His hand was still steady but I had the feeling then that under other circumstances, by fighting a defensive fight, I just might be able to wear him down with that wrist injury going against him, and perhaps I could get through his guard at the proper moment when he began to slow. There was blood dripping from his right wrist. If I didn't hate him so, I would have applauded his performance. But he dodged everything and came on strong, and I circled to his left and all like that, but I couldn't draw the point of his blade from my left eye. So I snatched things off the desk with my left hand and threw them at Eric. The greatest alive, I knew, was brother Benedict, and he wasn't around to help, one way or the other. We'd both had centuries under the greatest masters of the blade in business. I suddenly had the feeling that I couldn't take him, and I parried like mad and retreated in the same fashion as he beat me back, step by step. He was perhaps one of the greatest swordsmen I had ever faced. "Try and take it."Īnd his blade was in his hand and mine in mine.Īnd he lunged then and beat me back, and I felt suddenly that for all my work he was still my master. "The fact that I was able to occupy the throne," he replied.
Eric's retainers were coming, and if he didn't kill me before they arrived, then I was confident that they'd do the job - probably with a bolt from a crossbow. Then there were some alarms and excursions in the hall outside. Then I lunged, was parried, was attacked, and parried again myself.
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