"The ward?" I asked.
Nihil remained still beneath the clear cover. The keeper looked up from his desk. I told him the word I had heard. Crude. He wrote it down with no more excitement than he had given the condition of the hinges.
"Was that about the ward?" I asked again.
"Bindings."
I glanced at the empty stands. The practice square had been dismantled, leaving its small feed stone and two lengths of marked cord on the side table. Calling it crude might have meant something. It might also have been the opinion of an old weapon too hungry to be polite.
"They were made for a lesson. They weren't trying to keep you prisoner."
Nothing answered. I found myself waiting for the quick reply that would make this feel like a conversation. Nihil did not appear interested in making the experience comfortable.
I looked at the keeper's page. He had written my question in full, then left room beneath it.
"Do you need every question?" I asked.
