|
ns,
Worf would have hesitated making an attack, even if he were
treacherously minded. He watched with true appreciation as she
opened the case, revealing within two sets of weapons for the
Sun'gharghtaj, the formal duel that tested a warrior's courage or
passion. The silver yoDtajmey for the left hand, curved double
tines wrought in starship-hull grade duralloy, gleamed like
starlight, and the golden gharghtajmey, with their rippling
flamelike, pattern-welded blades of iridium-plassteel, caught light
against their faceted edges, throwing yellow-gold glimmers away
like the decay of an antimatter reaction. "Those are antiques from
TlhIngan! Where did you acquire them?" he growled, impressed
against his will by the magnificence of the blades before him,
distinctive in their style, the hard Klingonaase symbols etched
into them proclaiming their maker's name, famous in Klingon
history, a thousand years dead.
"They were the gift of my QobSovwI'a," Jun Kusanagi answered. Worf nodded.
The Klingon warrior who had taught Jun's must have been very
impressed with Jun's skills indeed to have given Jun's such blades, or
(unthinkable in a human, and a woma
|
