Hunter sighed. “I told you, I didn’t lead them here.”
“We can always slit their throats.”
“No! We can’t slit their throats. They’re innocent, for Quamsake.”
“Well, we can’t let them go.”
“That’s what I’m saying. They found us, so I couldn’t let them walk away. And we can’t kill them. But we can’t leave them in camp while we go chasing goblins.”
Chekwe shrugged. “Hell, Hunter, I don’t care. This was all your idea. I want to use the sword, not hide it. ‘Swords are for killing,’ as the poet said.”
“Not this sword.”
“Well then, nanana, bolabo, nanamu.”
“That’s the stupidest poem in the empire, you know?”
Chekwe shrugged. “You talk to the woman and decide what to do. I want to kill goblins. But I might be a bit tipsy. I’m going down to the creek for a nice long drink and a nap. Leave a
