She thought fast. She had deciphered enough of the card to know they were guns: American handguns of 1940-1975 period, it said. She couldn't let him know it. The rucker must not get hold of a gun, or he'd attack the gentry themselves, for hadn't he slain innumerable gods already?
"They are children's toys," she said. "I don't know what sort of children would be interested in such weird-looking things."
"Did you ever hear of the Ancient Kingdom?"
She shook her head; the term was new to her.
"The ruck knows of it; the ballad-singers have many sagas of the Ancient Kingdom, but I imagine the gentry have forgotten. It was the world and people of a long time ago. I think these things were walled up here then." His face, really a handsome face if you forgot he was a rucker, screwed up in thought. Then he started to chant something.
"The people of that far-off time,
They carried little guns;
They had so much more freedom
Than we who are their sons."
He stared at the weapons. She thought fast. "These are toy guns, yes. The writing says they are guns for children."
"Maybe the toys of those children worked," he said looking at her.
"You talk nonsense."
He felt the transparent stuff over the chest, pushed on it hard, then raised his pick and struck the stuff a heavy blow. It shattered into bright daggers and fell on the guns and on the floor. Picking one of the small things from its place, he examined it closely.