thiên linh cái

money you can make at home

datatime: 2022-12-01 02:38:23 Author:dhUOCnhj

I moved around the desk.

I tried a headcut, which he parried; and I parried his riposte to my heart and cut at his wrist.

"What an enormous chutzpah you possess," I told him. "What makes you better than the rest of us, and more fit to rule?"

"Well, when it comes to things, Corwin. Poorly, on other counts, however."

"You want the throne," he said.

And his blade was in his hand and mine in mine.

I tried a very fancy attack I'd learned in France, which involved a beat, a feint in quarte, a feint in sixte, and a lunge veering off into an attack on his wrist.

"You want the throne," he said.

And his blade was in his hand and mine in mine.

"Then it is between the two of us now, Corwin," he said. "I am your elder and your better. If you wish to try me at arms, I find myself suitably attired. Slay me, and the throne will probably be yours. Try it. I don't think you can succeed, however. And I'd like to quit your claim right now. So come at me. Let's see what you learned on the Shadow Earth."

"You want the throne," he said.

And his eyes were wide with amaze and his voice heavy with that which men call sarcasm, and I can't think of a better word, as he replied:

I kept backing away, and the fear and the knowledge came upon me: I knew I still couldn't take him. He was a better man than I was, when it came to the blade. I cursed this, but I couldn't get around it. I tried three more elaborate attacks and was defeated on each occasion. He parried me and made me retreat before his own attacks.

I parried his attack, and he mine. Then I lunged, was parried, was attacked, and parried again myself.

There was blood dripping from his right wrist. His hand was still steady but I had the feeling then that under other circumstances, by fighting a defensive fight, I just might be able to wear him down with that wrist injury going against him, and perhaps I could get through his guard at the proper moment when he began to slow.

And his blade was in his hand and mine in mine.

Now don't get the wrong idea. I'm damn good. It's just that he seemed better.

He parried this and kicked a small stool between us. I set it aside, hopefully in the direction of his face, with my right toe, but it missed and he had at me again.

Eric loosened his blade in its scabbard.

"Well, when it comes to things, Corwin. Poorly, on other counts, however."

"Pity," said I, "and how shall we put things aright?"

I nicked him and the blood flowed.

And his blade was in his hand and mine in mine.

"Pity," said I, "and how shall we put things aright?"

And his eyes were wide with amaze and his voice heavy with that which men call sarcasm, and I can't think of a better word, as he replied:

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