Thankfully, Anea didn’t care to look exactly like the other girls. She was happy with the dress she got, preferred to do the makeup herself, and settled on a simpler hairstyle that wouldn’t tangle up with the painted bronze headband she was wearing. It was a simple piece with a triangle stamped with an elaborate swirling pattern at the crown, currently sliding off-kilter as she cocked her head to the side.

“You should get it.”

“No way. It’s got to be a fake. Even if it wasn’t, we can’t afford it. I can make do with what I have.”

“We need it. We need you at your best.”

Anea suddenly looks away with a tight-lipped smile.

“What’s so funny?”

“Boo.” A dead pan voice from behind sounds. Touch jerks around, eyes wide, then jumps again when he sees a deathly white bird skull staring at him from behind, before finally relaxing.

“How do I look?” Rachel says, spreading the ‘wings’ of her cheap black feather poncho.

“Spooky.” Anea says, adjusting the head piece back into proper alignment.

“Good disguise. Simple, practical, breaks up your silhouette nicely.”

Even through the bird mask, Touchstone can see Rachel rolling her eyes by the tilting of her head.

“What’cha lookin’ at?” Rachel brushes past the two, closely followed by Arch on her heels.

“Arch!” Anea whispers loudly, digging through her pack. “Look what we got you!” The girl holds up a little black cape, top hat, and mask.

The fox backs away, hissing, then hides behind Touch’s tree trunk legs.

“Told you.” Touch says as he picks Arch up and lets him snake his way into his pack.

“This here!” The vendor exclaims loudly, showcasing a broad saber with a swirling wavy black pattern embedded in the steel, as Rachel approaches.

“Is the world’s first Aether infused Damascus steel blade! Many have tried! But none have been able to make anything good enough to bring to market!”

The whole thing, basket hilt and blade, was covered in an oily opalescent sheen. The only thing more impressive than the design of the sword was the balls the man had to have for selling it at that price.

“Damascus steel,” Touch says, coming up from behind “gets that black pattern from carbon nanotubes being formed during the forging proceed, making a really strong and flexible sword. The art’s been lost for centuries. Nowadays people just paint the pattern on for looks, or make look-a-likes by folding different colored metals over each other. Some have gotten close, but no one has made a genuine Damascus since. This is simply a scam.”

“Oh really, big man? Care for a wager? I see from the swords on your pack, you must know your sabers! If you can break my sword, I will pay you the price of this saber. But if my man can break your sword, you must buy mine as a replacement! What do you say!” He says as he takes the saber off the stand, flexing it back and forth and waving it around to accentuate his points.

Rachel, Anea, Arch, Dill, and a steadily growing crowd turn their heads toward Touch, who motions for the group to come in for a huddle.

“We could use that money. And that’s at least real carbon steel to replace your saber.” Rachel says.

“That man is serious about the wager. This isn’t a trick. At least, he doesn’t think so.” Anea says.

“I think I can break it. I’ve done it before. But it’s a risk. I can’t guarantee I can get it on the first shot.”

Anea calls back behind her. “How many tries do we get!”

“You get three tries, then my man gets his three! I promise you one blade will be broken by then!”

“I don’t know. Something’s up. There has to be some trick.”

“I have an Aether sword. Couldn’t he have found a way to make a cheaper version?”

“What? And sell it as a sideshow attraction? Don’t think so. Doesn’t matter. We can’t afford to take the bet, anyway. We literally don’t have the money to lose. I know I can break a real sword. I just don’t know what he’s playing at.”

“Well?” The merchant taunts.

“Alright, I think I got something.” Rachel strides right over to the merchant and leans over the stand.

“So, you got a new product and you need the advertising, right?” Rachel says in a low, clear tone. “So here’s the deal. We don’t have the money for the full price, so how bout win or loose, we buy one of your sabers for a third the price. Guaranteed money and a guaranteed spectacle for you.”

The man thinks it over.

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“Deal!”

A massive crowd blocks off most of the street, everyone chattering away amongst themselves. A few bets change hands. A few rumors fly around. The chatter dies down as a large man in a ninja costume, and some kind of undead bird lady walk out in between the crowd and the stall.

Touchstone holds the ‘Damascus’ saber down by his side. It was perfectly balanced. The weight was a little less than his current saber, making it damn near ideal. The handle was extra long to just allow a comfortable two handed grip, without gloves. The basket hilt tapered down all the way to the pommel for strong hand protection and flexible wrist rotation. The stone man finds himself hoping he couldn’t break it. Even if it was plain steel, it was well made.

