Lord of Lies

called to line up. This they did to the cheers of the thousands of people in the stands behind us. Each knight turned his mount toward his distant target; as it happened, Maram and Yarashan, with Skyshan of Ki, were three of these. And then the heralds gave the signal for them to charge. And fifty knights, in their polished armor and surcoats hearing their bright emblems, urged their mounts across the field. They quickly gained speed as one whole line of knights; it marked a man for shame if he sought advantage in a slower charge and lagged behind the others. Across that hroad field they thundered, past the long red line at fifty yards, and soon crossing the white line at forty yards, and then the orange and yellow lines. The boldest of the knights — and Yarashan was one of these — reached the blue line first and cast their lances first. But moments later the other knights caught up and cast their lances as well. The judges held up flags to proclaim the knights' success or failure A white flag signified that a lance had sailed smoothly through its wooden circlet; a black flag denoted a miss. And red was the flag of disqualification, indicating that hit or miss, a knight had loosed his lance after crossing the blue line. It seemed a great, good omen for the success of the tournament that in this first wave of knights, only white flags were raised to herald their prowess.

'Well, that wasn't so bad,' Maram said to me, as he and the other knights of the first wave rejoined us in the staging area. Both he and his horse were covered in sweat. 'There's no danger at these distances at least — unless you fall off your horse and break your neck'

I was called up in the fourth of the ten waves to ride toward the blue line. At the heralds' signal Altaru leapt forward as if he understood deep in his bones the task that must be accomplished. Knights on their mounts to either side of us galloped toward the targets, too. Wind whipped into my face and fought its way between my helmet and sweat-soaked hair. I felt Altaru's huge hooves beat into the ground and churn it up in clumps. His great body was heavy with muscles that bunched and exploded with a tremendous power. For a few glorious moments, my horse and I moved together across the field as if we were a single beast encased in a shining black hide and diamond armor, fused together in our purpose and in our love. Hundreds of pairs of eyes transfixed us like lances, for Altaru would not suffer any other knight or rider to outpace him, and he insisted on taking the lead in the charge. And so we were the first of this wave to reach the blue line. Seconds before Altaru crossed it, I set my boots in my stirrups ind loosed my lance; the thrust of Altaru's hindquarters and the perfect coordination of his body with mine helped me. I had never been particularly good at this act. But I watched with a wild joy as my lance sailed cleanly through its wooden circlet.

Nearly all the knights of this wave were successful as well. But young Sar Eshur of Waas, who had never been tested in a real battle, waited a moment too long to cast his lance and was disqualified. So it went with a few other knights in the succeeding waves. By the time all five hundred and thirty-three of us had charged the blue line, thirteen knights had been eliminated by such fouls while another nine missed their targets altogether.

The next rounds, marked by their respective lines at ever greater distances, took an increasingly greater toll. More knights were eliminated at twenty yards and many more in their ride toward the orange line at thirty yards. At forty yards, I missed my target while Maram fouled. He complained that the trampling of so many horses preceding him had nearly obliterated the white line so that he couldn't see it. It saddened me that I had come so close to riding toward the last line, the red one, and thereby gaining a chance to point at this competition. Maram professed to share my disappointment, but I sensed that he was really quite pleased with himself for lasting longer than most of the other competitors — and avoiding the dreaded riding of knight against knight.

We met in the staging area with the other Meshians to watch this climax of the day's feats. Only four knights faced the red line successfully, and these were Asaru, Yarashan, Lord Karathar of Lagash and Lord Dashavay. I watched this last famous knight ride slowly among the other Waashians in their part of the staging area. He seemed a perfectly proportioned man and more handsome in face than even Yarashan. Although he couldn't have been more than forty years in age, his hair showed streaks of white along with the battle ribbons tied there. His emblem was white lion on a green field; around his neck he wore the gold medallion of championship that he had woo at the last tournament.

