Again, silence.
“I’m with you.”
The words tumbled out of Rae’s mouth before she could think better of them.
Omari elbowed her. “What are you doing?” he whispered harshly.
“What?” she whispered back. “You said you wanted to fight, why didn’t you volunteer?”
“I wasaboutto, but then you—”
“Who speaks?” Asim called out, scanning the crowd.
The people in front of her parted, leaving a clear path to the front. But when the men saw who she was, they erupted withexclamations of surprise and irritation.
“Is that Ankhu’s girl?”
“Raetawy, this is no place for you!”
“What fool brought her here?”
“That fool brought her.” Asim pointed at Omari. Omari ducked his head as the jeers were diverted in his direction. “Butthisfool let her in.” Asim pointed to himself.
The crowd quieted.
“And with good reason, it seems, if it takes a farmer’s daughter to shame you all into action.”
“It’s not that we don’t agree with you, Asim,” the brewer called out. He was a short man, shaped like a barrel. “But what chance do we have against the Medjay?”
The other men nodded their agreement.
“We all want change,” the brewer continued, “but there must be a way to achieve it that doesn’t put all our lives at risk. It’s all very well for this girl to volunteer, but she can’t reallyfight, so—”
“I can fight,” Rae broke in.
The brewer scoffed.
Omari must have caught the set of Rae’s jaw, even in the dark, and uttered a warning. “Ay…”
Rae ignored him. Her pride had run away with her, leaving caution far behind. She threw off her shawl, dropping it in a heap on the ground. Her wounds stung in protest, but she ignored them too.
Two farmers stood nearby, leaning on their walking sticks, watching the scene unfold.
“Do you think I could borrow those?” Rae asked them.
Puzzled but curious, the men agreed. With the long palm-wood sticks in hand, Rae turned to Asim.
“Icanfight,” she said. “Give me a chance to prove myself in a match of tahtib. I challenge any man here who wishes to makeme a liar.”
A roar of excitement greeted her offer, but Asim silenced them. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
His voice was kind, and that annoyed her. “My challenge stands,” she replied.
Asim shrugged, his eyes glittering with amusement. “Very well, Raetawy. But as you can see, I am the leader here. If you’re to fight anyone in this company, it will be me.” He held out his hand.
Rae’s breath caught in her throat. As usual, her ego had led her into deep waters. She’d occasionally participated in tahtib matches in the street fights, so she was comfortable with an asa—plus, she’d already sized up the men in the crowd and felt confident she could hold her own against them. But she’d never considered Asim. Aside from Omari, he was the largest man there, and despite his age, he looked as fierce as a lion.
No turning back now, she thought grimly, and tossed one of the improvised asa sticks to her opponent. Asim caught the asa and spun it, rolling it over his hand and catching it again with fluid dexterity. Hopping down from the altar, he approached and the crowd backed away, leaving them a wide berth. Holding the long sticks by their ends, Rae and Asim circled each other, swirling the weapons around their bodies, like a dance. The crowd began to chant and beat their hands against their thighs in a steady rhythm.
