Lifting his sword, Royova moved forward.
Geras met him, and at once gave way, as a Lau must in a duel with an Ugaro. He could not meet Royova strength for strength. He had sparred Ugaro often enough that he knew that very well, and so led the blows, backing away and turning. He attacked cautiously. Anyone could see he was unsurprised to find that Royova easily matched his speed, and guarded himself as he backed away again.
A serious fight is usually over fast: in three heartbeats, or ten, or twenty. Usually not more than that. This fight was not like that. Both men moved slowly and cautiously, then suddenly fast, then slowly again. I could see that Geras was fighting in earnest, trying for a killing stroke if he could get one, but Royova was not. The inVotaro warleader did not press Geras hard, but let him back up as he wished. Royova guarded as much as he attacked, which was not at all his normal manner in a fight. If everything had been otherwise, I would have believed the inVotaro warleader toyed with Geras for the pleasure of it, but I knew this was not so. Royova was indeed trying not to kill him. He was trying to do as little as he could.
Garoyo said to me, “He will take his sword if he can, and deal no injury at all.”
“I see that! I am not completely blind,” I snapped, furious and impatient. My father did not say anything, but he looked at me. After a moment, I said, much more quietly, “I apologize for my insolent words. I will take a blow for my discourtesy, but perhaps later.”
My brother did not glance at me. “I did not notice any discourtesy, Ryo. I hope our father did not notice any insolence either, but who can say? My younger brother should remember that temper does not suit every occasion—ah!”
Geras had been trying to work the inVotaro warleader around, to make him face the Sun and so put Royova at that kind of disadvantage. But he slipped on the stones and fell to one knee, catching himself with his left hand. If Royova had wanted to kill him, he could have done it then. But taking a man’s sword without doing harm to him is much harder than killing him. Geras defended, and defended again, and came back to his feet, though at the cost of taking a blow that drove out his breath and might have broken ribs. If Royova had not struck with the flat of his sword rather than the edge, Geras would have died in that moment.
Instead, staggering, Geras flung himself to the side and away, caught his balance, and braced himself to meet Royova. Now he was the one who faced the Sun. Brilliant light burnished his brown skin and caught in his eyes. Squinting, suddenly uncertain, Geras dropped his guard just a little as he tried to move to the side. Royova lunged, seizing the chance—
— and steel rang, scraping against steel as Geras caught Royova’s sword with his own, twisting one blade against the other with unexpected precision. It was not a move that required strength. It was a move that required finesse. A man had to make that movement exactly correctly, so that strain came against the thumb of his opponent’s sword hand in the right way to make his grip fail.
Royova’s sword fell, clattering to the stones of the lakeshore. Geras flicked his own blade up and checked, the tip of his sword pressed against Royova’s chest, precisely over his heart. Sunlight blazed in Geras’ face; his eyes were golden with the light. But he was not squinting now. Plainly he could see perfectly well. Royova’s own eyes were wide with astonishment. The two men faced each other, neither moving. A small crimson stain spread slowly outward from the place where the point of Geras’ sword pressed against Royova’s shirt.
All along the shore, all along the slope of the hill, a loud, astonished murmur rose up.
“I see that bright sunlight does not dazzle the Lau as it does us,” Hokino observed, his tone neutral. “This is something a warrior should remember, if he happens to fight a Lau in some serious manner at a time when the Sun rules the sky.”
Koro answered, equally calm. “I am perfectly certain that Royova inVotaro will remember this wisdom, if he lives.”
Geras said something to Royova, not loudly enough for anyone else to hear. Royova answered, as quietly. They spoke for a few moments, one and then the other, neither moving. Then, finally, Geras lowered his sword, stepping back. Royova knelt and held out his hands, palms upward, ceding the victory. Geras said something else, and offered him a hand to help him stand. To my surprise—no doubt to everyone’s surprise—Royova accepted it. Then he moved without haste to pick up his sword, and sheathed it. They came back toward us together. When they came close enough, Royova faced our king and knelt, taking his sheathed sword from his back and setting this on the earth at Koro’s feet. Then he bowed to the ground. After a heartbeat, Geras knelt as well, though he left his sword slung over his back and did not bow so low.
Above us, quiet fell, everyone wanting to hear what our king would say.
“So,” said Koro quietly. “I admit I have seldom in my life been so surprised.” Then he lifted his hands, speaking
