"Ye grasp not the nub, dolt! Our master demands her whole and unharmed. 'Tis not her head that chiefly interests him."
"So that's it? I piss on your master, the cunt-besotted old fool! We'll have the dame's life, an it mean slaying every last villain of you!"
"Come and get her, caitiff churls!"
"Eaters of dung!"
"Mother-futterers!"
"We'll fry your testicles for breakfast!"
"Doctor," said Mjipa, "we must try to break through these hirelings, seize Mistress Dyckman, and get away."
"How can we, when there be two of us and twenty or thirty of them?"
"If their quarrel goes from words to blows, we may have a chance. I'll give the word. Pick up that hammer; it might be good for cracking skulls."
"I'm old for derring-do," sighed Isayin, "but I'll do what I can."
The envoys, Verar and Kuimaj, continued to trade threats, accusations, and demands. As their voices waxed louder and their threats more lurid, the attention of the Zhamanacians before Mjipa became more and more distracted towards the leaders' slanging match. Two of the five drifted away from the semicircle guarding the door. Verar screamed:
"Offspring of a monkey and an ambar! We'll flay you alive and make condoms of your hides!"
"Walking turds!" replied Kuimaj. "We'll turn you loose without eyes, hands, or yards!"
At last Verar cried:"Enough of these pleasantries! Have at you, scurvy cullions!"
He and the Krishnans around him moved along the gallery towards the Mutabwcians. Swords clashed; a wounded man yelled.
"Come, Doctor!" said Mjipa. "Spear that fellow on our right!"
Drawing on all his reserves of strength, Mjipa feinted towards the left-hand Krishnan and then thrust the middle one through. At the same instant, Isayin jabbed the right-hand one in the belly with his pike.
The left-hand Krishnan staggered back from Mjipa's attack, and Mjipa stumbled over the pile of dead and wounded after him. The Krishnan aimed a thrust; but Mjipa caught it in a bind and sent the sword spinning out of the thruster's hand. The Krishnan, thrusting Mjipa's blade aside with his hand, threw himself forward into a clinch. Mjipa dropped his sword, seized the Krishnan, and tossed him over the rail of the gallery. A diminishing shriek came up from the stair well, ending in a slam as the Krishnan struck bottom ten meters below.
For an instant, Mjipa saw the backs of the Zhamanacians, beyond whom swords and other weapons flickered in the torchlight, and beyond these the faces of the Mutabwcians. He could not see Alicia, who must have been taken to the rear.
"Give me that hammer," Mjipa ordered Isayin. When the scholar complied, Mjipa added: "When I throw this, we attack. Keep behind me and try not to spear me by mistake. Ready?"
Mjipa drew back his arm and let fly. The hammer, turning over and over, soared over the heads of the Zhamanacians and struck the torchbearer in the chest. The blow so startled him that he dropped the torch. At once the flame went out, leaving only a glowing stub.
In the sudden darkness, Mjipa, limping forward with his recovered sword, thrust two Zhamanacians through from behind before they realized he was among them. All the fighers appeared to have drawn back from one another, fearful of killing men of their own gang in the dark. All shouted, trying to establish identities, while Verar and Kuimaj screamed confused commands.
Among them moved Mjipa, half invisible, his passage marked by the yelps and groans of the Krishnans he sworded. Without this damned brown paint, he thought, they couldn't see me at all. Not having to worry about hurting someone on his own side, he thrust at every dim form he passed.
"Alicia!" roared Mjipa. "Where are you?"
"Over here!" came the high-pitched reply. "Two are holding me."
As Mjipa's eyes once more began to adjust to the dark, he found Alicia, standing between two Krishnans behind the general ruck of fighters. These Mutabwcians had their weapons sheathed in order to free both arms for holding their captive. As Mjipa advanced upon them, one released Alicia's arm to reach for his weapon, a half-sword; but Mjipa spitted him before he had it out.
Alicia pivoted and kneed her other captor in the crotch. He doubled over but retained his hold. Isayin, coming up behind Mjipa, aimed a thrust of his pike at the Krishnan but managed to hit Alicia instead. The point raked along her bare ribs, bringing a yell of pain.
Mjipa swung his sword for a cut at the bent-over Krishnan; but this foe released his hold and scuttled backwards out of reach. Mjipa seized Alicia's arm. "Let's go!"
"They flee!" cried someone in the darkness. From somewhere a hand caught Mjipa's tail, which came loose with a sound of ripping cloth.
"Run!" said Mjipa. The three loped and staggered around the gallery, Mjipa hopping on one leg and dragging the wounded limb. They reached the stair landing, where the spiral stair came up through the floor of the gallery from below and, further along, continued on upward.
"Down stairs!" panted Mjipa. As the three took the first steps, more light and sound came from below. Around the curve of the stair appeared another group of Krishnans, a couple bearing lanterns. The sparkle of the lamplight on gilded equipment and body paint identified them as King Vuzhov's soldiery. They were clattering up the stairs towards the fugitives.
"Up stair!" Mjipa gasped, turning about and limping painfully upward. By the time the Kalwmians reached the stair landing on the third story, Mjipa and his companions were out of sight on the spiral stair above. A Kalwmian officer yelled:
"What's all this? Drop your weapons, rapscallions!"
The spiral stair continued on up to the fifth story, which was completely floored. Since construction had only begun to rise above the fifth level, the floor of this story, open to the sky, was closed against the weather by a wooden hatch over the head of the stair. A vigorous push by Mjipa dislodged it and allowed the three to come out on the floor.
For an instant Mjipa listened, but there was no sign that they had been followed up the stair. From below, sounds of combat still came up, though in that confusion it was anyone's guess who was fighting whom.
Mjipa replaced the hatch. Examining it, he gasped: "I think I can wedge it shut. Wish I had that hammer. Where's your pike, Doctor?"
"I dropped it," croaked Isayin, gasping for breath. "I had—not strength—to bear it—up all those steps."
With a grunt, Mjipa placed the point of his dagger in the crack between the edge of the hatch and the opening into which it fitted. With the pommel of his sword he pounded the butt of the dagger until the blade was driven in as far as it would go.
"That'll hold them for a while," he said.
"But where can we go now?" said Alicia. "We can't fly, like Prince Bourujird in the legend, with his aqebat-chariot."
"A couple of Prince Ferrian's rocket gliders would be more practical. But I think I know a way. I say, did you get wounded, too?"
"Painful but not serious," she said. "Your professor friend did it by accident."
"Let's have some bandages. This leg is killing me, and that cut in your side is still bleeding."
"Lend me your sword," said Alicia, slipping off her kilt. Soon she had two strips cut from the lower edge of the garment.
I—I'm sorry I hurt your lady," gasped Isayin. "I said—I was no warrior."
"Never mind that," said Mjipa. The shorter strip of cloth, Alicia tied around Mjipa's wounded leg. He in turn bound the other strip around her body below the breasts.
"Now how shall we get down?" said Alicia, resuming the remains of the kilt.
"As soon as I get a little strength back, we'll go down by the hoist over there."
Mjipa limped to the edge, where he had seen brackets projecting from the outer wall to support pulleys, over which ran the ropes of the hoists. A tug on the ropes laid over those pulleys showed that the ropes had been made fast below.