inner side, for shortening the straps that held armor in place. The leather straps were nowhere in sight but the knives were still sharp, and there was a small stoppered pot of what was obviously leather cream—Belegir had said this stuff hadn't been used since the Time of Legend, but she bet someone had still got the job of cleaning it regularly, back when the Oracle Temple was full of Acolytes. She worried the cork out and stuck a finger in it, sniffing, smelling beeswax and lanolin. What would do for leather would likely do for skin as well. She added both knives and leather dressing to her bag, and the chamois square as well, then returned to the hovering wizard's blade.
Unless she dragged the table over, she couldn't climb up to it, and even if she did, there was no guarantee she could pry it loose from the air. Magic, Glory told herself sagely, on the basis of no information at all, was funny that way. And if the blade was as sharp as it looked, she didn't want to grab the end she could reach.
She reached up with her own sword and prodded at the other blade tentatively. It didn't even wobble, but the sound the two blades made when they connected was like hitting a tuning fork.
A very big tuning fork.
Hit really, really hard.
She winced, staggering back from the high sweet ringing. It faded quickly, and Glory had the odd feeling that Cinnas' sword was laughing at her. In a fond paternal way, but laughing at her nonetheless.
"I am not amused," she said aloud.
She couldn't knock it down, she couldn't yank it down, what did that leave?
She looked down at the sword-blade-shaped slot in the stone on the floor, and then at the sword in the air, and then at the one in her hand.
They say King Arthur got his way by pulling a sword OUT of the stone, but he was a Pom. Let's see if things go by opposites. 
She flipped her sword up and dropped it, point-first, into the slot in the stone.
It had been quiet before, but suddenly it was as if a sound she'd gotten used to hearing had suddenly ceased. She jumped back with a startled yelp as The Sword of Cinnas fell down out of the air like a startled rock and clattered on the floor, bouncing and ringing on the stone floor like a crowbar flung from a speeding car.
When it was lying perfectly still, she approached it warily. The bright