He rode back to his own end and dismounted, while Chenosh let the horse drink and Gennar handed him the third lance. Blade ran his eyes quickly up and down the twelve-foot shaft, saw everything was as it should be, and mounted again.

The loudest roar of all went up from Duke Garon's people as the jousters rode out for the third coursing. Their Duke had taken the first two. This time he'd not only take the coursing but put an end to that upstart Blade of Nainan!

Blade grinned and spurred his horse forward. This time he only got it up to a trot. He wasn't going to have much room for error even at a trot. At a gallop he'd have none at all.

Kanglo and his rider grew steadily larger. Blade's eyes fed their images to his brain, and he calculated the shrinking distances with the precision of a computer. The two riders were forty feet apart when he leaned far over to one side. To everyone who saw, it looked as if he was losing his balance or even that his saddle was slipping. Garon had the chivalry not to strike at a temporarily helpless opponent.

He raised his lance and swept past. The moment his opponent was clear, Blade flung himself out of the saddle, as though he was fainting or the saddle girths were broken.

The moment he was clear of the horse he let go of his lance. It would take all his skill and reflexes to fail safely in his heavy armor. If he had to keep one arm busy with the lance, he'd probably break something at a time when even a sprain could be fatal.

The lance flew into the air like a rocket as Blade fell. The noise from Duke Garon's cheering section was deafening. It didn't fade even when a thousand pairs of watching eyes saw Blade roll clear of his horse's hooves, then bounce to his feet. As the Duke reined Kanglo to a stop and turned him, Blade covered the forty feet to the fallen lance and snatched it up. He quickly ran his hands down the shaft. It was ready.

«Lord Blade,» the Duke shouted. «Do you yield?» Blade raised the lance high in both hands, then shook his head. «Very well,» said the Duke. He raised his voice. «Lord Blade refuses to yield, though he is unseated. I claim my right under the laws of the duel.»

That right was to ride Blade down where he stood.

Blade's taunting reply was lost in the roar of the crowd, with the Duke's people cheering again and the men of Nainan shouting in rage and horror. Garon backed Kanglo away to give him more room to gain speed. Blade moved his hands up and down the lance into carefully marked positions, then put it over his knee. With a sudden twisting of arm and shoulder muscles, he snapped the weapon where the blacksmith had sawed the shaft partly through, tossed away the butt end of the lance, and raised the rest. It was now the exact length and balance for a throwing spear.

If Duke Garon ever realized this, no one else ever knew. He was probably too excited at seeing an easy victory over the man who'd insulted him waiting for him almost at the end of his lance. If so, this excitement was the last feeling he experienced in his life.

The Duke lowered his lance and dug in his spurs. Kanglo surged forward. Blade's arm rose, the spear point gleaming in the sun. Then he threw. Duke Garon hadn't bothered to lower his head behind his shield. That would look like cowardice, against an opponent who couldn't strike back effectively.

The improvised spear took him squarely in the mouth.

Instead of the roar Blade expected, there was an awful silence as Kanglo charged past, his rider dead in the saddle. The force of the blow drove the bloody point out through the back of Duke Garon's skull. He swayed but didn't tumble to the ground until Kanglo sensed something was wrong and suddenly reared. Then his rider fell with a thud, Kanglo squealed like a mad thing and bolted, and the silence of the crowd broke. Surprise, joy, anger were all in the cries. Blade thought he heard the sound of weapons clashing as well, and hoped that Duke Cyron's Guardsmen had the situation in hand. He bent to pick up the butt end of the lance, then started walking toward his horse.

By the time he was mounted again, Duke Garon's Helpers had removed the corpse and led Kanglo off the field. Chenosh and Gennar ran out to meet the champion. Both of them were grinning so broadly that they couldn't talk at first, but the crowd was still making so much noise Blade wouldn't have heard a word anyway. At last the noise died down to where he could bend down and speak to Chenosh. «I thought I heard some fighting, just after Garon went down. What happened?»

Gennar answered. «Duke Raskod's women seemed to be favoring you. Some of them cheered when Garon fell. Raskod was so angry that he stabbed one. She fell, and another woman came to stand over her. Raskod ordered this woman taken away and turned over to his guards, then drove the rest of the women into their tent.» Gennar shook his head. «The women should have known their place, but nonetheless Raskod's anger was unlordly.»

«Yes,» said Chenosh. He was nodding, but Blade thought he looked oddly satisfied. Before he could reply, he saw Miera burst out of the crowd and sprint across the field at a thoroughly unladylike pace. She was holding her skirts up and displaying a scandalous amount of leg. Obviously she didn't care and Alsin was too busy elsewhere.

Miera ran up to her husband's horse, but the crowd was bellowing again, so that he practically had to read her lips to understand that she was apologizing for doubting him. After a minute he bent down, scooped her up, and plopped her into the saddle in front of him. She was showing even more leg than before as they rode back to where Duke Cyron was waiting for them.

By nightfall, Duke Cyron had settled one way or another with all three of his guests.

Duke Raskod and his household were on their way home, by Cyron's orders and with fifty armed and mounted Lords escorting them. Neither Cyron nor his Lords cared much about the women who'd been killed (the one turned over to the guards had also been killed). But they did care about getting a Duke who could lose his temper in such an unlordly way out of Nainan as fast as possible.

The men of the late Duke Garon were also on their way out of Nainan, as fast as they could go without leaving their leader's body behind. It was no secret that they were in a hurry to return home to their share of the spoils in the civil war which now loomed on the horizon as Garon's four sons fought over his Duchy.

Duke Padro of Gualdar stayed behind at Castle Ranit. In return for being forgiven all but a token payment on his wager, he swore allegiance to Duke Cyron and his heirs in all matters of peace and war for the space of five years. He swore this oath by the Fathers and by everything else any Lord or priest in the castle could remember being used to swear on. Bound by so many strong oaths, he could now betray Cyron only at the price of being outlawed and having his Duchy confiscated.

«He may even be sincere,» said Chenosh to Blade after the oath taking. They were sitting in the older man's chamber, along with Alsin and Miera. Blade hadn't witnessed the oath taking, being busy patrolling the castle grounds with a force of mounted Guardsmen and dismounted Helpers. «Certainly he was greatly relieved not to lose his Duchy. It will be months before he recovers his wits enough to think of plots. By then we may have our work done.»

Blade frowned. «We only have one of the four Duchies we needed on our side.»

Alsin snorted. «Now that Duke Garon is dead, Ney is as good as in our hands. The only question is not whether we can take it, but how much of it will be left when we do. Garon's sons will be four scorpions, stinging each other and everyone within reach.»

Chenosh nodded. «And as for Duke Raskod-he may find enemies where he does not expect them. I have done my best to see that he will, by paying a little visit to his harem.» He stood up, dropped into a stooping posture, and said, imitating Blade's voice, «Lord Chenosh, may I offer you-oh, sorry.»