Her eyebrows rose. She was not sure what to make of that, a weapon that had only one use, that could not be wielded in battle after battle, sharpening itself on bone and oiled in blood. It was a little like having a sword that you knew would break, at some point, and so you had to be careful with it. There was nothing careful about battle, in Hild's experience. Only man against man, body crashing into body, desperate hacking of blades and bashing of shields.

"How do you name it?" she asked, then corrected herself before he could answer. "I mean to say, what name? How do you choose name? It is name of power, yes?"