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This will a knife fight be, since that more skill than strength requires. And for your safety, the judge has two conditions made. If you disarmed are, or if Valkan a good grip on you gets, he an automatic win earns. Otherwise you will both tournament points score, and the first to one hundred reach, wins." The Ranger nodded. "That sounds reasonable. I'm ready."
He could see none, and decided that if Valkan did have an Achilles' heel, it was psychological. The Traiti's bearing and moves were graceful and confident. The Ranger suppressed an urge to smile slightly at that. Of course Valkan was confident! He was taller, had a longer reach, and was accustomed to such matches.
He was reassured by Hovan's smile as he returned the dagger to his sponsor, then resumed his shirt and belt. He turned apprehensively to Valkan. How would this Traiti react? If he was one of those who opposed the adoption . . . He almost flinched when a clawed hand touched his shoulder, and the other clasped his right wrist.
Most were silent, though a few called encouragement to one combatant or the other, and there was the usual murmur of bets being placed as Tarlac and Valkan removed their shirts and weapons belts. Tarlac accepted the dagger Hovan offered, getting the feel of it while his sponsor and Valkan spoke to the match judge. There was no question in his mind that what he held was intended as a weapon.
Valkan had been disconcerted, had seemed to want to call off a joke that had backfired, but he couldn't do so without loss of honor. Hovan did have some sympathy for him; he could imagine very clearly how he would be feeling in Valkan's place. He'd want to win, but without doing the human any real harm; it wouldn't be right to send anyone into the Ordeal injured.
He'd noticed Hovan's failure to mention any automatic win for him, and grinned briefly at the omission. He might not be likely to win, but he was determined to give it a good try. He faced Valkan and dropped into a knife-fighter's crouch as Hovan stepped back into the audience and the match judge took his place, giving the signal to begin.
If this was the Ranger's best, he would have little chance to survive his Ordeal. Granted, he was overmatched, but he shouldn't be moving so clumsily, gasping for breath, so soon! And then Hovan saw Valkan decide to end it quickly. Steve was obviously near the end of his strength, but he continued to fight even when he had no chance of victory; that did him honor.
He was regarded, he thought, as they would regard a youngling who called himself a fighter to impress his elders: with amused tolerance. And that, Tarlac admitted to Hovan later, was very probably why he accepted when, three days out of Homeworld, a Fire Control operator named Valkan challenged him.
Human and Traiti circled cautiously, evaluating each other. Hovan watched, hoping the judge's precautions would be adequate, though he didn't suspect Valkan of any true hostility toward Steve not after seeing the K'horan fighter's reaction when Steve accepted challenge.
"You do me honor," he said, and Valkan had: adoptions were unusual, perhaps five to eight in a year for an average-sized clan like the fifteen-thousand-member one he now belonged to. "But tell them all," Tarlac went on to Hovan in English, "I don't think I'd care to try it again. It's a stunt that worked once.
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