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And all the folk in Jake?s band exclaimed in wonder, Rudi thought. No glue, for the love of the Mother-of-all! The good part of these being so crude is that it only takes about half a day to finish the job, even without proper tools. And anyone handy with a knife and used to working wood can learn to do it. Well enough for rule of thumb, at least, if not to equal a true craftsman. A thousand times better than no bow at all. And it?s just the sort of gift they will value the most. It helps them in the long run, not just their present trouble. Help for help…
A young woman came in with a cracked rain poncho of dull yellow plastic over her shoulders, and a lopsided sort-of-woven basket full of greens and roots. She dumped it into one of the big pots that were kept going as long as the camp stayed put, and an older female-all of twenty-five or so, and looking easily forty-stirred them in with a long paddle. Which was fortunate, because it was hard to survive on an all-meat diet and stay healthy, unless you were careful and ate the whole beast.
My hosts know some of the wholesome plants, he thought.
But even this far from home and the woods they knew, the two clansmen had been able to show them some new ones, though neither of them had anything like the knowledge of such a loremistress and healer as Aunt Judy. The Southsiders had no inkling whatsoever of which mushrooms were deadly and which were safe, for example, so they shu
From the state of their teeth he suspected scurvy was a regular visitor to the Southside Freedom Fighters, come winter; they certainly weren?t rotting them out with too much sugar, and there were cases of goiter and terrible scarring from infected cuts. Their carnivore diet would have made them taller and more muscular and less scrawny-tough, too, if they didn?t have times of dearth fairly often.
They can make fire with a drill. They can cook what they eat, more or less, which is to say they hold it over the fire or boil it in a pot. And that?s all that can be said for their food. They can?t make good leather, or any cloth at all, or even the simplest metal tools-what will they do when the last of the salvaged gear is gone? They don?t even know how to make salt from a lick! This is no way for human beings to live.
Impatient as he was, he wished he did have more time; a month here
…
I could do more for them in a month. Or a year. Or ten; there?s no end to it. I?ll do what I can in the days I have, that?s all.
He was wearing only his kilt, to keep respect-the Southsiders might be primitive, but they were certainly hardy men-and also to show his scars, for the same reason. Jake su
I wish I could glue a strip of rawhide here… but if wishes were horses we?d have enough to move those wagons… it will do, so. ?It needs to be well greased against the wet, but it will serve you well enough against anything but a knight in full harness on a barded destrier, and it might do for him as well if you were lucky.? ?Cool!? Jake said.
Odd, Rudi thought. I?ve heard folk in Corvallis use the word that way, or Bearkillers now and then.
They?d ceremoniously given Jake all the bows, and he?d handed them out in turn to his favored followers-there had been cursing and jostling in plenty too. They?d all seen what the Mackenzie weapons could do, in the fight with the Knifers and in hunting since and they were panting-eager to have something like it themselves.
He handed Jake three arrows he?d also made; the little tribe?s notion of fletching was even more sad than their attempts at bowmaking. The heads were ground and crudely hammered from old spoons, but they would do; it had been straight shafts and the delicate, skilled work of fastening the flight feathers that they hadn?t mastered. Jake slipped on his bracer and looked around and spotted a dead chestnut fifty yards away, across the thi
Snap.
The shaft stood in the hard wood, buzzing like a malignant bee; the sound was distinct even through the quiet white noise of the rainfall.
Ah, well, the bow?s good enough for journeyman work, I?m thinking. There will be more hand shock than I like, a bit of vibration, and quite a surge.
The Southsiders had half a dozen of the pre-Change bows, fiberglass wonders that they couldn?t even dream of replacing, and they handed them around often enough that they were mostly reasonable instinctive shots by the time they were full grown. But the weapons had been made in all truth as what Edain had called them in scorn: children?s toys. Their draws were light, just enough to be useful for hunting rabbits or birds but nearly worthless for war or bigger game. Good pre-Change arrows were so scarce among them that no man carried more than one or two, with even the enduring plastic feathers growing more and more tattered.
Most of the time they relied on javelins for anything beyond arm?s reach. With those they were quite skilled. ?Can you teach us how to make bows like these?? Jake asked.?And arrers??
Arrows, Rudi thought. I?m getting the hang of the way they shift the sounds about, so I am. ?Southsiders need it, Rudi-man. Need it bad.? ?That we can, my friend. It?s a help to your people, it will be.?
Though I can?t know how much of a help.
Jake gri
And still visions like that weren?t easy to bear, and they?d been getting uncomfortably common on this journey. Not to mention the Powers who?d walked the pathways of his dreams.
I think that was a sight of what would happen if I didn?t help these folk, he thought. The which makes me grateful to Whoever guided my steps here. But it gives my skin the crawls too, so. If a man knew every possible twist and turn his actions might bring to the world, would he dare to act at all? Yet it?s also a comfort; I?m not merely using these people for my own needs, urgent as those are.
Edain sang again as he went back to work on his own piece: ?The elfling shrieked and howled and cried
And naught she did would make it bide!
She formed a plan to prove
This elfling child was not her love-?
Several of the Southsider babies were howling and crying now and then, which wasn?t surprising. If Rudi had had to endure this damp chill with nothing but a rough rabbit-skin diaper stuffed with moss or leaves he?d have cried, even in his mother?s arms. When some of the tribe?s women began casting thoughtful glances at their infants, Rudi grew a little worried himself.