But as for me―I had another goal.
I climbed hand over hand up the rope to the top of the wall and advanced up the rising tier of stone benches, with Koja following at my heels. Straight for the royal box I made my way. For Thuton and Darloona still stood there, unable to flee amidst the press of the mob.
Here at last was my chance to rescue the flame-haired Princess of Shondakor from the treacherous swine she thought a friend! And here, too, was my long-awaited opportunity to confront the wily Prince of the City in the Clouds, and to take my revenge for the cruel humiliation I had suffered at his hands when last we had crossed swords.
Then I had been exhausted, injured, and armed with a weapon with which I was completely unfamiliar. He had whipped me soundly, but what was much worse, he had mocked me and humiliated me and made me look ridiculous in the eyes of the woman I―of a woman whose friendship I esteemed and whose respect I desired to earn.
Through the weary hours at the slave wheel of the frigate Skygull, in the squalor of the slave pens of Zanadar, and during my enforced weeks as the guest of Lukor the Swordmaster, I had hungered to face him again, sword in hand.
And that time had come.
13. AT SWORD'S POINT
As I sprang over the low partition and into the royal box, I heard Darloona gasp with astonishment. Turning, I smiled at her amazement and saluted with the naked sword.
"We meet again, Princess," I observed. She regarded me with a mingling of amazement and outrage―and perhaps there was just a hint of joyful relief mixed therein as well, for I had no reason to assume that she meant me ill.
"Jandar―you?" she asked puzzledly. "It was you who slew the deltagar and set the slaves in revolt?"
I smiled and nodded. It was even as I had expected. With my flesh disguised with the bleaching agent supplied by Lukor's s theatrical friend, my yellow locks dyed jet-black, the Princess had not known for sure that it was I until she had looked me full in the face. For my blue eyes, unique among the races native to this world of Thanator, alone gave me away. And I sensed the reason for the bewilderment that gripped her. From our past experiences, and the various misunderstandings between us, she thought me either a cunning and treacherous rogue, or an arrant coward.
Yet here I was, for once cast in the role of a hero!
It must have seemed a baffling contradiction to her. But her companion in the royal box felt different emotions. Thuton's drawling, silken voice sounded from behind me, and I turned from my Princess to face his mocking smile with a level stare.
"So, the barbarian returns, eh?" he sneered. "I had thought you safely consigned to servile labors more fitting to one of your lowly rank and savage ways than mingling with your betters!"
Beneath his condescending sneers I sensed a red rage trembling for release. I resolved to needle him a little before we crossed swords at last.
"Save for the Princess Darloona and a certain gentleman, I have not yet encountered any in this city better than myself," I replied calmly. "And surely the treachery involved in seeking to sell your royal guest into the hands of her greatest enemies, the Black Legion, puts yourself forever beyond the comparison."
His eyes narrowed and a dull flush stained his paper-white cheeks. I could see from the sidewise glance he directed at Darloona's startled face that he had of course kept all knowledge of his secret dealings with Arkola of the Chac Yuul from her. He bent a coldly furious gaze on me and his purring voice lost its sleekness and became harsh with menace.
"Mind your tongue, fellow, in the presence of the Princess, and cease spewing these despicable lies, or―" and here one strong white hand strayed suggestively to the hilt of his sword "―perhaps the lesson in civilized behavior I gave you when last we met was inadequate and you require a bit of further tutoring!"
I laughed easily. "Yes, I recall how soundly you defeated me when last we stood at sword's point," I remarked casually. "But do not bank on our last bout too much, Thuton. Then my arms were weary from a night spent with them chained above my head, and I was moreover weakened from a wound in the fore arm dealt by the tusk of a vastodon, whom I slew, rescuing the Princess from certain death."
My gaze became cool and insolent, raking him from head to foot, lingering on the slight suggestion of a paunch that was visible above his jeweled girdle, on the dark circles dissipation had traced beneath his bloodshot eyes, and on his foppish and almost feminine elegance of dress.
"Today you may find me in somewhat better condition for swordplay," I hinted. "Indeed, I might succeed in teaching you a lesson or two in―manners."
His face went hard and ugly, and his hand went to the hilt of his sword. But behind me I heard an exclamation from Darloona.
"What insolence!" she said, and her tones were scathing. My heart sank just a trifle: I had hoped to restore myself somewhat in her esteem. But I had forgotten the code of gentlemanly behavior which was almost religiously observed by the warriors of Thanator. And I had offended against its prime tenet ―a gentleman of Callisto does not boast of his prowess, but remains silent, letting his actions speak for him.
Noting her reaction, Thuton smirked.
"Shall I teach this crude buffoon another lesson, my lady?" he inquired. Darloona raked me with a haughty eye and nodded. He made me a mocking half-bow, and drew his sword with a flourish. We exchanged no salutes, but engaged at once.
All about us was raging turmoil, shouting guards, screaming and milling throngs of hysterical arena-goers, and battling slaves seeking freedom. But I soon forgot about them, concentrating on the smiling face of Thuton. The universe narrowed and shrank, until the three of us―the Princess, the Sky Pirate, and my self―were enclosed in a private little world of our own, insulated from everything that was going on around us. All we could hear was the click and clang of our blades, feeling each other out, the rasp of our buskins on the stone floor, the sound of heavy breathing. I focused my concentration on that smiling white face that floated before me beyond the flicker of our blades. I yearned and hungered to wipe that smirk away, to bring sweat to that smooth ironic brow, and the gleam of fear to those mocking eyes.
At first, Thuton engaged my point negligently, carelessly. Obviously he thought he was facing a rank novice hardly capable of knowing one end of a sword from the other. I held myself in check, content for the moment merely to turn aside his point whenever it came near me, playing a purely defensive role.
But before long, as he watched me parry every thrust, he became irked at the course of our duel, and pressed me back before a shower of gliding strokes, any one of which could have disemboweled me had I not turned aside each stroke with a practiced twist of the wrist. He glared at me as we disengaged, and I smiled quietly and stood waiting his next attack.
He sprang to engage my point in tierce. I countered easily with a demi-contre, and, as I parried, my point glided past his guard to nick him slightly just above the heart, slicing through his tunic.