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He had told Kordu one small lie. If by some chance he wound up losing to Geddo, he would not let the laws of the Ganthi take their course with Catherine. He would use the last of his strength to give her a quick, merciful death.
Blade waited quietly. As the minutes passed, the crowd around him grew thicker, as word spread of what was about to happen. His duel with Geddo might not be formal, but it would certainly be well-attended.
A few minutes more, and Stul groaned, spat out a few more loose teeth, and sat up. His face was a mask of blazing rage as he stared at Blade.
«Geddo will be coming soon, Blade. Then I shall have the pleasure of watching him kill you the way he kills those who are his mortal enemies. They die very slowly, Blade.»
«You are more likely to see Geddo die, Stul. I do not promise that will be a pleasure, though.»
Stul managed to sneer. «You talk, and that is all. Geddo may be angry enough to cut off your manhood and let you live to watch him teach your woman.»
«Stul, you also talk. You talk too much and too loudly. Must I knock the rest of your teeth out of your mouth before you shut it?» He reached for one of his spears. Stul had a sudden attack of common sense and fell silent.
Time dragged. The air became thick with heat, dust, insects, and the smells of the growing crowd. Someone got a bucket of water and poured it over Stul. Someone else got two buckets for Blade. He poured one over himself, drank part of the other, and gave the rest to Catherine.
Catherine was just starting to drink when a bellow like an angry bull's sounded from inside the town walls. A thousand pairs of eyes swung toward the gate. Blade saw Kordu turn as pale as one of the Ganthi could, and he rose slowly to his feet. He reached out and picked up his two spears.
«That is Geddo?»
Kordu nodded and pulled Catherine away. They joined the crowd as it drew back from around Blade, until he was standing in the middle of a clear circle nearly a hundred feet across. Blade walked slowly back and forth across the circle, testing the footing at each step. Good. He would have solid, level ground under him, and plenty of room. Now all he needed was his opponent.
The bull's roar sounded again, closer this time. The warriors on the wall and at the gate raised their spears and bowed their heads. Then the crowd between Blade and the gate started breaking apart. Above the crowd Blade could see an enormous bald head, crowned by an even more enormous mass of feathers, moving toward him.
Geddo and the dozen warriors escorting him pushed their way through the crowd, into the open circle. The warriors spaced themselves around the circle, waving their spears to urge the crowd back even farther. Geddo stepped forward and glowered at Blade.
Not many men in any Dimension could glower down at Blade, but Geddo was easily one. Kordu had not exaggerated. The High Chief of the Ganthi was nearly seven feet tall and must have weighed close to three hundred pounds. Very little of that mass was fat. Geddo looked large enough and powerful enough to pick up two normal Ganthi warriors, one in each hand, and crack their heads together like a couple of dolls. If it came to a close-in grapple and those gorilla-sized arms closed around Blade, he was going to have trouble getting clear. He swung his spears off his shoulder and moved toward Geddo with one in each hand.
«Ho, Geddo, teacher of women!» he called. «Are you ready to learn as well as teach?»
«No one will learn from you,» said Geddo. «No, that is not quite true. They will learn from you how I slay those who have insulted me and taken my women.»
«They will not learn that if you throw at me nothing but insults,» said Blade. «Come, Geddo. The sun is hot, and the people do not want to stand around all day to see you die.»
Geddo's head jerked in acknowledgment. A rippling sound of anticipation-sighs, gasps, whispers, a few prayers-went through the crowd. Blade turned toward Catherine, raised both spears in salute until he was sure he'd caught her eye, then turned back to Geddo.
He turned just in time. Geddo was in too much of a hurry to care about ritual or custom. The High Chief charged straight in, both spears raised and held ready for a thrust with either hand.
Blade stood his ground. The crowd would promptly turn against him if he showed what he considered common sense and what they considered cowardice. That meant sacrificing whatever edge he might have in speed and footwork, but there was no helping it.
Geddo came on, looming like a charging elephant. One spear was now raised high overhead for a downward thrust, the other held low and close to his side. Blade judged his moment, then launched his own attack.
His own thrust was low, with his left-hand spear. His right arm shot up, the spear held crosswise, to block Geddo's attack and perhaps break his arm as it swung down. Geddo ignored Blade's counterattack. He drove home his own as though Blade was standing helplessly, waiting to be struck down.
Blade detected that mistake in almost the same moment Geddo made it. His right-hand spear whipped upward. The shaft cracked into Geddo's arm just above the elbow. Geddo's spearpoint flashed harmlessly past Blade's ear. Pain twisted the High Chief's face, but he still managed to block Blade's other attack with a quick shift of his other spear. The two spearheads crashed together, spraying sparks on to the ground. Blade disengaged and thrust quickly, one, two, three times with his right. Each time he thrust a little bit faster. Each time Geddo blocked him. Each time Blade came closer to getting his point home.
That was good news. He had the advantage in speed he desperately needed. He'd also taken something out of Geddo's right arm. Not surprising. That whip-crack of the spearshaft would have broken the arm of a smaller man, and the pain had affected even Geddo. Now to try to get in a similar stroke on Geddo's left arm, then to push the fight to a finish.
The whistle, swish, and clang of fast-moving spears went on without a break as the two opponents stood and fought. It was all speed and strength of arm and quickness of eye, with no place for thought or footwork or very much strategy. Blade could have done better with more freedom of movement, but he did well enough with what he had. Several times he broke through Geddo's defenses to draw blood, while he himself remained unmarked.
After a few more minutes Blade began to realize that he was gaining the edge. Geddo was still fast, still strong, still enormously dangerous. But his breath came now in clearly audible pants and gasps, and sweat was pouring off him. The High Chief lacked endurance, and Blade knew why.
Geddo hadn't had to fight this hard for this long in many years, not since he was a much younger warrior in prime condition. In all those years his enormous strength had let him strike down or cripple all his opponents in a few minutes. Facing Blade, who was no man's easy victim, was a different matter. Geddo still said nothing but the wary, uncertain look in his eyes told Blade that the High Chief was becoming aware of the situation. In a few more minutes he would be desperate. That would be the most dangerous moment of the fight. Then Geddo would take any risk to strike down Blade while he still had enough strength and speed. Then the fight would explode in a flurry of blood and die away as one fighter collapsed, dead or dying.
Blade fought with extra care and extra alertness now, watching for Geddo to launch his all-out attack. It had to come soon. Geddo was definitely begi
In a few more minutes Geddo had slowed enough so that the warriors and even the workers and slaves in the crowd all around could notice it. Excitement rose from the crowd as they realized what they were seeing and what they might see. Blade, the Stranger, the warrior who had wandered into the land of the Ganthi, was getting the better of the High Chief Geddo, invincible for more years than some of the younger warriors had lived. Geddo was bloody, Geddo was pouring out rivers of sweat, Geddo was begi