Bruno glared at him. “Huh? You gimme orders? You?” Bolly growled in the doorway and hefted his weapon.
“Please let us go,” Kenmuir clipped.
“Why?”“You have no right to keep us. You’re being abusive. Have a care, sir, or you’ll be under criminal charges.”
Bruno tugged Aleka against his belly. She submitted. At least in this position he couldn’t fondle her. “I’m not hurtin’ nobody,” he said, and farted. “Jus’ gonna pleasure the li’l lady. Like she never been pleasured before.”
“You’re drunk.”
Monumentally drunk, Aleka thought. Unless it was mostly the hysteria of the war dance still upon him. She could not stop a shudder.
“Shaddup!” he bawled. “Shaddup ‘fore I shut you up wi’ y’r teeth!” Aleka felt him slacken a bit. The hair around the lips scratched her cheek. He laughed. “You were ready enough t’ enjoy a woman o’ mine yestiddy. My turn.”
“I warn you,” Kenmuir stated, “if you don’t release her this minute, you’ll soon be under arrest. What then is your glory worth?”
Was that the wrong thing to say? Did it egg the creature past every border of reason? Bruno spat on the floor. “That fr you!” he roared. Chortling: “Naw, no force. She’ll like it, I tell you. You’ll beg me for more, li’l girl. You’ll wanna stay here. C’mon.” He forced her around, her arm still in his grasp and twisted behind her back. “Bolly,” he commanded, “make sure this yort don’t give no trouble. Got me?”
“Yah, senorissimo,” replied the guard happily. ‘
Kenmuir ignored him, strode to stand in the doorway, and said to Bruno, “Very well, sir, you leave me no choice. I challenge you.”
“What?” The mayor jarred to a halt.
“We’ll settle between us who has the authority,” Kenmuir told him.
Bolly raised his staff. “Hey, you can’t talk t’ him like that,” he rasped.
“Is the mayor afraid to fight me?” Kenmuir retorted.
“No!” Aleka screamed out of nightmare. “Don’t! You can’t—“ The giant would pluck the slender middle-aged man apart. And then what recourse would be left? Both she and Kenmuir could disappear, permanently, and nobody else ever know what had become of them. “I’ll go along. I will.” And maybe later she could call on the law. Or maybe Bruno would wake up dead.
“You’re loco,” he was coughing.
“No,” Kenmuir answered. “I simply challenge you to meet me, bare-handed. If you aren’t man enough, let your follower here so inform the people.”
Bruno bellowed.
And somehow, in a rush and clatter, they all got downstairs, out into the street. Bruno sprang backward and took stance, a monster blot on the pavement luminance. A breeze had arisen, sighing between darkened walls. Lightning had begun to flicker above roofs to the west. Bolly stood aside. He held Aleka by the wrist, not too tightly, and she saw a dull bemuse-ment on him. Kenmuir patted her hand, a moth-wing touch, before he chose a position for-himself. O Pele, how slight were his bones!
Maybe Bruno would be content to disable him, rape her, and release them. Not likely. Sober, he’d think of the aftermath. Aleka glanced skyward. Maybe Lilisaire would track down what had happened and avenge them.
Bruno charged. Kenmuir waited. Bruno reached him, twirled, launched a karate kick.
Kenmuir’s forearm slashed. The leg went aside. Bruno tottered, off balance. Kenmuir’s foot took him behind the knee. He howled and crashed.
Kenmuir sprang after him and gave him a heel in the torso. He gasped, but rolled clear and bounded up again. Incredible strength, Aleka realized. Let him close in, and he would smash his opponent as a maul breaks a cup.
He must have been a little dazed, though. Fists doubled, he struck for the stomach. Instantly Alekasaw the mistake. Kenmuir’s hand darted like a knife to block the arm, which punched air. His shin made a sweep, and the mayor went back down.
Or so it seemed. Aleka had never studied combat. Her sports were gentle. She saw mostly a savage confusion.
Bruno tried once more, failed once more, groaned and shook. Blood smeared his face, matted his beard, dripped onto the street to shine luridly red. With an animal noise, he drew his knife. “No, can’t!” wailed Bolly. Bruno lurched to attack. Kenmuir captured the wrist with his right hand, stepped in sideways, and as he moved smashed an elbow to the neck. The knife clattered free. Bruno became a bag of flesh that lay on the pavement and fought for air.