The man's body had been stabbed full of holes by Roman and Rosie. Under their confused gazes, he crashed to the ground.

  Looking at the corpse, Rosie asked uncertainly, "Does this count as dead?"

  "Whew." Roman caught his breath, exhausted. He pulled off his embroidered headscarf and wiped his sweat. "No idea. If he's not dead, we're screwed."

  "Then I'm going to believe he's dead," Rosie said.

  "Me too." Roman stuffed the headscarf into his collar and patted his padded chest. "He said he was an Angel and only a god could kill him. He also said what we're holding are godheads. So if we use godheads, we can kill him, right? He was really stupid!"

  Rosie looked at the longsword in her hand. "But didn't he say this is a broken godhead that can't pass on divine power? We're not gods either. Why could we kill him?"

  "A broken godhead becomes whole when you put it back together, doesn't it?" Roman glanced back at the silver table. "What I'm curious about is why we could take it down, and why it split in half."

  Rosie said, "This belongs to Count Wesley. I'm afraid only he knows."

  "Right, Count Wesley!"

  Only then did the two remember the count lying unconscious on the ground. They hurried over, crouched down, and checked his breathing.

  Roman: "He's still breathing. He's alive."

  "Thank god!" Rosie asked, "What now? Should we carry him out?"

  "We can't carry him. And there are all those stone stairs outside." Roman thought for a moment. "I'll stay here and watch him. You go get Troy."

  "Okay." Rosie stood up, took two steps, then turned back hesitantly, raising her sword. "What about this sword? Should I take it or put it back?"

  If this were someone else's house, she'd just take it. But Count Wesley was someone Miss wanted to save—she couldn't just steal things from his vault.

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  "Let's put it back," she told Roman. "This sword is too hot to handle anyway. It might even bring us disaster."

  Roman agreed. "Yeah, let's put it back."

  The two returned to the silver table, kicked aside the man's corpse, and placed the swords back together.

  "Damn, this sword won't float." Rosie stared at the sword on the table.

  "Mine won't either. They won't merge back together." Roman looked troubled. "Did we break his stuff?"

  "We didn't do it on purpose. That guy forced us." Rosie kicked the corpse again. "When Count Wesley wakes up, we'll just say he did it all."

  Roman: "Guess that's all we can do."

  "Alright, I'll go get Troy. You watch this corpse—make sure he doesn't come back to life." Rosie warned.

  "I know." Roman answered.

  Rosie left the chamber. As her footsteps faded, the underground space grew increasingly deathly silent.

  Roman looked at the two tilted swords on the silver table. He wanted to straighten them out, but when he reached for the hilt, he discovered he couldn't move the sword emanating black energy.

  Even using all his strength, that sword wouldn't budge. But when he picked up the one he'd used before, it lifted easily.

  Roman frowned. Why could he only move one half?

  He took that sword, turned toward the corpse on the ground, examined the body's arm, and slashed down with the blade.

  Whoosh—

  The corpse's eyes suddenly snapped open, pupils dilated, eyeballs rolling toward him.

  Roman's heart nearly jumped out of his throat. "You're faking!"

  The corpse suddenly opened its mouth. A flat, mechanical voice came from its throat.

  "Saved a thousand lives. Killed one person. Ten thousand died because of me. A hundred lived because of me. Tens of thousands will die because of my death."

  Roman pointed the sword tip at its throat. "So you're saying we shouldn't have killed you?"

  The corpse said nothing more.

  Roman remained on guard for a long moment, then crouched down and placed his fingers under the corpse's nose.

  No breathing. He was long dead. But then who had just spoken?

  Roman slowly turned his gaze to the sword in his hand. Could it be...?

  The Goddess of Justice's godhead. The Blade of Judgment?

  "Was that you talking?" he couldn't help asking.

  The sword didn't respond. It lay quietly in his hand.

  "Is he not completely dead?"

  "Are you trying to warn me that killing him has serious consequences, so he can't be allowed to die?"

  "But if we don't kill him, what if he escapes?"

  "Can you imprison him?"

  After that last question, the blade emitted a golden light. The light wove through the air into a transparent cage that covered the corpse, then instantly vanished from sight.

  Roman heard a voice in his mind.

  The scales of good and evil have tipped. This is justice's judgment.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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