Nikka sank back on his haunches.
"I will not draw my knife," he said.
"Then you will die," she hissed, and charged.
I rose, and made to intervene, but Tokalji drew his knife again and came between us.
"Let her have her chance, man," he ordered in his snarling voice, and before I could pass him she struck.
But her knife was stayed in mid air. Nikka's arm darted out, his fingers clutched her wrist, there was a wrench—and the knife clattered beside the stolen coins. He forced her down by his side, picked up the knife and handed it to her. Then turned his back, and resumed his conversation with Tokalji.
"You were speaking of information you required," he said.
Tokalji eyed him in amazement.
"Do you wear the death-shirt that you care so little for death?" he asked.
"Death comes when it is ready," returned Nikka impassively. "Is a man to fear a maiden?"