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"Might be a bluff," the shirtless man, presumably Tuck, said. "They're trying to get you to fold up by showing you a big, mean Grog. I'll go out there. It's my skull."
"And end up like Fontrain?" the Dispatcher said. "No."
"That means a feud," a craggy-faced woman sitting cross-legged next to Valentine said to everyone and no one. "Oh Lord, lord."
Valentine stood up. "Sir, I'll take a whack at this Grog."
Hundreds of heads turned in his direction. The Dispatcher straightened.
"You ever even held a legworm crook, son?"
"I've played grounders with Grogs," Valentine said, which wasn't quite true. He'd whacked a ball around with a cross between a hockey stick and a cricket bat a few times as Ahn-Kha taught him the fundamentals of the Grog game, and ended up bruised at all compass points.
Consternation broke out in the crowd; much of it sounded approving. "What do we have to lose?" "Leastways if he gets his head bashed in, it's no feud."
"Can we trust you, um, David?" the Dispatcher asked.
"I don't see how you can lose. You're ready to forfeit. Worst thing that could happen is that you pay the ransom anyway and get your riders back."
"Let David do it," the woman next to him called. "Let him take that Goliath."
The crowd liked the sound of that.
"Okay, boy, strip down and grab your crook."
"I've got one request, Dispatcher."
McDonald R. Dalian's eyes narrowed. "What's that?"
"Can I borrow a pair of underwear? Mine aren't fit for public display."
The crowd laughed.
* * * *
Valentine stood behind a blanket held up by Ahn-Kha as he stripped.
Zak held out a white pair of shorts. "They look a little odd but they're the best thing for riding. They're military issue up in Indiana for their bike troops. Everything stays tucked up real tight."
"Thank you."
As he tried on the shorts Ahn-Kha spoke. "My David, let me try my luck at this."
"I'm from Minnesota, old horse. Born with a hockey stick in my hand."
"Then you will be careful out there."
"Since when am I anything but?"
"In what year were you born?" Ahn-Kha asked, ears askew.
"Be careful. If it is a Grey One, when they are on all fours and running they cannot turn their heads, or hear very well behind. He will not see you if you come at him from the side."
Neither would a freight train, Valentine thought. Doesn't mean I can bodychecI{ it off its course.
"Understood," Valentine said.
Price paced back and forth as Bee pulled up and chewed on dandelion roots. Valentine wondered where Duvalier had gone. But then a sporting event, even one as deadly serious as this, probably wasn't of interest to her.
