indicated that it would be a couple of weeks before they encountered any really able warrior. That afternoon, notwithstanding, they met two men with swords, Tor and Tyl. The first was swarthy and greatbearded, the second slim and cleanshaven. Sworders often shaved, as did daggers; it was an unofficial mark of their specialty, since it subtly hinted their skill with the blade. Sos had tried to shave with his sword once and had sliced his face severely; after that he stuck to the shears and did not try for closeness. There were electric razors in the eabins, though few men condescended to use them. He had never understood why it should be considered degrading to use the crazies' razors, while all right to eat their food, but that was the way convention had it.
Both sworders were married, and Tor had a little girl. They were friends, but it turned out that Tyl was the master of the group of two. Both agreed to fight, Tor first, with the stipulation that what he won belonged to Tyl. That was the way of a tribe of any size.
Against Tor, Sol took a matching sword. These were straight, flat, slashing instruments twenty inches long, pointed but seldom used for stabbing. Sword contests were usually dramatic and swift. Unfortunately, wounds were frequent, too, and deaths not uncommon. That was why Sol had taken the staff against Sos, weeks ago; he had really been sure Of his skill and had not wanted to risk injuring his opponent seriously.
'His wife and daughter are watching,' Sola murmured beside him. 'Why does he match weapons?'
Sos understood her question to mean Tora and Tori as spectators and Sol's matching sword to sword. 'Because Tyl is also watching,' he told her.
Tor was powerful and launched. a vigorous attack, while Sol merely fended him off. Then Sol took his turn on the offense, hardly seeming to make an effort yet pressing the other man closely. After that there was a pause in the circle as neither attacked.
'Yield,' Tyl said to his man.
Tor stepped out and it was over, bloodlessly after all. The little girl gaped, not understanding, and Sola shared this confusion, but Sos had learned two important things. First, he had seen that Tor was an expert sworder who might very well have defeated Sos himself in combat. Second, he knew Tyl was even better. This was a rare pair to come upon so casually, after going so long without meeting anyone of caliber-except that that was the way the averages worked.
Sola had thought that sword against sword meant inevitable bloodshed, but in this situation the truth was opposite. Tor had felt out Sol, and been felt out in turn, neither really trying for a crippling blow. Tyl had watched, not his own man whose capabilities he knew, but Sol, and made his judgment. He had seen what Sos had seen: that Sol possessed a clear advantage in technique and would almost certainly prevail in the end. Tyl had been sensible: he had yielded his man before the end came, accepting the odds. Perhaps the little girl was disappointed, thinking her father invulnerable-but her education in this respect would have been rude indeed.
'I see,' Sola said, keeping her voice law. 'But suppose they had been just about even?'
Sos didn't bother to answer.
As it was, Sol had won painlessly again, and added a good man to his roster. Only by employing a weapon Tyl knew well could he have made his point so clearly.
Sos had maintained a wait-and-see attitude on Sol's plans for empire, knowing how much more than speed and versatility in the circle was required. His doubts were rapidly evaporating. If Sol could perform like this in the time of his weakness, there seemed to be no practical limit to his capabilities as he regained strength. He had now demonstrated superlative proficiency with staff, club and sword, and had never been close to defeat. There seemed to be no barrier to continued additions to his tribe.
Tyl stood up and presented a surprise of his own: he set aside his sword and brought out a pair of singlesticks. He was a man of two weapons and had decided not to tackle Sol with the one just demonstrated.
Sol only smiled and drew out his own sticks. The fight was swift and decisive, as Sos had expected after witnessing the skill of Sol's wrist. The four sticks flashed and spun, striking, thrusting and blocking, acting both as dull swords and light staffs. This was a special art, for two implements had to be controlled and parried simultaneously, and excellent coordination was required. It was hardly possible for those outside the circle to tell which man had the advantage-until one stick flew out of the circle, and Tyl backed, out, half disarmed and defeated. There was blood on the knuckles of his left hand where the skin had been broken by Sol's connection.
Yet bruises were appearing upon Sol's body, too, and blood dripped from a tear over his eye. The battle bad not been one-sided.
Three men now belonged to his group, and two were not beginners.
Two weeks later Sos had his twenty men. He led them back toward the badlands, while Sol went on alone except for Sola.
CHAPTER SIX
