Both sworders were married, and Tor had a little girl. They were friends, but it turned out that Tyl was the master of the group of two. Both agreed to fight, Tor first, with the stipulation that what he won belonged to Tyl. That was the way of a tribe of any size.
Against Tor, Sol took a matching sword. These were straight, flat, slashing instruments twenty inches long, pointed but seldom used for stabbing. Sword contests were usually dramatic and swift. Unfortunately, wounds were frequent, too, and deaths not uncommon. That was why Sol had taken the staff against Sos, weeks ago; he had really been sure Of his skill and had not wanted to risk injuring his opponent seriously.
"His wife and daughter are watching," Sola murmured beside him. "Why does he match weapons?"
Sos understood her question to mean Tora and Tori as spectators and Sol's matching sword to sword. "Because Tyl is also watching," he told her.
Tor was powerful and launched. a vigorous attack, while Sol merely fended him off. Then Sol took his turn on the offense, hardly seeming to make an effort yet pressing the other man closely. After that there was a pause in the circle as neither attacked.
"Yield," Tyl said to his man.
Tor stepped out and it was over, bloodlessly after all. The little girl gaped, not understanding, and Sola shared this confusion, but Sos had learned two important things. First, he had seen that Tor was an expert sworder who might very well have defeated Sos himself in combat. Second, he knew Tyl was even better. This was a rare pair to come upon so casually, after going so long without meeting anyone of caliber-except that that was the way the averages worked.
Sola had thought that sword against sword meant inevitable bloodshed, but in this situation the truth was opposite. Tor had felt out Sol, and been felt out in turn, neither really trying for a crippling blow. Tyl had watched, not his own man whose capabilities he knew, but Sol, and made his judgment. He had seen what Sos had seen: that Sol possessed a clear advantage in technique and would almost certainly prevail in the end. Tyl had been sensible: he had yielded his man before the end came, accepting the odds. Perhaps the little girl was disappointed, thinking her father invulnerable-but her education in this respect would have been rude indeed.
"I see," Sola said, keeping her voice law. "But suppose they had been just about even?'
Sos didn't bother to answer.
As it was, Sol had won painlessly again, and added a good man to his roster. Only by employing a weapon Tyl knew well could he have made his point so clearly.
Sos had maintained a wait-and-see attitude on Sol's plans for empire, knowing how much more than speed and versatility in the circle was required. His doubts were rapidly evaporating. If Sol could perform like this in the time of his weakness, there seemed to be no practical limit to his capabilities as he regained strength. He had now demonstrated superlative proficiency with staff, club and sword, and had never been close to defeat. There seemed to be no barrier to continued additions to his tribe.
Tyl stood up and presented a surprise of his own: he set aside his sword and brought out a pair of singlesticks. He was a man of two weapons and had decided not to tackle Sol with the one just demonstrated.
Sol only smiled and drew out his own sticks. The fight was swift and decisive, as Sos had expected after witnessing the skill of Sol's wrist. The four sticks flashed and spun, striking, thrusting and blocking, acting both as dull swords and light staffs. This was a special art, for two implements had to be controlled and parried simultaneously, and excellent coordination was required. It was hardly possible for those outside the circle to tell which man had the advantage-until one stick flew out of the circle, and Tyl backed, out, half disarmed and defeated. There was blood on the knuckles of his left hand where the skin had been broken by Sol's connection.
Yet bruises were appearing upon Sol's body, too, and blood dripped from a tear over his eye. The battle bad not been one-sided.
Three men now belonged to his group, and two were not beginners.
Two weeks later Sos had his twenty men. He led them back toward the badlands, while Sol went on alone except for Sola.
CHAPTER SIX
"Pitch your tents well up on the hillside, two men or one family to a unit, with a spare pack stacked across the river," Sos directed the group when they arrived in the valley. "Two men will walk guard day and night around the perimeter; the rest will work by day and be confined to their tents by night, without exception. The night guards will be entirely covered with mesh at all times and will scrupulously avoid any contact with the flying white moths. There will be a four-man hunting party and a similar carrying party each day. The rest will dig our trench."
"Why?" one man demanded. "What's the point of all this foolishness?" It was Nar, a blustering dagger who did not accept orders readily.
Sos told them why.
"You expect us to believe such fantastic stories by a man without a weapon?" Nar shouted indignantly. "A man who raises birds instead of fighting?"
Sos held his temper. He had known that something like this would come up. There was always some boor who thought that honor and courtesy did not extend beyond the cirele. "You will stand guard tonight. If you don't choose to believe me, open your face and arms to the moths," He made the other assignments, and the men got busy setting up the camp.
Tyl approached him. "If there is trouble with the men ..." he murmured.
Sos understood him. "Thanks," he said gruffly.
There was time that afternoon to mark off the trench he had in mind. Sos took a crew of men and laid out light cord, tying it to pegs hammered into the ground at suitable intervals. In this fashion, they marked off a wide semicircle enclosing the packs stored beside the river with a radius of about a quarter mile.
They ate from stored rations well before dusk, and Sos made a personal inspection of all tents, insisting that any defects be corrected immediately. The object was to have each unit tight: no space open large enough for a moth to crawl through. There were grumbles, but it was done. As night filled the valley, all but the two marching guards retired to their tents, there to stay sealed in until daylight.
Sos turned in, satisfied. It was a good beginning. He wondered where the moths hid during the day, where neither sun nor shrew could find them.
Say, who shared his tent, was not so optimistic. "There's going to be trouble in Red River Valley," he remarked in his forthright manner.
"Red River Valley?"
"From that song you hum all the time. I know 'em all. Won't you think of the valley you're leaving, Oh, how lonely and sad it will be; Oh, think of the fond heart you're breaking, and the grief-'"
"All right!" Sos exclaimed, embarrassed.
"Well, they aren't going to like digging and carrying," Sav continued, his usually amiable face serious. "And the kids'll be hard to keep in at night. They don't pay much attention to regulations, you know. If any of them get stung and die-"
"Their parents will blame me. I know." Discipline was mandatory. It would be necessary to make a convincing demonstration before things got out of hand.
The opportunity came sooner than he liked. In the morning Nar was discovered in his tent. He had not been stung by the moths. He was sound asleep.
Sos called an immediate assembly. He pointed out three men at random. "You are official witnesses. Take note of everything you see this morning and remember it." They nodded, perplexed.
"Take away the children," he said next. Now the mothers were upset, knowing that they were about to miss something important; but in a,few minutes only the men and about half the women remained.