"The Lesser Troll...." He raised his hands and made crushing motions, like a man crumbling dry earth. "I'll trample it under my treads."
"You're confused, Toby. The Bolo has treads. You just have a couple of fallen arches."
"It's the same. I am the Great Troll." He showed me his teeth and walked away.
I moved along between Dunger and Pig Eye, towards the lights of the garage.
"The back entrance again," I said. "Anyone would think you were ashamed of me."
"You need more training, hah?" Dunger rasped. "Hold him, Pig Eye." He unhooked his club and swung it loosely in his hand, glancing around. We were near the trees by the drive. There was no one in sight except the crews near the Bolo and a group by the front of the palace. Pig Eye gave my arm a twist and shifted his grip to his old favorite strangle hold. I was hoping he would.
Dunger whipped the club up, and I grabbed Pig Eye's arm with both hands and leaned forward like a Japanese admiral reporting to the Emperor. Pig Eye went up and over just in time to catch Dunger's club across the back. They went down together. I went for the club, but Whiskers was faster than he looked. He rolled clear, got to his knees, and laid it across my left arm, just below the shoulder.
I heard the bone go....