By this time the entire camp was packed around the circle. "You have already made your point," Sav said. "I will meet you."
"Yourself and your entire tribe against what I have here?" Sos inquired, mocking him.
"My skill against your skill," Sav said, refusing to be ruffled. "My group-against your service and complete information about yourself. Who you are, where you came from, how you learned to fight like that, who sent you here."
"My service you may have, if you win it, or my life- but I am sworn to secrecy about the rest. Name othes terms."
Sav picked up his staff. "Are you afraid to meet me?"
The men chuckled. Sav had nicely turned the dialogue on him. Who mocked whom?
"I cannot commit that information to the terms of the circle. I have no right."
"You have shown us your strength. We are curious. You ask me to put up my entire camp-but you won't even agree to put up your history. I don't think you really want to fight, stranger." The gathered men agreed vociferously, enjoying the exchange.
Sos appreciated certain qualities of leadership he had never recognized in Sav before. Sav had surely seen that he must lose if he entered the circle, and be shamed if he didn't. Yet he was forcing Sos to back off. Sav could refuse to do battle unless his terms were met, and do so with honor-and the word would quickly spread to Sol's other tribal leaders. It was a tactical, masterstroke.
He would have to compromise. "All right," he said. "Bul I will tell only you. No one else."
"But I will tell whom I please!" Sav specified.
Sos did not challenge that. He had to hope that, if by some mischance he lost, he could still convince Sav in private of the necessity for secrecy. Sav was a sensible, easygoing individual; he would certainly listen and think before acting.
It was too bad that the smiling staffer had to be hurt by his friend.
Sav entered the circle. He had improved; his staff was blindingly swift and unerringly placed. Sos tried to catch the weapon and could not. The man had profited from observation of the two lesser warriors, and never let his staff stand still long enough to be grabbed. He also wastec no effort striking the column of gristle. `He maneuvered instead for face shots, hoping to blind his antagonist, and rapped at elbows and wrists and feet. He also kept moving, as though certain that so solid a body would tire soon.
It was useless. Sos sparred a few minutes so that the staffer would not lose face before his men, then blocked the flying shaft and caught Sav's forearm. He yanked it to him and brought his other hand to bear.
There was a crack.
Sos let go and shoved the man out of the circle. No warrior present could mistake the finality of a dripping compound fracture. Men took hold of Sav as he staggered, hauled, at his arm and set the exposed bone in place and bound the terrible wound in gauze, while Sos watched mipassively from the circle.
It had not been strictly necessary. He could have won in a hundred kinder ways. But he had needed a victory that was serious and totally convincing. Had Sav lost indecisively, or by some trick blow that made him stumble from the circle like an intoxicated person, unmarked, the gathered witnesses would have been quick to doubt his capability or desire to fight, and the job would be unfinished. The break was tangible; Sav's men knew immediately that no one could have succeeded where their leader had failed, and that there had been no collusion and no cowardice.
Sos had inflicted dreadful pain, knowing that his erstwhile friend could bear it, in order to preserve what was more important: the loser's reputation.
"Put your second-in-command in charge of this camp," Sos snapped at Sav, showing no softness. "You and I take the trail-tomorrow morning, alone."
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Two men moved out, one with his arm in cast and sling. They marched as far as the broken arm and loss of blood permitted, and settled into a hostel for the' evening, without company.
"Why?" Sav inquired as Sos fixed supper. `
"Why the arm?"
"No. I understand that. Why you?"
"I have been assigned to take over Sol's empire. He will hardly meet me in the circle until I bring down his chief lieutenants."
Sav leaned back carefully, favoring the arm. "I mean why you-Sos?"
First man, second day. He had betrayed himself already. "You can trust me," Sav said. "I never told anyone about your nights with Sola, and I wasn't bound by the circle code then, not to you, I mean. I won't tell anyone now. The information belonged to me only if I won it from you, and I didn't."
"How did you know?"
