Mercedes Lackey - Kerowyn's Ride

She pulled her right hand away, quickly, before the sword could take control of her again.

“I’ll thank you to keep your notions to yourself,” she told it frostily, ignoring the incongruity of talking to an inanimate object. Then she turned, and walked deliberately back to the bathing chamber. She “heard” something, as she “heard” thoughts, faint and at the very edge of her abilities to sense it. It sounded like someone grumbling in her sleep ... disturbed, but not awakened.

She ignored it and drew her bath.

Whatever it was, it went away while she was undressing, and by the time she slid into the hot water she wondered if she’d only imagined it.

But as she lay back, relaxing, she began to feel a kind of pull on her mind, as if something had hold of her and was trying to tug her in a particular direciton.

Since the direction was her bedroom, she had no doubt who that “someone” was.

She ignored it, and it grew more persistent; then painful, like a headache in the back of her skull. Stop that, she thought sharply, sitting up in the bath. The pain eased off, but the tugging was still there. She sat back and thought for a few moments, then she put up her very best shields, the shields even Warrl had not been able to break through.

The tugging stopped. She waited for several moments, but whatever the sword was doing did not seem to be able to penetrate the shielding.

You ruled my grandmother, sword. You’re not going to rule me. She closed her eyes, leaned back again, and let the bath relax all her muscles for her.

Finally the water cooled, and she felt relaxed enough to sleep. She opened her eyes and stared at the wall, thinking. I can’t keep shields like this up forever. If I’m lucky, I won’t have to. If I’m not, though, this is going to be an interesting little power struggle.

She lowered her shields, slowly, waiting for the sword to resume its insistent nagging. You may be older, with all manner of magic behind you, she thought at it, but I’ll bet I’m a lot more stubborn than you are.

Nothing.

It’s a good thing Daren was too tired after practice to be interested in bed games tonight.

She waited for a moment, then left the shields down and climbed out of her bath. This is too easy. It’s not going to let me off this easily. She dried herself, and went back into her room to lie down on the bed. If I were Need, what would I do? A straight-on attempt didn’t work ... anytime she starts on me again, I can bring my shields up and block her out. So the next logical move would be to try something subtle.

It occurred to her, as she pulled the covers up a bit tighter around her ears, that it was possible she had inadvertently weakened the sword’s hold on her by not using it during the first few moons she’d owned it.

Those books of Grandmother’s—they had something about soul-bonding in them. I think I still have them, in fact. She sighed. The bed was so warm—and the room was already getting chilly. And she was so awfully tired....

Still—I need the information more than I need the sleep. She gritted her teeth and flung back the covers resolutely, flinching as she swung her legs over and put her feet on the cold floor. At least the Tower was heated a lot better than the Keep. There, this deeply into winter, she could put a mug of water down beside her bed, and it would be frozen all the way to the bottom by morning.

She wrapped herself up in a robe, groped for the candle on the table beside the bed, and took it to the fireplace. She scraped away enough of the ash to expose a coal and lit her candle at it.

The books were right where she thought she’d left them; pushed into the corner of the bookcase next to her desk, ignored in favor of the volumes on the history of warfare and strategy and tactics that Tarma had given her to read. She’d been working her way through them with the interest and enthusiasm she hadn’t been able to muster for the books of poetry and history her tutors had assigned her.

I think it was the red one, she decided, studying them as she tried to recall which one held the information she wanted. But—oh, never mind. There’re only three of them. If there was one thing that studying under Tarma had taught her, it was never to discard a book. You never knew when something in it—even in so innocuous a volume as a book of poetry—could prove useful.

She pulled them out and scurried back to bed with them, putting the candle-holder beside the bed, and pulling the blankets up over her legs.

She began leafing through the first book, looking for the section on enchanted objects and soul-bonding. It was where she remembered it, and she read it carefully this time, paying special attention to anything that might apply to Need.

Finally she closed the book, put all three of them on the table, and blew out the candle. She turned over onto her side and watched the embers glowing in the hearth, while she thought about what she had read.

It seemed that, by her determination to learn sword-work on her own, she had inadvertently weakened the blade’s hold on her. According to several sources quoted in that book, the first few moons were the critical ones in a soul-bonding. Close physical proximity was required after the inital contact, as well as frequent use of the object in question.

So by hanging her on the wall, and not touching her, I kept her from getting the hold on me that she had on my grandmother. And probably everyone else that had her over the past however-many years.

So the soul-bond had been set in, but lightly. Had Kero been a magic-user, this could have been an unfortunate situation. It might even have been a disaster, depending on how much the magic-user in question was likely to depend on the sword’s ability to take over and provide fighting expertise. It was probably just as well that Kethry had been deeply soul-bonded to the thing, given some of the stories Kero had heard from her, and from Tarma.

But to protect Kero from magic, it simply needed to be in physical proxmity to her. Which meant it probably didn’t need to be bonded to her at all—

Except that it wants to know just who it’s fighting for. And it probably needs to have some kind of bond to make sure it can protect the bearer at all levels. But it’s got a light bond, so to protect me, now, it’s got everything it has to have.

It probably wasn’t going to like that, though. Given what Kethry told her about the way the sword had behaved in the past....

I’ll bet it’s going to fight me, trying to get what it wants. I’m not going to give in. Now, I wonder—should I give this thing up ?

If I can....

Kethry had never said anything about the sword deciding to switch owners before the present owner was ready to lose it.

It could happen. All it would have to do would be to decide that it doesn’t want to protect me right at the moment some sorcerer has me targeted. Well, that was true enough—except that would also be violating the blade’s own purpose.

Given that it’s refused to work against some fairly nasty characters simply because they were female, I don’t think it’s likely to drop me in the middle of danger.

That still didn’t answer the question of whether or not she wanted to be rid of the thing.

I don’t think so. It’s too valuable. And—I don’t mind paying for that value with a little altruistic work now and again. Truth to tell, it’s something I’d probably do on my own anyway. The sword is just going to tell me when it needs to be done, and who needs help.

It was getting harder and harder to keep her eyes open, especially since there didn’t seem to be a good reason to stay awake any longer.