"Fighting just for the sake of a fight is for children, too," Jedra said loudly. "There are better ways to resolve our differences."

"Like what, flip a coin?" someone called out.

"No," Jedra said over the rising laughter. "We can choose a judge who will listen to both sides of the argument and decide who is right."

"You'd rather talk than fight," Sahalik said contemptuously.

Jedra turned to face him, but he spoke to everyone. "Of course I'd rather talk than fight. With talk you can actually solve the problem, but in a fight you can only beat your opponent into submission. Nothing is resolved but the question of who has the bigger muscles."

Sahalik sneered. "And the question of who has the courage to enter battle-and who does not."

Again, someone shouted "Fight!" Another voice echoed the first, then another. Once it got started there was no stopping it. Chanting "Fight, fight, fight!" continuously now, the elves backed away to clear a space around Sahalik and Jedra. Kayan and Galar stood their ground, but there was nothing they could do and everyone knew it.

Jedra felt sick to his stomach, as if he had already been punched there. He was going to have to fight this slab of muscle and sinew after all. Either that or fend for himself in the desert, and he knew how poor his chances would be there. He looked around at the jeering faces for some sign that this might be a cruel joke, that he might be offered a last-minute reprieve, but all around him he saw only hostility and eagerness for a conflict.

Then the crowd suddenly quieted. All the faces turned away from the fire, toward the tents, where a lone figure limped toward them: the chief.

Jedra sighed in relief. Surely the leader of the tribe wouldn't allow a guest to be suckered into a fight merely to satisfy one belligerent warrior. He would set things straight, and maybe even order Sahalik to leave Kayan alone from now on.

The crowd parted for the chief, then closed again behind him. "What's going on here?" he demanded.

Galar explained the situation. He left out Kayan's role in the dispute, which made Sahalik's actions seem less petty, but Jedra didn't think it wise to correct him. Sahalik looked bad enough as it was. The chief frowned throughout Galar's explanation, then he turned to Sahalik and said, "It is obvious that you have let anger cloud your duty toward hospitality. Do you persist in challenging our guest to combat?"

Sahalik stood his ground. "I do. If the half-elf is going to travel with us, I must know if he can be counted on in battle."

"I have eyes," he told him. "And ears. Rumor spreads like the wind through this camp. But we have rules, and though Sahalik's motives are suspect, he is within his right to demand a test." Jedra's heart fell again as the chief turned to him and said, "Jedra, your courage has been called into question. You must accept Sahalik's challenge or leave the tribe."

Chapter Two

"You're kidding." Jedra stared at the chief as if he'd just said it was going to rain. "Anybody here can call anybody else a coward, and that person has to fight him? That's a tribal rule?"

The chief nodded. "It is the way of the desert."

"Well it's a pretty barbaric way as far as I'm concerned," Jedra said. He sighed heavily. "But we're your guests, so I guess we'll play by your rules." He untied his robe and handed it to Kayan, leaving himself free to move in only his breechcloth and sandals.

The elves cheered and whistled, excited that there would be a fight after all. Jedra heard rapid discussion in elvish, and saw money changing hands. Was someone actually betting on him? Or were they just betting on how long the fight would last? He didn't want to know.

You don't have to do this, Kayan mindsent through the din. Not for me. We can take our chances in the desert.

Jedra flexed his arms and legs to loosen them up. Adrenalin made him feel alert, but he knew it was a false high. His body was exhausted from hours of steady marching, and it wouldn't put out much more effort without a night's rest.

Even so, he said to Kayan, No, we don't know enough yet. We'd be dead by morning. At least this way one of us will survive. And who knows, maybe both of us will. If they do this all the time, it can't very mil be a fight to the death or there'd be nobody left in the tribe.

Kayan was realist enough not to protest any further. She said, At least let me share the last of my strength with you.

She could do that, Jedra knew. She had done it in the caravan when the slave master had punished him for attempting to escape. But even together they didn't have the strength to defeat Sahalik. Not physically, at any rate. And if they tried to fight the elf psionically, their unpredictable power could just as easily kill him as subdue him. Jedra might not have minded that on general principles, but he didn't think it would sit well with the tribe. No, he told her. Save it for after the fight. I'll need it more then anyway.

She looked into his eyes, an odd, almost proud smile on her face. Could she actually be excited by all this? I'll stay linked with you in case you need me, she sent.

No, Jedra said again. I'll do better without the distraction. He pulled his hair back and tied it in a knot so it would stay out of his eyes, then said aloud, "All right, let's get this over with."

He crouched down and held his arms out in what he hoped was a fighter's stance. He had never entered a contest like this before; all his previous physical conflicts had been sudden things, ambushes in the dark or other people's brawls that got out of hand. They had all been over just as quickly, for Jedra usually didn't stick around any longer than he had to. Too many street fighters ended up dead for there to be any future in it.

The chief backed away from Jedra and Sahalik, pulling Galar and Kayan back with him into the circle of elves. Sahalik grinned at Jedra; the place where his two teeth were missing looked like a gap in a fence. No, more like a hole in a block wall. The elf was easily twice Jedra's weight. "I will feed your bones to the kanks," he said in his deep voice.

That sounded like a formal insult. Jedra certainly hoped it was, anyway. He wondered what the formal reply was, but since he didn't know it, he merely said, "They'll be too busy feeding on your bloated carcass to care." Before Sahalik could react, he leaped forward and swung his right fist into the elf's stomach, putting all his weight behind it, then dodged to the left and dived to the sand. Sahalik roared with surprise and spun around to face Jedra again, but Jedra had already tangled his legs between his opponent's. Sahalik teetered for a second, waving his arms madly for balance, but he finally toppled to the side.

That gave Jedra the perfect opportunity to grab one of the elf's arms and wrench it around behind his back, but when he tried to push himself up to do it a sharp pain lanced up through his arm and he fell back to the ground. He didn't know how to hit someone properly: he had broken his hand.

Sahalik didn't waste any time; he was back on his feet in an instant, apparently none the worse for Jedra's punch. Jedra used his uninjured arm to push himself away just as Sahalik aimed a kick at his head, then he got to his feet and circled warily to the side, watching his opponent's eyes and trying to anticipate what he would do next.

Sahalik was waiting for just such a move. The moment Jedra's weight shifted, he kicked out with one of his long legs and caught Jedra in the ribs, knocking him backward onto the sand next to the fire. Jedra gasped for breath, but none came. He didn't have time for another attempt; Sahalik was upon him in an instant, aiming a roundhouse blow to the side of his head.