Free The Gandalara Cycle I by Randall Garrett & Vicki Ann Heydron

head from behind. Broom-pusher swung around, his broom cutting a wide arc and knocking the wind out of Cart-pusher.
    The Gandalaran pedestrians were paying attention now, scattering away from the fight. The two vineh were literally at each other's throats, grappling and snarling and trying with single-minded determination to kill each other. The second broom-pusher turned and looked, crouched and eager to join the brawl. I had the feeling that the only thing that stopped him was having to decide which side to join.
    A man in a yellow tunic, whom I had seen near the vineh but hadn't really noticed, pushed against the outward tide of people and ran toward the fray, shouting with authority. "Break it up!" he ordered the struggling vineh, who paid him no attention. The third ugly took a step toward the other two, but stopped in confusion when the man yelled, "Gooloo, you stay out of this!"
    He was carrying a thick baton nearly as long as his arm. He thrust it between the two fighters, but they ignored it.
    "Stop it, you fleabitten filth-heads! Stop, I say!" They pulled out of their clinch for a second, and, with a quick flick of his wrist, the man gave each one of the pair a painful smack on the nose.
    Both vineh roared their indignation, forgot their quarrel, and turned on the man, who backpedaled quickly. "Back! Back! Stay back!" he ordered. But the note of authority in his voice had been replaced by one of terror. He was the one who was backing, trying to hold the brutes off by jabbing with his baton like an inept fencer.
    His heel caught in an irregularity in the hard clay surface of the street and he went down, flat on his back. The two vineh who had been fighting were close now, and the third was converging on them. This decision, obviously, was easier to make. It was going to be a slaughter.
    I had to do something. Without my even thinking about it, my bronze sword was suddenly in my hand, and I was sprinting toward the fallen man, who was still poking upward with his baton to ward off the beasts. One of them grabbed, jerked, and took it away from him. I tried to put on more speed.
    But before I could reach them, the attack stopped as quickly as it had begun.
    The vineh who had grabbed the baton dropped it, looked stupidly around, and went back to pick up his broom. The other went back to the cart. He was limping slightly, and both of them were bleeding slowly from gashes and bites. I marveled at the toughness of their hides. They picked up their equipment and continued along the street as though nothing at all had happened. The third, which had been halfway to the scene of the fight, recovered his own broom and joined them.
    The man picked himself up and grabbed his baton. He ran a few steps after the vineh, but stopped when he saw me. I could see him relaxing, the anger and terror going out of him.
    "Thanks," he said. "I'm glad you were here. But I don't think they'll make any more trouble."
    Someone in the crowd called out: "You ought to have better control over your vineh than that, Foreman; someone might have been hurt!"
    The foreman smiled and nodded, but I, standing next to him, heard him mutter, "Fleabite you, townsman."
    "You hurt?" I asked, sheathing my sword.
    "No. I'll be all right." He smiled at me. "Thanks again." He moved off, following his charges, who were once again calmly sweeping the street.
    I turned to go back to the shop, and found Keeshah beside me. Together we walked to where the girl was waiting anxiously. Beside her stood the meatmonger, holding a wrapped bundle half the size of a goat.
    "Markasset, what is the matter with you? Are you crazy?" She glanced at the meatmonger and refrained from reminding me that news of the figh - tand my almost-participation - was sure to reach Zaddorn. "Why didn't you stay out of it?"
    I was shocked. "And let a man get killed?"
    "Don't be silly. Whoever heard of a vineh killing anyone? He would have been all right. He was all right, wasn't he? You didn't do any