"Guests? You are mice playing in the cat's lair!"

"Almost, little pussycat, almost," the hissing reply shot back. "Let's say rats, though — with a big serpent to oversee their handling of an offending torn!"

Just then the two men on either side of the assassin made a concerted attack, darting in to stab from left to right. Gord faked left, sprang right, and took the attacker there through chest and stomach with both blades. The rat-faced fellow screamed in pain and tried to get free, but Gord struck again, twice, with the long-bladed dagger, then shoved the corpse around into the path of the other one, who was coming from behind now. This one looked like the brother of the dead attacker, and as he became entangled with the body and fell. Gord made swift work of him so that two forms lay dying and twitching on the oaken floor.

"Most impressive! Those blades you wield are dweomered, too. Our cat has sharp claws."

"Viper!"

"You know me, Blackcat? How curious. In that case I should have guessed your identity long ago, and all of this would be completely unnecessary. You'd have been dead and rotting weeks ago. But I don't recognize you at all, little man."

The speech was almost sufficient to distract his attention, but Gord was too good to be totally taken by any such ruse. The sounds from behind warned him, and he vaulted into a series of springs that placed him farther inside his apartment and well away from the entrance. A quick look showed Gord he had done the right thing. At least a half-dozen of the rat-faced men were where he had been but a second or two before.

"Stay there!" The order came from the lanky assassin and was directed at the rodent-faced henchmen. "I think that it will take a viper, not a pack of rats, to skin this cat."

"You are very confident," Gord said to the assassin as he began to close. "I’ll tiy not to give you too long to regret your mistake. This cat is faster than any adder alive!" So saying, the young thief engaged his tall foeman, and in a series of quick exchanges wounded the man twice without receiving a scratch himself.

"You little bastard!" The last came from Viper as Gord's dagger point slashed fine chainmail and the flesh beneath it. "Close on the filthy bastard now!" Viper nearly screamed the command. The rat-faced bunch nearby hastened to obey.

The very number of attackers made Gord's situation an impossible one. He could hold them off for some time but there was no hope in the long run. He'd kill a few, but then their sheer numbers would tell; he'd fall in the press, and Viper would finish him with his damned poisoned sword. "I'll pull your fangs. Viper, before this load of rats finishes me!"

At that, the assassin only laughed. There was little force in the threat, for Gord was now surrounded by the ratmen.

The scene changed in the wink of an eye. One second three of the attackers were before him. The next they were scattered around, one broken where he had stood, another sent crashing through a window, and the last bitten in twain. Even the ice-cold Viper gave a startled gasp at the sudden turnabout.

But it wasn't Gord's doing at all. Like an apparition, there stood in the midst of the melee a giant saber-toothed tiger, its jaws dripping blood from the wererat it had just bitten in half. Even as the assassin vented his cry of fear and the remaining rat-men tried to draw away, the huge cat struck again, as did Gord.

The tiger was upon the remaining wererats in an instant, dealing out death with claw and fang. This beast was the largest of smilodons, the lord of them all. Perhaps one or two of the ratmen would have survived the attack of even so potent a beast as the saber-toothed tiger, but never the attentions of this giant among its kind. The sounds of their dying were not pleasant.

Meanwhile, Gord leaped to confront the lanky killer. "Now, Viper, we have a more even game — cat against serpent. Shall we see which shall have the upper hand when the play is finished?"

Rather than bothering to reply. Viper sent his sword flying at Gord as if it were a javelin. It was all the young thief could do to avoid the missile, so unexpected was the attack. Before he had a chance to regain his balance from the first onslaught, Gord found he was faced with yet another series of flying missiles. Viper had used his time well, and now his hands were filled with great darts. These he hurled with force at his opponent, and the missiles came in such rapid succession that it took every ounce of Gord's acrobatic skill to avoid their long, envenomed points. A dozen of the things buzzed through the air before the assassin's arsenal was exhausted.

"What now, snake?" Gord had his sword pointed at the assassin's throat as he so inquired.

A set of poniards appeared in Viper's hands as he leaped toward his smaller opponent, bent on sinking both weapons into him. Gord blocked the thrusting points with his shortsword and sank his own dagger deep into Viper's thigh as the two combatants wheeled and spun round an invisible center point One of the twin blades sliced through Gord's leather jerkin but was stopped short by his shirt of eliin chain. All the while, a small, ugly little creature that had appeared but moments before clapped and cheered, laughed and jeered, as the pair fought for their lives.

Both foemen moved back to catch their breath.

Now Gord was silent, but Viper was angered by the presence and commotion of an unwanted spectator. "Shut your foul little mouth, quasidemon, and assist me in killing this man!"

The little fiend laughed raucously at that. "Can't handle him by yourself, big-mouth turdhead? Sorry, but fighting isn't our deal. Beat him yourself or die, chump."

"You'll not get your prize that way," the bleeding assassin gasped.

"Who cares?" the creature japed in reply, "I got you then."

Gord didn't wait to hear any more. He moved into another attack, lunging out to skewer the tall killer with a straight thrust. His point barely grazed the fellow, however. Viper was quick and a superb fighter. Both of his poniards flew at Gord. and then the assassin hurled down a vial that he had drawn from inside his tunic. When the glass struck the floor it exploded, and a cloud of thick, vile-smelling smoke hissed up and filled the room.

"What the hells!" Gord swung his sword through the cloud of smoke blindly, but the effort was useless. There was noise from the room beyond. Viper was escaping through the window in his bed chamber! The young thief sprang after the escaping assassin and arrived in time to see him disappear through the opening. Gord knew that Viper was easily capable of climbing down and escaping before Gord could prevent it. He looked out and down anyway. Perhaps he could use sword or dagger to bring the damned killer to his doom.

Viper was already about five feet down the wall and moving with assurance. Then an ugly little creature appeared and sat atop the assassin's head.

"Where's my talisman?" Gord heard the thing demand.

"Get the hells off my head!" Viper managed to scream. That was all he could do, for his hands were busy holding on for dear life. The little monster must have weighed a lot.

"Give me the talisman or else forfeit your contract." the thing replied.

"Putter you and the amber too!" Viper shrieked. "You didn't help me!"

"Sure did! You were warned, and you got the nine wererats I promised. Sorry, but you have to forfeit. . ."

"What are you talking about, quasidemon? There was nothing in that deal about forfeit!"

"Sure there was, only it was written in small print. You probably didn't notice it."

"Don't give me that dung." the assassin managed to say as he tried to continue his descent. "Demons aren't smart enough to put in that sort of stuff."

The little thing began to do a jig atop Viper's head. "Oh, yeah. That's the other part I forgot to mention. I'm not really a quasidemon after all — how could you have thought I was when you saw me as a rat and I brought wererats to you? I am an imp, after all!" With that, the foul little creature began lashing its barb-tipped tail downward. The appendage struck at Viper's face, lacerating his cheek, forehead, and chin before it sank deeply into the assassin's eye. "Gotcha!" cackled the imp.