,"But I am only a poor Tuchuk," wailed Kamchak.

Kamras laughed. "The sword," he said, yet again.

I thought, all things considered, that the stipulation of Kamras regarding weapons was cruel and shameful.

"But how would I, a poor Tuchuk," Kamchak was moan- ing, "know anything of the sword?"

'when withdraw," said Kamras, loftily, "and I will take this Kassar wench slave to Turia.

The girl moaned.

Kamras smiled with contempt. "You see," he said, "I am Champion of Turia and I have no particular wish to stain my blade with the blood of an urt."

The urt is a loathsome, horned Gorean rodent; some are quite large, the size of wolves or ponies, but most are very small, tiny enough to be held in the palm of one hand. "Well," said Kamchak, "I certainly would not want that to happen either."

The Kassar girl cried out in distress.

"Fight him, filthy Tuchuk" screamed Aphris of Turia, pulling against the retaining rings.

"Do not be uneasy, gentle Aphris of Turia," said Kamras. "Permit him to withdraw branded braggart and coward. Let him live in his shame, for so much the richer will be your vengeance."

But the lovely Aphris was not convinced. "I want him slain," she cried, "cut into tiny pieces, the death of a thou sand cuts!"

"Withdraw," I advised Kamchak.

"Do you think I should," he inquired.

"Yes," I said, "I do."

Kamras Divas regarding Aphris of Turia. "If it is truly your wish," he said, "I will permit him to choose weapons agreea ble to us both."

"It is my wish," she said, "that he be slaint"

Kamras shrugged. "All right," he said, "I will kill him." He then turned to Kamchak. "All right' Tuchuk," he said, "I will permit you to choose weapons agreeable to us both." "But perhaps I will not fight," said Kamchak warily. Kamras clenched his fists. "Very well," he said, "as you wish."

"But then again," mused Kamchak, "perhaps I shall." Aphris of Turia cried out in rage and the Kassar wench in distress.

"I will fight," announced Kamchak.

Both girls cried out in pleasure.

The judge now entered the name of Kamchak of the Tuchuks on his lists.

"What weapon do you choose?" asked the judge. "Remem ber," cautioned the judge, "the weapon or weapons chosen must be mutually agreeable."

Kamchak seemed lost in thought and then he looked up brightly. "I have always wondered," he said, "what it would be like to hold a sword."

The judge nearly dropped the list.

"I will choose the sword," said Kamchak.

The Kassar girl moaned.

Kamras looked at Aphris of Turia, dumbfounded. The girl herself was speechless. "He is mad," said Kamras of Turia. "Withdraw," I urged Kamchak.

"It is too late now," said the judge.

"It is too late now," said Kamchak, innocently.

Inwardly I moaned, for in the past months I had come to respect and feel an affection for the shrewd, gusty brawny Tuchuk.

Two swords were brought, Gorean short swords, forged in Ar.

Kamchak picked his up as though it were a wagon lever, used for loosening the wheels of mired wagons.

Kamras and I both winced.

Then Kamras, and I give him credit, said to Kamchak, 'withdraw." I could understand his feelings. Kamras was, after all, a warrior, and not a butcher.

"A thousand cuts!" cried the gentle Aphris of Turia. "A piece of gold to Kamras for every cull" she cried. Kamchak was running his thumb on the blade. I saw a sudden, bright drop of blood on his thumb. He looked up. "Sharp," he said.

"Yes," I said in exasperation. I turned to the judge. "May I fight for Lima" I demanded.

"It is not permitted," said the judge.

"But," said Kamchak, "it was a good idea."

I seized Kamchak by the shoulders. "Kamras has no real wish to kill you," I said. "It is enough for him to shame you. Withdraw."

Suddenly the eyes of Kamchak gleamed. "Would you see me shamed?" he asked.

I looked at him, "Beher, my friend," I said, "that than death."

"No," said Kamchak, and his eyes were like steel, "better death than shame."

I stepped back. He was Tuchuk. I would sorely miss my friend, the ribald, hard-drinking, stomping, dancing Kamchak of the Tuchuks.

In the last moment I cried out to Kamchak, "For the sake of Priest-Kings, hold the weapon thus" trying to teach him the simplest of the commoner grips for the hilt of the short sword, permitting a large degree of both retention and flexi- bility. But when I stepped away he was now holding it like a Gorean angle saw.

Even Kamras closed his eyes briefly, as though to shut out the spectacle. I now realized Kamras had only wished to drive Kamchak from the field, a chastened and humiliated man. He had little more wish to slay the clumsy Tuchuk than he would have a peasant or a potmaker.

"Let the combat begin," said the judge.

I stepped away from Kamchak and Kamras approached- him, by training, cautiously.

Kamchak was looking at the edge of his sword, turning it about, apparently noting with pleasure the play of sunlight on the blade.

"Watch out!" I cried.

Kamchak turned to see what I had in mind and to his great good fortune, as he did so, the sun flashed from the blade into the eyes of ELamras, who suddenly threw his arm up, blinking and shaking his head, for the instant blinded. "Turn and strike now!" I screamed "What?" asked Kamchak.

"Watch out!" I cried, for now Kamras had recovered, and was once again approaching.

Kamras, of course, had the sun at his back, using it as naturally as the tarn to protect his advance.

It had been incredibly fortunate for Kamchak that the blade had flashed precisely at the time it had in the way it had.

It had quite possibly saved his life.

Kamras lunged and it looked like Kamchak threw up his arm at the last instant as though he had lost balance, and indeed he was now tottering on one boot. I scarcely noticed the blow had been smartly parried. Kamras then began to chase Kamchak about the ring of sand. Kamchak was nearly stumbling over backward and kept trying to regain his bal- ance. In this chase, rather undignified, Kamras had struck a dozen times and each time, astoundingly, the off-balance Kamchak, holding his sword DOW like a physician's pestle, had managed somehow to meet the blow.

"Slay him!" screamed Aphris of Turia.

I was tempted to cover my eyes.

The Kassar girl was wailing.

Then, as though weary, Kamchak, puffing, sat down in the sand. His sword was in front of his face, apparently blocking his vision. With his boots he kept rotating about, always facing Kamras no matter from which direction he came Each time the Turian struck and I would have thought Kamchak slain, somehow, incomprehensibly, at the last in- stant, nearly causing my heart to stop, with a surprised weary little twitch, the blade of the Tuchuk would slide the Turian steel harmlessly to the side. It was only about this time that it dawned on me that for three or four minutes Kamchak had been the object of the ever-more-furious as- sault of Turia's champion and was, to this instant, un- scratched.

Kamchak then struggled wearily to his feet.

"Die, Tuchuk!" cried Kamrus now enraged, rushing upon him. For more than a minute, while I scarcely dared to breathe and there was silence all about save for the ring of steel, I watched Kamchak stand there, heavy in his boots, his head seeming almost to sit on his shoulders, his body hardly moving save for the swiftness of a wrist and the turn of a hand.

Kamras, exhausted, scarcely able to lift his arm, staggered backward.

Once again, expertly, the sun flashed from the sword of Kamchak in his eyes.

In terror Kamras blinked and shook his head, thrashing about wearily with his sword.

— Then, foot by booted foot, Kamchak advanced toward him. I saw the first blood leap front the cheek of Kamras, and then again from his left arm, then from the thigh, then from an ear.