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There’s no style of contempt like the stuff one kind of savage has for another, Craw guessed.
Then Yon talked in his quiet voice, the one that still gave Craw prickles up his arms, even after all these years. ‘I hope I’m wrong. By the dead, I hope I’m wrong. But I’m getting this feeling …’ He shifted forward, and it was awfully clear all of a sudden just how many axes he was carrying, ‘like I’m being disrespected.’
Quick sharp, and with no grumbling now the work was at their feet, Craw’s crew got ready for action, each one smooth and practised with their gear as a weaver with his loom, weapons neat as their clothes were ragged, bright and clean as their faces were dirty.
‘No. The witch Shoglig told me the time and place of my death, and it is not here, and it is not now.’ ‘Huh.’ Javre set her own sword down and began, one by one, to explosively crack her knuckles. ‘Did she tell you the time of me kicking you so hard you shit yourself?’ Whirrun’s face took on a contemplative look. ‘She did predict my shitting myself, but that was because of a rancid stew and, anyway, that happened already. Last year, near Uffrith. That is why I have these new trousers.’
It was like old Threetrees always said–a sword’s a shitty thing to give a man. Shitty for him, and shitty for everyone around him.
Surprise is like virginity. You only get the one chance at using it, and that normally turns out a crushing disappointment.
‘Could you be any louder?’ hissed Shev. ‘Undoubtedly,’ said Javre, turning back towards the nets. ‘Shall I demonstrate?’
‘If need be.’ Shev buckled the sword-eater onto her thigh. ‘A wise man once told me you can never have too many knives.’
Shev might have had a foot less height and about a quarter of the chest that Javre did, but she drew up and puffed out what she had. ‘And I am proud to be Javre’s sidekick.’ ‘Partner,’ said Javre, and gently guided her back. ‘But leave her out of it.’
You’ve got to be realistic, that old Northman on the farm near Squaredeal used to tell her.
Be generous with your own people, she had always said, or others will be.
‘I’ll give you something willingly,’ said Fallow, to sniggers from the others. The woman didn’t snigger. ‘It is a parcel, wrapped in leather, about …’ She held up one big hand, thumb and forefinger stretched out. ‘Five times the length of your cock.’
Craw only shrugged. ‘There’s always good men on both sides of a good fight.’ Bethod was starting to like him more and more. A reassuring presence. A straight edge in a crooked time. If there’d ever been an opposite of the Bloody-Nine, there he stood.
