Miach didn't want to look as if he was gearing up for battle, so he tried a pleasant smile. "I do," he said pleasantly. "I suggest the Sword of Angesand."
"The Sword of Angesand," Adhémar mouthed. He choked, looked about in vain for something to drink, then pounded himself upon his chest in desperation. Cathar handed him his own cup of ale. He drank deeply "The what?" he wheezed.
"You heard me."
"You cannot be serious!"
"Why not?" Miach asked with a shrug.
"Because it is a woman's sword!" Adhémar exclaimed. "You cannotexpect me to carry a woman's sword!"
Miach suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. "Itisn'ta woman's sword. It was merely fashioned by a woman?"
"It has flowers all over it!"
"Think on them as nightshade, dealing a slow and painful death to those upon whom the sword falls," Miach said. "Many men have carried that sword in battle and been victorious with it, flowers aside." He paused. "Have you ever held it?"
Adhémar scowled at him. "I have and nay, it does not call my name. Fortunately," he muttered, "because I wouldn't carry it even if it did. "
"I don't expectyouto carry it," Miach said. "I expect you to find someoneelseto carry it. "
Adhémar gaped at him. Miach noted that the rest of his brothers were wearing similar expressions. Except Rigaud, of course, who was calculatingly eyeing the throne.
"What kind of someone?" Cathar asked cautiously.
"I imagine it will need to be a mage," Miach said slowly. "After Queen Mehar last used it, it has only been wielded by those with magic."
"Why don't you take it up?" Adhémar asked. "Or don't you have the magic necessary to do so? "
Miach looked at his brother coolly. "I daresay I do, but the sword does not call to me."
"Have you asked it? "
"Adhémar, I am no longer a lad of eight summers. Even I can reach up far enough to pull the blade off the wall?which I have done a time or two while you were napping."
"I've seen him," Rigaud put in helpfully. "And more than twice."
Miach shot Rigaud a glare before he turned back to his king. "We need a sword to replace yours until we can determine what ails you. "
Adhémar grunted. "Very well, I can see the sense in it. Where will you go to find this mage?"
Miach considered. He couldn't leave Adhémar guarding the borders without his magic. There were times he suspected it was dangerous to leave Adhémar in chargewithhis magic. But telling him as much was out of the question. This would require diplomacy and tact. And very probably a great deal of unwarranted flattery. Miach cleared his throat and frowned, pretending to give the matter much thought.
"I suppose I could go," he began, "but I have no way of recognizing who the man will be." That wasn't exactly true, but there was no point in telling Adhémar that either. "Unlike you, my liege. "
"Bloody hell, Miach, I can't call enough magelight to keep myself from tripping down the stairs! You go find him."
"But no one else sees as clearly as you do," Miach said smoothly. "And it will take a special sort of vision, an eye that discerns far above what most mortal men can see, a sense of judgment that only a man of superior wit and wisdom possesses." He paused dramatically. "In short, my liege, it is a task that only you can possibly be considered equal to."
Adhémar opened his mouth to protest, then shut it suddenly. Miach supposed he was grappling with the unexpected flattery and weighing the potential glory of it being true against the trouble of actually leaving Tor Neroche to traipse over the Nine Kingdoms, looking for someone to wield a sword that wasn't his.
Miach saw Rigaud stir, no doubt to say something about keeping the throne warm for his brother while he was away. He shot Rigaud a look of warning. Rigaud made a rather rude gesture in return, but grinned as he did it. Miach pursed his lips and turned his attention back to Adhémar. His brother finally cursed.
A very good sign.
"I'll need to be back by midwinter, at the latest," Adhémar announced.
"Why?" Miach asked carefully.
