What'll you say, is it a bargain, Iorr, Tylle?
No, said a voice.
No, said another.
Greedy, both of you, greedy! complained Sale. A pox on both your houses!
He slept.
He was Iorr, jeweled rings on his hands. He arose beside his rocket and held out his fingers, commanding blind armies. He was Iorr, ancient ruler of jeweled warriors.
He was Tylle, lover of women, killer of dogs!
With some hidden bit of awareness, his hand crept to the holster at his hip. The sleeping hand withdrew the gun there. The hand lifted, the gun pointed.
The armies of Tylle and Iorr gave battle.