What happened next seemed to unfold in slow motion. Sparr had dropped the pistol, and any event could barely move his right arm. Instead, he rolled to his back, seeking the saber with his left hand. His hand found only the rocky surface of the ledge. Meanwhile the assassin sat up groggily. He clutched at his waist, awkwardly pulling free a knife.
Sparr took another painful roll away. The saber was somewhere. It had to be. The assassin was recovering faster than Sparr, and wasn't already injured. At last Sparr's fingers closed on the blade, seeking the grip.
"s**t!" The assassin stood, unsteady from the blast. He took a step toward Sparr, knife ready.
Knowing how much it would hurt, knowing he had no choice, Sparr rolled to his right toward the assassin. Searing pain lanced him, spreadin
