so
seeing your wife 車買取 and son?”
Beywulf sighed again. “I don’t have a wife, Cay. We don’t breed too well so . . . um, we tend to try and spread the chances around that two reproductively viables will meet. It’s not much good for home life, but with children so few, the whole community spoils ’em. But, aye, it’s my boy: He’ll be fifteen . . . old enough to join the army Cap’ll raise.”
“But, why should he? I mean, it sounds like there are so few of your kin anyway you shouldn’t be joining anybody’s army.”
“But we will. We owe a debt. And we always honor our debts. You see, Cap’s been our people’s physician ever since we had to run from the marines’ quarters up in crew territory. He’s all that has stood between us and extinction. Every one of the Gene-spliced who can walk will fight at his call.”
Keilin kept silent at this. From what he’d heard from S’kith the whole idea of attacking FirstHive was ludicrous. As near ridiculous as the “military exercises” Cap kept putting them through. He had nothing against learning something about the weapons he didn’t know, but it did seem rather futile in some ways: He couldn’t lift Beywulf’s sword—and could barely pull Leyla’s bow. His own hunter’s bow was a small and weak thing, relying on the poison arrows to make its kill. Cap regarded it with scorn. “All very well for hunting, but no earthly use in combat. The toxin load won’t kill quickly enough.” Keilin kept quiet about the fact that the poison glazing the arrows’ tips killed Morkth quickly all right. He’d learned by now to keep quiet about what he could do. “Like that spear of yours,” Cap went on. “Once it’s thrown, what have you got? It’s all very well for defense, and keeping an unskilled enemy out of swordrange, but no good as an offensive weapon. Well, Bey? What can little lord muck here use from your armory? He hasn’t the strength for an axe or a longsword. Saber perhaps?”
Beywulf was rummaging through one of the packhorse’s saddlebags. “I’ve just the thing. He’s used to a spear, so this is not a big change.” He came up a with canvas-wrapped parcel. Out came three short, broad-bladed spears. The blades were fully two-foot-six long, and sharp enough to cut hair.
“Nice, eh? Ndebele assegais. Picked them up down Estend way. You can throw them . . . but they’re essentially a stabbing weapon. Ironwood handle. Beautiful pieces of work.” He held out one.
Keilin