Isaac squinted. The bright sun beat down on Duelists' Street from a pale pink sky, and somehow he'd ended up with the south-facing side of the fight.
It didn't seem fair. He was about to get killed anyway.
A dozen or so paces from him stood the greatest swordsman in the city of Pavairelle, Kendorik Oparashan, handing his cloak to a friend and laughing with easy grace and confidence. It was obvious he had no doubt as to the outcome of this contest. Nor did any of the spectators; Isaac wasn't listening too closely, but the odds being offered were enough to make him want to bet against himself.
He looked over at Elena, watching with a worried expression. Nevid had disappeared, but Isaac could just catch sight of Etienne, talking with a couple of shopgirls who were peering over other spectators, eager for the duel to begin. Arrafin hadn't even come.
Sourly Isaac waited, his eyes darting to the tall Blood Council woman who stood motionless between himself and Kendorik. Kimiko Torokan, struggling against some foreign sorcerer in an effort to control a mysterious breeding program. Whatever.
Kendorik drew his rapier and advanced, and throughout the crowd a murmur spread. The handsome young man was famous in Pavairelle for his unbeatable skill with his sword, and dozens of lives had been lost to his quick reflexes and uncanny agility. Isaac grunted and drew his heavy hand-and-a-half sword and stood waiting.
No sense hurrying what everyone thought was inevitable.
*****
"Tushan Kal Kabbar... Yes, there are some references."
Arrafin nodded as Dean Rezhik flipped through heavy books. She'd come to Pavairelle University to research some of the things they'd learned from Laughter of Stones.
"Aha. King's Ride."
His thin voice took on a sombre quality as he read the poem out loud.
When I ride I am a King
Wealthy and benign
I am a King when I ride
And all the Narid is my land
I am Tushan Kal Kabbar
Great among the ancients
Clearing the mighty forests
And gathering the people
Rich beyond all measure
Strong beyond all men
I am Tushan Kal Kabbar
Great among the ancients
Arrafin looked up, confused.
"I know that tune. That's Naridic."
"Yes, it's a beni Howetait song. This is from Desert Songs, a collection of Howetait songs published here in Pavairelle."
"What does it mean? I've never heard of Tushan Kal Kabbar."
Dean Rezhik coughed.
"Well, the song goes on to reference Suelekar Ben Azan, and the Sharina beni Howetait. The obvious conclusion is that Tushan Kal Kabbar predates Ben Azan."
"Karidish? Dean, could the Karidish people have been black-skinned?"
The University professor shrugged, curious about the intense interest this thin Naridic girl had in ancient history.
"There are no surviving images. It's always been assumed they were racially Naridic, but there's nothing to say they might not have been Peranese. The jungles of Peran are rumoured to lie south of the Narid, and it's always been said the Peranese are black. Who can say?"
"Hm. What about Tabbadur? Did you find anything about that?"
"Oh, yes. It's mentioned numerous times, but exactly what it is is never really said. Contemporary sources seem to take it for granted that everyone knows what Tabbadur is. It was created by Suelekar Ben Azan, or at least he is variously attributed as its creator. One song, called, 'The Death of Farouk Ibn Zaoud,' starts When bold Ben Azan built Tabbadur / He did not build alone / For at his side, with loyal heart / Stood Farouk ibn Zaoud. That same poem goes on to mention that Farouk died on the field at Karhoum dar Than, in the deep Eastern Desert."
Arrafin stared sightlessly for a second. Suelekar Ben Azan and Farouk Ibn Zaoud. Tabbadur. Karhoum dar Than. Names out of childhood legend. People and places it had never even occured to her might be real.
And magic. She recalled Adil and his constant shrieks.
"I think Tabbadur has opened. And I think that's a bad thing. Maybe there was something inside it that needed to stay there."
"What?"
Dean Rezhik watched in confusion as Arrafin gathered up her notes and, mumbling to herself, left his office.
*****
The first clash of steel released a noisy sigh from all around as the audience exhaled in unison. Isaac side-stepped desperately and backed away from Kendorik's flickering point.
The man deserved his reputation. He was fast, accurate and terrifying. His eyes seemed to almost roll back in his head as he pressed forward, as though he fought without sight, by some kind of instinct.
Isaac knocked aside one thrust after another, without any chance to launch an attack of his own. Kendorik came on, relentless, and some part of Isaac's brain noticed money changing hands among the spectators and realised that people weren't betting on who would win the match, but only on how long he'd manage to stay alive before Kendorik killed him.
The thought irritated the Saijadani. He put both hands on his swordhilt and smashed aside Kendorik's rapier, reaching out with a wild swing that, much to his surprise, actually connected.
Only in the barest way, and only resulting in a tiny scratch on his opponent's arm, but it was something. More money changed hands and Isaac grinned in satisfaction.
Until he realised he'd just made his opponent angry.
"You're paying for laundry and mending, Saijadani. After I've killed you."
"That's fair."
*****
Nevid frowned at the sneering Pavairellean.
"What makes Hector think we'd give him the guns, assuming we had any guns to give?"
The oily little man nodded and smiled.
"Tell the half-breed we've got his Kishak friend, Korath Tushan, and unless those guns are in our hands by midnight, we're cutting the red bastard's throat. Is that clear, Saijadani?"
"Clear enough. I'll pass on the message."
Nevid plunged back into the crowd to find Etienne.
*****
The faces around him spun as he circled away from Kendorik's gleaming sword, leaping in at him again and again.
Isaac grunted with each desperate parry, feeling himself beginning to flail as Kendorik turned up the pressure. Slowly. Isaac was beginning to realise he hadn't seen half of this man's skill. And now the sword came at him again, faster and more deadly and he parried once, twice, twisted stumbling backwards, and knowing that only because he had stable cobblestones underfoot and room to back up had he not already been skewered.
At which point the cobblestones under his feet shifted and Isaac fell flat on his back. Which gave him a bit of breathing space, as Kendorik backed off to allow him to stand. Some folks in the crowd jeered and Isaac scowled as he got to his feet.
He saluted Kendorik.
"Time to finish this."
The Pavairellean nodded.
"Exactly what I was thinking."
He lunged at Isaac, the tip of his sword floating up, then down and under Isaac's parry, rising up again to strike the Saijadani right in the chest. Isaac looked down to see the blade shorten against his chest as Kendorik thrust forward, feeling only a slight pressure there.
He looked up in surprise.
"Holy crap. You've killed me."
"That was the plan, I believe."
"Yeah, but..."
Isaac crashed down to the cobblestones, only vaguely hearing Elena's grief-stricken scream.
Marques ran out with his doctor and the two men knelt beside Isaac's crumpled form. The doctor looked up and shook his head and Marques nodded to Blood Sister Torokan.
The imperious Blood Sister raised her wavy-bladed dagger.
"Blood speaks! Blood has spoken! Blood cannot be denied!"
She pointed the dagger at Kendorik even as Marques was calling forth bearers to take Isaac's body up to the del Maraviez house. The Saijadani merchant looked across the circle to where Fernandez del Orofin stood watching.
"Tell Pilar it's not over, old man! This boy was son of my father's friend, and I'm not afraid to follow through on his vengeance. You tell Pilar to stay out of Pavairelle."
He turned to follow Elena and the men carrying Isaac's body. Behind him, the defeated Saijadani's battered hat lay unattended on the cobblestones.