"Well, I did room with you quite a spell, remember. I got to know you pretty well, and not just by sight. I know how you think and how you smell. I was awake some last night-little ache in my arm-and I walked by your tent."
"How did you know me' sleeping when you did not know me awake?"
Sav smiled. "I recognized your snore."
"My-" He hadn't even known he snored.
"And one or two other things fit into place," Sav continued. "Like the way you stared at the spot on the ground where our little tent used to be-and I know you weren't remembering me! And the way you hummed `Red River Valley' today while we marched, same way Sola used to hum `Greensleeves,' even if you do carry a tune even worse than you did before. And the way you took care to make me look good in the circle, make me lose like a man. You didn't have to do that. You were taking care of me, same way I took care of you before."
"You took care of me?"
"You know-keeping the gals away from your tent all winter, even if I had to service `em myself. Sending a man to bring Sol back when it was time. Stuff like that."
Sol had stayed away...until Sola was pregnant!
"You knew about Sol?"
"I'm just naturally nosy, `I guess. But I can keep my mouth shut."
"You certainly can!" Sos took a moment to adjust himself to the changed situation. The staffer was a lot more knowledgeable and discreet than he had ever suspected. "All right, Sav. I'll tell you everything-and you can tell me how to keep my secrets so that nobody else catches on. Fair enough?"
"Deal! Except-"
"No exceptions. I can't tell anyone else."
"Except a couple are going to know anyway, no way to stop it. You get within a hundred feet of Sol, he'll know you. He's that way. And you won't fool Sola long, either. The others-well, if we can fake out Tor, no problem."
Sav was probably right. Somehow the thought did not disturb Sos; if he did his honest best to conceal his identity, but was known by those closest to him anyway, he could hardly be blamed. The word would not spread.
"You asked `why me? That's the same question I asked myself. They put pressure on me, but it wouldn't have been enough if I hadn't had internal doubts. Why me? The answer is, because I built the empire, though they didn't know that. I started it, I organized it, I trained it, I left men after me who could keep it rolling. If it is wrong, then I have a moral obligation to dismantle it-and I may be the only one who can do it without calamitous bloodshed. I am the only one who really understands its nature and the key individuals within it-and who can defeat Sol in the circle."
"Maybe you better start at the beginning," Sav said. "You went away, then I heard you came back with the rope, and Sol beat you and you went to the mountain-"
It was late at night by the time the complete story had been told.
Tyl's camp was much larger than Sav's had been. This was an acquisition tribe, contrasted to the training tribe, and by itself numbered almost five-hundred warriors. This time there was no stupidity at the entrance; Sav was a ranking member of the hierarchy, and there was the unmistakable ring of command in his normally gentle voice as he cut through obstacles. Ten minutes after they entered the camp they stood before Tyl himself.
"What brings you here unattended, comrade?" Tyl inquired cautiously, not commenting on the mending arm. He looked older, but no less certain of himself.
"I serve a new master. This is the nameless one, who sought me out and defeated me in the circle. Now he offers me and my tribe against you and yours."
Tyl contemplated Sos's tunic, trying to penetrate to the body beneath it. "With all due respect, ex-comrade, my tribe is more powerful than yours. He will have to meet my subchiefs first."
"Of course. Post a third of your tribe to correspond to mine. After the nameless one defeats your man, he will match both sections against the remainder. You can study' him today and meet him tomorrow."
"You seem to have confidence in him," Tyl observed.
Sav turned to Sos. "Master, if you would remove your dress-"
Sos obliged, finding it easy to let Sav handle things. The man certainly had talent for it. This early acquisition had been most fortunate. -
Tyl looked. "I see," he said, impressed. "And what is his weapon?" Then, "I see," again.
That afternoon Sos knocked out the subchief sworder with a single hammerblow of one fist to the mid-section. He had the sword by the blade, having simply caught it in midthrust and held it. A slight crease showed along the callus covering the metallic mesh embedded in his palm where the edge had cut; that was all. He had closed upon the blade carefully, but the witnesses had not been aware of that. They had assumed that he had actually halted' the full thrust with an unprotected hand.
