I threw my skean away
before I came here. I won't fight."
He thrust at me. Even I could see that the blow was a feint, and I had a
flashing, instantaneous memory of Dallisa's threat to drive the knife
through my palms. But even while I commanded myself to stand steady,
sheer reflex threw me forward, grabbing at his wrist and the knife.
Between my grappling hand he twisted and I felt the skean drive home,
rip through my jacket with a tearing sound; felt the thin fine line of
touch, not pain yet, as it sliced flesh. Then pain burned through my
ribs and I felt hot blood, and I wanted to kill Rakhal, wanted to get my
hands around his throat and kill him with them. And at the same time I
was raging because I didn't want to fight the crazy fool, I wasn't even
mad at him.
Miellyn flung the door open, shrieking, and suddenly the Toy, released,
was darting a small whirring droning horror, straight at Rakhal's eyes.
I yelled. But there was no time even to warn him. I bent and butted him
in the stomach.
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