Halwerd, his son, was also sitting on the floor, over against the other paneled wall beside the window; he had taken off his apron, and was doing an elaborate cat's cradle with a piece of string. Herewiss never tired of the joys of having a smaller version of himself around, and spent a few minutes just watching the child. Halwerd sat there in his greasy green tunic, all dark curly hair and fierce concentration. He flipped his hands, and the cat's cradle turned suddenly into a mess. 'Dark!' he said. 'You're too young to be swearing,' Herewiss said with affection. 'I'm nine,' Halwerd said, as if that should have been enough. 'Did it work?' 'Yes.' 'It doesn't look any different.' The boy gazed across the room, and Herewiss looked down at the piece of metal he held. 'No, it doesn't. Well, we'll see if it holds up tonight. It's Full Moon; this is a good day for it. Though I could wait for the Maiden's Day Moon. What do you think?' Halwerd considered gravely. 'Do it tonight.' 'All right.' Herewiss got up, wobbling a little from the backlash of the sorcery. 'Oh my,' he said. 'I must be getting better at this, the backlash is hitting me faster than it used to.' 'How many swords is this now?' Halwerd asked, starting the cat's cradle over again. 'Twenty-three. No, twenty-four. Cheer up, Hal, maybe this'll be the last one.' Herewiss tossed the sword blank clanging on to the worktable and looked around him as he stretched. He was a tall, slender man, lean and lithe and dark-haired, with a finely featured face and a mouth that smiled a great deal. His arms and shoulders were slightly overmuscled from much work at the forge; but the effect was not unpleasant. At first glance he gave an impression of spare, restrained power, the taut strength of youth. But his deep blue eyes were beginning to look weary, and his face was gradually acquiring frown lines. 'Be nice to turn this back into a bedroom,' he said, 'and get all this mess out of here, Dark eat it—'