THE JUDGMENT OF THE SWORD...

Milo snapped into wakefulness as a dagger point pricked the flesh just below the right comer of his jaw. Though Mara was weeping, her dagger hand was rock-steady. "Forgive me, Milo, but I must know!" she whispered intensely, then pushed the sharp, needle-tipped weapon two inches into his throat and slashed downward.
The initial gush of blood rapidly dwindled to a slow trickle, and what should have been a death wound began to close. Milo's eyes, too, closed and he clenched his teeth, saying between them, "I should have slain you, Mara. Well, now you know! What are you going to do with that knowledge-the knowledge that Milo, the War Chief, bears what your people call the Curse of the Undying?"