The Barbarian chuckled. "Oh, no. We've got one, all right, or you'd
never have had me to worry you. Nothing we like better than a good,
talented enemy. You know, these people here in the mountains used to be
our favorite enemies. But so many of us wound up getting our marks, it
just got to be futile. Once you're in, you know, you're a full-fledged
clan member. That sort of divided our loyalties. The problem just seemed
to solve itself, though. We understand them, they understand us, we
trade back and forth ... hell, it's all one family."

Geoffrey frowned. "You mean--they got those rifles from you?"

"Sure. We're full of ingenuity--for barbarians, that is. Not in the same
class with you seaboard nobles, of course, but we poke along." The
Barbarian stood up, and his expression turned serious. "Look, son--you
remember that knife of mine you borrowed for a while? I'll have to lend
it to you again, in about twenty minutes. Your friend Dugald's going to
have one just like it, and your left arms are going to be tied together
at the wrists. I hope you remember what I happened to tell you about how
to use it, because under the rules of the code, I'm not allowed to
instruct you."

And Geoffrey was left alone.

* * *

There was a hard-packed area of dirt in front of Weatherby's home, and
now its edges were crowded with tribesmen, many of whom had brought
their women and children. Weatherby, together with a spare,
capable-looking woman, and with The Barbarian and Myka, sat on his
porch. One of the tribesmen was wrapping Geoffrey's and Dugald's
forearms together. Geoffrey watched him with complete detachment. He
stole a glance over toward Weatherby's porch, and it seemed to him that
Myka was tense and anxious. He couldn't be sure....

The fingers of his right hand gripped the haft of The Barbarian's knife.
He held it with his thumb along the blade, knowing that if he drew his
arm up, to stab downward, or back, to slash, Dugald would have a perfect
opening. It was his thought, remembering that razor-keen blade, that he
ought to be able to do plenty of damage with a simple underhand twist of
his arm. He did not look down to see how Dugald was holding the knife
he'd been given. That would have been unfair.

The crowd of watching tribesmen was completely silent. This was a
serious business with them, Geoffrey reflected.

The tribesman tying their wrists had finished the job. He stepped back.
"Anytime after