Qohey's blade flashed, cutting at Foster's head. Foster hardly moved.
Almost effortlessly, it seemed, he interposed his heavy weapon between
the attacking steel and himself. _Clash, clang!_ Qohey hacked and
chopped ... and Foster played with him. Then Foster's arm flashed out
and there was blood on Qohey's wrist. A gasp went up from the crowd.
Now Foster took a step forward, struck ... and faltered! In an instant
Qohey was on him and the two men were locked, chest to chest. For a
moment Foster held, then Qohey's weight told, and Foster reeled back.
He tried to bring up the sword, seemed to struggle, then Qohey lashed
out again. Foster twisted, took the blow awkwardly just above the hand
guard, stumbled ... and fell.
Qohey leaped to him, raised the sword--
I hauled mine half way out of its sheath and pushed forward.
"Let the man be put away from my sight," rumbled Qohey. He lowered his
immense sword, turned, pushed aside a flunky who had bustled up with
a wad of bandages. As he strode from the room a swarm of bodyguards
fanned out between the crowd and Foster. I could see him clumsily
struggling to rise, then I was shoved back, still craning for a
glimpse. There was something wrong here; Foster had acted like a man
suddenly half-paralyzed. Had Qohey doped him in some way?
The cordon stopped pushing, turned their backs to the crowd. I tugged
at the arm of the man beside me.
"Did you see anything strange there?" I started.
He pulled free. "Strange? Yea, the mercy of our Lord Qohey! Instead of
meting out death on the spot, our Owner was generous--"
"I mean about the fight." I grabbed his arm again to keep him from
moving off.
"That the impudent rascal would dare to claim the place of Owner at
Bar-Ponderone: there's wonder enough for any man," he snapped. "Unhand
me, fellow!"
I unhanded him and tried to collect my wits. What now? I tapped a
bodyguard on the shoulder. He whirled, club in hand.
"What's to be the fate of the man?" I asked.
"Like the Boss said: they're gonna immure the bum for his pains."
"You mean wall him up?"
"Yeah. Just a peep hole to pass chow in every day ... so's he don't
starve, see?" The bodyguard chuckled.
"How long--?"
"He'll last; don't worry. After the Change, Owner Qohey's got a
newman--"
"Shut up," another bruiser said.
The crowd was slowly thinning. The bodyguards were relaxing, standing
in pairs, talking. Two servants moved about where the fight had taken
place, making mystical motions in the air above the floor. I edged
forward, watching them. They seemed to be plucking imaginary flowers.
Strange....
I moved even farther forward to take a closer look, then saw a tiny
glint.... A servant hurried across, made gestures. I pushed him aside,
groped ... and my fingers encountered a delicate filament of wire.
I pulled it in, swept up more. The servants had stopped and stood
watching me, muttering. The whole area of the combat was covered with
the invisible wires, looping up in coils two feet high.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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