As Isayin at last collected the hammer and the wedge and approached, the door was forced open again. Mjipa braced himself and strained to keep it closed, but this time the force was beyond even his strength. Little by little the gap between door and frame widened. Through the gap, Mjipa saw a vague blur of faces and painted bodies in motion.
Then he perceived what the Zhamanacians were doing.
The outer side of the door bore a handle in the form of a vertical wooden bar attached by two thick bolts, instead of a knob. Someone had thrust the shaft of a pike beneath this handle. Then two of the group, pushing on the far end of the pike, exerted such leverage that not even Mjipa could hold the door.
As the gap widened, a Krishnan outside thrust a sword through the aperture and made a slash at the arm by which Mjipa was trying to hold the door closed. Mjipa released the knob and snatched his arm back; to have held on might have cost him his hand.
Instantly the door flew open. Mjipa whipped out his sword and dagger. Without pausing to parley, he threw himself into a violent attack on the Krishnans crowding the doorway. In the dim light, Mjipa's sword darted like a serpent's tongue. The nearest opponent, who swung a hatchet, was run through. Before he could even fall, the sword found the belly of the Krishnan on his left.
The one on his right, seeing the blade coming towards him, brought a sword up to parry; but Mjipa doubled and turned his thrust into a savage cut at the Krishnan's leg, which buckled under him. In a few seconds, three of the attackers were down, one dead and the others groaning and trying to crawl away though their comrades' legs.
Another stepped forward in a fencing lunge. Mjipa hit his sword with a force that shattered the Krishnan's blade and ran his point into the fellow's open mouth. The Krishnan fell back, making gargling noises and drooling blood.
A Zhamanacian called: "He's no Terran, but a monkey!"
"Fool!" shouted Verar. "Any noodle knows that reeky Terran stench. He's but disguised. At him!"
The door was narrow enough so that Mjipa, being larger than most Krishnans, comfortably filled it. So long as he stood in the doorway, they could not get past him to attack from side or rear. Although he was not a skilled fencer, his strength and reach, together with the darkness, made up for his deficiency. Furthermore, most of his assailants were armed only with daggers or knives of other kinds.
"In!" yelled Verar. "What pack of craven knaves have I hired? He's but one and we are many. All together now, charge!"
Again the Krishnans pressed forward. The light was too poor for accurate fencing, since a combatant could barely see his antagonist's blade. Mjipa hewed and thrust and brought down two more; but he felt the sting of a cut in his thigh, pierced by a blade he never even saw. He, who had never worn Krishnan armor, now mentally cursed the lack of it.
His leg turned weak, so that it seemed barely able to support him. He leaned against the left side of the door frame, still filling most of the door.
"At him!" shouted Verar. "See ye not he's wounded?"
A Krishnan tried to slide between Mjipa and the right side of the door frame. Mjipa caught him in the neck with a vicious backhand, which would have taken the Krishnan's head off if Mjipa's blade had not been stopped by the door frame. As it was, his neck half severed, the Krishnan fell forward. Another tried to lunge, but his foot slipped on the blood that now lubricated the floor. As he staggered, Mjipa hewed off his sword hand; hand and blade fell with a clang.
Another came forward bent double, as if to run in under Mjipa's sword with a dagger. Mjipa caught him in the throat with his own dirk in his left hand.
Dead and wounded bodies had piled up in the doorway, so that attackers had to step and stumble over them to get at the Terran. As if appalled by the harm he had wrought, the Krishnans pulled back out of reach of Mjipa's sword, now bloody to the hilt. They stood in a semicircle before the door, breathing heavily. Verar shouted:
"Hath no one a bow or crossbow? What idiot failed to bethink him of fetching them?"
"Ye did, my lord," said a voice in the darkness. There was a snicker of laughter.
"Well then, get ready to cast those pikes as javelins."
There was movement among the Krishnans, and two pikes appeared in the front rank. Mjipa, also gasping for breath, suspected that these were the pikes borne by the watchmen, who must have been either killed or, if they had recovered consciousness, chased away. A criminal gang would not carry such conspicuous weapons.
One pikeman drew back his arm and let fly. The heavy spear, ill-adapted to such use, flew past Mjipa as he leaned aside and clattered on the floor behind him.
"Fool!" came the strident voice of Verar. "Ye could not hit the side of Mount Meshaq!"
"Why try ye not handstrokes with this Terran giant yourself?" came another voice in the darkness. "Ye be very brave at ordering others into the fray."
Mjipa said: "Doctor, pick up that pike! Come forward here. The next one who tries to get past me, jab him in the guts."
"But I know nought of fighting! I was never trained ..."
"You know which end of a spear to poke with, don't you? Grab it and stop bleating!"
Isayin hesitantly picked up the pike. For an instant, the only sounds were the scuff of footsteps, the swish of heavy breathing, and the groans of wounded Krishnans. Some of these, having drawn back out of the fight, were trying to bandage one another's wounds. Then Verar's voice boomed:
"Ten golden khichit of Zhamanak to him who brings me the Terran's head!"
During the early stages of the fight, Mjipa had exerted himself beyond normal human capacity. He had strained his bodily powers harder than ever before in his life. Now his heart raced, his breath came in shuddering gasps, and the strength seemed to be leaking out of his sword arm. He muttered over his shoulder to Isayin:
"I know not how much longer I can hold, with this wounded leg. It may collapse beneath me."
"What can I do?" said Isayin.
"Come forward. I need your help for the next rush."
"I'll do what I can," mumbled the scholar.
A shuffling in the dark implied that the Krishnans were preparing to rush again. Then sounds from farther away were heard. There came a patter of feet on the stair and Alicia's voice crying: "Percy! Where are you? The Mutabwcians came to the ship ... Oh!"
"Run, Lish!" roared Mjipa. "It's Khorosh's gang!"
She gave a little shriek. Then came the sound of more feet on the stair. A ruddy-yellow, flickering light grew. Alicia called: "I can't go back; they're behind me!"
"Hold all!" shouted Verar. "Who be these? Guard the Terran, ye five before the door; the rest face about. Why, 'tis the Terran female! Another ten khichit for her head, too!"
Alicia, caught between the two gangs on the narrow gallery, gave another shriek as one of the second group seized her from behind. This band included one Krishnan with a torch. By leaning, Mjipa could see over the heads of the nearest Zhamanacians. The newcomers included the Mutabwcian herald Kuimaj, whom Mjipa and his allies had thrown bodily out of Irants's Inn.
Verar shouted:"The female Terran is ours! Give her to us, that we may take her head to my master, the mighty Heshvavu Khorosh!"
"Never!" shouted back Kuimaj. "She is destined for the harem of my master, the mighty Heshvavu Ainkhist!"
"Will you give her peacefully," yelled Verar, "or must we slay you to get her? Methinks we have the advantage of numbers."
"We fear you not. We'll fight you any when ye list; but the female ye shall not have."
There was a muttered consultation among the Zhamanacians. Verar said: "We'll offer a compromise. We have the male Terran trapped and shall take his head in due time. Ye may have the female's head, provided ye give us some other part of her, say her hands, to carry back to my lord as attest of her death."