Someone was foolish enough not to see what was plain for everyone else. Only a few paces from Pirvan, someone unslung a bow and nocked an arrow. The man had also not seen Fulvura, standing right beside him. As if reaching to scratch an itch, she thrust one massive arm downward. It caught the man on the shoulder, knocking him sprawling. Before he could rise or anyone come to his aid, Haimya darted behind Fulvura and knelt, inquiring earnestly of the fallen man if he was hurt.
She had one knee on his right arm and the other on his chest. In the crowd, no one but Pirvan and Fulvura saw that she also had a dagger drawn, with the point at his throat.
It would have been too much to hope for, that the archer was the only fool present. The next fool threw a spear-but by now others were alert.
A shielding spell slammed down into the arena, so violently that sand flew where the edge struck it. The shield extended some ten paces in all directions around the boat, the five Servants and two captives in it, and the two would-be duelists, who were now nearly close enough to shake hands.
The spear bounced off the spell-shield and hurtled back the way it had come, whirling end over end. It would have been too much to hope that it would strike down its thrower, but it did the next best thing, sinking harmlessly into the sand.
Pirvan saw that it was Lujimar casting the spell, if the minotaur's stance with his eyes cast down and both hands on the amulet now hanging around his neck meant anything. He also saw Lady Revella staring from the arena to Lujimar-then toward her staff.
The knight's feet were only just behind his thoughts. Pirvan dashed from the ranks of the onlookers, cut across a corner of the arena, and flung himself at Lady Revella's staff just before her hands closed on it.
He rolled with the agility of a younger man, only slightly hampered by the staff, then came up with it in one hand and a drawn dagger in the other. Lady Revella gaped at the knight and raised her hand.
Pirvan raised the dagger, thrusting the point under the rune-marked silver ring at the head of the staff. A silver ring, Tarothin had taught him, often meant that die spells within it or the whole staff could he countered with cold iron. From Lady Revella's expression, Tarothin had the right of it in this case.
"Pirvan, you cannot use my staff," she said. "You might die if I tried to use it while you held it."
Laughing in the Black Robe's face did not seem a wise idea, so Pirvan said simply, "Could you use it afterward, if so?"
"No, but do you wish it useless?"
"Until I trust you," he replied, "yes."
Revella looked as if he had struck her. He briefly considered handing the lady's staff to Lujimar, but knew that might cause her spells and the minotaur's to battle each other.
Also, seeing a minotaur given a human wizard's tools might drive some wild-headed human over the edge into attacking Pirvan. That could make a bad situation even worse. Pirvan saw that he had an advantage, and pressed it.
"Lady Revella," he said, "I do not know what you plotted, or with whom. I know even less what you intended, or how far what happened has gone beyond that. I do know that whether intending it or not, you have helped endanger peace between men and minotaurs, our work here on Suivinari Island, and the lives of most of those whom you once thanked for helping your daughter Rubina."
Lady Revella's mouth opened, without a word coming out (or at least any Pirvan could hear over the uproar). Then she knelt and put her face in her hands.
Pirvan wondered if he should applaud his own lucky guess or let the Black Robe cry on his shoulder. Haimya took the matter out of his hands by hurrying up and kneeling beside the wizard.
"Is the archer-?" he started to ask.
Haimya's reply was a bleak look, as if Pirvan himself were responsible for Revella's misery. The knight decided that five lifetimes was not enough for a man to understand how women could lock shields. He also realized that he would have no sensible answer from Revella now, and that Lujimar was too busy to answer anyone's questions about anything.
Pirvan resigned himself to letting the fight inside the shield take its course. At least he could guard Lujimar's back.
The fight was brief but bloody. Against Zeskuk and Darin, five trained human fighters of the common sort would have normally been no contest. The Servants of Silence were not mere bullies, however, and they both had their saw-edged ritual swords and long daggers against larger but unarmed and unarmored opponents. The contest might indeed have gone to the kingpriest's hirelings, except that Zeskuk and Darin were thinking alike almost from the moment the shield closed around them.
Zeskuk was briefly surprised at how swiftly he and Darin became a team, then realized he should not be. Darin was minotaur-trained, spoke the minotaur tongue, and had doubtless been watching Zeskuk and listening to talk about the chief's fighting style from the moment after he conceived the challenge.
Or had the challenge been suggested to him? Lujimar's swift creation of the shield might be only life-saving good sense. It was also a potent spell for even Lujimar to cast with no more than a few breaths' notice.
As for Zeskuk, he had to admit that he had been studying Darin's movements, on the battlefield and off it, to see how Waydol's training was reflected in a human. He had sharpened his scrutiny after the challenge. Preparing to be opponents, he and Darin had ended by all but training to fight as a team.
So Zeskuk lunged in under the prow of the boat and heaved it up and back, putting all his strength into making the heave as high and violent as he could. Darin sprang backward, ducking under a sword slash, and took his place at the stern as the boat tilted up on end.
Only in champion tales would the five Servants have fallen headlong and broken their necks or skulls, as the boat rose to the vertical. All of them did fall out; only the two captives tied to the thwarts remained in the boat.
However, all five of them landed on their feet, hardly even off-balance. Zeskuk also supposed that such as they were too thick-skulled and stiff-necked to be hurt even if they had tumbled out feet over fork.
Zeskuk and Darin were both ready for fighting opponents, however. Zeskuk let one Servant sink his edge into the minotaur's left arm. Before the man could draw the blade back, Zeskuk chopped his other hand down on the man's sword arm. It shattered; the man screamed; Zeskuk turned the screams to gasps with a punch to the stomach. As the man fell forward, he exposed the back of his neck, and Zeskuk struck again, the edge of his right hand scything down on the exposed spine.
Meanwhile, Darin had taken two steps backward, stood on one foot like a stork, then wheeled and slammed the other foot into the chest of one opponent. Sword-steel ripped Darin's leg, but the foot was the size of a minotaur's hoof and nearly as hard. Zeskuk heard ribs shatter and saw the man fly backward into a comrade, knocking him down. Zeskuk had to take only two steps and fend off only one sword slash before he could kick the man in the head. The man's head nearly parted company with his neck.
This left Zeskuk and Darin with only one opponent apiece. Darin picked up a fallen sword and tossed one to Zeskuk, to further improve the odds. Zeskuk grinned, having somehow expected the knight to finish the bout barehanded, out of some notion put in his head by the Oath or the Measure or Sir Pirvan.
Instead, Darin proved that he knew the minotaur principle of not wasting honorable fighting on a dishonorable opponent. He feinted, let the leader unbalance himself with a wild lunge, then struck together with sword and fist. The leader described a bloody arc in the air and toppled, one arm all but severed.
By the time Darin had knelt, ripped off the leader's mask, and begun binding the captive's ruined arm with it, Zeskuk had finished his opponent. The man tried to run, but Zeskuk still had one good arm and a loose oar from the boat. He also had most of the skill that had won him prizes at throwing the shatang.