Tyl, like Sav, was quick to learn. He, too, employed the sword, and he fenced with Sos's hands as though they were daggers, and with his head as though it were a club, and he kept his distance. It was wise strategy. The singing blade maintained an expert defense, and Tyl never took a chance.
But he forgot one thing: Sos had feet as well as hands and head. A sharp kick to the kneecap brought temporary paralysis there, interfering with mobility. Tyl knew he had lost, then, for even a narrow advantage inevitably grew, but he fought on, no coward. Not until both knees were dislocated did he attempt the suicide plunge.
Sos left the blade sticking in his upper arm and touched his fingers to the base of Tyl's exposed neck, and it was over.
Then he withdrew the blade and bound the wound together himself. It had been a stab, not a slash, and the metal reinforcement within the bone had stopped the point. The arm would heal.
When Tyl could walk, Sos added him to the party. They set out for the next major tribe, getting closer to Sol's own camp. Tyl traveled with his family, since Sos had not guaranteed any prompt return to the tribe, and Tyla took over household chores. The children stared at the man who had defeated their father, hardly able to accept it. They were too young yet to appreciate all the facts of battle, and had not understood that Tyl had been defeated at the time he joined Sol's nascent group. There were no frank conversations along the way Tyl did not recognize the nameless one, and Sav cleverly nullified dangerous remarks.,
They caught up to Tor's tribe after three weeks. Sos had determined that he needed one more leader in his retinue before he had enough to force Sol into the circle. He now had authority over more than six-hundred men-but eight tribes remained, some very large. Sol could still preserve his empire by refusing to let these tribes accept the challenge and by refraining from circle combat himself. But acquisition of a third tribe should make Sos's chunk of empire too big to let go.
Tor's tribe was smaller than Tyl's and more loosely organized, but still a formidable spread. A certain number of doubles teams were practicing, as though the encounter with the Pits had come out about even. Sos expected competent preparations for his coming, and was not disappointed. Tot met him promptly and took him into private conference, leaving Sav and Tyl out of it.
"I see you are a family man," he said.
Sos glanced at his bare wrist. "I was once a family man."
"Oh, I see." Tor, searching for weakness, had missed. "Well, I understand- you came out of nowhere,' defeated Sav and Tyl and mean to challenge Sol for his empire, and that you actually enter the circle without a weapon."
"Yes."
"It would seem foolish for me to meet you personally, since Tyl is a better fighter than I."
Sos did not comment.
"Yet it is not in my nature to avoid a challenge. Suppose we do this: I will put my tribe up against yours if you will meet my representative."
"One of your subchiefs? I will not put up six-hundred men against a minor." But Sos's real concern was whether Tor recognized him.
"I did not say that. I said my representative, who is not a member of my group, against you, alone. If he beats you, you will release your men and go your way; Sol will reconquer them in time. If you overcome him, I will turn over my group to you, but I will remain in the service of Sol. I do not care to serve any other master at this time."
"This is a curious proposition." There had to be a hidden aspect to it, since Tor was always clever.
"Friend, you are a curious proposition."
Sos considered it, but discovered nothing inherently unfair about the terms. If he won, he had the tribe. If he lost, he was still free to try for Sol at a later date. It did not matter whom he fought; he would have to defeat the man sooner or later anyway, to prevent resurgence of the empire under some new master.
And it seemed that Tor did not recognize him, which was a private satisfaction. Perhaps he had worried too much about that.
"Very well I will meet this man."
"He will behere in a couple of days. I have already sent a runner to fetch him. Accept our hospitality in the interim."
Sos got up to leave. "One thing," he said, remembering.
"Who is this man?"
"His name is Bog. Bog the club."
Trust wily Tor to think of that! The one warrior not even Sol had been able to defeat.