they munched and drank.
"Swords!" some one shouted. "Bring swords!"
A group of guards cam shouldering through the crowd, making way for a handsome fellow who wore the purple cloak of an officer of the Kamud.
"What's this, Sur Det?" he asked. "Fighting again?"
Sur Det scrambled to his feet and saluted. "That fellow," he said, glaring at Thorne, "has twice assaulted me. I ask settlement by swords, which is my right according to the prison rules."
The officer turned to Thorne. "What say you? Do you, also, desire settlement by swords?"
"I do," the Earthman replied.
"Obviously you have not heard of the prowess of Sur Det," said the officer. "But on your own head be your decision. Give them swords, soldiers, and let a circle be formed."
CHAPTER 8
As he stood, sword in hand, before his scar-faced opponent, Thorne was hooted by the multitude. A few who had heard of his supposed cowardice in his duel with Sel Han, quickly spread the word.
"Don't puncture him too quickly, Sur Det," called one.
"Slice him neatly," shouted another. "Let us see how good a meat-cutter you are."
They saluted. Then Sur Det, instead of engaging Thorne's extended blade as was the custom, avoided it and attacked with a swift lunge. The Earthman was barely able to save his life by side-stepping the point.
But Sur Det had left himself completely uncovered. Thorne now had but to extend his point, and the duel would be over. He started the lunge, but instead of sending the blade home, with a deft motion of his wrist cut the Martian symbol for the digraph "sh," a perpendicular line with a short hook to the right at the bottom.
A murmur of surprise went up from the crowd at this, for they knew he had his enemy at his mercy. Both men recovered. After a bewildering swirl of blades Thorne found a second opening, and instead of piercing the heart of his antagonist, slashed two horizontal lines beside the first character, the Martian symbol for "e."
"He's writing his name on the killer!" cried a spectator.
"Write him a love letter!" yelled another.
"Draw us a picture!" howled a third.
When Thorne marked his chest for the second time without inflicting death, Sur Det began to realize that this strange young swordsman from Takkor, whom he had expected to slay so easily, was only playing with him. With that realization, he went berserk with fear.
Thorne met the attack that followed, merely parrying and sidestepping until he felt his opponent's wrist begin to weaken. Then with a graceful, easy lunge, he carved the last symbol of his Martian name on that barrel chest, the "b."
At this, the crowd roared its applause, but Thorne had not yet finished; he suddenly beat down his opponent's blade with a sharp blow close to the guard--then caught it, bound it with his own blade, and with a sudden twirling wrench, sent it flashing away over the heads of the spectators. For a moment the bewildered killer stood looking in blank amazement. Then, with a shriek of terror, he turned and fled. Thorne followed closely at his heels, spanking hiundly--with the flat of his sword until the creature fell down and begged for mercy.
“Puncture the boastful bladder and let out the wind," a spectator shouted.
"Carve your name on his craven heart," cried another. Satisfied that the killer had been sufficiently humbled, Thorne returned to where the young officer stood, and saluted. "I am obliged to you for this diversion," he said, tendering the sword.
"The obligation is entirely ours," replied the officer, taking the weapon. "I have never seen such marvelous sword-work, or, I am convinced, has any one in all Xancibar. And now, to the victor goes the reward. Ho, orderly!"
At this a man came up, bearing a steaming jar of pulcho, a cup and a great platter heaped with cakes.
"What's this?" asked Thorne.
"The prize," smiled the officer, taking the jar from the orderly and filling
"Swords!" some one shouted. "Bring swords!"
A group of guards cam shouldering through the crowd, making way for a handsome fellow who wore the purple cloak of an officer of the Kamud.
"What's this, Sur Det?" he asked. "Fighting again?"
Sur Det scrambled to his feet and saluted. "That fellow," he said, glaring at Thorne, "has twice assaulted me. I ask settlement by swords, which is my right according to the prison rules."
The officer turned to Thorne. "What say you? Do you, also, desire settlement by swords?"
"I do," the Earthman replied.
"Obviously you have not heard of the prowess of Sur Det," said the officer. "But on your own head be your decision. Give them swords, soldiers, and let a circle be formed."
CHAPTER 8
As he stood, sword in hand, before his scar-faced opponent, Thorne was hooted by the multitude. A few who had heard of his supposed cowardice in his duel with Sel Han, quickly spread the word.
"Don't puncture him too quickly, Sur Det," called one.
"Slice him neatly," shouted another. "Let us see how good a meat-cutter you are."
They saluted. Then Sur Det, instead of engaging Thorne's extended blade as was the custom, avoided it and attacked with a swift lunge. The Earthman was barely able to save his life by side-stepping the point.
But Sur Det had left himself completely uncovered. Thorne now had but to extend his point, and the duel would be over. He started the lunge, but instead of sending the blade home, with a deft motion of his wrist cut the Martian symbol for the digraph "sh," a perpendicular line with a short hook to the right at the bottom.
A murmur of surprise went up from the crowd at this, for they knew he had his enemy at his mercy. Both men recovered. After a bewildering swirl of blades Thorne found a second opening, and instead of piercing the heart of his antagonist, slashed two horizontal lines beside the first character, the Martian symbol for "e."
"He's writing his name on the killer!" cried a spectator.
"Write him a love letter!" yelled another.
"Draw us a picture!" howled a third.
When Thorne marked his chest for the second time without inflicting death, Sur Det began to realize that this strange young swordsman from Takkor, whom he had expected to slay so easily, was only playing with him. With that realization, he went berserk with fear.
Thorne met the attack that followed, merely parrying and sidestepping until he felt his opponent's wrist begin to weaken. Then with a graceful, easy lunge, he carved the last symbol of his Martian name on that barrel chest, the "b."
At this, the crowd roared its applause, but Thorne had not yet finished; he suddenly beat down his opponent's blade with a sharp blow close to the guard--then caught it, bound it with his own blade, and with a sudden twirling wrench, sent it flashing away over the heads of the spectators. For a moment the bewildered killer stood looking in blank amazement. Then, with a shriek of terror, he turned and fled. Thorne followed closely at his heels, spanking hiundly--with the flat of his sword until the creature fell down and begged for mercy.
“Puncture the boastful bladder and let out the wind," a spectator shouted.
"Carve your name on his craven heart," cried another. Satisfied that the killer had been sufficiently humbled, Thorne returned to where the young officer stood, and saluted. "I am obliged to you for this diversion," he said, tendering the sword.
"The obligation is entirely ours," replied the officer, taking the weapon. "I have never seen such marvelous sword-work, or, I am convinced, has any one in all Xancibar. And now, to the victor goes the reward. Ho, orderly!"
At this a man came up, bearing a steaming jar of pulcho, a cup and a great platter heaped with cakes.
"What's this?" asked Thorne.
"The prize," smiled the officer, taking the jar from the orderly and filling
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