I felt my eyebrows rise. “Salahuddin. You mean Saladin? King of Syria and Egypt during the Crusades?”

Sanya nodded. “The same.” He paused in midstrop and looked up at me, his eyes widening.

“I know you’re agnostic,” I said. “But do you believe in coincidence?”

“Not nearly so much as I once did,” Sanya replied.

“That can’t be a coincidence. Both of you descended from royalty.” I chewed on my lip. “Could that have something to do with who can take up one of the swords?”

“I am a soldier and an amateur philosopher,” Sanya said. “You are the wizard. Could such a thing be significant?”

I waggled a hand in midair. “Yes and no. I mean, there are a lot of factors that tie magic to matters of inheritance-genetic or otherwise. A lot of the old rites were intimately bound up with political rulers.”

“The king and his land are one,” Sanya intoned solemnly.

“Well, yeah.”

Sanya nodded. “Michael showed me that movie.”

“Merlin was the only good thing about that movie. That and Captain Picard kicking ass in plate mail with a big ax.” I waved my hand. “The point is that in many cultures, the king or sultan or whatever held a position of duty and authority that was as much spiritual as physical. Certain energies could have been connected to that, giving the old kings a form of metaphysical significance.”

“Perhaps something similar to the power of the Swords?” Sanya asked.

I shrugged. “Maybe. By the time I was born the planet was running a little low on monarchs. It isn’t something I’ve looked at before.”

Sanya smiled. “Well. Now you need only find a prince or princess willing to lay down his or her life over matters of principle. Do you know any?”

“Not so much,” I said. “But I’ve got a feeling that we’re onto something.” I glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s getting late. I’ll be back here in about two hours, or I’ll call.”

“Da ,” Sanya said. “We will watch over your criminals for you.”

“Thanks,” I said, and went back out to the workshop. Hendricks had slumped to the floor and was sleeping. Gard was actually snoring. Thomas had been pacing restlessly when I entered.

“Well?” he asked.

“Gotta get to Mac’s and meet Murphy,” I said. “Let’s roll.”

Thomas nodded and headed for the door.

I reached into the trash can by the door, took out an empty motor oil can, and tossed it into the least cluttered corner of the workshop. It bounced off something in midair, and Molly let out a soft yelp, appearing there a moment later, rubbing a hand to her hip.

“Where’d she come from?” Thomas demanded crossly.

“What did I miss?” Molly demanded, her tone faintly offended. “I had all the senses covered. Even Thomas didn’t know I was there.”

“You didn’t miss anything,” I said. “I just know how you think, grasshopper. If I can’t make you stay where it’s safe, I might as well keep you where I can see you. Maybe you’ll even be useful. You’re with us.”

Molly’s eyes gleamed. “Excellent ,” she said, and hurried over to join me.