Uncle was always very kind to me. At times, he turned a blinder eye to my adventurings than he should have, but still, I think he felt sorry for me. The boys' education he took seriously, but not mine...at first. Yes, it was traditional for a "shieldmaiden" to know how to use a shield, but he would have liked for me to go no farther than the shield. He loved me and respected me—I demanded that much—and I think he understood me, very well. He wanted to see my steel sheathed in velvet, because the sword is safer there; but all along, only a fool can't see the sword-shape past the embroidery and trappings. He knew, he did. He may have been other things at times, but Uncle was no fool. The last act of pity he ever did for me was give me the sword. From then on, he could treat me unfairly, but pity and the Shieldmaiden are never uttered in the same breath by any but those that can defend themselves. From the moment it came to me, that's what I became...