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teen horses from you。〃
There was an undertone of anger in Fikolmij's hoarse voice。 〃Why should I wager with you at all？ A wager is only a wager if both sides risk something。 What could you possibly have that I want？〃 His expression turned cunning。 〃And what do you have that I cannot simply take from your people when you are dead？〃
〃Honor。〃
Fikolmij drew back in surprise。 The whispers around him intensified。 〃By the Four…Footed； what does that mean？！ I care little for your soft…hearted； stone…dweller's honor。〃
〃Ah；〃 Josua said with a ghost of a smile； 〃but your own？〃
The prince turned suddenly to face the crowd of Thrithings…folk who hung over the fences of Fikolmij's great paddock。 A ripple of quiet talk ran through the throng。 〃Free men and women of the High Thrithings！〃 he cried。 〃You have e to see me killed。〃 A bray of laughter greeted this statement。 A clod of dirt hurtled toward Josua； missing him by only a few cubits and rolling past Fikolmij's clansmen； who glared out at the assembly。 〃I have offered your March…thane a wager。 I swear that the Aedon； god of the stone…dwellers； will save me…and that I will beat Utvart。〃
〃That would be something to see！〃 one of the crowd bellowed in heavily…accented Westerling。 There was more laughter。 Fikolmij stood and moved toward Josua as if to silence him； but after looking around at the shouting spectators seemed to think better of it。 Instead； he crossed his arms over his broad chest and watched sullenly。 〃What do you wager； little man？〃 one of the clansmen near the front shouted。
〃All that remains to me： my honor and the honor of my people。〃 Josua drew Naidel from its sheath and lifted it high。 His shirt sleeve fell back； Elias' rusted manacle； which he still wore around his left wrist； caught the faint morning light like a band of blood。 〃I am the son of Prester John； the High King who you remember well。 Fikolmij knew him best of all of you。〃 The crowd murmured。 The March…thane growled his discontent at this show。
〃Here is my wager；〃 Josua shouted。 〃If I fall to Utvart； I swear it will prove that our god Usires Aedon is weak； and that Fikolmij speaks true when he says that he is stronger than the stone…dwellers。 You will know that your March…thane's Stallion is mightier than the Dragon and Tree of John's house； which is the greatest house in all the city…lands of Osten Ard。〃
A chorus of shouting voices rose。 Josua calmly surveyed the crowd。 〃What does Fikolmij wager？〃 someone cried at last。 Utvart； standing only a few ells away； was glowering at Josua； obviously furious at how his thunder had been stolen； but just as obviously unsure as to whether Josua's wager could somehow increase his own glory when he slaughtered this crippled city…dweller。
〃As many horses as Vorzheva's bride…price。 And my people and I to go free and unhindercd；〃 Josua said。 〃Not much when matched against the honor of a prince of Erkynland。〃
〃A prince with no house！〃 someone catcalled； but a host of other voices drowned out the heckler； exhorting Fikolmij to take the wager； crying that he would be a fool to let this stone…dweller show him up。 The March…thane； features twisted in poorly…hidden rage； let the crowd's urg… ings wash over him like rain。 He looked quite ready to grasp Josua's neck in his hands and throttle the prince himself。
〃So。 It is done；〃 he snarled at last； lifting his arm in a gesture of acceptance。 The watchers cheered。 〃By the Grass Thunderer； you have heard him。 The wager is set。 My horses against his empty words。 Now； let this foolishness e to a swift end。〃 Much of the March…thane's enjoyment seemed to have evaporated。 He leaned forward； speaking low so that only Josua could hear。 〃When you are dead； I will kill your women and children with my own hands。 Slowly。 No man makes me butt of a joke before my clans and steals my rightful horses。〃 Fikolmij turned and stalked back to his stool； frowning at the jests from his randwarders。
As Josua unbuckled and cast away his sword belt； Utvart stepped forward； corded arms gleaming as he lifted his heavy blade。
〃You talk and talk and talk； little man；〃 the grasslander snarled。 〃You talk too much。〃
A moment later he bounded across the intervening space in three long strides； his sword swinging in a great arc。 Naidel flashed up； deflecting the blow with a dull chime； but before Josua could bring his slim blade up for a cut of his own； Utvart had whirled and begun another powerful； two…handed sweep。 Josua again managed to sidestep Utvart's attack； but this time the curved sword rang hard against the prince's guard and Naidel almost flew from his hand。 He staggered back a few steps across the muddy turf before he could regain his balance。 Utvart grinned fiercely and began circling； forcing Josua to turn quickly so the prince could keep his left shoulder facing the Thrithings…man。 Utvart feinted； then lunged。 Josua's boot heel slid on the hoof…trampled ground； forcing him to drop to one knee。 He managed to turn Utvart's thrust； but as the big man pulled his blade free it sawed back across Josua's sword arm； freeing a ribbon of blood。
The prince rose carefully。 Utvart showed his teeth and continued circling。 A trickle of red dripped from the back of Josua's hand。 The prince wiped it on the leg of his breeches； then raised it again quickly as Utvart feigned another thrust。 Moments later the blood was again dribbling down Josua's wnst and onto his hilt。
Deornoth thought he understood the strange business of the wager… Josua was hoping to make Fikolmij and Utvart angry in the hope it would lead to some sort of mistake…but the prince's idea had all too obviously not succeeded。 The March…thane was indeed furious； but Josua was not battling Fikolmy； and Utvart did not seem as hot…headed as the prince had probably hoped。 Instead； the Thrithings…man was proving himself a canny fighter。 Rather than relying blindly on his superior strength and reach； he was wearing Josua down with heavy blows； then springing away before the prince could counter。
As he watched the one…sided bat； Deornoth felt his heart falling like a stone。 It had been foolish to think anything else could happen。 Josua was a fine swordsman； but he would have had trouble with one like Utvart at the best of times。 Today； the prince was injured and poorly…rested； weak as a stripling。 It was only a matter of time。。。
Deornoth turned to Isorn。 The young Rimmersman shook his head grimly： he； too； understood that Josua was fighting a defensive action； putting off the inevitable as long as possible。 Isorn lifted his eyebrow inquiringly。 Now？
Father Strangyeard's murmured prayers were a counterpoint to the shouting throng。 The guards around them were staring raptly； eyes wide； spears held only loosely。 Deornoth lifted his hand。 Wait。。。
Blood was rilling from two more wounds； a slash on Josua's left wrist and a broad gouge in his leg。 The prince wiped sweat from his forehead and left a broad scarlet smear across his face； as though he sought to match Utvart's painted scars。
Josua stumbled back； ducking awkwardly beneath another of Utvart's swinging attacks； then censed and lunged forward。 His thrust ende