Rachel and Touchstone face one another. The saber in Touch’s hand alight with the opalescent sheen in the midday sun. Touch raises the blade and slaps the base with the heel of his palm. The blade warbles and vibrates from the impact. Rachel follows Touch’s eyes to the point at the top of the blade where the bowing and shaking change direction. If most of the blade is bowing to the left, the tip of the blade is going to the right, and visa-versa. About a hands-breadth down from the tip of the blade is where it mostly st=ays still.

Touch told her over their session that this was the point of percussion. The spot where the sword hits the hardest, where the least energy is being dispersed through unnecessary movement.

Touchstone does this two more times, moving the blade up and down and rotating side to side to see the point of percussion from every angle. Then he flips the sword around and presents it to Rachel, handle first. She takes it and hands her friend his normal sparing sword, and he does the same test with that one.

He nods to Rachel.

Rachel raises the Damascus blade and holds the sword steady. Both her hands close together in the grip of the hilt. The handle was shorter than her katana, but longer than Touch’s single-hand saber grips.

Anea the Afro-Asian princess looks to both of them. Trying so hard to keep stoic, but her eyes and the corners of her mouth betray her.

“Re-ady!” she calls.

Rachel raises the sword high. Touch lets his blade down low, presenting the belly of his forearm and bicep, tip falling off to the side, behind him.

A pause.

“Be-gin!”

Rachel brings the sword down with full intent. In a flash it was taken to the side in a terrible clash as Touch’s edge collides with the flat side of her blade in a windshield wiper motion.

Rachel looks down at her blade.

Undamaged.

A gasp ripples through the crowd around Rachel.

“A-gain!”

The two get ready for another bout.

“Be-gin!”

“Rah!” Touch shouts as another terrible clash threatens to rip the blade from her hands. She looks again.

No effect.

A storm of murmurs radiates from the crowd.

“A-gain!”

The two ready for the final bout. Anea gives the signal and a whoosh of air jets from Touch as he connects the two points of percussion a final time.

Nothing.

The crowd threatens to explode as a young, tan, shirtless, bald man accompanies the merchant from behind his stand. Rachel hands her blade off to the bald guy and Touch goes to retrieve his broken saber from his pack before meeting the bald man in the middle.

The merchant hesitates, then backs off to his stand. Touchstone looks at the guy and maintains eye contact as he bows, rising smoothly before laying his saber across his open palms and presents it to the man with the shining head.

Rachel suffers a small pang of alarm before a reassuring look at Touch’s eyes sweeps it away. She remembers her family trip to Japan, years ago, he dad told her it was disrespectful to maintain too much eye contact there. It was especially disrespectful to look up like that then when bowing.

She thought Touch might have been angered by the loss, but his eyes were wide and soft behind the mask. Maybe eye contact was his own personal sign of respect.

The tan man turns and brings the blade down in one fluid swipe.

The blade snaps with a pathetic chink that rings out for a few silent seconds before the crowd gets swept up in applause.

A dozen or so people line up behind Touch as he hands a roll of bills to the merchant. Touchstone looks over the merchant’s shoulder to see the bald one looking down a long tube as he runs it up and down the blade.

“Take a look at this.” He says, handing them off to the merchant, who does the same.

“Hmm!” Then the merchant hands both to Touchstone. He takes the magnifying tube and runs it down the blade.

“Microfractures?” Touchstone’s voice drops as he realizes he’s ruined the blade after all.

“Holy shit!” The stone man watches as the fractures seal themselves before his very eye.

“The sword… It likes you. Never seen one heal so fast.” The bald man says.

“… A regenerating sword…” Touchstone whispers. Then continues slowly, “A genuine Aether, Damascus…”

He shakes the hand of the merchant and the bald swordsmith and walks away with the Aether saber snug in its sheath.

“That was fun!” Anea says.

“It was.” Touchstone agrees, “But we might have drawn too much attention to ourselves. We are being hunted, after all.”

“Yeah, and now we’ll be ready-” Anea stops short as something jerks her attention to Touch. Her eyes fall to the ground.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine to get excited, but this isn’t a game.” Touch says gently. “We got what we came for, it’s best to change costumes and leave as soon as we can.”

“I think gearing you up was worth the risk.” Rachel says. “And it does no good to change costumes when you’re still carrying that saber around. Ditch the other one in our room. What we need is to sell our cover now. Which means we need people to sell it for us.”

Touch hesitates. “Okay, we could do that. What’d you have in mind?”

Rachel hands him a flier from under her black plastic feather poncho.

“Found this while looking for a room.”

Touch takes the paper and studies it.

“You want to track down bandits and thieves?”

“Yeah, it should be easy money. Make the roads a little safer, and we can get the mayor to sell any cover we want to keep these mercenaries off our backs.

“Sounds like a plan. Let’s drop our gear, get some food for Arch and Dill, and see if we can meet the mayor.”