Then Jawai was coming in, taking a long, almost skipping step. The sword swung down from the vertical and flashed in the horizontal arc of a quick slash. Blade whipped his own spear over to the left, holding the guard position. In the same moment he leaped to the right, out of the path of the sword. The tip of the sword struck the spear with a sharp metallic clink. It was only the tip, but there was enough speed and weight behind it to make the spear shiver in Blade's hands. Definitely that sword could slice flesh and bone like a knife slicing paper. It might be able to chop through the spear shaft with a fair cut at full strength. Blade moved the spear back in front of his body and turned to face Jawai again.
Jawai came in again on the left, then a third time. Each time Blade leaped to one side, clearing the arc of the slash and warding off the sword with his spear.
Then Jawai came in a fourth time, suddenly shifting at the last second to the right.
But Blade had anticipated just exactly that change in the pattern. He sprang to the left, a long leap designed to take him completely clear of the arc of the sword. At the same moment he swung the spear down from the guard position to dart it out in a thrust at the captain's head. The razor-edged steel leaf darted within inches of Jawai's face. His eyes flared open in surprise and perhaps in a little fear as well. This time he stepped back farther and faster than before and watched Blade more intently. Blade took advantage of the delay to arrogantly twirl his spear around his head-keeping a firm grasp on the shaft with both hands, in case Jawai decided to move in suddenly.
Was Jawai perhaps assuming that Blade was an amateur who would fall easily when a serious attack came in? And in the meantime had he decided to just play with this stranger? That was almost too encouraging a thought, Blade realized. But if it was true, perhaps he should go on playing Jawai's game for a while.
There would be time enough to change the rifles later, time enough to face the arrogant Captain Jawai with a game he had not expected to play.
The deadly dance around the square went on. Blade began to narrow his margin, judging and timing his leaps so that he was only inches clear of the deadly arc of Jawai's sword. Whether this leaping about was according to the standard rules for fighting in Gaikon, he didn't know. But Blade held a black belt in karate, and his footwork and endurance were formidable. The game Jawai had chosen for them to play was one Blade knew he could play for hours, if necessary.
It would probably be necessary. Blade quickly discovered that he would not be able to attack his opponent easily. Jawai was murderously fast on the riposte; Blade could not risk leaving himself open even briefly to deliver a serious attack.
After a while it began to seem as though they had been fighting for hours. Blade discovered that the captain telegraphed warning of overhead blows with a peculiar flexing of his wrists as he brought his sword up. Blade could easily respond to those signals in plenty of time to leap from under the downcuts. He didn't try to guard against them with his spear. They came down too hard and too fast for him to risk it. Too many blows with the tip might weaken his spear. A glancing blow might easily glance straight into his chest or thigh.
As he led Jawai in their dance around the square, Blade kept his eyes not only on the captain but also on the line of watching dabuni and on Yezjaro. He was looking for them to start reacting to what he was doing with Jawai. After only a few more minutes he saw that they were starting to react. And what he saw in their eyes was encouraging.
Obviously they understood more or less what he was doing. He saw men nodding or exchanging whispers with their companions. Yezjaro's face was almost expressionless, but Blade thought he saw faint hints of a smile on it. Obviously he was doing something right although he couldn't yet be sure exactly what it was. At least a dabuno of Gaikon did not have to simply stand up and hack away at an opponent and let the opponent hack back. He could properly use strategy and craft. That was fine with Blade. He knew he had no other hope of surviving here in this land of deadly swordsmen.
The wind rose further and blew colder and harder on Blade's face and across his bare chest. In spite of the cold and the wind, he was beginning to sweat.
Some of his muscles were also beginning to protest, particularly the legs that had already carried him so far so fast today.
But he could also see with growing pleasure that Jawai was getting tired, too, and was becoming confused. Perhaps Jawai had never fought so long before against such a strong opponent? Perhaps he had never expected to, and never developed the endurance he would need to last against Blade?
Certainly Jawai was no longer playing with Blade or trying to show off his expert swordwork. Each stroke of the sword lashed out like a flicker of flame, three feet of steel seeking Blade's life with all Jawai's strength and skill behind it. Blade realized one thing for certain about this fight: if he lost even a little bit of speed he was probably finished.
It was also obvious that the audience was becoming impatient. Blade couldn't tell which of the fighters was annoying them more, but he couldn't mistake the look of irritation on Yezjaro's face.
The fight went on. Except for the mounting roar of the wind, the thud of feet on chill wet grass, and the heavy breathing of the fighters, it went on in silence. Blade began to feel the muscles of his legs turning to white-hot bands stretched almost to the breaking point. He had to force his arms to twist and whirl the spear about as fast as before. And the red band around his head would no longer soak up all the sweat that was pouring down his face. He felt the stinging of salt in his eyes.
It was Yezjaro's voice that broke the silence. «What pleasure do you people find in this dance? Are you rehearsing a new act to present at the Hongshu's court during Lord Tsekuin's journey of Obedience? I thought you came here to fight-«
Blade knew that he was tired when he felt anger flare within him. But it flared only briefly. He recognized Yezjaro's tone of voice. For purposes of his own, the instructor was trying to push the fight to a conclusion by making one or the other of the fighters angry. Blade was determined that if there was going to be any anger and carelessness, it should be Jawai's.
Blade had guessed right. Jawai threw back his head and let out a high scream of rage and hatred. It seemed to be directed at the whole world, not just at Blade or Yezjaro. Then he came in, slashing with wild fury.
Blade leaped aside twice more as he judged distances and timing. He had known for a long time the perfect way to use the spear to end the fight. It was a way that would not only win but win with the style and flair he suspected the dabuni of Gaikon admired. But it was also risky. A split second off in the timing, and Blade knew that Jawai's sword would be slicing through his arm or into his thigh.
As Jawai came in for a third wild attack, Blade stood his ground. As Blade had expected, the captain slowed for a moment when he realized that his opponent was not leaping aside any more. That slowing and the captain's fatigue gave Blade all the time he needed. He dropped down into a crouch and lunged upward with the spear. One of the jutting hooks caught the descending sword. Blade sprang to his feet, twisting savagely as he did so. The sword flew out of Jawai's hands and high into the air, turning over and over as it flew. Before it thudded pointdown into the soft earth, Blade had stepped back. The spear whirled around at full speed, and the butt smashed into the side of Jawai's neck. At the last moment Blade avoided smashing it into the captain's temple. He couldn't see any good reason for killing the man, if he could win his fight and the rank of dabuno without it.