Baba knew the truth and had chosen the public form of address anyway. She had chosen to play along with whatever game the world was playing.
The wink also confirmed what he had begun to suspect with growing certainty: for reasons he still did not understand, ordinary mortals looked at him and saw a woman.
***
Baba led Katana toward a long rack of newer blades.
She spoke as she walked, her voice dry and precise, pointing out the creation method of each piece, the age of the steel, the particular quenching technique, and the potential each sword still had.
Every weapon she offered was a katana.
Katana's preference had never been a secret; the old druid simply matched the display to the customer, the way a good host matches the wine to the meal.
The blades ranged from clean, severe lines to more elaborate work with subtle wave patterns in the metal and carefully wrapped hilts.
