Alak pressed the retracting button and handed over his sword. While it was being inspected, Varris was borne inside the abbey and its gate closed on him. The Master of Death looked at both weapons, bowed to the king, and said puzzledly:

“There is no sign of poison, my lord. And after all, Sir Varris had first choice of glaives…and these two are identical, as far as I can see…and did not the holy one say he is not really injured?”

Alak swayed erect. “Jussa better man, tha’s all,” he mumbled. “I won fair an’ square. Lemme go get m’ hurts dressed—I’ll see y’ all in the morning—”

He made it to his boat, and Drogs had a bottle of Scotch ready.

* * *

It took will power to be at the palace when the court convened—not that Alak was especially weakened, but the Thunsbans started their day at a hideous hour. In this case early rising was necessary, because he didn’t know when the climax of his plot would be on him.

He got a mixed welcome, on the one hand respect for having overcome the great Sir Varris—at least in the first round—on the other hand, a certain doubt as to whether he had done it fairly. King Morlach gave him a surly greeting, but not openly hostile; he must be waiting for the doctors’ verdict.

Alak found a congenial earl and spent his time swapping dirty jokes. It is always astonishing how many of the classics are to be found among all mammalian species. This is less an argument for the prehistoric Galactic Empire than for the parallelism of great minds.

Shortly before noon, Abbot Gulmanan entered. Several hooded monks followed him, bearing weapons—most unusual—and surrounding one who was unarmed. The priest lifted his hand to the king, and the room grew very quiet.

“Well,” snapped Morlach, “what brings you hither?”

“I thought it best to report personally on the outcome of the duel, my lord,” said Gulmanan. “It was…surprising.”

“Mean you Sir Varris is dead?” Morlach’s eyes flared. He could not fight his own guest, but it would be easy enough to have one of his guardsmen insult Wing Alak.

“No, my lord. He is in good health, his wounds are negligible. But—somehow the grace of the Allshaper fell on him.” The abbot made a pious gesture; as he saw Alak, one eyelid dropped.

“What mean you?” Morlack dithered and clutched his sword.

“Only this. As he regained consciousness, I offered him ghostly counsel, as I always do to hurt men. I spoke of the virtues of the Temple, of sanctity, of the dedicated life. Half in jest, I mentioned the possibility that he might wish to renounce this evil world and enter the Temple as a brother. My lord, you can imagine my astonishment when he agreed…nay, he insisted on deeding all his lands and treasure to the abbey and taking the vows at once.” Gulmanan rolled his eyes heavenward. “Indeed, a miracle!”

“What?” It was a shriek from the king.