Marnark of Bashad's arrogance suffered considerable evaporation-loss.
His tone became almost servile.

"Not at all, Honorable Assassin-President," he protested. "But as I
was going to ask these gentlemen to represent me, I thought it would
be more fitting for the other gentleman to be represented by personal
friends, also. In that way--"

"Sorry, Marnark," the gray-haired man at the table said. "I can't
second you; I have a quarrel with the Lord Virzal, too." He rose and
bowed. "Sirzob of Abo. Inasmuch as the Honorable Marnark is a guest at
my table, an affront to him is an affront to me. In my quality as his
host, I must demand satisfaction from you, Lord Virzal."

"Why, gladly, Honorable Sirzob," Verkan Vall replied. This was getting
better and better every moment. "Of course, your friend, the Honorable
Marnark, enjoys priority of challenge; I'll take care of you as soon
as I have, shall we say, satisfied, him."

The earnest and rather consecrated-looking young man rose also, bowing
to Verkan Vall.

"Yirzol of Narva. I, too, have a quarrel with you, Lord Virzal; I
cannot submit to the indignity of having my food snatched from in
front of me, as you just did. I also demand satisfaction."

"And quite rightly, Honorable Yirzol," Verkan Vall approved. "It looks
like such good soup, too," he sorrowed, inspecting the front of
Marnark's tunic. "My seconds will negotiate with yours immediately;