"I can hear what you say, with your soul, not your body. What happened to mark your soul and shape it, the things you want and need people to understand that make you." He draws one of the knives, a curved and elegant thing. "This is Silkdart. Nadezhda gave it to me, so fragile, spun glass cooled too quickly, needs to be able to look after himself. Silkdart sheathes easily."

He nods again. "Ready."