my man—”
The Hoogan reached for Magnan with a long, snaky hand; Retief stepped up behind him, selected a spot, and struck a sharp blow with bunched fingertips. The guard stumbled, fell past Magnan and hit chin first with a resounding slam. His pike shattered against the wall.
“Retief!” Magnan gobbled. “What are you thinking of? You’ve laid hands on a member of the Papal Guard!”
“I had the distinct impression this fellow hooked a toe on the rug and fell down. Didn’t you notice?”
“Why, you know very well—”
“Just before he reached you, Mr. Magnan.”
“Ah . . . why, yes, now that you mention it, he did trip,” Magnan’s tone was suddenly brisk. “Nasty fall. I rushed up to support him, but alas, too late. Poor fellow. Served him right, the brute. Shall we go through his pockets?”
“Why?”
“You’re right; there isn’t time. That crash was doubtless heard throughout the palace—”
A second Hoogan appeared at the open door, his helmet bearing the fanged angel indicative of officer rank. He eyed the fallen pikeman.
“You addacked this one?” he demanded.
Magnan glanced at the victim as though noticing him for the first time. “He seems to have fallen down,” he observed brightly.
“Against rules to gill Hoogan,” the captain said ominously.
“He . . . ah . . . broke his spear,” Magnan pointed out helpfully.
“Very bad crime, defile ceremonial spear,” the captain said sternly. “Require burification ceremony. Very expensive.”
Magnan fumbled in a money pouch at one hip. “I’d love to contribute a little something—”
“Ten Hoogan gredits, forget whole thing. For eggstra five dispose of body—”
The felled Hoogan stirred, mumbled, sat up.
“Ha!” the captain said. “Look like no teal. Put for another eggstra five . . .” He lifted a short, ugly club from his belt. “Finish off unfortunate victim of Terry