Prelude to Foundation - Isaac Asimov [136]
"No," said Seldon. "Let the woman go. I've challenged you to a fightone to one, you with a knife, me without. If you want bigger odds, I'll fight two of you, but let the woman go."
"Stop, Hari!" cried out Dors. "If he wants me, let him come and get me. You stay right where you are, Hari, and don't move."
"You hear that?" said Marron, grinning broadly. "'You stay right where you are, Hari, and don't move.' I think the little lady wants me. You two, keep him still."
Each of Seldon's arms were caught in an iron grip and he felt the sharp point of a knife in his back.
"Don't move," said a harsh whisper in his ear, "and you can watch. The lady will probably like it. Marron's pretty good at this."
Dors called out again. "Don't move, Hari!" She corned to face Marron watchfully, her half-closed hands poised near her belt.
He closed in on her purposefully and she waited till he had come within arm's length, when suddenly her own arms flashed and Marron found himself facing two large knives.
For a moment, he leaned backward and then he laughed. "The little lady has two knives-knives like the big boys have. And I've only got one. But that's fair enough." His knife was swiftly out. "I hate to have to cut you, little lady, because it will be more fun for both of us if I don't. Maybe I can just knock them out of your hands, huh?"
Dors said, "I don't want to kill you. I'll do all I can to avoid doing so. Just the same, I call on all to witness, that if I do kill you, it is to protect my friend, as I am honor-bound to do."
Macron pretended to be terrified. "Oh, please don't kill me, little lady." Then he burst into laughter and was joined by the other Dahlites present.
Macron lunged with his knife, quite wide of the mark. He tried it again, then a third time, but Dors never budged. She made no attempt to fend off any motion that was not truly aimed at her.
Macron's expression darkened. He was trying to make her respond with panic, but he was only making himself seem ineffectual. The next lunge was directly at her and Dors's left-hand blade moved flashingly and caught his with a force that pushed his arm aside. Her right-hand blade flashed inward and made a diagonal slit in his T-shirt. A thin bloody line smeared the dark-haired skin beneath.
Macron looked down at himself in shock as the onlookers gasped in surprise. Seldon felt the grip on him weaken slightly as the two who held him were distracted by a duel not going quite as they had expected. He tensed himself.
Now Macron lunged again and this time his left hand shot outward to enclose Dors's right wrist. Again Dors's left-hand blade caught his knife and held it motionless, while her right hand twisted agilely and drew downward, even as Macron's left hand closed upon it. It closed on nothing but the blade and when he opened his hand there was a bloody line down the palm.
Dors sprang back and Macron, aware of the blood on his chest and hand, roared out chokingly, "Someone toss me another knife!"
There was hesitation and then one of the onlookers tossed his own knife underhanded. Macron reached for it, but Dors was quicker. Her right-hand blade struck the thrown knife and sent it flying backward, whirling as it went.
Seldon felt the grips on his arms weaken further. He lifted them suddenly, pushing up and forward, and was free. His two captors turned toward him with a sudden shout, but he quickly kneed one in the groin and elbowed the other in the solar plexus and both went down.
He knelt to draw the knives of each and rose as double-armed as Dors. Unlike Dors, Seldon did not know how to handle the blades, but he knew the Dahlites would scarcely be aware of that
Dor said, ' Just keep them off, Hari.