The sword came down, struck with a terrific clang, and glanced off. But the other man swung it up into position again almost faster than Blade's eye could follow. Blade shifted his grip on the poker, now holding it upright. His opponent was watching him more closely now. The man's eyes were still filled with rage and also now with curiosity. That made him more dangerous. He might not swing in wild fury again, but use his skill instead. The sword seemed to hover, the light glinting from it.
Blade never found out what the man would have done next. The curtain burst open again and another man in a shorter and plainer blue robe dashed into the kitchen. He took up a position by the door, bowed quickly to the first man, and drew his own sword. The first man nodded. Blade saw his hands tighten on his sword.
Then the curtain flew open a third time. Blade had a moment's glimpse of a slim figure, clad only in wide black trousers and carrying his drawn sword in front of him. Then the second swordsman whirled to confront the new arrival. The new arrival's sword seemed to leap toward the ceiling like a living thing, the blade reaching up and slicing the air as though trying to bring down a bird on the wing. The other's sword started to follow it. Then the first sword came down as fast as it had gone up, slashing from the side. There was a sound like a butcher chopping meat and a gasping grunt from the second swordsman. He dropped his sword, staggered, twisting completely around, and toppled to the floor. Blood sprayed out through the slash that had cut him open from armpit to breastbone, and some of it sprayed onto the hearth. The pungent smell of burning human blood rose into the room.
The old woman gasped and tottered. Blade reached out and clamped one hand on the neck of her robe to keep her from toppling into the flre. His opponent made no effort to take advantage of his moment's distraction. Instead he turned to look at the newcomer. After a moment Blade did the same.
The newcomer was a young man-his bare chest and arms were layered with sinewy muscles, but the face above it was almost boyish. Blade wondered if he was much more than twenty or so. He bent to wipe his sword on the robe of his victim, then sheathed it and crossed his arms on his chest.
«Honorable Captain Jawai, what is your purpose in this fight?» His voice was as quiet as that of a man ordering a drink in a conservative London club, and it carried the same tone-he was unquestionably expecting a proper answer. It subdued Jawai, who sheathed his own sword and bowed low. Blade realized that the newcomer might not be his friend, but he did not seem a friend of Jawai either.
«This man,» said Jawai, jerking his head at Blade. «This-dirty lout-blasphemed the Igumasi Temple of Kunkoi, assaulting both the priestess and the guards. He then fled, and apparently stole the robe of a dabuno from one of my servants while she was washing it in the stream earlier this evening.»
The young swordsman nodded. «I recognize the robe he is wearing.»
«Word came from the temple by messenger to look for a very tall and strong man, pale-skinned but probably with paint smeared on his chest. The servant-girl Kika told me that a Lonely Brother just like that was in the kitchen, saying that he was under the dem vow. I forced her to confess the loss of your robe and punished her for it.»
«I heard,» said the young man.
«Then I entered the kitchen, to kill the blasphemer and avenge the honor of Kunkoi. What happened after that you know well.» Jawai could not keep the anger entirely out of his voice as he finished.
The young man nodded slowly. «Was the temple damaged in any way, or any blood shed in the precincts?»
«A scaffolding fell down, and the captain of the guards was knocked unconscious. But-«
«So the temple is intact, and blood is unshed?»
Jawai nodded reluctantly. «That is as I was told.»
«Then the blasphemy is one that can be compounded with gold, if the priestesses of Kunkoi give their consent.»
«But he is still guilty of falsely wearing the robe of a dabuno,» exploded Jawai, clapping his hand to his sword hilt. «No gold may sweep aside that crime.»
«If he has committed it, no,» said the young man slowly. He fixed his eyes on Blade. Blade saw in those eyes an assurance and an authority surprising in a man so young. «I am Yezjaro, instructor to the Warlord Tsekuin. Tell me in your own words what happened at the temple of Kunkoi.»
Blade ran through the story as quickly as possible, trying to keep an eye on both Jawai and Yezjaro at the same time as he talked. When he had finished, Yezjaro looked at him closely.
«You entered the temple precincts by accident?»
«Entirely by accident. I thought it was deserted or at least not being used at the time.»
«And you neither slew nor maimed any of the temple's people?»
«I did my best not to,» said Blade. «If they had stopped to listen to me, I would have told them just what I've told you and then departed. The priestess fell down some steps and I had to knock the guard captain down to save my own life. Other than that I don't see how anybody could have been hurt.»
«You seem to have skill and self-control, as well as courage,» said Yezjaro. Blade thought it appropriate to bow in response to this praise. Yezjaro smiled. «But what of your wearing the robe of a dabuno? That is another and graver crime, as Captain Jawai has said.»
Blade thought quickly. «I am sorry that it was your robe. But it was a garment appropriate to my rank in my own land.» He ran quickly through a story of his origins, his travels, and his arrival in this land.
«So in a sense I am indeed of the rank of dabuno, traveling as a Lonely Brother, and I have taken the dem vow. But this is by the laws and customs of my own land. I know yours are different, and I submit to being judged by them.»
There was a long silence. It seemed even longer to Blade. Finally Yezjaro clasped both hands behind his back and looked down at the floor for a moment. Then he looked at Blade again.
«It is not beyond belief that you are a warrior, considering what you seem to have done. Were you of the land of Gaikon, I think I would accept your story. I would then pay for having a new robe of dabuno rank made for you, as mine fits you like a man's sash on an ox!» He laughed briefly at his own joke, then sobered. «If you lied, you would be discovered sooner or later and punished terribly. If not by men here in Gaikon, then by the Goddess Kunkoi after your death.
«But you are from a distant land, known only to Kunkoi, with customs and laws of which we know only what you chose to tell us. Who knows if you fear Kunkoi's judgment? So I cannot accept your word.»
His eyes dropped to the poker and knife Blade was still holding. «Would it be acceptable to you to fight against Captain Jawai with a weapon of your choice? He is an excellent swordsman, of the fourth Kim- If you can defeat him or even last more than a few minutes against him, it will satisfy me that you indeed deserve to be accepted as a dabuno in Gaikon. Then-«
«It won't satisfy me!» snapped Jawai. «What if he asks for some weapon we can't give him? Or fights with a bow? What if-?»
«I did not finish, Captain,» said Yezjaro. His voice would have frozen an entire side of beef in a split second. «The fight will take place as I say. Unless you wish to try defeating me first?» One long-fingered hand dropped to the hilt of his own sword.
Jawai gulped, apparently realizing his danger for the first time. «No, Honorable Instructor, I do not wish to disobey your wishes in this matter.» Then rage got the better of his self-control. «But you've always been after me, one way or another. You're using this-«