Perry, Steve - Matador 08 - Black Steel by Perry Steve

Author:Perry, Steve [Perry, Steve]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2012-08-15T15:35:21+00:00

"Push in," Cierto said to the computer.

The sword grew larger. The tempering along the cutting edge was done by using special clays, and after heating and polishing, left a distinctive pattern of lighter metal where it was harder. The patterns had names, and this one was either a flame or perhaps a three-cedar; the computer could not make it clear enough to be certain. In any event, the temper line was not one of the more common ones. Would the maker of a fake blade bother with something so esoteric?

Hmm. This might just be what Cierto had always feared. Someone else with the family secret; worse, someone who knew how to use it. He had to have this sword, to determine its age-and everything else possible about it.

"And where is this place?" Cierto said to Ells.

The man smiled, a thin, cagey expression. "There was a matter of a reward."

Cierto wanted to laugh, but held it. What a fool. He had no understanding of his position. "Of course."

Cierto waved his hands at the compute. "Give me your credit cube number and it will be transferred to your account." The amount was nothing; he would have paid ten times as much if this sword was what he felt certain it was.

The image hung in the air. And what did the woman look like who moved so well with his family's secret? "Computer, wide angle, normal speed."

The image altered and began to move again. When the woman spun and faced the camera, Cierto said,

"Stop, enhance still image."

When he saw the woman's face, he did laugh. Ells did not understand and Cierto did not bother to enlighten him.

Truly, Cierto thought, truly there must be gods and they must have warped senses of humor. How else to explain such a thing?

When the lid of the Healy fanned open, Sleel sat up slowly. Even though the machine had stimmed his muscles to hold their tone, he wanted to give his heart a chance to keep the blood flowing to his brain.

His knee was virtually healed, the new eye was mostly formed and only a few weeks away from being fully grown, and the left hand was well past bud stage, with small but perfect fingers. He would be fitted with the first of a series of robotic glove prostheses to give him useful function until the hand reached normal size. That would take about two months. He was as well physically as this machine could make him.

"You look better," Wu said from the doorway.

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