“Women! Parasites on Pern. The Weyr power is over! Over for good,” roared Fax, leaping forward to land in a combat crouch.
Robinton spared a look at the others in the Hall. Fax’s men were obviously looking forward to a good fight and the death of this unwary adversary. The dragonriders had spread out, circling, as if to keep the guards from interfering. Their expressions reflected confidence in the abilities of their wingleader, especially C’gan whose grinning face reassured Robinton.
Fax feinted, and F’lar neatly swayed away. They crouched again, facing each other across six feet of space, knife hands weaving, their free hands, spread-fingered, ready to grab.
Again Fax pressed the attack. F’lar allowed him to close, just near enough to dodge away with a backhanded swipe. Fabric tore and Fax snarled. He lunged immediately, faster on his feet than Robinton would have expected for such a bulky man. F’lar was forced again to dodge; this time Fax’s knife scored across the dragonrider’s jerkin.
Fax ploughed in again, trying to corner F’lar between the raised platform and the wall. Robinton caught his breath, hoping that neither would stumble over the unconscious drudge.
F’lar countered, ducking low under Fax’s flailing arm and slashing obliquely across his side. Fax caught at him, yanking savagely, and F’lar was trapped against the other man’s side, straining desperately with his left hand to keep the knife arm up. F’lar brought up his knee, at the same time making himself collapse. As Fax gasped from the blow to the groin, F’lar danced away; but Robinton could see blood welling up on his left shoulder.
Red with fury and wheezing from pain and shock, Fax straightened up and charged. F’lar was forced to sidestep quickly, putting the meat table between them and circling warily, flexing his shoulder to assess the damage.
Suddenly Fax seized up a handful of fatty scraps from the meat tray and hurled them at F’lar. The dragonrider ducked, and Fax closed the distance around the table with a rush. Robinton nearly cheered when F’lar instinctively swerved out of the way just as
Fax’s flashing blade came within inches of his abdomen. At the same moment, the bronze rider’s knife sliced down the outside of Fax’s arm. Instantly the two pivoted to face each other again, but Fax’s left arm hung limply at his side.
F’lar darted in, pressing his luck as Fax staggered. But the older man must not have been hurt as badly as F’lar assumed: the dragonrider suffered a terrific kick in the side as he tried to dodge under the feinting knife. Robinton’s throat closed. Doubled with pain, F’lar rolled frantically away from his charging adversary. Fax lurched forward, trying to fall on him for a final thrust. F’lar somehow got to his feet, attempting to straighten up to meet Fax’s stumbling charge. His movement took Fax by surprise. Fax overreached his mark and staggered off balance. F’lar brought his right hand over in a powerful thrust, his knife blade plunging deep into Fax’s unprotected back.
Fax fell flat to the flagstones, the force of his descent dislodging the dagger so that an inch of the bloody blade re-emerged from the point of entry.
A thin wailing penetrated the silence. Robinton looked up to the top of the stairs, where a woman stood, cradling a swathed bundle in her arms.
“The new Lord Holder,” Robinton murmured. The guards on either side of him regarded him with surprise.
Do I come forward as MasterHarper now? he wondered, looking about to see who would take charge. F’nor, C’gan and K’net strode forward, ready to ring F’lar in case any of the guards wished to retaliate.
F’lar, wiping his forehead on his sleeve, half-stumbled to the still-unconscious drudge. He gently turned her over and, even from where Robinton stood, he could see the terrible bruise from Fax’s fist spreading across her filthy cheek.
“Do any of you care to contest the outcome of this duel?” F’nor challenged. His hand carefully remained at his side, but he stood as if ready to seize his dagger at the first sign of attack.
Something about the drudge – her thin face, the set of her eyes – caught Robinton’s attention. F’lar gathered the limp body up in his arms, the clump of dirty hair dropping downward. As the bronze rider swung her around Robinton got a second good look at her face and something stirred in his memory.