A great noise was coming from somewhere else. He turned just in time to see the Hippae who had been ranked along the wall charging at him, hooves high, jaws extended. There was no way to avoid them. He threw himself behind the bodies of the dying Hippae and cut at the legs and teeth that sought him from above. Blood rained down on him, blinding him.
Something struck him on the head. He slumped, stunned. There was sound, roaring, screaming, voices howling. Hippae shrieking as they backed off. Blackness came up around him, sucking at him.
Persun Pollut’s voice said, “Up, up, sir. Get in. Oh, get in, we can’t hold them off for long.”
Then vibration, the sound dwindling, and at last the blackness took him entirely.
It was Figor bon Damfels who reached Stavenger first, after waiting a considerable time for the Hippae to finish their slaughter and go away. Roderigo Yrarier’s servants had driven the Hippae off with the aircar, had leapt out and rescued him. Figor was astonished at this. None of the bon Damfels servants or the bon Laupmon servants had made any move to protect their masters. The twelve riders had borne the full brunt of the Hippae fury. All twelve had died, most of them bon Laupmons, fourteen deaths including Stavenger bon Damfels and Obermun bon Haunser. Stavenger showed no wounds, though he was pale and cold. His boots were in tatters. Figor unbuckled the strap that held the boots high and drew them off. Stavenger’s feet came with them. Only a thin strip of leather on the inside had kept the boots together. They had filled with blood and overflowed. Stavenger had bled to death, without moving.
Four Hippae were dead also, the two who had taken part in the joust and two others, their legs lopped off as though by some great cleaver. It was this death of Hippae that the others had sought to avenge.
The death of Hippae, though perhaps Yrarier’s escape had infuriated them more. They had danced and howled and leaped, trying to get their teeth into the ascending car. While all of it had been going on, Figor had not had time for much thinking, not time, nor ability. There was nothing in anyone’s mind then but red rage and a furious astonishment. After the Hippae had gone away, however, room for some thought had opened up. Thought and reflection on what eyes had seen even while minds had been unable to comprehend.
“Figor,” his cousin, Taronce bon Laupmon, said. “I found this where thefragraswas.”
Figor took it. Some kind of tool. It had a thumb switch and he clicked it on. The blade quivered, humming with deadly force, and he clicked it off again. He whispered, shocked, “By our ancestors! Taronce!”
“It must be what he used on the mounts,” cousin Taronce whispered, rubbing at his shoulder where his prosthesis joined his body. “Cut their legs out from under them Chopped their heads in two. The way they chop at us. They way they chopped at me.” He looked around, guiltily. “Put it away before someone sees it.”
“What does Obermun bon Laupmon say? Lancel?”
“He’s dead, Gerold is alive. He wasn’t one of the mounted ones.”
“How did this all …” He gestured around him. “When I got here, it was already started.”
“The Hippae were waiting this morning, waiting on the gravel court. They took people, that’s all. They took Stavenger as soon as he arrived, and bon Haunser, as well.”
“No one bothered me.”
“No one else was bothered, just twelve riders, and Stavenger, and Jerril bon Haunser. And now they’re all dead.”
“Plus four mounts,” whispered Figor. “I’ve got the thing put away. I won’t let them know we have it.”
“You’d use it, wouldn’t you?”
“Would you?”
“I think so. I think I’d use it. It’s so neat. So little. You could keep it in your pocket. They wouldn’t know you had it. Then, if one of them came at you …”
“If Yrarier had this thing, they’re probably easy to get. In Commons, maybe.”
“Why didn’t we know? Before?”
“They didn’t let us know before. Or maybe we haven’t wanted to know, before.”