Wincing with every step, they slowly drifted back toward the end of the line of elves, finally settling in with the half-dozen elderly women who walked with silent determination through the cooling sand. Jedra didn't know for sure, but he suspected if any of them faltered, they would simply be left behind. That would explain their perseverance.

There were no elderly men. The tribe's chief was the oldest male Jedra had seen, and he was barely half the age of some of the women. He was still in excellent shape, too; even with his limp, it was he who set this breakneck pace. Jedra supposed most elven men died in battle or in hunting accidents long before they reached old age. Not an encouraging thought.

But then he wouldn't be traveling with the Jura-Dai for long. As soon as they reached a city where he and Kayan could arrange for more conventional transportation they could continue their search for a psionics master in relative safety and comfort. Jedra had the money he'd taken from Dornal, the dead mage. There was enough silver and gold in the leather pouch to provide for two travelers for at least a year if they were frugal, and Jedra was an expert at that. He also had the mage's charm bag full of spellcasting amulets and fetishes, which was of no use to a psionicist but might be worth quite a bit to another sorcerer. Yes, Jedra thought, if he and Kayan survived the next few days they should be all right. When the stars came out and the elves kept on marching, neither Jedra nor Kayan was at all sure what would come to pass, but finally, just as they were about to collapse right on the trail, the tribe came to a halt and began pitching tents.

Suddenly Jedra wished he had opted for bed instead. The elf girls were young and curious and hardly tired at all; their steady barrage of questions and the foreigners' answers drew more and more attention until everyone around the fire was listening to their tales of life in the city of Urik.

Kayan's description of her days as psionic healer among the templars drew a mixture of hostility and wonder. None of the elves-save maybe Galar-had ever come close to a sorcerer-king's palace, much less lived right next to one. It was clear that most of the elves didn't believe half of her descriptions of the riches she had enjoyed, especially the lush gardens the king kept hidden behind his palace walls.

Jedra's life on the streets was easier for them to understand, and in many ways more exciting. He recounted a few of his more audacious exploits in the market, and as he began warming to the subject he embellished things a bit, claiming for himself a few incidents that he had only witnessed or heard about. He was just getting to the good part of a complete fabrication about how he'd saved a noblewoman from a crazed gladiator when a sudden blow to his back sent him sprawling in the sand beside the fire.

His street instincts belatedly kicked into action. His loose robe nearly tangled him up, but he pulled it tight in front of him and rolled sideways to avoid a kick or a weapon blow, then leaped to his feet, ready to run or fight, whichever was required. It was the exact wrong thing to do; when his vision cleared he saw Sahalik standing before him, his arms crossed over his burly chest.

"Oops," Sahalik said in his deep voice. "I didn't see you there, hero." Then he sat down next to Kayan.

A few of the other elves laughed, and someone called out, "Ooh, don't let him get away with that!"

"Yeah," someone else said, "show him what you did to the gladiator!"

Jedra looked nervously at the sea of narrow faces turned toward him in the flickering firelight. They were all waiting to see what he would do, and he knew only one thing would satisfy them. He wasn't about to get himself killed just to please a tribe of elves, but even if he hadn't had an audience, he knew from experience that he had to stand up to Sahalik somehow or suffer his abuse indefinitely.

Trouble was, there was no way he could fight the elf warrior. Sahalik could tie him in a knot any time he wanted to, and they both knew it. Jedra's only chance was to humiliate him somehow and make him afraid to tangle with the half-elf again. He thought frantically for anything in his experience that might work here, and suddenly he had it. He had seen a pair of jesters stage a mock fight one time...

Straightening his robe again, he stepped back a pace to give himself some room, then swept his right foot across the ground from side to side, drawing a deep line in the sand with the toe of his sandal.

"I dare you to cross that line," he said.

The elves fell silent. They obviously hadn't expected Jedra to challenge the strongest member of the tribe.

Nor did Kayan. What are you thing? she mindsent. She started to get up, but Jedra stopped her.

Stay there! I'm trying to keep from getting killed.

I don't see how this is going to accomplish that, she said, but she settled back down.

Watch. Jedra beckoned to Sahalik with his fingers. "Come on, cross the line."

Sahalik grinned widely and came to his feet with a smooth unfolding of his legs. Balling his hands into fists, he took a step forward, then another-directly across Jedra's line in the sand.

But Jedra was no longer there waiting for him. The moment Sahalik had committed his weight to his second step, Jedra darted around him and dived for the vacant spot at Kayan's side.

"Thanks for keeping my seat warm," he said as nonchalantly as he could manage, twisting around to sit there as if nothing had ever happened.

The elves burst into laughter-all but Sahalik. The elf warrior whirled around to face Jedra, his eyebrows nearly meeting over his nose with the intensity of his scowl. He clenched and unclenched his fists, his face glowing even redder than the firelight could account for, then he shouted at the tribe, "Silence!"

He was their champion warrior, and next in line to be chief. They gave him silence. Sahalik turned back to Jedra and said, "You choose the coward's way out. Amusing, perhaps, but foolish tricks will not serve you in the desert. I challenge you to prove your worth to the tribe."

Sahalik spat into the fire. "Mental tricks are useless if he runs from battle. He must prove that he will fight, hand-to-hand in single combat, or he must leave us now."

"He's our guest, Sahalik," Galar said.

"He is a parasite," Sahalik answered.

Galar hesitated, obviously not wanting to put himself in Jedra's place, but he couldn't abandon his friend, either. Softly, he said, "This isn't about Jedra and you know it. You're just mad because Kayan prefers him to you."

Sahalik nodded. "Perhaps. Then I challenge him to fight for her as well as for his own honor."

Kayan had kept quiet so far, but at that she got up and stood in front of Sahalik, her hands on her hips, and said, "I'm not anybody's property to fight over. I choose whom I want to associate with, and you're not my type."

Sahalik barely glanced at her. "Beware, human woman, or you may find yourself alone in the desert with only your chosen worm for company."

A few of the other elves laughed at the affront, and Jedra realized he was losing them. They'd been perfectly happy to laugh at his amusing stories, and even at his practical joke, but he was an outsider and a half-elf. They weren't going to back him against one of their own. He would have to defuse the situation some other way.

He rose to his feet and said, "All right, both of you, that's enough. Insults and taunts are for children. We're supposed to be adults here; why don't we start acting like it?"

He meant it as a rebuke of the whole argument, but Sahalik said, "Yes, why don't we? Among the Jura-Dai, adults respond to a challenge."

The elves backed him up with shouts of, "Yeah, come on!" and "Fight, fight!"