Oh, no!
Oh, no!“They aren’t real,” I told him. “They’re part of a costume I’m working on for a ren-faire.”
“A what?”
“Renaissance faire,” I’d heard of these things, but never been to one. “It’s where people dress up like old times. And there’s swords and stuff, but it’s not real. Here, try it.” As I pulled one of the daggers with the scabbard from my belt, I reached out to the Ralahin and wove a binding to prevent the knife from coming out of the sheath.
RalahinThe officer took it and tried to draw the knife. It didn’t budge.
“See? It’s not real.”
“Seems pretty heavy for being a fake.”
“Oh, it has to be realistic,” I said. “But not real. Otherwise, people could get hurt.”
“Right,” he said, handing it back. “You can wait with your friend. Since there’s a death involved, they sent a
