“Laird shall cast first,” I said, “and then Fayan. My turn will be last.”
“As you wish.” Nidisar grinned, then stepped farther to the side. “It will at least be pleasant watching each of you throw. You may proceed.
Under his eyes and those of the other males, Larid stepped back from the cloth. She smiled slightly as she glanced again at the board, brought her arm back, ran three small, quick steps, then threw. Straight to the board the spear flew, but she had misjudged her aim. It struck, not upon the stroke, but just above it and a shade to the left. A babble of noise broke from the watching males, and Larid reddened with shame for so poor a cast. Nidisar stared at the spear where it hung quivering in the board, none of the amusement he must have felt showing upon his face, and Fayan tightened her grip upon the spear she held.
“The turn is now mine,” said Fayan stiffly, also stepping back from the cloth. “One must remember the lesser weight of the shaft.”
She, too, ran briefly toward the cloth and threw, yet her cast, too, was off the mark, though by very little. Her spear stood out from the board a scant two fingers from the stroke. Again the watching males commented noisily, and Nidisar turned from the board to look at Larid and Fayan with unwarranted disbelief. My warriors already felt shame for their casts, and didn’t need to be further shamed.
Slowly I walked from the line with my own spear, calling upon Mida to guide my arm. All was silence about me, from the watching throng as well as from the males close by. Clearly I saw the stroke, felt its place within my mind, ran three short steps, then threw. The spear flew straight and true, and the stroke could be seen cleanly divided in twain. My warriors smiled with pleasure and raised their voices in appreciation—unheard above the roar that came from the throats of those about us. Nidisar laughed as though there were cause for amusement, and the Arbitrator approached me with a smile.
“Truly may you shes claim the name of hunter,” said he, in plain approval. “You, girl,” said he to me. “How are you called?”
“I am Jalav,” I said, refraining from naming my clan of the Midanna. These males had no need of such knowledge.
“Well, then, young Jalav,” he said, “it is my pleasure to inform you that your throw has equaled that of Nidisar. When each competitor has completed his throw, you and Nidisar and any other who also equals you, shall throw again for the purse. I ask you now to stand aside so that the throws may be completed.” His arm gestured toward where Nidisar stood. Nidisar grinned as we approached him, and he bowed with exaggerated deference.
“My apologies, hunters,” said Nidisar with amusement. “I had thought that you spoke with as little truth as you threw, yet I have been proven wrong. Do you dwell distant from Bellinard?”
“Distant indeed,” said I, turning to watch the throws of those at the cloth. “We have never before entered the gates of Bellinard.”
“Then you must allow me to show you my city,” he said. “I shall be adequately funded to do so when I have won the purse.”
I turned my head to study him, and it was as I had expected. He spoke with complete assurance, as though first throw were his alone. I was annoyed that he took what would be my throw as his own.
Not many more were there to throw, yet those who did gave to Larid and Fayan a lessening of shame. No closer than a male’s hand did any come to our marks, and most fared poorer still. I had thought about returning to Binat and Comir. However by remaining we attracted less attention than would have come to us through refusal. Once, I turned to look at those who stood beyond the stretched leather, and was surprised at their number. Had I known what a simple throw would bring, I would not have entered the match.
At last, there were none left to try their arms, and Nidisar and I were called again to the cloth. A new board had been placed where the old had stood, and the Arbitrator came and stood before us, his arms folded across his chest
“The final throws are yours,” he said, looking to Nidisar and myself. “You are each to throw at your own stroke, and the purse shall go to that one coming closest to the mark. You may begin.”
Nidisar gestured toward the board. “You may throw first;” said he, a grin large upon his very male face. “I shall merely enjoy the sight as I await my turn.”
He gazed upon me in amusement as he leaned upon his spear. Fayan, who stood to one side with Larid, was angered by his appraisal of me, and angered, too, by the light laughter of those males who stood close enough to have heard Nidisar’s words. I was annoyed as well, yet did I put my annoyance from me, for I saw the reasoning behind Nidisar’s actions. He sought to brew anger within me, so that my arm would throw far off the mark, but I was not to be gulled in such a manner. I took the spear which had been handed me, walked from the cloth, turned, ran, and threw. A great cheer arose then, for my spear had reached the stroke precisely.
I turned again to Nidisar. “The throw is now yours,” I said, showing as much amusement as had he. “The stroke is there before you, and may, as you have seen, be easily reached. I suggest you stand a bit more to your right.”
Nidisar frowned at my words, then moved to his right. He did so in anger, amid the laughter of the males, all believing that he obeyed my word, while in truth, moving so had been unavoidable. Fayan and Larid laughed as well, which angered him further, yet had he control of his anger. He stalked from the cloth, turned, ran, and cast, and his spear, too, hung aquiver from the center of the stroke.
The watchers roared, their feet stamping out their approval, their voices raised high in acclaim. Nidisar turned from the board to grin at me, no trace of anger remaining. “In truth, the stroke is indeed easily reached,” said he above the clamor. “Shall we cease attempts to befuddle one another, and merely give our attention to the target?”
I smiled at his attempt at reconciliation, and then nodded. “It would, perhaps, be best,” I said. “It would not do for either of us to take the place of the stroke.”
He then laughed at my words, nodding, too, in amused agreement. Friendly play sometimes turns to blood feud, and Bellinard was not the place for that. I had not come there with intentions of spilling blood.
The spears were returned to us by other males, and again, in turn did we cast. We each cast three times further. the board being removed to a greater distance each time, yet each time was the stroke struck squarely. The watchers had grown silent again, and a communal sigh arose each time the mark was reached. When Nidisar had, for the fourth time, matched my throw, the male Arbitrator stepped before us and held his hands up, signaling a halt to the play.
“I see that this might conceivably be continued through the darkness without other result,” he said, and he took a small sack of leather from another of the older males who had done no more than watch others throw. “We, the arbitrators of this competition, have therefore decided that the purse is to be divided between Nidisar and Jalav, share and share alike. You are both mighty wielders of the spear, and we salute you!”
The watching masses cheered at this final word, and Nidisar turned to me. “I am minded to accept the decision,” said he, speaking so that none other would hear. “We are well matched, Jalav, and further contest would in truth be futile. How say you?”
“It is but play,” I said with a shrug, wishing an end to the matter. “There is little need for continuation.”
“Well spoken.” He nodded, and grinned at me. “I shall tell them.” He turned again to the three elder males. “Jalav and I have agreed to abide by the decision without recourse to higher review,” he said. “She and I shall share first throw.”
The three elder males smiled to the accompaniment of further cheering, then the Arbitrator brought the small leather sack to me. “The coins are of an even amount,” he said, weighing the sack in his palm. “Do you wish them divided here?”