At last the heralds blew their trumpets, and Lord Dashavay rode out into the field to face Asaru. They charged each other, loosing their blunted lances at each other as they pleased, lord Dashavay managed to catch Asaru's lance on his triangular shield; with perfect inning, he waited until Asaru was unbalanced from his cast, and then aimed his lance so that it sailed straight and caught Asaru's shoulder with a loud clack of wood against diamond. The judges awarded the victory to Lord Dashavay. Asaru congratulated him, and rode back to join us. 'Lord Dashavay is a great knight,' Asaru said as he pulled off his helmet and wiped his sweating brow. 'Three years ago I rode against him as well, and his skill at the lance has only grown.'

By the time that Yarashan and Lord Karathar rode out to face each other, the sun was low in the western sky. Lord Karathar quickly vanquished Yarashan as everyone expected, and then Yarashan lost again to Asaru in the fight for third place. In the culminating battle, Lord Karathar and Lord Dashavay charged each other three times before Lord Karathar succeeded in casting his lance straight against Lord Dashavay's chest. It missed his throat by an inch, and Maram looked at me in silent reproof even as the many people in the stands cheered Lord Karathar and hailed him yet again as the victor of the first competition.

'Five times he has won the lance throwing,' Yarashan complained. 'He'll have to die in battle or of old age if anyone else is ever to prevail.' While the judges awarded points — ten for first place, five for second, and three, two and one for third, fourth and fifth — all the knights who had competed that day made a procession and rode past the pavilion where King Waray and the other kings were seated. He bowed his head to honor us. Then he called forward Lord Karathar, Lord Dashavay, Asaru, Yarashan, and Sar Tarval of Athar, who had won fifth place. He presented each of them with finely made lances bearing gold plaques that told of their feats. I pressed Altaru through the mass of men and mounts in front of the pavilion so that I could congratulate my brothers. As I clasped hands with them and tested the balance of their new weapons, I noticed King Waray looking at me as if to ask when it would come my turn to be honored.

'Ah, that was a day,' Maram said to me as we rode back to our encampment near the woods. 'I'm ready for a long glass of beer.'

'You did well,' I said to him.

'I did, didn't I? So did you. But not quite well enough to satisfy King Athar. Or King Waray. Did you see the way they looked at us?'

'Tomorrow is wrestling. We'll do better.'

'You'll do better, my friend. I'm afraid I've never wanted to practice much at that particular art.'

'That's because you've been too busy wrestling with Dasha Ambar and the other ladies.'

As our horses walked along the Tournament Grounds main road Maram eyed a beautiful silk-seller hawking her wares in a stall and then a haruspex at another who smiled and beckoned him closer. He turned to glance at Behira riding with Lord Harsha behind us; he sighed and said to me, 'And that is a better exercise of my talents.'

'You could excel at wrestling, if only you'd apply yourself. It's said that practice makes perfect.'

'No, no, my friend, practice makes only broken bones. When I was a boy, I smashed my knuckles wrestling my eldest brother. And, by bad chance, my cousin dislocated my jaw and nearly gouged out my eye. And the truth is, I'd rather look down and find a woman in my arms than some strange, sweating man.'

I smiled because I shared this particular sentiment. The next day we gathered with all the other knights and witnesses in the great Sword Pavilion, which also housed the wrestling competition. There Maram and I, with the knights of Mesh, faced those of Taron, Ishka and the other kingdoms; we also faced each other. It was a long day of grappling with opponents: locking arms and trying for choke holds and throws, as well as strikes with knuckle, elbow and knee at the body's various vulnerable points. By the noon meal break, many knights had been eliminated from this savage competition and too many suffered from various injuries: jammed fingers and crushed noses; boxed ears and popping joints and concussions.

My brothers and I sought sustenance to endure the coming rounds, and so we walked into the area to the north of the Sword Pavilion, where a small city of stalls and kiosks was laid out along narrow lanes. As I was eating cherries with Asaru and Yarashan at one of the fruit sellers' stalls, Lord Harsha and Master Juwain hurried through the crowds straight toward us. Lord Harsha, his hand on the hilt of his sword, limped up to me and asked, 'Have you seen Sar Maram?'

I looked past a hatter's stall at a line of vendors preparing roasted pheasants, mutton joints and other sizzling viands. I said, 'He told me that he was off to look for a slice of cherry pie.'