Free Infinity Blade: Awakening by Brandon Sanderson

That makes sense for the trolls, who couldn’t fit them on their fingers. But a few of the guards I fought were ordinary men, knights or Devoted who served the God King.”
    “Maybe they didn’t know how to work them.”
    “It wasn’t hard to figure out,” Siris said, holding up a hand, looking at the ring. “I just kind of . . . did it, naturally. Most of the rings stopped working after I killed the God King, though.”
    Isa frowned.
    “You know something, don’t you?” Siris said.
    “No.”
    He eyed her.
    “I know many things,” she said, haughtily sitting atop her saddle. “I know how to get anywhere. I know that you walk like a soldier—with a gait I’ve seen from men who have trained in the military for decades—yet you can’t possibly have that kind of experience yet. I know a really incredible recipe for cinnamon-baked sweetbread. But I don’t know anything more about those rings. Honestly.”
    He said nothing.
    “What?” she demanded.
    “I don’t believe that for a moment,” he said, looking ahead.
    “I’m telling you,” she said, “it’s really good cinnamon bread.”
    He found himself smiling. “That’s not what I meant.”
    “Well, people do usually assume I’m lying when I speak of baking. I’ve been told I don’t look like the baking type.”
    “You did glare at me when I suggested you might have a frilly dress in those packs.”
    “That was not a glare. That was a dignified look of measured contempt.”
    “I’m sure,” Siris said. “So, you can really bake?” Cinnamon sweetbread. That sounded delicious. Exactly the sort of thing he’d never have let himself taste during his years training.
    “I like to be able to do things for myself,” she said. “Unfortunately, I also like to eat meals that don’t taste of moldy rat leather. This sort of conundrum necessitates a woman taking a few liberties with her chosen persona. And if this entire line of reasoning is intended to get me to prove myself with an outpouring of cinnamon sweetbread, then I’ll relent.”
    “You . . . will? So you’ll fix me the bread?”
    “As much as you can eat, whiskers. Price is one sword. Oh, look. You happen to have one. What a fortunate turn of events!”
    “Well, you certainly are determined.”
    She smiled. “Actually, I’m persistent . You are so fond of using the wrong words. Are you not the one who speaks this language natively?”
    “Natively,” he said. “But apparently not that fluently.”
    “I’ll trade you my very nice dictionary—”
    “—for this sword, I assume?” he asked, taking a drink from his canteen.
    “Nonsense. The sword is worth far more than that. I’ll throw in a pair of penis.”
    Siris nearly choked, sputtering through the water.
    Isa looked at him, frowning.
    “A pair of them, eh?” Siris asked, wiping his chin. “Wow. Must have cost you a lot.”
    Isa, looking confused, pulled two pens out of her saddlebags. “They were quite pricey, but are very nice. You are still laughing. I see. One pen, two penis? No?”
    “I think you, uh, may want to work on your pronunciation there, Isa. You say pen in a way that does not sound at all like—”
    Isa suddenly froze, turning forward, coming alert.
    Siris cut himself off, loosening the Infinity Blade in its sheath. What was that? Voices , he thought.
    Isa pointed. “Ahead, I think.”
    “I agree.”
    “Hide the sword! Remember what I said!”
    “I’m not a fool,” Siris said, moving the cloak to cover his arm. Isa checked her crossbow, making certain it was covered. It wouldn’t be much good if there were a tussle, at least not immediately—he doubted she could get the leverage to cock it from horseback. It was of the ‘step and pull’ variety.
    A small group of people appeared atop a hill on the road ahead of them. Isa slowed her horse and inspected the ragged group. They didn’t seem dangerous. There were three of them, men in caps and workers’ smocks. No trousers, just knee-length