It was only after Joe left me to clean up that I noticed queer markings etched onto the leather sheet that had held the sword. They were miniscule, but upon close inspection with a glass, it was possible to discern drawn panels depicting a figure in various combat postures with the blade. Underneath these diagrams, indecipherable hieroglyphs taunted my intellect; this was no writing that I had ever seen.
After securing an oath of secrecy from Biddy, I related Joe’s story and showed the katana and the leather sheet to her.
“Pip,” said Biddy as she inspected the pictures, “I do believe you have found your new manual.”
We worked together to decipher the drawings on the leather, and Biddy put me through the exercises and positions depicted. The training came slowly at first. The fighting style was completely unnatural, that is to say foreign, to me. It was nothing like the clumsy hacking of the spike-sword favored by the Brutal Hunters to inflict as much damage as possible before the Howl Beast’s flesh mended itself. Nor did it bear any semblance to the elegant thrusting of the sliver rapiers utilized by the Noble Hunters, which could kill a Howl Beast by piercing its heart with one well-placed blow. The katana’s technique was its very much its own, though it would, in time, become my own as well.
I was greatly indebted to Biddy for her patience and inexplicable dedication to me, as there appeared no clear benefit from our painstaking labor. I could not hope to sell replicas of the katana, as Joe had made clear that none would have them. I could not hope to employ the sword in battle, as I was bound (Pumblechook made sure of that) to my trade as a blacksmith; I was not now, nor could ever be, a Hunter. Even if it were otherwise, the very thought of running about the marshes with a band of barbaric miscreants turned my stomach like the tar Mrs. Joe remained so fond of.
And yet, the germ of an impossible hope was growing within me – one so ludicrous and unimaginable that I could not bring myself to share it with Biddy, Joe, or any living soul, save the crickets outside my window.
