The fact that she wanted to learn the sword was surprising enough. The fact that she thought he should teach her, here and now, was even moreso. Eragos wanted to remind her that they were all tired, they were all hungry and none of them were in the mood for an exhibition. He wanted to simply point to his uniform as an answer to her question. Might have done that if not for the hard silence that had until now stretched between them. Whatever she'd done to bring herself out of the melancholy she'd been in was working, but... his eyes narrowed. Vargis' sword. The old man was involved in this somehow. Eragos did not know how, but he was. That meant he was up to something. The goal he was aiming at could be something so outlandish that Eragos might never imagine it. That did not free him to consider Vargis a fool.
Far from it.
A night ago he would have done anything for a word from her. A smile. Something to remind both of them that there was a closeness between them. Now the gulf seemed wide enough to swallow the world. Eragos was no longer convinced that he wanted that closeness, when he saw what a ruin she made of her soul. It should have been enough that she was alive. It should have been. But he'd embraced Lady Vera in the shadows of a tunnel and found the warmth returned to him in kind. When he'd felt ... something ... at seeing Eithne alive again, she had responded with a cold distance that his mind could not reconcile. She wanted things from him that he could not give, would not give, and for that she hated him. Women were as nonsensical to him as birds, with their craning necks and their constant chatter. Easily provoked, as Valos had once calmly remarked.
Valos.
The pain in his chest was sudden and sharp. He did not know why he should grieve for a dead ruiner. He did, all the same.
"He wants you to learn how to use it?" Eragos asked as he stretched out a hand; Hasna seemed surprised when it was extended toward her. "And what do you want? To go home? Or maybe to put down the sword and walk away?"
He was baiting her, and he knew it, but Eragos had to know. If this was simply Vargis speaking to him through Eithne's throat - aiming for whatever goal it was that perverted semi-retired Riders aimed at - Eragos would not give her a lesson. He would send her away, and Vargis would answer for the trouble he was trying to cause. At first Hasna hesitated, with a stern look in Eithne's direction. When Eragos did not withdraw his hand she sighed. Of all the blades he'd seen a White Rider carry hers was the strangest, with its curved and narrow blade, but he'd seen her work before and did not doubt the sturdiness of the weapon. Not quite a sabre, but not a scythe either. Idly Eragos wondered what it was called as he hefted it. Good balance. A strong cutting edge. Workmanlike when it came to stabbing, he thought, but that issue was not relevant.
He would only be practicing.
"Perhaps I'll watch," Hasna's voice was half-question and half-expectation.
"If she has the nerve, then you're free to watch," Eragos replied stoically.
Did she have the nerve? He spun the blade, three times, and then stretched it before him as far as he could with arm extended. A good sword. He might need one like it.