”Great. Thanks. What does he want?”
”Out of the whole deal. I can hardly wait to see what you offer him that changes his mind.”
Kit decided to kiss an entire quarter’s worth of profits goodbye and went looking for Sven. Kit found him in the armory sharpening a gladius.
”Hi, Sven.”
”Hi, yourself. The answer’s no.”
The scream of naked steel on the whetstone didn’t encourage argument. Kit found a chair and plopped down. “Bull hockey”
Sven glanced up. “No way. She gets killed, you come hunting me; I have to break your neck …. Nope. No thanks.”
”Would you rather have her go down time without lessons?”
”Huh. You’d rope her down, first.
”Yeah, but she’d have to go to the bathroom sometime and that’s one determined kid. I mean it, Sven. I need you on this one. Ann can teach her anything she needs to know about projectile weapons, but she needs blades, too, and more martial arts than she’s got. She needs lessons. Good lessons. Your lessons.”
Sven put a finer edge on the gladius, then turned it and started working the other side. “You won’t interfere?”
”Nope.”
”Or get pissed off if she gets hurt?”
”Not a bit. The rougher it gets, the more likely she is to wake up and pick another career.”
Sven snorted. “You’re all heart, Grandpa. Well, the answer’s still no. She’s cute. She’ll come to her senses.”
Kit counted ten. Searched for some other argument “I’ve got a Musashi sword-guard.”
Sven halted mid-stroke, then swore and reshaped the ruined edge. “Bastard. Is it signed?”
Gotcha. “Yep.”
Sven glared at him. “Where the hell did you get an original Musashi sword-guard”