The hitting was not all on one side. From time to time Rehod got through Blade's defenses and left welts and blood trickles of his own. This didn't happen often, though. Blade was hitting four or five times for every time he was hit. At this rate even Rehod would soon have to yield; even his bull frame could take only so much punishment before his bull strength started to fade. Then the fight could be over very quickly.

Blade was vaguely aware that the noise from the circle of watchers got steadily louder as he hammered more and more blows through Rehod's defenses and left more and more blood and bruises on the man. He could hear it only faintly, as his own breath roared louder and louder in his ears, building up a wall of sound that seemed to shut out the rest of the world.

He was also vaguely aware that the noise suddenly died, as completely as if all the watchers had sunk into the ground. No doubt something had happened to cause that silence, but it could not interest Blade. Nothing could interest him except Rehod, the man he had to beat down to the ground.

The silence went on. So did the fight. Now Rehod was definitely beginning to slow down. His legs could no longer hurl him forward or take him backward or sideways. His arms could no longer send either sword driving through Blade's defenses to split or bruise Blade's skin.

As Rehod lost the power to attack, he seemed to gain more power to defend. His swords whirled and danced, forming a blurred shield of steel and bone and leather between himself and Blade. It became harder and harder for Blade to drive through the mounting fury of Rehod's defense.

Blade saw that Rehod was defending himself with a vigor that would shortly drain his strength. It also seemed to him that Rehod might be setting a trap, trying to get his opponent completely committed to a steady, all-out attack, then launching a final desperate stroke of his own.

Blade began to pace himself, keeping something in reserve each time he attacked, ready to shift from attack to defense faster than Rehod could strike. He also kept an eye on the padding of Rehod's swords. It was hard to be sure, but Blade thought some of the padding was beginning to slowly break up and peel off.

Still the whirling of the swords went on. Blade heard the noise of the watchers begin to rise again. Whatever had silenced them was no longer at work.

Then Rehod began to attack again, not with the wild fury Blade had expected but with cool precision and surprising control. Each attack came in a little higher. Blade was certain his opponent had at last decided on his final moves, but didn't waste time trying to guess what these might be.

A few more attacks, and Rehod began to draw back a step or two after each one. He seemed to be trying to catch his breath. Blade considered pressing attacks of his own, but decided against it. He'd been fighting for nearly an hour and wouldn't turn down any chance to catch his own breath.

Suddenly Rehod attacked again, moving in as fast as he'd ever done. Blade was barely able to react in time. Rehod almost sprang back from the attack, his swords leaping upward to cross above his head.

With a snap of one powerful wrist Rehod drove his shortsword along the edge of his other weapon. The padding vanished as if the touch of the shortsword had dissolved it. Sunlight gleamed along the bare edge of Rehod's longsword, in the moment before it slashed down at Blade's head.

Blade's response came faster than any watcher's eye could follow. His longsword flashed upward to meet Rehod's treacherous downcut, while his body twisted out from under the descending sword. The naked sword and the padded one came together, and with a tremendous clang Rehod's sword drove Blade's down toward the ground. The deadly edge hissed down past Blade's ear, inches from slashing deeply into his shoulder.

Blade drove his own shortsword forward in a powerful thrust at Rehod's groin. Rehod screamed out loud and stiffened, for a moment totally paralyzed by the pain.

In that moment Blade dropped his longsword and drove his clenched right fist hard into Rehod's stomach. The blow doubled Rehod up and drove him backward several steps. His muscles jerked and his fingers writhed frantically as he tried to raise or even hold on to his swords.

Blade slammed the flat of his shortsword down on Rehod's right wrist, then drove the heel of his free hand up under the man's jaw. Rehod dropped both swords, went over backward like a falling tree, landed with a thud, and lay there. After a moment he groaned, clutched his stomach, turned on his side, and began vomiting.

Blade straightened up, dropped his shortsword, turned his back on his fallen opponent, and walked toward the circle of watching Kargoi.

For the first time in many minutes he realized just how close everyone had crowded to watch the fight. Even the mounted sentries had pulled their drends to a stop. A dozen men had climbed up on the backs of the drends to get a better view.

The only group standing slightly apart was half a dozen mounted warriors. Blade stared at them. They weren't sentries, or anybody else who'd been on hand when the fight began.

One of them was an old man, white-haired and his skin a pattern of wrinkles and scars. He held himself as straight as a sword, though, and his gaze was as clear and as penetrating as Paor's.

Another of the riders was a younger man, enough like the older man to clearly be his son. The other four riders were warriors, all of them as large as Rehod and nearly as ferocious looking. Each of them wore a blue leather strip across his chest, in addition to the usual weapons and garments.

Paor himself came running out to meet Blade, with a grin that was nearly as wide as his face.

«Friend Blade, you have your place in the songs of the Kargoi and the memories of those who saw you, even if you fall down upon the ground dead in this moment! You judged Rehod's treachery perfectly, and met it in a way that will be long remembered.»

Blade laughed. «I hope Rehod will remember it, along with everyone else.»

Paor nodded. «He will.» Then he looked toward Rehod's writhing form, his grin faded, and he lowered his voice. «He is not dying, is he?»

Blade shook his head. Paor frowned. «It would have been better to kill him. You had the right to do so. Now you have shamed him but left him alive. He will be an even more dangerous enemy than before, although he will have fewer friends.»

Paor was probably right-Rehod would have been much safer dead. But it was too late to do anything about it now, and Blade had never been too fond of killing when there were less bloody ways of dealing with a problem.

Paor went on. «Meanwhile, I am to bring you before Adroon, High Baudz of the Kargoi. He has watched you fight and declared that you shall not be tested further, but shall at once be ranked among the warriors of the Red People.» He pointed toward the little group of riders, and the old man in the middle raised his hand to beckon Blade toward him.