Nightblood, still mostly sheathed, had been rammed through the man’s chest. About an inch of a dark black blade was visible beneath the silver sheath. Vasher carefully slid the weapon fully back into its sheath. He did up the clasp. I did very well today, a voice said in his mind. Vasher didn’t respond to the sword. I killed them all, Nightblood continued. Aren’t you proud of me?
