«This is as mad as anything Kul-Nam himself might have done!» he exploded.
Prince Durouman pulled at his beard, his face screwed up in a particularly intense frown. Then he shook his head. «I wonder. There may be a good reason for this-or a reason that seems good to the Brothers.»
Blade laughed. «For the moment, that's the same thing. All right, I'll believe just about anything at this point. What is their reason?»
«It helps conceal the fact that they're frightened. Would frightened men let a major decision rest on something so frivolous as a battle between champions? Of course not. That's what they hope we and the Steppemen will think. Then they can drive a harder bargain with the winner.»
Blade grimaced. The reasoning of the Seven Brothers made a good deal of sense, if Prince Durouman was right about it.
Unfortunately, that reasoning was going to put him squarely in the middle of a duel to the death!
Chapter 22
Blade slept well that night. Before going to bed he spent a couple of hours with Prince Durouman discussing the fight tomorrow.
«You must strike at the man, not at the horse,» the prince said. «You can only strike at your opponent's horse if you yourself are dismounted and somehow survive long enough to launch an attack.»
Blade nodded. «Perhaps I shouldn't even bother mounting a horse in the first place.»
«I doubt very much if they would allow that, Blade.»
«Very well. The swords are designed for use from horseback, certainly. I have used such before. I see no problem.»
That was not entirely true. If he was not on foot, he would be riding a Steppe horse. There was no other kind on hand. The Steppe horses were tough, strong, and extremely agile. The battle tactics of the Steppemen made full use of these qualities.
Blade knew that he could manage any horse and use any kind of weapon from horseback. What he doubted was the ability of the horse to stand up under what he might have to make it do. The average Steppeman was six inches shorter than Blade and sixty pounds lighter. How long could even a Steppe horse twist and turn under a load so much greater than normal?
The morning dawned dry and bright, with scattered clouds and a brisk west wind. As Blade stepped ashore from Kukon's boat, all the banners and flags stood out bold and stiff in the breeze-the horsetail banners of the Steppemen, the great rayed flag of the Seven Brothers, the pine branches of the tribesmen, the personal flags of the pirate captains, the truce flags still flying aboard Kukon.
The dueling ground was a marked-off square three hundred yards on a side, lying exactly between the house of the Seven Brothers and the tents of the Steppemen. Blade walked up and down across it while his horse was prepared, checking the footing. The earth was hard and the grass just long enough to keep down the dust. Neither side would have much advantage from the ground today.
Now they were leading out his horse, and on the opposite side of the field his opponent was mounting up. Blade examined his horse and its gear from nose to tail and from mane to hooves. He tested the fit and strength of every piece of harness with all his knowledge and all of his muscles. Emass watched him, a skeptical frown on his face.
«Prince Blade, is this needed?»
«I do not know that it is. I do not know that it is not, either. Therefore I shall do it.»
«We would permit nothing that might do you harm or make the duel less than fair.»
«Emass, I believe you. Yet not even the Free Brothers of Nongai can prevent that which they cannot recognize. There is nothing you do not know of the ships and the sea. Horses and what may be done with them are another matter.»
Blade swung himself up into the saddle. Although the stirrups were let out to their maximum, he still had to keep his knees bent to keep his feet in them.
Prince Durouman approached and handed Blade the great two-handed Steppe sword. Then the trumpet calls started-the brass signal trumpets of the pirate ships and the long wooden trumpets of the tribesmen. Drums joined them-the horse drums of the Steppemen and the deeper-toned rowing drums of the ships. All joined and swelled into a continuous uproar, calling all the men of all the peoples gathered here on the shore to come and watch the duel. Blade gently urged his horse forward, out into the middle of the dueling ground. He wanted to be there waiting when his opponent rode out, to watch the man and his horse in movement.
The mass of Steppemen at the other end of the ground churned and broke apart, and Blade's opponent came trotting out. Like Blade's mount, his horse was fully equipped for the field, with bags and pouches and water bottles dangling from odd places on the harness.
Two Steppemen rode out into the middle of the grounds and two pirate captains walked out from the other side. Apparently the captains had decided it would be less embarrassing to walk than to try riding. Blade agreed. He'd seen some of the pirates try to ride Steppe horses and seen most of them fall off within minutes.
The two duelists reined in their horses ten yards apart and sat listening while the rules of the duel were called out.
The fight would be to the death. Neither might strike at the other's horse unless they were dismounted or use any weapons at all other than the great swords and their bare hands. At the end of each half hour, each contestant might receive a fresh horse. This would continue until the end of the duel.
The fresh horses might be to his advantage, Blade realized. On the other hand, would he have the same chance to inspect each new one as he'd had with the first? He doubted it.
All the trumpets and drums sounded again; the four referees drew back and motioned the duelists to do the same. Blade could not help noticing that as the referees drew back far enough to be out of the way, they also drew back far enough that they would not be able to see very well. It would be entirely up to the two duelists to keep an eye on each other's conduct.
That didn't bother Blade. Somehow, no matter how many rules well-intentioned people tried to make, a fight to the death usually ended up at the level of a barroom brawl. People who forgot that fact in a fight usually didn't get out of it alive.
Blade hefted his sword. His opponent did the same. Both men whirled their weapons over their heads, so that the watery sunshine gleamed along the polished steel. Then the Steppeman threw back his head until his beard seemed to be pointing at the clouds, filled his broad chest, let out a tremendous yell
«Niiiliyaaaaarrrrggggg!»
— and spurred his horse into motion.
Blade did the same. As his horse swept forward he swung his sword down from a striking position into one for blocking. The other horse moved up from a walk to a trot. Blade heard the thud of hooves on the hard ground and the wsssssh of air as the other man whirled the sword around his head.
At the last moment the Steppeman swerved his horse and swung his sword sideways. He obviously expected Blade to keep on course, straight into the deadly arc described in the air by the slash of the sword.
Instead Blade dropped one hand from the hilt of his sword to the reins of his horse. He pulled back hard on the reins, jerking the horse to a sudden stop. His other hand locked tightly on the great sword and swept it forward and down from the vertical position. Halfway down it met the Steppeman's sword. There was a terrific clang and the Steppeman's sword was deflected downward so violently that the point nearly struck the ground. The Steppeman raced past as Blade whirled his sword up and out at the other's head, still using one hand. With his own horse motionless, Blade could launch his attack as precisely with one hand on his sword as the other could with two.