I return in time to see Parasas, the swordsman who defeated Makri, fighting again. I have to admire his technique as he puts away his next opponent. Makri glowers at him all the way through. #51 | | |
"How could I lose to him?" she demands. "Not that I did anyway. I was cheated." #52 | | |
The crowd has grown. It's a noisy scene, with the clash of weapons, the babble of voices, and music from travelling musicians. Makri's second fight of the day lasts only slightly longer than her first. She attacks from the start. Her opponent parries her first blow and doesn't see the second coming. Makri plants her sword tip at his throat, halting it a fraction of an inch away from him, as required by the rules. The Marshal immediately flags her as the winner. Once again, the crowd is not all that impressed. A bout lasting a few seconds is not what they came here to see. Fights are usually much longer; there can be a great deal of hacking a slashing, with mighty blows landing on shields, before the outcome is decided. Not all fights are ended by a lethal strike. Blows deemed by the Marshal to have landed, but not counting as mortal wounds, are given a half point. A fighter needs four of these half points to win a match, and that's not an uncommon way for a fight to end. A lethal strike has to be performed absolutely perfectly, leaving the Marshal in no doubt that it would have led to death in real combat, before he'll call it. Makri has now done this twice, very quickly. As she retires from the field there's some grumbling. #53 | | |
"Was that really a killing blow?" #54 | | |
"I think the Marshal's going easy on her. Damned Orcs." #55 | | |
Taking a moment to check that Makri is undamaged, I hurry as fast as I can down to the bookmaker's tent. Not surprisingly, Big Bixo isn't pleased to see me. My two hundred and forty gurans at five to two wins me six hundred. Along with my stake, that means Bixo has to pay me eight hundred and forty gurans, which is more than he has in his till. He has to send one of his assistants off for more cash. When he returns he's flanked by a man I haven't seen before. Younger than Bixo, with a hard, flat face, and scarring round his mouth. #56 | | |
"Congratulations," says the hard-faced man, in a voice that's cold even by bookmaker's standards. #57 | | |
"Who's this?" I ask Bixo. #58 | | |
"My business partner." #59 | | |
Bixo's business partner has a sword glinting at his hip and a poorly concealed dagger under his shirt. I can guess what part of the business he might take care of. #60 | | |
Naturally, Makri's odds for her next fight, the fourth in her qualifying group, have now fallen drastically, particularly as she's matched against the one fighter whose chances of qualifying were rated worse than hers. Makri is the slight favourite, and Big Bixo is only offering five to six. When I check with Generous Ges, his price is the same. If Ges is actually generous, it doesn't seem to involve giving better odds than the other bookmakers. I keep sixty gurans for expenses and bet the rest, seven hundred and eighty, on Makri to win. #61 | | |
Lisutaris is in a much better mood after Makri's victories. I find her talking to Kublinos. The Harbour Sorcerer has put on quite a fancy cloak to visit the tournament, and is busy inviting Lisutaris to dinner. He glares at me with loathing as I interrupt, and draw Lisutaris off to one side for a private talk. I take twenty gurans from my purse and hand it to her. #62 | | |
"What's this?" she asks. #63 | | |
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"Twenty gurans? Are you serious? What am I meant to do with that?" #65 | | |
"I'm giving the same to Makri. And myself. I need the rest for betting. You want to win big, don't you?" #66 | | |
The Sorcerer looks at me quite suspiciously. "You have't drunk the rest away, have you?" #67 | | |
"Is that any way to speak to your Chief Adviser? I've put seven hundred and eighty gurans on Makri to win." #68 | | |
Lisutaris gazes at the small pile of coins in her hand. "I was hoping to get my hair done. And my nails. And buy a new dress. And shoes." #69 | | |
"Can't you manage without all that?" #70 | | |
"Certainly, if I don't mind going to meet the King looking like a peasant woman fresh from the fields." #71 | | |
"Can't you use sorcery?" I suggest. "Conjure up a new dress?" #72 | | |
"Possibly," says Lisutaris. "But it's not the same as buying something nice." #73 | | |
"Are you going to accept Kublinos's invitation to dinner?" #74 | | |
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"If you do, try and bring some food home. I don't think Arichdamis is going to be restocking his cellars any time soon." #76 | | |
It's almost time for Makri's next fight, her third of the day. I lead her into the centre of the field, then take a few steps back to watch her demolish her opponent, which she does, quite rapidly. Makri blocks a few attacks then delivers a flurry of attacking blows, any one of which would probably be fatal. Her opponent ends up flat on his back while the Marshal signals her victory. The crowd enjoy this contest more. It was short, but it did at least contain some violence. #77 | | |
When I give Makri her twenty gurans she accepts it without complaint, but she does tell me she's not happy with her gorget, which isn't sitting comfortably around her neck. There's no time to do anything about it now, but we can have it altered after she qualifies, which she will do if she wins her next fight. #78 | | |
"We've got over 1,400 gurans now." #79 | | |
"Really?" Makri is impressed, which pleases me. #80 | | |
"Yes, I'm tormenting the bookmakers. Too much for their liking. There may be trouble if we keep taking their money." #81 | | |
Makri touches the pommel of her sword, and smiles. "We can cope with a little trouble from a bookmaker." #82 | | |
I smile back at her. We certainly can. I race down to Big Bixo's tent. After three comprehensive victories, Makri's favourite to win her next bout, even though her opponent, Muxilos, is a local man with a lot of support. Bixo is only offering six to four on, or to put it another way, four to six. I keep twenty gurans for beer, and place 1410 on Makri. That will win me nine hundred and forty, which is not too bad. By now, I'm not the only one betting on Makri, and as I leave Bixo's tent, his assistant is busy changing her odds, bringing them down to one to two, which just shows how her reputation has grown over the course of the day. I pick up another beer and drink it while walking back to the arena. While recent events have made it difficult for any loyal Turanian to actually feel as happy as an Elf in a tree, there's a definite spring in my step. #83 | | |
