CHAPTER ONE
The two itinerant warriors approached the hostel tram opposite directions. Both were garbed conventionally: dark pantaloons cinched at waist and knee, loose white jacket reaching to hips and elbows and hanging open at the front, elastic sneakers. Both wore their hair medium: cropped above the eyebrows in front, above the ears on the sides, and above the jacket collar behind, uncombed. Both beards were short and scant.
The man from the east wore a standard straight sword, the plastic scabbard strapped across his broad back. He was young and large, if unhandsome, and his black brows and hair gave him a forbidding air that did not match his nature. He was well-muscled and carried his weight with the assurance of a practicing athlete.
The one from the west was shorter and more slender, but also in fine physical trim. His blue eyes and fair hair set off a countenance so finely molded that it would have been almost womanish without the beard, but there was nothing effeminate about his manner. He pushed before him a little one-wheeled cart, a barrow-bag, from which several feet of shining metal pole projected.
The dark-haired man arrived before the round building first and waited politely for the other to come up. The3 surveyed each other briefly before speaking. A young woman emerged, dressed in the attractive one-piece wrap around of the available. She looked from one visitor to the other, her eyes fixing for a moment upon the handsome golden bracelet clasping the left wrist of each, but kept her silence.
The sworder glanced at her once as she approached appreciating the length of her glossy midnight tresses and the studied voluptuousness of her figure, then spoke to the man with the cart. 'Will you share lodging with me tonight, friend? I seek mastery of other things than men.'
'I seek mastery in the circle,' the other replied, 'but I will share lodging.' They smiled and shook hands.
The blond man faced the girl. 'I need no woman.'
She dropped her eyes, disappointed, but flicked them up immediately to cover the sworder. He responded after an appropriate pause. 'Will you try the night with me, then, damsel? I promise no more.'
The girl flushed with pleasure. 'I will try the night with you, sword, expecting no more.'
He grinned and clapped his right hand to the bracelet, twisting it off. 'I am Sol the sword, of philosophic bent. Can you cook?' She nodded, and he handed the bracelet to her. 'You will, cater to my friend also, for the evening meal, and clean his uniform.'
The other man interrupted his smile. 'Did I mishear your name, sir? I am Sol.'
The larger warrior turned slowly, frowning. 'I regret you did not. I have held this name since I took up my blade this spring. But perhaps you employ another weapon? There is no need for us to differ.'
The girl's eyes went back and forth between them. 'Surely your arm is the staff, warrior,' she said anxiously, gesturing at the barrow.
'I am Sol,' the man said firmly, 'of the staff-and the sword. No one else may bear my name.'
The sworder looked disgruntled. 'Do you quarrel with me, then? I would have it otherwise.'
'I quarrel only with your name. Take another, and there is no strife between us.'
'I have earned this name by this blade. I can not give it up.'
'Then I must deprive you of it in the circle, sir.'
'Please,' the girl protested. 'Wait until morning. There is a television inside, and a bath, and I will fix a fine repast.'
'Would you borrow the bracelet of a man whose name has been questioned?' the sworder inquired gently. 'It must be now, pretty plaything. You may serve the winner.'
She bit her red lip, chastened, and handed back the bracelet. 'Then, will you permit me to stand witness?'
The men exchanged glances and shrugged. 'Stand witness, girl, if you have the stomach for it,' the blond man said.' He led the way down a beaten side-trail marked in red.
