‘Perhaps I should yield her to you; this is unheard of, that Lythande should
fight in the streets over a woman! You see, I know your habits well, Lythande!’
Damnation of Vashanka! Now indeed I shall have to fight for the girl!
Lythande’s rapier snicked from its scabbard and thrust at Rabben as if of its
own will.
‘Ha! Do you think Rabben fights street-brawls with the sword like any
mercenary?’ Lythande’s sword-tip exploded in the blue star-glow, and became a
shimmering snake, twisting back on itself to climb past the hilt, fangs dripping
venom as it sought to coil around Lythande’s fist. Lythande’s own star blazed.
The sword was metal again but twisted and useless, in the shape of the snake it
had been, coiling back toward the scabbard. Enraged, Lythande jerked free of the
twisted metal, sent a spitting rain of fire in Rabben’s direction. Quickly the
huge adept covered himself in fog, and the fire-spray extinguished itself.
Somewhere outside consciousness Lythande was aware of a crowd gathering; not
twice in a lifetime did two adepts of the Blue Star battle by sorcery in the
streets of Sanctuary. The blaze of the stars, blazing from each magician’s brow,
raged lightnings in the square.
On a howling wind came little torches ravening, that flickered and whipped at
Lythande; they touched the tall form of the magician and vanished. Then a wild
whirlwind sent trees lashing, leaves swirling bare from branches, battered
Rabben to his knees. Lythande was bored; this must be finished quickly. Not one
of the goggling onlookers in the crowd knew afterwards what had been done, but