mine.'
Sav's look was pitying now. 'You really want to tackle a trained staffer in the circle? With your bare hands?'
Sos nodded.
'This goes against the grain, but all right then.' He summoned one of his men and showed the way to a central circle.
The selected staffer was embarrassed. 'But he has no weapon!' he exclaimed.
'Just knock him down a couple of times,' Sav advised. 'He insists on doing it.' Men were gathering; word had spread of Sos's feat with the guard's staff.
Sos removed his tunic and stood in short trunks and bare feet.
The bystanders gasped. The tunic had covered him from chin to knee and elbow, exposing little more than the hands and feet. The others had assumed that he was a large chubby man, old because of the color of his hair and the leathery texture of his face. They had been curious about the strength he had shown, but not really convinced it had not been a fluke effort.
'Biceps like clubheads!' someone exclaimed. 'Look at that neck!' Sos no longer wore the metal collar; now his neck was a solid mass of horny callus and scar tissue. The staffer assigned to meet him stood openmouthed.
Sav pulled the man back. 'Gom, take the circle,' he said tersely.
A much larger staffer came forward, his body scarred and discolored by many encounters: a veteran. He held his weapon ready and stepped into the circle without hesitation.
Sos entered and stood with hands on hips.
Gom had no foolish scruples. He feinted several times to see what the nameless one would do, then landed a viciouis blow to the side of the neck.
Sos stood unmoved.
The staffer looked at his weapon, shrugged, and struck again.
After standing for a full minute, Sos moved. He advanced on Gom, reached out almost casually for the staff, and spun it away with a sharp twist of one wrist. He hurled it out of the circle.
Sos had never touched the man physically, but the staffer was out of business. He had tried to hold on to his weapon. Gom's fingers were broken.
'I have one man, and myself,' Sos announced. 'My man is not ready to fight again, so I will fight next for two.'
Shaken, Sav sent in another warrior, designating a third as collateral. Sos caught the two ends of the staff and held them while the man tried vainly to free it. Finally Sos twisted and the weapon buckled. He let go and stepped back.
The man stood holding the S-shaped instrument, dazed. Sos only had to touch him with a finger, and the staffer stumbled out of the circle.
'I have four men, counting myself. I will match for four.'
By this time the entire camp was packed around the circle. 'You have already made your point,' Sav said. 'I will meet you.'
'Yourself and your entire tribe against what I have here?' Sos inquired, mocking him.
'My skill against your skill,' Sav said, refusing to be ruffled. 'My group-against your service and complete information about yourself. Who you are, where you came from, how you learned to fight like that, who sent you here.'
'My service you may have, if you win it, or my life- but I am sworn to secrecy about the rest. Name othes terms.'
Sav picked up his staff. 'Are you afraid to meet me?'
The men chuckled. Sav had nicely turned the dialogue on him. Who mocked whom?
'I cannot commit that information to
