One of the warriors who had helped to bring in the gorp now made a quick
and accurate cast with a looped rope, snaring the monster's head and
pulling back almost at a right angle. With deliberation the storm priest
produced a knife--the first straight bladed weapon Dane had seen on
Sargol. He made a single thrust in the soft underpart of the gorp's
throat, catching in the cup he took from Groft some of the ichor which
spurted from the wound.
The gorp thrashed madly, spattering table and surrounding Salariki with
its life fluid, but the attention of the crowd was riveted elsewhere.
Into the old cup the priest poured another substance from a flask brought
by an underling. He shook the cup back and forth, as if to mix its
contents thoroughly and then handed it to Groft.
Holding it before him the young chieftain leaped to the table top and so
to stand before the high seat. There was a hush throughout the enclosure.
Now even the gorp had ceased its wild struggles and hung limp in its
bonds.
Groft raised the cup above his head and gave a loud shout in the archaic
language of his clan.
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