Warriors Of Latan

It didn't add up. Or rather, it added up to something that had to be investigated. Openly if possible, secretly if not. Openly would be safer for Blade. That meant getting Winter Owl on his side. Doing anything against the hiba-gan would mean bending the law. If Winter Owl opposed that, nothing could be done-at least not to the hiba-gan.

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The two teams rode back onto the field for the second period. Blade stayed back toward the White Trees' rear, as if his ezinti were tiring. If he was careful, that would be the truth before anyone could get suspicious. Once the scrimmage began, most riders were too busy looking for the ball and for opposing players to worry about Blade.

Winter Owl must have given the Black Rocks a pep talk. They charged down on their opponents so hard that a few riders pulled up to save their mounts. This gave Winter Owl a clear shot at the White Trees' goal. He took it. The ball whipped past Blade like a bullet and plunked into the hole.

One of the White Trees rode up to Blade, grumbling, «You were the closest, Blade. Couldn't you have stopped that one?»

«Nonsense,» said Friend of Lions. «The ball was in the hole before Blade could have been in its path.»

«Yes,» said Blade. «If I had arms fifteen feet long I might have stopped it.» He shrugged. «Nobody ever said the Black Rocks were going to be easy. Or at least I never did. «

They rode back into the scrimmage. This time the two teams were evenly matched, until suddenly the tangle spewed out a Black Rock with the ball in his cup. Blade recognized him. He was one of the younger players and so far hadn't done a thing to make himself look dangerous.

Now, though, he had a clear path to the goal. Blade dug his heels into his ezinti. He was the best-placed White Tree to stop the young ballcarrier. If he didn't move, someone might become suspicious.

Luck was with Blade. His ezinti now really was tiring under his weight. He didn't have to rein it in more than twice. He was still a good ten feet behind the young rider when the other man flipped the ball toward the White Trees' hole. At that distance a drunken one-eyed man could have made the goal.

Blade rode back, listening to the cheers of the Black Rocks' supporters and the groans of the people with money on the White Trees. He didn't hear anyone mention his name. After all, he'd been the only one of the White Trees who even tried to stop the goal. The fact that his ezinti wasn't fast enough was hardly his fault.

Fault or no fault, however, the game was now tied at five to five. Winter Owl was no longer being the stoic warrior. He was gri

Now it was the White Trees' turn to get a brief pep talk from their captain. Friend of Lions made such a rousing speech that it had everyone cheering, including Blade. He wasn't entirely faking, either. Damn it, these people deserved to win! They'd put blood, sweat, and tears into both training and playing.

And if he was wrong about the hiba-gan… Blade was pretty sure he wasn't, though. And if he was right about the Holy Wanderer being up to tricks-well, there were more important things at stake for the Uchendi than who won today's game. Blade was gritting his teeth as he rode back into the game.

The pep talk worked so well that the White Trees promptly scored a goal without Blade's getting within twenty feet of the ball. Then Friend of Lions scored a second, and the Black Rocks came back and scored one of their own, both teams crippling several ezintis, which left them short-handed…

That made the score seven to six in favor of the White Trees. The crowd was silent now. Half were too hoarse and breathless to cheer, the other half too excited, too aware they were seeing an extraordinary game.

Blade would have been happier if they'd gone on cheering. In this silence, there could be a thousand eyes ready to fix themselves on the man who had the ball, watching for something to praise or criticize. Throwing the game under these conditions was going to be trickier than he'd expected.

The scrimmage that left both teams short-handed also made them cautious for the rest of the second period. There were no more goals or casualties on either side. Although he never had the ball, Blade rode around vigorously, to make sure his ezinti stayed tired.

The last period of the game was only minutes old when Blade suddenly found himself with the ball in the cup of his stick. Some weird twist of fate or puff of wind had landed it there. Blade couldn't just dump it out, so he got rid of it the only way he could-with a shot at the goal. It was a long shot even for Blade, and it would have been simply foolish for anyone else to try.

So nobody was surprised when the ball bounced off the base of the cone and rolled back onto the field. One of the Black Rocks picked it up and pounded down the field behind his teammates as if the Devil was at the heels of his mount.

Blade had to stay in the scrimmage. If he pulled out and the man scored with the ball he himself had virtually given to the other team, he was going to be noticed. So Blade stayed in close and even used knees and elbows against some of the Black Rocks. He'd worked out how to use unarmed-combat techniques from horseback, although not how to pull his punches. At least none of the Uchendi would recognize Home Dimension martial arts!

Blade dismounted one man and disabled another's mount. Then the Black Rock rider took his shot at the goal and missed. Blade joined the cheering, then saw the Guardian signaling from the sidelines. A break was called, while Blade rode over and submitted to a tongue-lashing from the shaman.

«Have you less honor or sense of shame than I thought, Blade?» the older man growled. «Are you so eager to win that you will risk killing a warrior of the Uchendi?»

And much more in the same vein. Blade thought afterward that one of the hardest things he did that day was listen to the Guardian with a completely straight face. It was also one of the most important. The Guardian could read faces as well as minds to learn what other men were thinking.

Finally the Guardian ran out of things to say, dismissed Blade, and turned back to Kyarta and Eye of Crystal. As Blade urged his mount back on to the field, Crystal winked at him. That made him feel better.

Friend of Lions greeted him as he rejoined the team. «That was bad luck, your long shot missing,» he said. He sounded more disappointed than angry.

Blade shrugged. «It was. But at least they did us no great harm with it. A long arm and a clear opening do not make me Superman, after all.»

«Who is Superman?»

«A legendary hero of the English. He has the strength of many men, he flies, and can see through walls.»

Friend of Lions seemed impressed. «I wonder-could he have been one of the Idol Makers?»

«We have no legends of visitors by that name,» said Blade cautiously. «More than that I could not say.»

«More than that it might not be wise to say,» said Friend. «Here on the nor field the Spirits are always listening. If they wish to avenge an insult they do not find it hard. «

Then the whistles and drums began to sound, calling the teams back to their positions for the rest of the game. Both teams were now tired riders on tired mounts. No one could have detected this from the way the Black Rocks came on, though. Winter Owl was far ahead, taking all sorts of chances he would probably not have risked if sticks had been lawful weapons today.

«Curse these child's rules!» growled Friend of Lions at the sight. «If I could shove my stick a hand's breadth up his arse he'd not be sitting so easy!» He clearly wanted to say more, but that would have been too close to disputing the Guardian's judgment.