"The mountains'll be fine," Barlai noted. He could care less. "And you don't have to be so pushy; it's not even yours. They're not exactly wealthy philanthropists." He rolled his eyes. As the boy returned, his father was behind him, carrying something covered by a cloth. "This'n's fer you, Barlai," the smith said. He placed it on the countertop, beckoning for him to open it. Barlai took off the cloth, and whistled. It was a knife, no longer than his forearm. The sheathe was beautifully crafted, with a dark scene of a city at night. Barlai drew the knife from the beautiful sheath. It was very thin, like his rapier, but long too, a foot or so. "It's a stiletto," the boy remarked. Barlai was amazed at the craftsmanship. It was a black metal, with a deep shine that reflected shadow, not light. He sheathed it again.
"It's meant fer yer leg," Beorn added. "Yer mom wanted you to have something made, and I thought this would be appropriate. Don't lose it." He winked. Barlai nodded, and attached the knife to his inside left leg, covering it with his trousers. He felt the sheath there, but it didn't hinder his movement. "Thank you very much," he told the pair, shaking each of their hands gratefully. "No, no," the smith said, shaking his head. "We can never thank ya's enough for what ye did for m'boy." He ruffled Tark's hair, and the boy smiled up at his father. "Be well."
Barlai thanked them again, and beckoned for Amkus to follow him once more. He walked towards the city's western gate, to start their journey. As they walked, he made idle conversation. "do you need anything else?" he asked his friend. "We can leave now as far as I'm concerned."
(Sorry 'bout the delay)
