As it came buzzing like an angry bee, almost too quick for the eye to follow, Jorian flicked it deftly up into the air at exactly the right moment, and, without even taking his eye off it, he caught the knife by the handle as it fell.

Thereafter he bowed and gave it back to the thrower ceremoniously.

Then Boris guarded, and Jorian in his turn threw, with a like result, though, perhaps, a little less featly done on Boris's part.
All the while there was a clamant and manifold astonishment in the kitchen of the inn, together with prodigal and much-whispering wonder.
Then ensued other plays.

Boris stood with his elbow crooked and his left hand on his hip, with his back also turned to Jorian.

_Buzz!_ went the knife! It flashed like level lightning under the arch of Jorian's armpit, and lo! it was caught in his right hand, which dropped upon it like a hawk upon a rabbit, as it sped through his elbow port.
Then came shooting with the cross-bow, and I regretted much that I had only learned the six-foot yew, and that there was not one in the company, nor indeed room to display it if there had been.