"Yes. Though Howard didn't find the tomb of Tutankhamen until 1922." Roux smiled. "I was there. It was a most gratifying moment. The man who funded the search, Lord Carnarvon, had very nearly given up on Howard. But Howard, for the most part, remained certain he was about to find the tomb. And he did. It was most impressive. The world will very probably never see the like again."

"I hope that's not true," Annja said. "Egypt grabbed everyone's attention, especially the British after Napoleon's army found the first pyramids there during the war. But there are other things out there we can learn."

"You're probably right. The world has forgotten more than anyone alive today will ever know." Roux talked as if he were an authority on that line of thinking. He was silent for a moment.

"What about the sword?" Annja asked.

Roux looked at her. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, why me?"

"My dear girl," Roux said, "the sword choseyou."

"From the very first time I met Joan," Roux said, "I knew she was destined for greatness." In his mind's eye, he could see her again, proudly riding the great warhorse and carrying the banner. He had never – or, at least, very seldom – met anyone like her. "When you've been alive as long as I have, you tend to recognize such things."

"You've never stated your age," Annja said.

Roux grinned. He discovered he liked dueling with the young woman seated next to him. Not only was she beautiful, but she possessed mental alacrity, as well.

However, she was still naive in many ways. He hoped to be able to occasionally use that to his advantage. He had served the command he had been given. Now his life was his to do as he pleased.

"Nor will I state my age," Roux said. "But I do forgive your impertinence in your not-so-subtle attempt to find out."

She smiled at him, rested her elbows on the chair's arms and steepled her slender fingers to rest her chin.

Looking at her, Roux knew she was going to break many men's hearts. She was too beautiful and too independent – too driven – not to.

And now she carried Joan's sword, and everything that such a calling brought with it. That taken into account, and the looming confrontation with Lesauvage and the Brotherhood of the Silent Rain, she might not live to see the end of the week.

"As I said," Roux returned to his story, "I met Joan and I was very much taken with her. I saw that she was going to be a… force.No other word can match what I saw in her."

"You were a fan," Annja said. Her tiger's eyes gleamed with humor.

"I was," Roux admitted. "I was quite taken with her. But it was the power invested in her that drew me the most. The company of others has seldom been a preoccupation for me."

"Except for the part about hearing your own voice, I've noticed."

Roux grimaced. "There used to be an appreciation for storytelling."

"There still is," Annja said. "But now it also includes brevity. Getting to the point. That kind of thing."

"I believe Joan was supposed to help the balance," Roux said.

"What balance?"

"The balance between good and evil."

Annja paused, thinking, her brows tightly knit. "With a big Gand a big E?"

"Exactly. The cosmic balance. A turning point between order and chaos." Roux sighed and still felt hugely guilty even after more than five hundred years and the vexing job of finding all the sword pieces. "But the world was cheated of her presence far too early."

"Because you got back to her late."

Roux shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Across the room, Garin lounged on a full-sized sofa and enjoyed the conversation, smirking the whole time.

"I wasn't the one who threw her up on that bloody stake and roasted her alive," Roux snapped. His own guilt was one thing, but he bloody well wasn't going to have it shoved on him by someone else.

Annja was quiet for a moment. "No," she said finally, "I suppose you weren't."

"That's right."

"So what's supposed to happen now?" Annja asked.

Roux was quiet for a moment, knowing what he was about to say would have a lasting impact on the young woman. At least, it would as long as she lived.

"I believe that the inheritor of Joan's sword is going to have to live up to that same potential," Roux said. "You're going to be asked to intercede on the behalf of good. Or not, if you so choose."

That shocked her. He saw it in her eyes. She was silent and still for a moment.

"That's ridiculous," the young woman finally said.

"Is it?" Roux gazed at her. "Yet, here you are, racing to the rescue of some unknown young man who actually may have set you up to be kidnapped while we were in the mountains."

"I'm not going because of the sword."

"Then why are you going?"

"Because I don't want Avery Moreau to die."

"Why? You don't truly know him. He may already be dead. More than likely, he betrayed you to a vicious enemy. You'd be a fool to do anything to help him." Roux leaned back. "Furthermore, you could call and let the local police deal with the matter."

"The sword has nothing to do with this."

"Perhaps not. Perhaps by your very nature you're quixotic. I submit to you, Miss Creed, that is probably the very reason the sword chose you."

Annja was silent for a moment, blinking as if she was dazed. Then she said, "You can't be serious."

"Of course not," Roux said. "I'm just leading you on a wild-goose chase. And the sword can't really appear and disappear just because you want it to. And it didn't somehow reform itself from pieces when you touched it. All those things are lies."

A troubled look flashed in her eyes. "It also drew a lightning strike from the sky."

Roux was intrigued. "When?"

"Last night. On top of my building."

"You left the sword lying on top of a building?"

"I was holding it at the time."

Roux's eyebrows lifted. "Lightning struck the sword while you were holding it?"

"Yes."

"And you were undamaged?"

Annja nodded.

"This is fascinating. May I see the sword again?"

She held out her hand, paused a moment, then drew the sword from thin air.

Roux accepted the weapon as she handed it to him. He examined the blade. "It's unmarked."

"I know. Doesn't make a lot of sense, does it?"

"Neither does the fact that it shows no sign of ever having been shattered." Roux held on to the sword, wondering what other properties might manifest. Then it faded from his grip. He looked at her. "You did that?"

Annja nodded. "I guess I did. I was feeling… uncomfortable with the way you were holding on to the sword."

So stealing the sword, should he ever decide to do that, was out of the question. Roux felt challenged. He couldn't help wondering what would happen to the sword if Annja Creed were suddenly dead.

Roux happened to glance over at Garin, who smiled broadly. Roux knew he had spent too many years with his apprentice; Garin knew exactly what was crossing his mind. The old man was just thankful the young woman didn't have the same expertise.

Annja stared at the lozenge. The heraldry beside the shadowy figure on the obverse of the coin was key to unlocking the mystery. She felt certain of that.