Джеффри Лорд - Warlords Of Gaikon

As young as Yezjaro was, he was obviously accustomed to giving orders and getting obedience even from the households of other dabuni in Lord Tsekuin's service. Servants ran about with his various messages while he himself led Blade to Jawai's weapons room. The low-ceilinged room was lined with rack after rack of swords, spears, shields of lacquered wood and metal, complicated suits of armor like the shell of a lobster in black, red, and blue lacquered metal, and a miscellany of other war gear.

Yezjaro went over to a rack, took one of the spears, and held it out to Blade. «For a man of your height, this would seem to be the best.»

Blade hefted the spear. It balanced well, and although both shaft and head were fine steel, it was so light he could whirl it with one hand until it was a blur. It had a leaf-shaped head about a foot long, and about six inches behind the head two prongs jutted out and forward. Blade stepped out into the middle of the room and tested the spear in every possible position. By the time he felt he knew it, he had also limbered up all his sore muscles without fatiguing himself.

Yezjaro watched with a sardonically amused smile flickering on his lips. When Blade had finished he clapped him on the shoulder and said, «I think Captain Jawai faces more of a fight than he is ready to believe. It will be interesting to watch him when he discovers this.»

Blade suspected Yezjaro was looking forward to being greatly entertained by the coming fight, regardless of who won. He rather wished he could manage the same detached view of the affair.

The place chosen for the fight was a clearing among some huts in the forest several hundred yards uphill from the main house. When Blade and Yezjaro arrived, a dozen servants were already at work. Some crawled on hands and knees across a square marked out in the grass by four white stones, picking up rocks and fallen branches. The rest stood around the square, holding flickering yellow torches that threw out only a little light and a great deal of smoke and smell.

The rain had faded away to a fine misting, but it was almost completely dark and the wind had risen. It moaned continuously to itself in the treetops high above, occasionally rising to an angry howl. The sounds of the wind, the darkness, and the flickering torchlight that made the servants look deformed and misshapen lent an eerie and sinister quality to the place. It seemed far too appropriate for death.

Blade had given back Yezjaro's robe and was wearing a pair of broad white trousers with green embroidery across the waistband. Otherwise he wore nothing except a red silk band around his head.

The servants finished their work and Yezjaro nodded to Blade. Blade stepped out into the middle of the square and began testing the footing. He had barely finished when the beating of a small gong and the tinkling of bells announced the arrival of several of the house dabuni. Behind them marched-or rather strutted-the Honorable Captain Jawai. He wore black trousers and a white headband and carried two swords in the sash around his lean waist. Blade wished he knew whether the shorter of the two swords was ceremonial or not. He decided to assume that it wasn't. That was always the safest assumption about any weapon that an enemy carried into battle against you.

The house dabuni formed a line between the square and the huts and drew their swords. Jawai stepped through the line. His sword flew free, the torchlight making flowing patterns of light on the steel. He raised it high over his head, keeping the point down. Blade heard Yezjaro's indrawn breath behind him and saw the other dabuni grin. Apparently Jawai had just insulted him. Blade grinned, shifted his spear to one hand, and made the almost universal gesture of biting his thumb at Jawai. The captain's face clouded and his sword flicked back into its scabbard as he spat on the ground. Then he raised his hand and called out to Blade.

«Pray to whatever false gods you imagine will listen, imposter. I will give you as much time as you need to bore them with your whines and howls for the mercy you shall not have.»

Blade bared his teeth in a grin, tossed his spear up into the air, and caught it between the thumb and forefinger of his left hand, «I trust in Blessed Kunkoi, who rules justly in this land of Gaikon. And I trust in these,»-he made the heavy muscles of his arms and chest ripple. «Let us do what we came here for, and let it be judged afterwards which of us had the favor of Kunkoi or the greater need for prayers.»

«So be it,» said Yezjaro. He stepped out from behind Blade and crossed the square to stand in front of the line of dabuni. He drew his sword and held it out in front of him horizontally. «All is fit and proper for the testing of this stranger for his worthiness to join the ranks of the dabuni. So let the fight begin.» He raised the sword to the vertical and grasped it firmly with both hands.

Blade stood his ground, spear held in a guarding position. He wanted to let Jawai make the first move, revealing his style and perhaps weaknesses. But he knew that was more of a risk than usual now. Jawai's katana-style sword could kill or disable with a single blow. Its heavy blade, superb balance, and razor edge made it deadly. Blade knew that he had far less margin for error than usual, unless Jawai had some disastrously bad habit. But the odds were against Jawai's having reached his rank without being a first-class fighter.

Jawai took three steps forward, then stopped just out of range of any thrust from Blade. The sword seemed to freeze in his hands, as immobile and perfectly vertical as a stone pillar. Blade kept his eyes fixed on the sword. What mattered now was where it was, not where Jawai might be.

Then Jawai was coming in, taking a long, almost skipping step. The sword swung down from the vertical and flashed in the horizontal arc of a quick slash. Blade whipped his own spear over to the left, holding the guard position. In the same moment he leaped to the right, out of the path of the sword. The tip of the sword struck the spear with a sharp metallic clink. It was only the tip, but there was enough speed and weight behind it to make the spear shiver in Blade's hands. Definitely that sword could slice flesh and bone like a knife slicing paper. It might be able to chop through the spear shaft with a fair cut at full strength. Blade moved the spear back in front of his body and turned to face Jawai again.

Jawai came in again on the left, then a third time. Each time Blade leaped to one side, clearing the arc of the slash and warding off the sword with his spear.

Then Jawai came in a fourth time, suddenly shifting at the last second to the right.

But Blade had anticipated just exactly that change in the pattern. He sprang to the left, a long leap designed to take him completely clear of the arc of the sword. At the same moment he swung the spear down from the guard position to dart it out in a thrust at the captain's head. The razor-edged steel leaf darted within inches of Jawai's face. His eyes flared open in surprise and perhaps in a little fear as well. This time he stepped back farther and faster than before and watched Blade more intently. Blade took advantage of the delay to arrogantly twirl his spear around his head-keeping a firm grasp on the shaft with both hands, in case Jawai decided to move in suddenly.

Was Jawai perhaps assuming that Blade was an amateur who would fall easily when a serious attack came in? And in the meantime had he decided to just play with this stranger? That was almost too encouraging a thought, Blade realized. But if it was true, perhaps he should go on playing Jawai's game for a while.

There would be time enough to change the rifles later, time enough to face the arrogant Captain Jawai with a game he had not expected to play.