Before he could free the blade, another Calera brought a brandy bottle
down on his head. Gathon Dard sprang upon the back of a second
assassin, hooking his left elbow under the fellow's chin and grabbing
the wrist of his knife-hand with his right; the man struggled for an
instant, then went limp and fell forward. The third of the trio of
murderers was still slashing at the fallen chieftain when Antrath Alv
chopped him along the side of the neck with the edge of his hand; he
simply dropped and lay still.

Nebu-hin-Abenoz was dead. He had been slashed and cut and stabbed in
twenty places; his throat had been cut at least three times, and he
had almost been decapitated. The wounded Calera wasn't dead yet;
however, even if he had been at the moment on the operating table of a
First Level Home Time Line hospital, it was doubtful if he could have
been saved, and under the circumstances, his life-expectancy could be
measured in seconds. Some cushions were placed under his head, and
women called to attend him, but he died before they arrived.

The three assassins were also dead. Except for a few cuts on the scalp
of the one who had been felled with the bottle, there was not a mark
on any of them. Cavu-hin-Avoran kicked one of them in the face and
cursed.

"We killed the skunks too quickly!" he cried. "We should have overcome
them alive, and then taken our time about dealing with them as they
deserved." He went on to specify the nature of their deserts. "Such
infamy!"

"Well, I'll swear I didn't think a little tap like I gave that one
would kill him," the bottle-wielder excused himself. "Of course, I was