Chapter tenI, Dray Prescot, of two worlds, tend to use anything that comes to hand as a weapon. In my left hand Tiri’s embroidered bag whistled around in a vicious arc and smashed into the side of the first would-be killer’s head. What the young madam kept in that bag I didn’t know. It weighed enough, by Krun. Clunk! The fellow went over sideways, yowling. I kicked him as he went down and in a swooping motion snatched the sword as it toppled from his lax fingers.
Talk about the flailing handbags of little old ladies! The mop heads would have been proud of me then, not a doubt of it.
The two Rapas following on the heels of the first jumped forward with every intention of spitting me and Tiri. A twirling twinkle of blades followed by a stop thrust took care of the first. I was fully consci
