The flagon in my fist whipped across in a purely reflexive action. The dagger chingled a single gong-chime and span away in a flash of silver. In the next heartbeat the flagon flew the intervening distance and crashed full against the forehead of this unpleasant dagger-throwing fellow. He gave a tiny grunt and simply fell, collapsing from the knees. His face smashed into the table edge.
In the hubbub around only a few people noticed the byplay.
A gaunt Gon at the next table said: “That was quick, dom.”
“Aye.”
“Either finish him now or clear off schtump.”
The advice, given the circumstances, was good. I nodded. “You are right, dom. Remberee.”
He nodded in reply and lifted his flagon as I walked quickly to the door. The fellow wearing the swordfish in a hoop badge might have frie……
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