"I cast no spells, Iften. I have only the skills and knowledge of my craft. The rest is in thehands of the Goddess. Or the elements."
There was a long pause, and for a moment I held the hope that he would agree. But his facedarkened, and anger flared in his eyes. I'd lost.
He spat out his fury. "I've listened, and the wind has brought me nothing. Leave."
"Fool," Prest said.
Without a thought, Iften reached for his weapon, but the pain caught him even faster as the armbegan to move. He hissed, drawing the limb back against his chest.
I turned and left without another word. As we emerged and headed toward Keir's tent, Iquestioned Prest. "What was that?"
He smiled, the wind catching his braids. "A teaching tool."
"For children." Rafe shook his head. "For a quiet man, you can sure make someone froth atthe mouth."
Prest grinned.
Rafe turned back to me. "It goes like this, Warprize.
The wind will teach us—if we but listen.
The stars will guide us—if we but look up.
The waters will cool us—if we but seek it.
The fire will warm us—if we are wary.
Remember this, Child of the Plains.
I nodded, then looked over at Prest. "You insulted him."
Prest shrugged, but there was no grin this time. "How long, Warprize?"
"Before he loses the use?" At his nod, I continued. "It depends on the swelling. But thedamage will be permanent if he doesn't get it seen to within the next week or so. And eventhen, I might have to re-break the bone."
Prest grunted, but he looked oddly satisfied.
The combats proved to be both unsettling and exciting.
Unsettling because these warriors went at it tooth and nail, with bare steel and grim faces. Iwas used to watching practice sessions, but that didn't prepare me for naked combat. True,they were to first blood, but they took the fighting deadly seriously. Each combat had a judge,usually one of the warleaders, or Keir himself.
Exciting because each combat had warriors watching, warriors who yelled out their support,their criticisms and encouragement. More mob than audience. The first one or two, I had satthere in fear, waiting for one to kill the other. But Isdra pointed out the level of skill that thewarriors were using, and Yers explained that it was considered disgraceful to kill someone inthese types of fights. So I started to relax. The noise was startling but the fever was catching,and I found myself yelling as well. Keir, laughing at my enthusiasm, had reminded me that itwould be best if I showed no favoritism. It was hard to sit there and watch without reallyparticipating, so I spent more time in my stilltent. Because the combats accomplished morethan just determining a winner: They also had warriors seeking me out for aid. The last one fortoday was standing before me, holding his right arm in his left hand.
"That looks deep." I reached for his arm, to see it better. The blood was oozing through hisleather armor. It looked clean, thank the Goddess, and I looked up to offer reassurance.
Large brown eyes stared at me glumly through fairly long brown hair. "I made it through fourrounds, Warprize, but Ander's blow went right through the leather."
If he was twenty, I'd be surprised. A warrior, and his disappointment was obvious. I turned thearm carefully, to look at it closer. "A nasty cut. Sit here, and let me see to it."
The lad shifted from foot to foot before sitting down rather slowly. I called to Rafe, standingguard outside, then turned back to my patient. "What is your name?"
"Cadr, Warprize."
With Rafe's help, we eased the young man out of his armor. Rafe whistled when he saw the cutthrough the leather. "Who was your opponent?"
"Ander."
Rafe nodded. "He's a strong one. How many rounds did you make it through?"
