no_”

feinted, laid a hearty whack across the grey skull. The Yill stumbled, his sabre clattered to the floor. Retief stepped aside as the Yill 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 heavy brocade and cleaved the hardwood table. There was utter silence.
The Admirable F’Kau-Kau-Kau rose, seven feet of obese grey Yill. His broad face expressionless to the Terran eye, he raised a fist like a jewel-studded ham.
Retief stood rigid for a long moment. Then, gracefully, he inclined his head and placed his finger tips on his temples. Behind him there was a clatter as Ambassador Spradley collapsed. Then the Admirable F’Kau-Kau-Kau cried out, reached across the table to embrace the Terrestrial, and the orchestra went mad. Grey hands helped Retief across the table, stools were pushed aside to make room at F’Kau-Kau-Kau’s side. Retief sat, took a tall flagon of coal-black brandy pressed on him by his neighbor, clashed glasses with The Admirable, and drank.

“The feast ends,” F’Kau-Kau-Kau said. “Now you and I, Retief, must straddle the Council Stool.”
“I’ll be honored, Your Admirableness,” Retief said. “I must inform my colleagues.”
“Colleagues?” F’Kau-Kau-Kau said. “It is for the chiefs to parley. Who shall speak for a king while he yet has tongue for talk?”
“The Yill way is wise,” Retief said.
F’Kau-Kau-Kau emptied a squat tumbler of pink beer. “I’ll treat with you, Retief,