I had to do something, and I had to do it fast. They'd abandoned theirpreviousterritorial game—that much was obvious from the way they bunched together asthey moved confidently toward me. I'd shamed them in front of the wholetaverno, and what they undoubtedly had in mind was a complete demonstration as to whythat had been a bad decision on my part. I thought about digging inside myjacket for my gun, realized instantly that any such move would be suicide; thought about ducking back into the taverno, realized that would do nothingbut postpone the confrontation.

Which left me only one real option. Bracing myself, I took a quick steppartwayback into the windbreak, turned ninety degrees to my left, and kicked backwardas hard as I could with my right foot.

In most other places windbreaks like these were made out of a highly resilientplastic. The Vyssiluyas preferred glass—tough glass, to be sure, but glassnonetheless. With three angry Yavanni lumbering toward me I was understandablyin no mood for half measures, and the force of the kick seemed to shootstraightthrough my spine to the top of my head. But I achieved the desired result: the glass panel blew out, scattering a hundred pieces across the landscape.

I caught my balance and jumped backward through the now mostly empty boxframe.

A large wedge of jagged glass that was still hanging tentatively onto the sideof the frame scraped at my jacket as I went through. Trying to avoid slicingmyfingers on the edges, I got a grip on it and broke it free. Brandishing itlike a makeshift knife, I jabbed at the Yavanni.

The Yavanne in front stopped short, generating a brief bit of vaguely comedicconfusion as the other two bumped into him.