"No," said Akma. "You're not my friend, either. You only came to me because your father sent you."

Udad laughed at his brother. "Well aren't you the clever one, Didul. tom could make friends with him, said you. You could win him over the first day. Well, he saw right through you."

Didul glared at him. "He might not have till you spoke up." Akma stood up, furious now. "You mean this was a game?"

"Sit down," said Pabul. "No," said Akma.

Muwu giggled. "Break his leg, Pabul, like you did that other one." Pabul looked at Akma as if considering it.

Akma wanted to plead with him, to say, Please don't hurt me. But he knew instinctively that the one thing he couldn't do with someone like this was to act weak. Hadn't he seen his father stand before Pabulog himself and face him down, never showing a moment's fear? "Break my leg if you want," said Akma. "I can't stop you, because I'm half your size. But if you were in my place, Pabul, would you sit down and eat with your father's enemy?"

Pabul cocked his head, then beckoned with a lazy hand. "Come here," he said.

Akma felt the threat receding as Pabul calmly awaited his approach. But the moment Akma came within reach, Pabul's once-lazy hand snaked out and took him by the throat and dragged him down to the ground, choking. Struggling for breath, Akma found himself staring into the hooded eyes of his enemy. "Why don't I kill you now, and toss your body at your father's feet?" said Pabul mildly. "Or maybe just toss little bits of your body. Just one little bit each day. A toe here, a finger there, a nose, an ear, and then chunks of leg and arm. He could build you back together and when he got all the parts, everybody'd be happy again, right?"