«When was the last time the royal guards of Jaghd fought a battle?»

Jollya stiffened as if he'd slapped her. Blade realized she'd taken the words as an insult rather than a request for information about the level of experience he might be facing. He mentally cursed his own careless tongue and Jollya's thin skin. Before he could say anything else, Curim rode up. She didn't quite turn her back on Curim, but the way she held herself told Blade she would have liked to.

Blade looked past the two captains at Queen Tressana. She was smiling, and there was a naked look of pleasure in the wide blue eyes. Blade had the feeling that if the two captains had quarreled openly she'd have been licking her lips, and if they'd come to blows she'd have been applauding them impartially.

No, that's not quite right. That would wreck her guards, and she's not foolish enough to pay that price for her fun. But she still looks much too fond of games for my taste.

Blade looked around. His own guards were now riding up behind him. There was no chance of making a break for it, not with more than two dozen armed guards in sight and the nearest cover nearly three hundred yards away. If the chances of getting clear had been only a little better, Blade would have considered clapping spurs to his rolgha and trying to leave the Jaghdi and all their plots behind.

Tressana rose, brushed grass and insects off her trousers, and walked up to the three riders. «Are you ready, Blade?»

«Yes.»

«Very good.» She waved to Sikkurad, who also rose and came over. Queen and Keeper together would be the witnesses to Blade's oath, and would be two of the four judges of the fight. Curim and Jollya would be the other judges. Blade ran the words of the oath through his mind one more time, then took a deep breath and spoke.

«I am Richard Blade, warrior of England, no man of Elstan and no enemy to Jaghd. This I swear by the Lord of the Sky and the Lady of the Grass, by the Highest Powers of my own land, and by my own steel and my own blood.

«To prove these words, I shall submit to the Judgment of Steel and Blood. I shall fight three combats against three opponents chosen by the judges of today. If my oath is a true one, let the victory in all three combats be judged mine. If my oath is false, let my steel fail me and my blood stain the Lady's grass beneath me.»

He'd thought of adding an offer to fight all three men at once, but decided against it after hearing Jollya's warning. Three men weren't necessarily a match for one unless they were a team trained to fight together. If his opponents were Curim's personal goon squad, they might be trained that way. After the fight, I owe Jollya something special for that warning. Somehow he no longer doubted he would be alive to thank her. He knew the dangers of overconfidence, but that didn't keep him from feeling better than he had since he entered this Dimension. A few days of good food and a chance to hit back had done most of the work. Blade grinned and shouted to the men guards, «All right! Who wants to be the first to see the doctors?»

The Jaghdi fought as they did because they were excellent riders, who had powerful mounts under them but little in the way of metal weapons. They had bows and shields that used no metal, lances and arrows that used metal only at the tips, and even swords that used surprisingly little. They wore armor of wood and leather; metal was used only for the fastenings or the breastplates and helmets of the very wealthy. Their rolgha harnesses used very little metal other than the heavy bits, and their saddles used none. The leather the Jaghdi got from their endless herds wasn't entirely a substitute for the metal they had to import, but along with wood it was enough to give them a highly effective cavalry.

Their short horsebows could kill an unarmored man at a hundred yards, their lances were among the best Blade had ever handled, and their shields were light and tough. The swords usually consisted of a four-foot length of wood with a metal edge two inches wide riveted into a groove on one side. They reminded Blade of the swords of the Aztec Indians, which had obsidian chips instead of metal to give them an edge. All-metal swords were rare, a sign of great wealth or high rank. From where he sat on his rolgha Blade could see only two metal swords, one of them Curim's and the other Jollya's.

Of course, the metal-edged swords were much lighter than they'd have been if they were entirely made of metal, and they were useless for a backswing or a conventional thrust. But they were well-balanced, and were very good for a slash from the back of a rolgha. Blade had also used his knowledge of kendo and singlestick fighting to work out ways of using the swords as clubs. He hadn't practiced too much, for fear of revealing his knowledge, but he was sure he could spring a surprise or two on even the best Jaghdi opponent.

Blade's first opponent was so far from the best that he wondered if the man had been told to sacrifice himself in order to make Blade overconfident. However, it seemed unlikely that any man would have volunteered or could have been ordered to make such a fool of himself and nearly get killed as well.

Blade knocked the man's shield aside on the first pass and did it again on the second. He also nearly broke the man's arm, so that on the third pass the man rode in without his shield, sprained arm dangling, and put his entire trust in his lance to win back the advantage for him.

This gave Blade his biggest challenge of the whole fight: how to win without killing. It would have been much easier simply to thrust his lance into the man's chest, but he didn't want to. Blade hated killing unnecessarily even when it was safe to do so. He also doubted that it would be entirely safe to kill one of Curim's friends.

Blade was sweating from more than the heat of the day as he and his opponent spurred their rolghas toward each other for the third time. The man was coming in faster than before, with clods flying up from his rolgha's hooves. He grew larger and larger, until he was Blade's whole world. Then Blade's point moved through a six-inch arc as the other man's lance smashed into Blade's shield.

The Jaghdi's gamble very nearly paid off. Blade was jarred from head to foot, his shield arm screamed in protest, and if his feet hadn't been firm in the stirrups he would have gone out of the saddle. But his own lance caught the lacing at the man's left shoulder and sent him flying over his mount's rump. The man parted company with his lance in mid-air and came down with a thud, his good arm under him. He cursed, struggled to his feet, tried to raise a hand to wipe rolgha dung and dirt off his face, then screamed at the sudden pain.

With both arms disabled, the man could do nothing but give up the fight and stumble back to where the doctors waited. He cursed Blade all the way, and Blade knew he'd made another enemy. He also knew that he'd made a highly favorable impression on all the judges except Curim. The guard captain was surly and growled at Blade:

«It would have been a fairer fight if you'd thrown away your own shield after he lost his.»

«Perhaps,» said Blade. «But I not only want to win these fights. I want to win them and still be fit to give good service to Jaghd and its noble queen afterward. If the gods do not wish this, let them pass their judgment.» He looked at the queen.

Curim glared and took a deep breath to reply, but Tressana spoke first. «No doubt they will, but first we need to pass ours. I say Blade wins.»

«And I,» said Jollya and her father almost together.

«Well, Curim?» said the queen. She was still smiling, but it was one of those smiles that didn't reach the eyes. «Do you call Blade the winner?»

«Oh, yes. I have to say so. But I'll be surprised if I have to say so again.»

«I think you'd better get ready to be surprised, Curim,» said Blade. He had no doubt the captain was glaring again as he turned his rolgha and rode back out onto the field, ready to meet his second opponent.