reported the steel-jingle sound of a battlefield; the next he was staring at
Ahdio’s chest and it was too late to arrest his swing.
His fist slammed into quintuply-linked chain that seemed to be backed by a wall
of stone.
“Yaaowww!”
“You don’t want to go hittin’ my cousin’s boy Throde, friend,” the chainmailed
stone wall said, while the subject of his pleasant-voiced address danced and
clutched his wounded fist. Tears welled out of his eyes. “It wasn’t his fault
somebody grabbed his tunic from behind and don’t ask who. Besides, that mug
didn’t hurt your jewels or you’d never uv got up so fast. Sit down now and I’ll
bring you a full one.”
“You big-that really is chain! I’m hurt!”
Ahdio lifted his hand between them and doubled it into a fist the size of an
infant’s head. “What hurts?”
“My … f …” The fellow trailed off. Staring at the fist and glancing at his
considerably smaller one, he sank slowly down into his chair.
“That’ll teach ya, Tarkle,” one of the injured man’s tablemates said.
Having hurt his knuckles and arm and been backed down, Tarkle was happy to snarl
and reach for that man-with his uninjured hand. That fast, an enormous fist came
down onto the table between them with a bang. Unable to stop his movement,
Tarkle rammed his outstretched hand into the knuckles and stove up three
fingers. He repeated his previous yaow.
Ahdio said only, “Now damn it-“
Lots of eyes watched while the table’s complement sat in silence, with Ahdio
bending over it and his fist resting in place. Slowly he straightened.