Vasher whipped out Nightblood with his other hand.
	Yes! the sword thought.
	Vasher didn’t draw the sword.  He simply tossed it forward.  The blade skidded against the floor, then came to rest before the three men.  One of the group froze, looking down at the sword, transfixed.  He reached out tentatively, eyes awed.
	The other two took off running, yelling about an intruder.
	Blast! Vasher thought.  He yanked the rope, knocking the entangled servant off of his feet again, then dashed forward.  As the servant tried to stumble to his feet, Vasher wrapped the rope around the man’s hands and body.  To his side, the remaining servant ignored both Vasher and his friend.  This man picked up Nightblood, eyes alight.  He undid the snap on the hilt, moving to pull the sword.