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a third time, and I ducked a third time—but this time I did not dodge aside. I launched myself at his knees, tackling him, my shoulder striking his thigh in front and shoving him back. The force of my strike and the surprise of my attack gave me an advantage I lacked in conventional combat. But this was not convention; this was the street. The rules were not exactly what the scion might have been taught, here.
    The scion stepped back, surprised, but did not fall. He had maintained good balance, as he had been trained to do, and it is in fact very hard to dump a balanced opponent. But he had lost his poise. As I had anticipated, he was unprepared to deal with atypical strategy. The odds remained uneven, but not as much so as before.
    I scrambled away before he could adjust and club me. I had hoped to dump him on his back, but simply lacked the force. Still, my confidence grew, and I began to hope I could after all take him. I have always been an excellent judge of people, whether that judgment is positive or negative; it is my special talent.
    This was now my key to victory. An opponent understood is an opponent potentially nullified. Had this one simply gone after me with full force at the outset, he should have pulverized me; because he preferred to posture, he had given me opportunity to utilize my own strength.
    The scion came at me another time, shaken and angry. He had intended on object lesson; now he was serious. I had heightened the stakes.
    He feinted with his left hand as usual, expecting me to duck again. Instead I pulled back. His knee came up in a manner that would have cracked my chin, had I performed as before. As it was, it missed—and I stepped in to grab his leg.
    I had learned this early: A person on one foot is largely helpless. This is a liability of such martial arts as karate or kick-boxing; blows with the feet are powerful, but if the other party gets hold of a foot, that's trouble. I hung on, preventing him from recovering his balance while staying out of the reach of his fists.
    He hopped about on his other foot, absolutely furious at his loss of dignity, especially with Faith watching, but unable to do much about it. His training evidently had not covered the handling of such an exigency.
    Spirit tittered, which didn't help.
    I had him, but I didn't know what to do with him. I couldn't really hurt him in this position, and the moment I let go I would be in trouble. It was like riding the tiger: how does one safely get off?
    Of course he could have broken my hold quickly by lying down and grappling for my own feet. But I knew he wouldn't do that; it was counter to his self-image. That was my advantage of understanding again.
    But I had grown too confident myself and made an error. I had not judged what he would do if trapped in a position of indignity.
    The scion reached into his shirt and brought out a miniature laser weapon. It flashed, and the beam seared into my left side, causing my shirt to smoke and burning a line across my flesh. I yelped and let go, for I had to get clear of that beam before it penetrated to an inner organ and cooked it. A laser can do a lot more damage than shows, because of the invisible heat-ray component. It doesn't have to vaporize the flesh to make it useless.
    The man made an exclamation of victory and stalked me, aiming his laser. It scorched my buttock, making me leap out of the way. He laughed. I could not dodge that beam of light!
    If I fled him, not only would I lose the fight, but Faith would be subject to his will. If only she had fled when I gave her the chance! If I did not depart, he would soon score on my face, perhaps destroying my vision. I was in real trouble!
    Then the scion cried out and dropped the laser. I took immediate advantage of his distraction and charged in to the attack. Those burns had eradicated any faint reticence I might have had. I stiffened my fists and clubbed him on ear and neck as hard as I could.
    He fell back, seeming hardly to