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broadsword caught on one of the hooks just above the leather…girt ricasso。
Ryld retreated； snatching his weapon free。 Houndaer shifted the greatnotsword into a middle guard； and Tsabrak hobbled up beside him。 The drider's face twisted in pain； and pungent fluid spattered rhythmically from his wound。
Ryld continued to back away。 The rogues spread out again； though not so widely as before。 Tsabrak began to make a soft whining sound in the back of his throat。
Then； seemingly without any windup； just a sudden extension of his arm； Ryld threw his sword。 Though the weapon wasn't intended for such an action； it streaked through the air as straight and sure as an arrow。 The point plunged into Tsabrak's chest。
The drider's eyes widened。 He coughed blood； then flopped forward at the waist； dropping his sword。 His spider half； slower to die than the upper portion； continued to limp forward。
It was all right； though； because Ryld had no melee weapon save for a dagger； which would surely be of little use against a blade as long as the greatsword。 Houndaer rushed in to deliver the finishing stroke。
〃Tuin'Tarir he screamed。
His face still as blank as a zombie's； the weapons master dodged to the side。
Houndaer turned； following the target； and saw that Ryld had ducked behind one of a row of wooden mannequins。 Up close； the crudely carved dummies were oddly disquieting figures； smirking identical smiles despite their countless stigmata of dents and gashes。
Ryld stood poised； waiting； and Houndaer discerned the spy's intent。 When his adversary lunged around one side of the dummy； the master would circle in the opposite direction； thus maintaining a barrier between them。
Houndaer saw no reason to play that game； not if his new sword was as keen as it was supposed to be。 He brought the blade around in a low arc。 It tore away the mannequin with scarcely a jolt； depriving Ryld of his pitinotful protection。
Unfortunately； the weapons master sprang forward at the very same innotstant； before Houndaer could pull the greatsword back for another cut。 Ryld slashed at the noble's throat。
Houndaer frantically wrenched himself back； interposing his weapon between himself and the spy； before recognizing that the cut had been more of a feint than anything else。 Ryld had tricked him into assuming a pletely defensive attitude； then seized the opportunity to dash past him。 Houndaer cut at the master's back but only managed to tear his bilnotlowing cloak。
The Tuin'Tarl gave chase； and Tsabrak； dying or dead but still mindnotlessly ambulatory； staggered into his path。 Houndaer shouted in frustranottion and cut the drider down。
When the hybrid fell； the noble could see what was happening behind him。 Ryld had reached Tsabrak's fallen sword。 Heedless of the venom drying on the blade； the teacher slipped his toe under the weapon； flipped it into the air； and caught it neatly by the hilt。 His expression as unfathnotomable as ever； he came on guard and advanced。
I can still kill him； Houndaer thought； I still have the reach on him。
Aloud； he shouted； 〃Here！ I've got one of the masters here！〃
Ryld stepped to the verge of the distance； then hovered there。 Confident in his ability to defend； he wanted Houndaer to strike at him。 A fencer couldn't attack without opening himself up。
At first； the noble declined to oblige。 He intended to wait his opponent out。 Ryld beat his blade。
The clanging impact startled a response out of him； but at least it was a posed attack。 Feint to the chest； feint to the flank； cut low and hack the opponent's legs out from underneath him。
Even as he flowed into the fin