Sen had expected a turbine blade to look like a knife.
The two pieces in Corven’s padded box looked more like leaves someone had persuaded to hold still. Their roots were thick, their faces curved, and neither edge was meant to cut. She kept her hands behind her back until he told her where she could touch.
“Here. Never use the thin edge as a handle.”
She lifted one.
“Lighter than it looks.”
“That is everyone’s first observation.”
“What should the second one be?”
“Put it down before you drop it.”
