The Duke was about the same size and shape as the Marshal, half a head shorter than Blade's six feet one but nearly as broad across the shoulders. He wore a kneelength green robe with red borders over dark blue hose, and the legs inside the hose still showed a good deal of muscle. His head was nearly bald, but a bushy white beard reached down to the middle of his chest. The brown, wrinkled face above the beard was so much like an older version of Marshal Alsin that Blade found himself looking cautiously from one man to the other, making sure the resemblance wasn't just a trick of the light.

It wasn't. If the Duke and his Marshal weren't blood kin, Blade knew he'd like to hear the explanation for their looks. However, he hadn't heard a word on the matter from any of the Lords, who'd been looking at Alsin and the Duke every day for years. If this was one of the things that Nice People Didn't Talk About, then Blade would be one of the Nice People.

The greetings finished, Alsin told the story of the battle and what Blade did. By the time he'd finished, most of the Lords of the war party had crowded into the hall and were listening as intently as if they'd never heard the story before. Blade also noticed that some of them kept looking nervously over their shoulders toward the hall door.

«-like a Lord, so it seemed that his story was worthy of belief,» finished Alsin. «Your Grace, I lay the matter of Lord Blade in your hands.»

The Duke stared at Blade, who now realized that the man was extremely nearsighted. It didn't affect his dignity, and Blade doubted that it affected much else. He was the sort of man who would look twice as hard to compensate for seeing only half as well!

«Certainly you have the look of a Lord, and I have never known Alsin to be less than truthful. So you shall kneel like a Lord, not like a Helper.» Blade cautiously shifted to one knee. «Now, Lord Blade. Tell me the story of your deeds on the day of the battle in your own words, and be brief.»

Blade was halfway through his story when a sudden commotion behind him made the Duke look past him toward the door of the hall. Blade turned to see a darkhaired man, who must have been nearly seven feet tall, shouldering his way through the crowd of Lords. As they gave way before him, Blade saw that the man wore a suit of leather and had one of the Feathered People perched on each shoulder. A broadsword dangled from his waist, looking hardly larger than an ordinary man's dagger. Blade didn't need the whispers to tell him that this was Orric, the Master of the Feathers to the Duke of Nainan. He also didn't need Duke Cyron's suddenly frozen face to tell him that right now Orric was about as welcome as a man-eating tiger.

«Who mumbles lies about me into His Grace's ear?» roared Orric. His voice was in proportion to the rest of him.

Before either Alsin or the Duke could speak, Lord Gennar limped out of the crowd. He stood straight, even if he needed the help of a cane to do so. «I say the truth about what happened to me, and I would not have lived to tell of these things save for Lord Blade,» said Gennar firmly.

«I say that what is said against me and my loyalty to Duke Cyron is not true.» Orric rested one hand on his sword hilt. «By this steel I swear it.»

There was a long silence, and Blade got the distinct impression that everyone was waiting for somebody else to speak. Then Lord Gennar gripped his own sword and drew it.

«By this sword I swear that my words are the truth,» Gennar said.

«Then you have spoken words against the honor of a Lord,» said Orric, pronouncing the ritual phrase slowly and carefully. Each word was like a stone dropping into a well. He lowered his voice and said almost casually, «My honor. I will prove on your body that your words are false.»

Blade saw Lord Gennar swallow, but his voice was steady as he replied. «I shall prove upon your body that I speak the truth.»

This time the silence was broken by occasional mutterings. Blade heard the word «champion,» and saw a look pass between Alsin and the Duke at the word. Blade drew his knife and took two steps forward.

«I claim right to stand as champion to Lord Gennar. It will be some time before he is fit to fight Orric. Without a champion he must spend all that time bearing the name of 'liar,' or else fight and lose, to meet disgrace as well as death. That will be no true judgment of the Fathers, whatever Orric may have done or left undone.»

The Master of the Feathers glared at Blade. «This is no fit champion for Lord Gennar. He is no Lord.»

Marshal Alsin's sword was out of its scabbard before the echo of Orric's words died. «He is a Lord, for I have brought him before the Duke as one. He is a fit and lawful champion by the laws and customs of the Duchy of Nainan.»

«And I have received him as a Lord,» said the Duke, with a sideways look at his Marshal. «Therefore he is a Lord, by my will and judgment. Will you dispute this, in order to pick a fight which will prove nothing but that a healthy man is stronger than a wounded one?»

Blade rather wished the Duke hadn't added the last sentence. From the murmuring it seemed he had the Lords on his side, but Orric was growling like a hungry bear and looked ready to start swinging his sword at any moment. Blade measured the distance to the Master with his eyes, and shifted a couple of steps to the right, to make sure he was between Orric and the Duke. He also hoped Gennar would keep quiet. All they needed to set Orric off now would be another well-intentioned remark from Gennar.

Apparently Orric could also estimate the odds he would face if he openly defied the Duke. He drew his sword and saluted Blade with such elaborate courtesy that it was like a slap in the face. «So be it. If Lord Gennar consents, I shall fight Lord Blade as his champion. Does he consent?»

Gennar's head jerked in an angry nod; apparently he didn't trust himself to speak.

«Very well. I do not imagine that the Lord Blade will have long to enjoy his rank, nor Lord Gennar to enjoy the reputation of a truthful man. But that is as the Fathers will it.» He sheathed his sword with more elaborate flourishes, bowed to the Duke, bowed again to all the Lords, and stalked out. Blade noted that in spite of his size he moved with grace and precision.

Then everyone was crowding around, pounding him on the back and shoulders, packed so densely that Gennar with his wounded leg and arm was in danger of being knocked down. Above the close-cropped heads of the Lords, Blade saw Alsin and the Duke exchanging more looks. As soon as he could, he pushed his way through the crowd to Gennar. «I hope I didn't kick you out of the frying pan into the fire by offering to be your champion.»

«Out of the-oh, I understand. No. At least I think not. You have put yourself into a bad place, though. Orric will be out for blood, and he has never yet been beaten by any single man. That is why the Duke and Alsin-«He broke off as Blade put a finger to his lips and nodded politely. He would have liked to hear whatever Gennar had to say about the Duke and Alsin, but this wasn't the time or place.

Then Marshal Alsin was shouting in his bull's roar for everyone's attention, and the Lords saw the Duke stand up and draw his dagger. «In all we have just seen, we must not forget that this day we celebrate another victory of Nainan over Faissa. This day and this night we feast, and let no Lord hold back, for you have all deserved well of your Duke.»

The cheering echoed around the hall, and Blade saw that his duel with Orric had been completely forgotten. He wasn't surprised. He might be a Lord, but he was definitely a stranger, and no one in Nainan would be much the worse if Orric did hack him to pieces. The thought would have weakened the courage of a man less accustomed than Blade to guarding his own back from all enemies.