The practice ward stopped a wooden dowel.
Veylan pressed it against the pale square stretched between two stands. The dowel bent slightly, then slipped sideways with a dry scrape. The square held.
"That's the comparison," he said. "No active edge. No damaged section."
I sat beside the examination table with Nihil resting on its supports. Morning light reached the case through a high window. In it, the sword looked older and less impressive than it had below the academy. I was pleased about that. Awe had already proved expensive.
The keeper checked the case seals against the transfer record. The healer checked me against yesterday's readings. Veylan waited until both had finished before bringing the ward closer.
Its lower edge ended above the table. Beneath it sat a narrow board marked with lines, so we could see where contact happened. The ward did not surround the room, protect a person, or connect to the building's larger defenses.
