Making no attempt to following the weaving pattern of the Yill bolero, Retief pressed the other, fending off vicious cuts with the blunt weapon, chopping back relentlessly. Left hand on hip, Retief matched blow for blow, driving the other back.
Abruptly, the Yill abandoned the double role. Dancing forgotten, he settled down in earnest, cutting, thrusting, parrying; and now the two stood toe to toe, sabres clashing in a lightning exchange. The Yill gave a step, two, then rallied, drove Retief back, back——
And the Yill stumbled. His sabre clattered, and Retief dropped his point as the other wavered past him and crashed to the floor.
The orchestra fell silent in a descending wail of reeds. Retief drew a deep breath and wiped his forehead.
"Come back here, you young fool!" Spradley called hoarsely.
Retief hefted the sabre, turned, eyed the brocade-draped table. He started across the floor. The Yill sat as if paralyzed.
"Retief, no!" Spradley yelped.
Retief walked directly to the Admirable F'Kau-Kau-Kau, stopped, raised the sabre.
"Not the chief of state," someone in the Terrestrial mission groaned.
Retief whipped the sabre down. The dull blade split the cloth and clove the hardwood table. There was utter silence.