“Amen to that!” he snarled. And to Doriza: “Get out, get away from him.”
I moved a step closer, and rapped him on the chest with my knuckles. “She came to speak courteously to me, and she shall go only if she so desires.” As I spoke, I reflected that she might be worth fighting for, after all. I turned to her.
“Doriza, is this true? Do you belong to Rohbar.”
She shook her bright head, and for once her eyes did not meet mine. I felt a sudden joy and relief, such as Elonie’s frank throwing of herself at my head could not bring.
But Rohbar had drawn his pistol-weapon. Another moment, and he would have brought it in line with my chest. But I caught his weapon wrist in my left hand, and with the heel of my right I whacked him solidly on his bearded chin. His head bobbed, and a moment later I had twisted the pistol away from him, throwing it back into the niche. A moment later, Gederr and several others had hurried in, seizing him. He struggled and cursed.
“Put him under arrest!” Gederr bade, and Rohbar ceased struggling. He drew himself up.
“So that’s it!” he roared. “Do you think you dare treat me thus, Gederr? I do not care if you’re of the Council—I know a secret very close and very valuable—”
“Stop his mouth!” Elonie was imploring, and he cursed her, too.
“It seems,” I put in, “that Rohbar makes a practice of rudeness to women.”
I got smiles from Elonie and Doriza both, and Rohbar fairly blackened in the face as he strove to pull free and get at me.
“You!” he choked. “Yandro you call yourself—you’re a fraud, a figurehead, foisted by these scheming, sneaking Council folk—a living lie!”
“Let him go,” I bade those who held him. “Nobody says ‘lie’ to me and goes unpunished.”
There was silence, as far as my voice had reached. Only in the background did music and pleasant conversation continue. It was Elonie who spoke first:
“Yandro, you have privileged me in my speech to you. May I dare point out that this is dangerous—that Rohbar, long a guard officer, is skilled in every weapon—”
“Elonie, you now make it impossible for me to withdraw, without being thought cowardly,” I said. I put my hand to the saber I wore. “Is there a quiet place apart? Let the two of us fight.”
Rohbar was quiet again, in the hands of his captors. He now spoke, almost as gently as Elonie: “I have no friends here. The fight might not be fair.”
“Nonsense,” I snapped, and looked past the little group. There was a face I knew—the man with the deep voice. “You,” I hailed him, “come here.”
He came respectfully, and stood at attention.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“Klob is my name, great Yandro. Under-officer of the guard.”
“Klob, do you know Rohbar?”
“I do, sir.”
“If I, Yandro, ordered you to act as second for a man in a duel, would you perform the office faithfully?”
He braced more stiffly to attention. “Though I died for it, sir.”
“You shall not die, but be commended if you do well. Represent Rohbar in the formal duel he is about to fight.”
“As Yandro commands. And his adversary—the man he will fight?”
“Me.”
Klob was embarrassed, and so were the others. I spoke sharply. “Am I the one you take for your war leader? Then obey. This man has threatened me. I have been placed in a position where I must fight or be thought cowardly. Come into this passageway.”
They followed me. Nobody was in the corridor. I spoke again, and they released Rohbar. “What weapon?” I asked him.
“Ray-sabers,” he growled, and drew his. A touch of his thumb on the hilt-stud, and it glowed brilliantly.
“I shall be second to Yandro, if it pleases him.” That was Doriza, my appointed aide. But I waved her back.
“Since we fight, partially at least, for you, it is not well that you take, sides,” I reminded. “I need no seconds. If play does not continue fair, I can change it.”
I drew my own ray-saber. My thumb, seemingly wiser than my blank brain, touched the stud and the blade pulsed out its heat-rays. Those of the Council who had come along moved back out of the way. Rohbar and I touched blades, and the fight was on.
From the first, it was no contest.
Rohbar wore armor, on chest and head, while I fought without. He was in a cold rage, and I was only puzzled. Despite his lesser height, he had strangely long arms, that gave him an inch or two of reach beyond mine. But he was like a child before me. Indeed, I had leisure to observe myself, to wonder and puzzle over my own skill. I knew this weapon, that should be strange to me, as if it were born a part of me. Rohbar slashed and fenced; I parried easily, almost effortlessly. Avoiding an engagement, I clanged home against his armored flank. He moaned and swore, for even through that metal protection the heat of the blade must have hurt him. A moment later I sped a backhand blow that knocked his helmet flying. He threw caution to the winds, and charged close. So sudden was his attack that I was caught almost unawares, and parried his blade within inches of my own chin. Our blades crossed, close to the guards, and we stood for a moment looking into each other’s eyes at a bare foot’s distance.
“You ignorant fool!” he spat at me. “To be made a tool, and then to believe—”
“Silence, you crawling informer!” bawled Gederr, and his deadly warning startled Rohbar, who sprang back from me. At the same time I advanced in my turn, touched his blade as if to engage, then cut under quickly and came solidly home where the neck and shoulders join.
The ray-mechanism in
