and sit by my-,
Sos interrupted him, appalled. 'You heard!'
'I heard who my true friend was, when I was in fever and could not move my body or save myself from injury. I heard who carried me when I would have died. If I must wear the horns, these are the horns I would wear, for all to see.'
'No!' Sos cried, shocked.
'Only leave me my daughter; the rest is yours.'
'Not dishonor!' Yet it seemed late for this protest. 'I will not accept dishonor-yours or mine.'
'Nor I,' Sola said quietly. 'Not now.'
'How can there be dishonour among us!' Sol said fervently. 'There is only friendship.'
They faced each other in silence then, searching for the solution. Sos ran over the alternatives in his mind, again and again, but nothing changed. He could leave-and give up all his dreams of union with the woman he loved, while she remained with a man she did not love and who cared nothing for her. Could he take comfort in such as blonde Miss Smith, while that situation existed? Or he could stay-and accept the dishonorable liaison that would surely emerge, knowing himself to be unworthy of his position and his weapon.
Or he could fight-for a woman and honor. Everything or nothing.
Sol met his gaze. He had come to the same conclusion.
'Make a circle,' he said.
'No!' Sola cried, realizing what was happening. 'It is wrong either way!'
'That is why it must be settled in the circle,' Sos told her regretfully. 'You and your daughter must be together. You shall be-either -way.'
'I will leave Soli,' she said with difficulty. 'Do not fight again.' ,
Sol still sat holding the baby, looking very little like the master of an empire. 'No-for a mother to leave her- child is worse than for the leader to leave his tribe. I did not think of that before, but I know it now.'
'But you brought no weapon,' the said, frying to stave it off.
Sol ignored her and looked at Sos. 'I would not kill you. You may serve me if you wish, and do what you wish-but never again will you bear weapon against me,' he finished with some force.
'I would not kill you either. You may keep your weapons' and your empire-but child and mother go with me.'
And that defined it. If Sal won, Sos would be deprived of any honorable means to advance his case, which would mean that he was helpless. If Sos won, Sol would have to give up the baby, leaving Sola free to go with the rope.
The winner would have his desire; the loser, what remained.
What remained, despite the theoretical generosity of the terms, was the mountain. Sos would not remain to adulterate the bracelet Sola wore or return in shame to the crazies' establishment. Sal would spurn his empire, once mastered in combat; that had always been clear. It was not a pretty situation, and the victor would have his sorrows, but it was a fair solution. Trial by combat.
'Make the circle,' Sol said again.
'But your weapon-' They were repeating themselves. Neither really wanted to fight. Was there some other way out?
Sal handed the baby to Sola and peered through the trees. He located a suitable sapling and stripped the branches and leaves by hand. Seeing his intent, Sos proceeded to clear a place on the forest floor to form a roughly level disk of earth the proper size. The arrangements were crude, but this was not a matter either man eared to advertise in front of the tribe.
They met, standing on opposite sides of the makeshift arena, Sola standing anxiously near. The scene reminded Sos of their first encounter, except for the baby in Sola's arms.
