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swirl to the next, at the same time as Rees dealt similarly with one of the remainder, without so much as a
thought to my role in Hamal.
Rees s blade clanged against the thraxter of his man, and I felt my own rapier automatically slide up to
deflect a savage downward chop from the fellow who leaped at me, all hairy whiskers and glittering eyes
and gleaming teeth.
No, Hamun, no! yelled Rees, whirling his blade in a masterful over-and-under. Keep clear! You will
be cleft in two!
Well, this Trylon of the Golden Wind had courage. No one could deny him that. And so began a fight
typical of a number that I was forced to engage in during this time of disguise in Ruathytu. I pranced
about, swirling my blade, getting in the way of men determined to hack down the Trylon. As though by
accident my rapier whistled across to take a thraxter from the open side of Rees, as though by chance
my main-gauche caught a blade descending upon his neck. He fought! Oh, yes, he fought magnificently;
but I knew he would have been done for had I not clowned and stumbled and shouted and flummoxed
about and so, to Rees s surprised and joyful shout, thrust my brand through the guts of the next man.
Rees had disposed of another.
Keep out of my way, Hamun!
I tripped over my own feet and so was able to sprawl forward, yelling By Krun and thereby letting my
rapier skewer up as though by pure chance and sink its length in the guts of the man roaring at Rees as he
dealt with the last on the other side.
This last one hesitated. These would-be stikitches (assassins) were no true stikitches at all; I could see
the outline on their cloaks and shirts where their insignia had been cut away. It seemed clear enough that
Vad Garnath had sent six of his men to waylay and murder the Trylon Rees. They had set on him as he
stepped out of the tavern to greet me. They wore cloths bundled about their left arms (for no honest man
might walk the streets at night carrying a shield that would be too obvious an admission of evil intent
unless he were a soldier or had lawful permission to carry a shield, duly issued by the local
Under-Pallan of the district).
The rasts run! bellowed Rees, although there was only one left. He still hadn t realized I d downed
those I had. He went roaring after the luckless fellow who took to his heels and hared off down the alley.
I did not laugh. But, in truth, it was an occasion for a laugh. Rees trailed back after a moment, swearing,
having lost his man.
We bent to examine the corpses.
One was still alive, but even as Rees seized him by the throat to haul him up to be questioned, he choked
black blood and died.
Scum! bellowed Rees. He was furiously enraged.
Vad Garnath?
Probably. Although there are others who would wish for my death. Rees began to clean his weapon
on the clothes of the dead man, and I fell to doing the same, companionably, at his side.
You must take greater care, Hamun, my friend. You could have got yourself killed, skipping about like
that in the way of the swords.
Yes, Rees.
If ever I wanted to laugh . . .!
So that was some relief to me in that hateful business of subterfuge and disguise in Hamal; there were
other fights to follow in which I lumbered about, tripping over, sticking foemen before they realized it, to
the roaring accompaniment of Rees bellowing at me to take care, and look out, and mind my fool hide
out of the way. I enjoyed that part of it, for I was able to do Rees a good turn, and relieve some of the
black bile in me. Also, I have little compunction where a stikitche is concerned. Assassination is
developed to different levels in the various parts of Kregen, for the world is a world, diverse and strange
and nowhere uniform. And, too, there is such a thing as a Stikitche Khand, as I afterward discovered. A
khand is not quite the same as a guild; it is an association of experts, and that will perhaps do to sum up
what a Kregan khand is. At the time I had suspicions that a Stikitche Khand, an Assassins Guild, did
exist in Hamal. Of course, no assassin worth the name is going to parade around in a uniform and
proclaim himself a member of his guild. Assassins do not work like that on Kregen, or here on Earth, for
that matter.
One result of that night s work came a sennight later when on a pretext Rees managed to issue a
challenge to Vad Garnath. The answer could only be made in blood. I will not go through the
preparations, the procedures, in which Chido and I made the arrangements to hire the hall, and see about
the tickets, and arrange the concessions for the bookmakers. All that side of the business was mere rote.
Rees said to me: I will not ask you to stand as my second, Hamun. You know why. I have asked Nath
Tolfeyr.
There was no answer to that. So, instead, I said: Will this miserable cramph Vad Garnath fight, Rees?
By Krun! If he will not I ll cut up his second and then belt him in the mouth and challenge him again!
The chronology of my stay as a spy in Ruathytu is, even to me, a little jumbled after all these years, but it
must have been around this time that I first heard the rumor that Casmas the Deldy had contracted with
due bokkertu to be married, and that I found Nulty.
There had been a stiff little fight and a swift retreat from the wall around Zhyan s Pinions, I recall. The
white stucco buildings leered in the moonlight, flushing pink at me, most hurtfully, as I beat off a
maddened guard patrol and went flying up onto a balcony, swinging to the next, and escaping over the
rooftops beneath the moons. Zhyan s Pinions were not to be broken into so easily. And the guards were
maddened because as I knew they had been given orders to capture this nighthawk at all costs, or else . .
. At this time I felt it wise to wear a mask, for despite the beard my face might be recognized. I was
taking more chances, too, as the time slipped by, in daytime foolery and nighttime espionage, and still the
secrets of the vollers eluded me.
The city seemed to mock me as I sped back, a leaping figure in the moon-glimmer, my cloak flaring out
from my shoulders, hurtling from purple shadow to purple shadow. Yet I had made some progress, in
talking, in listening, and knew for a certainty that a mix of minerals was essential. I had heard it claimed
that there were five minerals in a silver box; and others knowledgeably told me there were nine. What
these minerals were, they did not know. Hurdling over the rooftops of Ruathytu, I came to the conclusion
that I must give up my raffish circle in the sacred quarter and become a gul and try to work my way into
Zhyan s Pinions, or any of the other manufactories where they mixed the minerals.
That would not be easy, for obvious reasons, but unless I did something more positive I felt the whole
scheme would come to nothing and my bowing and scraping would have been wasted.
The manufactory of Zhyan s Pinions lies north of the River Havilthytus, in a gul suburb. To return to the
sacred quarter due south I had to cross the Bridge of Swords. This bridge is so called because it affords
ingress for the soldiers quartered all along the north bank of the river opposite the palace island to the
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