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ducked down to let me have that long, lunging, desperate throw, with his left hand on the ground. My
rapier went clean through his throat.
He jerked back, writhed on the blade, and as I withdrew, he toppled. Before his seconds could rush to
him I bent over. He stared up, sick with his own knowledge. He could just speak with the bright blood
pumping up.
Who are you?
I bent close. He had earned this.
You know of Strombor, Leotes of Ponthieu?
He nodded, unable to speak now. His eyes glared madly. I said, very softly, I am the Lord of
Strombor.
Then he died, this Leotes, Bladesman, sword-master of Ponthieu, bravo-fighter of Zenicce.
There was some considerable confusion. Out of it all I bellowed in that foretop hailing voice: Garnath
the Kleesh! Garnath the Foul! Stand forth, Garnath, and make your bow!
Like any onker, I, Dray Prescot, had overdone it.
I scooped up a glass cup of wine and drained it and flung the glass at Nath Tolfeyr. I strode to the mat,
and waited.
After a moment Vad Garnath appeared. He was accounted a fine swordsman, I knew, yet all around me
the bettors were frantically trying to lay off the bets they had made, and to wager afresh that I would win.
I stared at this Vad. To the death, I think you said, cramph. I think so, too, for the sake of my friend,
the Trylon Rees of the Golden Wind. You are not fit to And then I suddenly halted. I felt a wave of
the most dizzying weakness pass over me. Vad Garnath smiled. He whickered his rapier about, very
swashbuckling as to swagger, very powerfully proud.
You were saying, Amak?
By the Black Chunkrah! You you ve
To the death, I believe, Amak Hamun, boaster, coward.
I stood, swaying, my rapier wavering, the whole vivid scene jumping erratically. The devil had drugged
my drink! That silver-bodiced slave girl! I did not know the poison then, but its effects were subtly to
overpower me and gradually to take away my strength and sense of balance. I staggered, and recovered,
and the room swam.
The judge called for order. Garnath s rapier flashed out, and, somehow, mine met it. The blades crossed
and rang like tocsin bells.
In the next instant, with that infernal dizziness clawing at me and dragging me down into ever-increasing
weakness, I was fighting desperately for my life.
CHAPTER NINE
Of the duelists mat and the nose of Vad Garnath
Weakness grew on me with dizzying speed. Garnath s blade flamed before my eyes, streaks and
dazzlement of blinding silver darting into my brain. I felt as though a wersting pack ululated at my heels to
pull me down, or a pack of our powerful hunting rarks of the Great Plains of Segesthes bayed after me as
they bayed after the slinking leem, until we might ride up astride our voves to dispatch the feline furies.
The dueling hall reeled about me. I could be back aboard a frigate beating about off Brest, forever
servicing the ships of the line on eternal blockade. I did not feel as though I rode a swinger, hurtling
between the colossal growths of Aphrasöe the Swinging City, for there no one would weave a net of
blinding steel before my eyes and seek to bury that glittering blade in my guts.
Sheer instinctive bladesmanship kept out Garnath s steel.
He pressed his attack, for he knew well that the drug his serving slave had slipped into that glass cup of
wine would soon drop me, and the crowd would not fail to notice a swordsman who fell without a
wound, and ask questions. He had to be quick and finish me. I struggled against the nausea, and the
dizziness, and my wrist firmed a little, enough to beat away a savage attack and to make the beginnings of
a counter.
Garnath looked surprised.
We surged together for a moment, body to body, our four blades locked and thrusting skyward. I glared
madly into his eyes.
You kleesh, Garnath! I shall not slay you now. I will let you live and tremble at my vengeance to
come!
Boastful yetch! Be very sure I shall spit you now!
His rapier snickered free and darted for my ribs as he fell back to make a space and so with [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
