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middle of the group. His beard seemed to continue right down into his naked chest, as did the drooping
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mustache. In fact, he displayed so much hair that Jon-Tom wondered in the darkness if he really was
human and not one of the other furry local citizens.
That led him to consider the unusual homogeneity of the group. Up till now, every gathering of locals
he'd encountered, whether diners or merchants, sailors or pedestrians, had been racially mixed.
He looked backward. The lot who'd been trailing them had spread out to block any retreat back up the
street and yes, they were also wholely human, and similarly armed.
"That's nice of you," Caz said, replying to the invitation, "but we have other plans of our own." He spoke
for all his companions. Jon-Tom casually swung his staff around from his back, slipped the duar out of
the way. Talea's hand dropped to her sword. There was some uneasy shuffling among the humans
confronting them.
"I'm sorry. We insist."
"I wish you would encyst," said Flor cheerfully, "preferably with something cancerous."
The insult was lost on the man, who simply blinked at her. Both clusters began to crowd the travelers,
edging in from front and back.
There was a light metallic sound as Talea's sword appeared in her hand. "First one of you rodents lays a
hand on me is cold meat."
In the dim light from the oil lamps Jon-Tom thought she looked lovelier than ever. But then, so did Flores
Quintera.
She'd assumed an amazonian stance with her own short sword and mace held expectantly in front of her,
the light gleaming off the saw teeth lining the steel.
"_Ovejas y putas_, come and take us... if you can."
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"Ladies, please!" protested Caz, aghast at the manner in which his attempted diplomacy was being
undermined from behind. "It would be better for all of us if... excuse me, sir." He'd been glancing back at
Talea and Flor but had not lost sight of their opponents. One of them had jumped forward and attempted
to brain the rabbit with a small club, whereupon Caz had hopped out of the way, offered his apologies,
and stuck out a size twenty-two foot. His assailant had gone tumbling over it.
"Dreadfully sorry," murmured Caz. His apology did nothing to stem the rush which followed as the two
groups of encircling humans attacked.
The narrowness of the street simplified defensive tactics. The set-upon arranged themselves back to
back in a tight circle and hacked away at their antagonists, who threw themselves with shocking
recklessness against swords and knives. The light and sweat and screaming swam together around
Jon-Tom. The duar was a heavy weight bouncing under his arm as the blunt end of his staff-club sought
out an unprotected face or groin.
It occurred to him that a little magic might have frightened off their assailants. He cursed himself for not
thinking of it earlier. It was too late now for singing. He couldn't stop defending himself long enough to
swing the duar around.
Three frustrated attackers were trying to get beneath his enormous reach. He held them off with the club.
One slipped underneath the staff and raised a mace. Jon-Tom thumbed a stud on the staff and flipped it
around in an arc as he'd been shown. The spring-loaded spearpoint sliced across the mace-wielder's
thighs. He collapsed, moaning and holding his legs.
Something dark covered Jon-Tom's eyes as he was hit from below and behind. Flailing wildly with the
staff, he went over backward. The staff intercepted something yielding, which yelped once.
A heaviness pressed down on his senses as well as his eyes. Then everything turned to mush, including
the noise of fighting. His thoughts swam sluggishly as though he were trying to think through Jell-O. Dimly
he could still make out shrieks and screams from the continuing battle, but they sounded faint and far
away. He recognized the high-pitched challenge of Talea alternating with Mudge's taunts and curses. Flor
was yowling war cries in an interesting mixture of English and Spanish. The last sight he'd glimpsed before
the black cloth or bag or whatever it was had been slipped over his head showed a starlit sky mottled
with clearing rain clouds and a sickle moon beaming bluely down between peaked roofs that overhung
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