'Will you please!' Gundaree complained. 'You are such a rude Favorite! Mother would be so displeased!'
'Just shut up about Mother!' Gundara shouted. 'You hear me? Shut up!'
Palimak, who was crouched on the tent floor peering into a wide, silvery bowl, looked up at them with an expression of utter disgust on his elfin face. The two Favorites could only appear together in his presence.
But they squabbled so much sometimes he wondered if it was worth the extra strength he got from them.
'Stop your arguing this instant,' he said, copying the scolding tones adults used when chastising him.
Gundara pointed at his twin, tiny demon's face all screwed up in outraged innocence. 'He wouldn't let me see,' he whined.
Gundaree sneered, his little human face a portrait of lordly condescension. 'I only asked him kindly not to shove,' he replied.
Palimak sighed. 'Why do you two always make everything so hard?' he said. 'Now, look. There's plenty of room for everybody.' He pointed to one end of the bowl. 'You stand here,' he said to Gundara, making his high child's voice as commanding as possible. 'And you can stand over there,' he told Gundaree, indicating the opposite side. 'And hurry up, please. I told you my father is in trouble. Big trouble!'
Chastened, the Favorites obeyed. When they were set Palimak waved his hand over the bowl and a cloud of blue steam hissed up.
Gundaree sneezed. 'What an awful odor,' he said in cultured tones.
'Just shut up and look,' Palimak said.
'Don't say shut up,' Gundara admonished. 'You're not supposed to say shut up.'
Palimak snorted, but didn't reply. Instead he peered into the bowl. The smoke vanished and the whole inside of the bowl became a miniature of the Naadan Stadium. The audience cheered from the stands, which ran all along the side of the bowl. At the bottom was the grassy wrestling field where his father grappled with Ulan.
'I wonder why he's fighting?' Palimak mused.
'Who knows why the Master does anything?' Gundaree said. 'Except, show him an impossibility and he'll attempt it.'
Gundara winced as Ulan struck again and Safar was knocked backwards. 'Ouch!' he said. 'I'll bet that hurt!'
'We have to help him,' Palimak said.
'That's all very well and good,' Gundaree said. 'But the question, Little Master, is how?'
Safar scrambled to his feet, dodging just as Ulan reached for him. He came around, joining his fists together into a club. He swung, connected with Ulan's kidney and heard a satisfying grunt of pain.
But the giant wrestler was used to much worse punishment and just as Safar was forming another spell of confusion a huge hand snatched out and caught Safar by the belt.
The crowd roared. The final moment had come. Now that Ulan had a grip on Safar's belt all he had to do was lift him off the ground then slam him into the earth. That would certainly be easy enough-compared to the massive Ulan, Safar was less than a feather.
Safar heard the horse shrill as Ulan hoisted him on high.
Without warning a great wind swept into the arena and bowled them both off their feet. Safar landed on top and he heard the breath whoosh out of Ulan. Some kind of miracle had just occurred, but Safar wasn't thinking about miracles just then. Instead he was backing up as fast as he could because Ulan was already bounding to his feet.
Another blast of wind struck, this one bearing rain. It hit them like a tropical torrent and in moments the whole field was turned into a slippery river of mud.
Ulan kept coming, looking like a sea god as he burst through all that rain. He didn't look so godlike when he reached for Safar, skittered in the mud and fell backward, sending up a dirty spray that struck Safar full in the face.
Safar sputtered, rocked back and then his feet abandoned him and it was his turn to go arse over hearth kettle.
He tried to rise but it was like walking on a boatload of fish and he was flailing wildly, arms and legs going every way except the intended direction. Safar finally rested on his back. Through the heavy rain all he could see was the hazy outline of the cheering crowd.
Safar sensed Ulan moving toward him and he flopped over, pushing himself to his hands and knees. He found himself looking straight into the wrestler's giant face. The Titan of Naadan was also on his hands and knees-nearly incapacitated from laughter.
'What a match, little man!' Ulan roared. 'A match that will never be repeated in a thousand years. Nay, ten thousand, if the world should live that long.' He reared back, muddy hands gripping Safar by the belt.
'Unfortunately, it's time for this match to end, my small friend,' he said.
And he lifted Safar over his head, then gently dropped him to the ground.
Safar had lost.
Ulan was helping him to his feet when the rain stopped as suddenly as it began.
The crowd cheered and the wrestler pounded his back, knocking the wind from him. 'What a brave little man you are,' he said. 'But let me give you some advice. If you should visit us next year, don't try it again.'
'Believe me, I won't,' Safar promised. 'I feel as if I've been run over by a freight wagon.'
He smiled at the big man, but his thoughts were on the cause of his sudden madness. Safar glanced over at the horse who was looking straight at him, head jerking up and down. The animal's hide was shining from the rain, sun dancing on the high gloss. Safar sent a silent promise that he'd be back no matter what and the horse seemed to understand for it reared back and pawed the air, whinnying loudly.
'Here, what's this?' Ulan shouted.
Safar turned to see a group of guards descending on him. Rough hands grabbed his arms and twisted them back behind him.
'This is no way to treat a challenger!' Ulan roared. He stepped forward, threatening.
'Don't do anything you'll be sorry for, Ulan,' said one of the men-an officer from his rank tabs. 'We have reason to believe this man is a great criminal. Wanted by Iraj Protarus, himself.'
Ulan stopped. He looked at Safar with sad eyes. 'Is this true, little man?' he asked. 'Are you indeed a criminal? If you're not, speak up! You have won the respect of Ulan, the Titan.' He gestured at the guards, all strong, tough men. 'And I will break their heads for insulting you.'
Safar sighed. 'Don't get yourself in trouble over me, friend,' he said. 'I'll be fine after all this is straightened out.'
As they dragged him away a familiar old woman came scampering up. 'Yer've just made this old granny a rich woman, Safar Timura,' she cackled. 'Thankee very much fer that!'
'Oops!' Gundara said.
Gundaree grimaced. 'What a terrible development,' he said.
Palimak groaned. 'What'll we do?'
Gundara shrugged. 'Not much we can do,' he said. 'Oh, well. He was a good Master, as masters go.'
He saw Palimak's sad face and try to cheer him up. 'But we still have you, Little Master.'
'Now, there's a silver lining if I ever saw one,' Gundaree said in his mocking voice. 'I'm sure Palimak is just
'Oh, shut up, you!' Gundara grumbled. 'I was only trying to be thoughtful.'
'What if we made it rain again?' Palimak said. 'Except this time, we don't let it stop.' He stretched out his hands. 'For a long, long time.'
'What good will that do?' Gundara asked.
Palimak frowned, thinking. 'Well, if it keeps raining … they can't do anything to him, right? And they can't send anybody to tell that damned old Iraj, either. I mean, if we make it rain hard enough the roads will be too muddy. Then Aunt Leiria will have time to rescue my father.'
'I don't know if I'm up to it,' Gundaree said. 'I'm faint from exhaustion as it is. Rain isn't easy. Especially a prolonged rain.'
