On the twentieth morning, the forge was quiet. Pei Jing had lowered the bronze gates until the pit gave off only a steady red glow. The Nine-Fold Astral Bone Blade lay across the workbench. He had set out everything he needed for the grip before he slept.
A loose handle might last two swings with a blade like this. On the third, the wood would split or the pins would tear out. The fifteen-inch star-iron tang was part of the spine itself. The grip had to hold to it as firmly as the iron held to the bone.
He rubbed the last of the Shed Saint Marrow paste into two pieces of salt-cured hardwood and fitted them around the tang. He drew damp stingray hide over the wood. The little hard bumps on the skin gave his hands something to hold even when they were slick with sweat. Around the hide he pulled braided Flood Dragon sinew in the Eight-Direction Lock Wrap. The cord groaned as he leaned back against it. He left a finger’s width between the crossings so his hands could settle in the same place every time.
He fitted an eight-pound star-iron ring onto the end of the tang and tapped it into place. Then he locked the end of the tang over the ring. He tested the pommel with both hands before he lifted the blade. Nothing moved.
