blade. What had Kenneth meant, 'the foibles of the religion that created it'? Ian racked his brain for answers in the long silence.
"If Miss Pezzini should emerge victorious, she will not do so unscathed. If she is weak enough, finish the kill. If she is not, give her aid. Make her feel indebted to you, which in turn makes her indebted to me." Irons smiled again, his eyes as cold as the Northern Sea.
The order was no surprise. Nottingham knew that Irons had grown concerned over the intractability of the new Wielder. No doubt Kenneth intended for the weapon to weaken Sara, maybe even defeat her. It was always amazing to hear Irons plotting. No matter what happened, he was prepared to strengthen his position.
Knowing himself truly dismissed, Nottingham swept out of the room. The silk tails of his tuxedo fluttered softly behind him in his haste. It was vaguely annoying, but he did not feel that he had time to change. Not if he were to save Lady Sara.