“Well,” Inigo began, “ten years is what? About thirty-six hundred days. And that’s about-I figured this out once, so I remember pretty well-about eighty-six thousand hours. Well, I always made it a point to get four hours sleep per night. That’s fourteen hundred hours right there, leaving me perhaps seventy-two thousand hours to account for.”
     “You slept. I’m with you. What else?”
     “Well, I squeezed rocks.”
     “I’m sorry, my hearing sometimes fails me; it sounded like you squeezed rocks.”
      “To make my wrists strong. So I could control the sword. Rocks like apples. That size. I would squeeze them in hand for perhaps two hours a day.

Chapter 5