Este tossed, then Izmael and Kegan; all their coins went wide of the opening, though it seemed as if their aim were true and that only at the last instant did some influence nudge the coins aside. Travec threw last, and his coin rattled clean and true into the pot. "In this case I am lucky," said Travec. He collected his winnings. "Come; who will be first? Galgus again?"

Once more Galgus stepped to the crack and with the most subtle touch, tossed his coin, but it sailed entirely over the pot as if it had wings. Este's coin seemed to dip for a moment into the opening, then careen away. Izmael and Kegan likewise failed in their attempts, but as before Travec's coin rang into the pot as if drawn there by a will of its own.

Travec collected his winnings. He counted out ten gold pieces and gave them to Cory. "Let there be no further complaint!" He turned to his fellows. "Shall we toss another round?"

"Not I," said Este. "My arm is sore from so much exercise."

"Nor I," said Kegan. "I am confused by the erratic flight of my coins. They dart and veer like barn swallows; they shy away from the pot as if it were a hole into Hell!"

Kegan went to look into the pot. A black arm reached up from within and tweaked his nose. He gave a startled cry and dropped the pot, which broke into a hundred pieces. None had observed the incident and his explanations met with skepticism. Travec said: "The landlord's ale is strong! No doubt you felt its influence!"

The landlord now came forward. "Why did you break my valuable pot? I demand payment!"

"It is your pot which tonight cost me dear!" roared Kegan. "I will pay not so much as a falsified farthing, unless you recompense me my loss!"

Cory stepped forward. "Landlord, be calm! I am the leader of this company and I will pay the cost of your pot. Be good enough to bring us more ale, then leave us in peace."

With a sullen shrug the landlord retreated and in due course returned with mugs of ale. Meanwhile, Cory had turned to appraise Travec. "You are deft with your coin-tossing. What other skills can you demonstrate?"

Travec showed a flicker of a smile. "Upon whom?"

"I stand aloof, in judgment," said Cory.

Travec looked around the group. "Izmael, your nerves are strong; otherwise the deeds you have done would have made you mad."

"That may well be true."

"Stand here, then, at this spot."

"Tell me first what you have in mind. If you intend to cut off my scalp-lock, I must respectfully refuse."

"Be calm! With as much amity as may be possible between Dacian and Hun, we will demonstrate the niceties of combat as we know it on the steppes."

"As you like." Izmael slouched to the stipulated place.

Cory turned to Travec. He asked sharply: "What sort of foolery is this? You carry neither bludgeon nor mace; there is no blade at your belt nor none in your boot!"

Travec, paying no heed, spoke to Izmael. "You are waiting in ambush. Make ready your knife, and strike as I walk past."

"As you like."

Travec walked past Izmael the Hun. There was a flurry of movement, almost too fast to follow. Travec flung out his arm; a knife appeared miraculously in his hand; the pommel was pressed against Izmael's corded neck, with the blade gleaming in the lamplight. Izmael's arm was knocked aside; his knife clattered to the stone floor. At the same time he raised his leg, a horrid double-pronged blade protruding from the toe of his soft felt shoe. He kicked at Travec's crotch; Travec dropped his other hand and caught Izmael's ankle, and Izmael was forced to hop backward toward the fireplace; had Travec stepped forward and thrust, Izmael would have fallen backward into the blaze.

Travec, however, released Izmael's ankle and resumed his seat. Izmael stolidly picked up his knife and retreated to his own place. "So go events on the steppe," said Izmael without rancor.

Este the Sweet spoke in silky tones: "That is deft knifework, and even Galgus, who reckons himself supreme, will agree to this. Am I right, Galgus?"

All eyes turned to Galgus, who sat brooding, his pallid face pinched into a dyspeptic mask. "It is easy to be deft when one has a knife in his sleeve," said Galgus. "As to the thrown knife, that is an art superb at which I excel."

Este asked: "What of it, Travec? Can you throw the knife?"

"By Dacian standards I am considered moderately skillful. Which of us is the better man? There is no way of proving without one or the other or both taking the knife in the throat, so let us not force a comparison."

"Ah, but there is a way," said Galgus. "I have seen it used often at a trial among champions. Landlord, bring us a length of thin cord."

Grudgingly the landlord tendered a hank of string. "You must now pay me a silver bit, which will also compensate me for my pot."

Cory contemptuously tossed him a coin. "Take this and cease your whining! Avarice ill becomes a landlord; these folk, as a class, should be generous, decent and open-handed."

"None such exist," growled the landlord. "All answering that description have become wandering paupers."

Galgus meanwhile had tied the cord across the face of a horizontal six-foot baulk at the far end of the room. At the center he suspended a beef knucklebone upon which the dogs had been chewing, then returned to where his comrades stood watching.

"Now then," said Galgus. "We stand at this crack, facing away from the string. At the signal, we turn and throw our knives. Travec aims at the string two feet to the right of the bone; I aim at a point two feet to the left. Should we both strike the string, one knife will cut an instant sooner than the other, and the bone will swing somewhat away from vertical before it falls and thus give a clear indication of which knife struck first that is, if either of us has the competence to hit the mark in the first place."

"I can only try my best," said Travec. "First I must find a knife to throw, as I would not wish to use my sleeve-knife for such rough work." He looked about the room. "I will try this old cheese-knife; it will serve as well as any."

"What?" exclaimed Galgus. "The blade is a trifle of pot-metal, or lead, or some other base substance; it is barely able to gnaw through an ounce of cheese!"

"Still, it must do, since I have no other. Este, you must referee the drop. Find the exact verticality, so that we may detect to the width of a spider-leg who is the better man."

"Very well." After several tests, Este marked a spot on the floor. "Here is the point of determination! Kegan, you come here as well; we will crouch and watch the spot, and if the bone drops we will validate each other's decision."

Kegan and Este went to kneel under the knucklebone. "We are ready."

Galgus and Travec took their places by the crack, backs turned to the wooden baulk. Cory said: "I will rap my knuckles on the table with this cadence: one-two-three-four-five. At the fifth rap, you must turn and throw. Are you ready?"

"Ready!" said Galgus.

"Ready!" said Travec.

"Attention, then! I will start the count!" Cory rapped his knuckles upon the table. Rap. Rap. Rap. Rap. Rap. Galgus with the speed of a striking snake swung about; metal flashed through the air; the blade struck home in the wood. But the bone never wavered; the blade had entered the baulk at the target point but with its blade flat and parallel to the cord. Travec, who had turned in a leisurely manner, said: "That is not bad; but let me see if I cannot do better with this old cheese-biter." He hefted the wooden handle, slung it sidewise. The knife wavered through the air, slashed the cord; the bone fell to the side. Este and Kegan rose to their feet. "It appears that on this occasion Travec must be declared the winner of the trial."

Galgus, muttering under his breath, went to retrieve his knife. Cory said abruptly: "Enough of these trials and tests; clearly you all are competent at slitting throats and drowning old women. Whether you can achieve more strenuous acts remains to be seen. Now then: seat yourselves, and give me all your attention, and I will tell you what I expect of you. Landlord, bring us ale, then step from the room, as we wish to make private conversation."