And he was worth staring at. He was well over six feet tall with the patrician, blond, blue-eyed good looks people seem to expect from old southern families and the muscular body they more logically expect to see on a blacksmith. He was dressed very simply, in plain blue breeches and a homespun shirt with the sleeves carelessly rolled up; but then Faulk looked good in almost anything.
„Meg!“ he cried, when he saw me, excusing Tiimself from die customers with a smile and coming over to give me a hug. I could almost feel the hostile stares of the customers, and Michael didn't look all that thrilled, either.
„I can't stay long,“ I said.
„We'll catch up tonight at the party, then.“
„I just wanted to show you the dagger. I thought it would be risky bringing that to the party.“
„At one of your family's parties, butter knives and plastic forks would be risky,“ Faulk said. „Will there be croquet, or has some alert public-safety agency finally intervened?“
„We're not entirely sure croquet's in period,“ I said. „But mere may be lawn bowling, if we can find anyone who knows the rules.“
„I can't wait,“ Faulk said, sounding insincere. „So let's see the thing.“
I unwrapped my dagger and handed it over, hilt first. Faulk took it in his left hand and extended a finger toward the blade.
„Careful, it's sharp,“ I warned out of habit.
„You'd better hope it's sharp, girl, or I'm sending you back to the whetstone.“ He tested the grip, then shifted the knife to his other hand and tested again.
„Nicely balanced,“ he said, nodding. „And I'm impressed that you managed to make it fit so well in either hand. Not easy with an asymmetrical design.“
No, it wasn't. I kept my face neutral, as he stepped out into the sunlight in the front area of his booth, held the hilt up close to his face, and scrutinized the body of the falcon that formed it, occasionally touching a questioning finger to a detail. And while he examined every inch of the blade, whose finish shone in the sunlight with a cool lunar glow, I had to keep reminding myself to breathe. Then he gripped the hilt again and tossed the knife lightly from hand to hand.
„Not bad,“ he said, walking back toward us.
Suddenly, in one of those lightning motions that always seemed so improbable in a man his size, Faulk slashed downward with the knife, embedding the point deep in the display table and sending one middle-aged woman out of the booth shrieking in terror. The other women watched with open-mouthed fascination, and I suspected Faulk and my dagger would inhabit their erotic fantasies for months to come.
„Not bad at all,“ he said, stepping back from the table and grinning at me.
„Subtle, Faulk,“ I said, and began struggling to pry the knife out of the wood. I had to wiggle it back and forth half a dozen times. But I wasn't exactly displeased. If I'd done a bad job on the knife – used the wrong grade of steel, gotten the fire too hot or not hot enough, spent too much or too little time hammering it out, or made any one of a hundred other mistakes during the months I'd been working on it – the blade would have been flawed, too weak to take the beating Faulk had just given it.
„You'll make a swordsmith yet,“ he said.
„Thanks,“ I said, trying not to look too flattered.
„Well, I suppose we'd both better get back to business,“ Faulk said. „I'll see you both at the party, then.“
„Right – oh, Faulk,“ I said. „I wanted to warn you – I'm afraid something's happened that upset Tad a bit.“
I described Tad's encounter with Benson. Luckily, while Faulk was obviously concerned, he didn't seem to be losing his temper.
„The man's a total weasel,“ he said. „Your brother can't really be thinking of selling him the game, can he?“
„If Benson tried to steal CraftWorks, I can't imagine Rob will,“ I said. „No possibility that Tad's overreacting? Or that Benson's just the fall guy and someone else did the dirty work?“
Faulk shook his head.
„I'll tell Rob, then,“ I said.
„I wish Tad hadn't flown off the handle,“ Faulk said. „Added more fuel to die legal fire.“
„What legal fire?“
„Tad's been pretty outspoken about what Benson's done to him, and he's trying to get people to boycott their products. Benson's slapped him with a huge lawsuit. Slander, libel, defamation of character, restraint of trade – you name it.“
„It won't hold up in court, though, will it?“ I asked. „I mean, if the guy really has done all this.“
„It won't hold up in court if it ever gets to court, but I'm not sure we can afford to go on with it,“ Faulk said. „Benson seems to have all the money in the world to file countersuits and motions, and frankly we're already in debt up to our eyeballs. Don't cross the guy, whatever you do.“