A flurry of attacks and counters went by with blinding speed accompanied by the ring of metal; murmurs of appreciation and approval could be heard all around, drowning out the chuckling the two combatants had graduated to. If they hadn’t been so deeply involved with each other they probably would have already been suspicious, but the concentration necessary for life-and-death battle leaves very little room for consideration of other things. Dallan moved in fast with a stroke toward Tammad’s head, which Tammad side-stepped and blocked as they both began laughing aloud, as though in delight. Delight was part of what they felt, but not because they were delighted with the situation. I’d had to use something to distract the growing distraction they felt, and delight tends to have a great attraction for most people. I could see I’d have to speed things up before they broke away.
One thing I will have to give them: they did try. They both began swinging at each other almost wildly, as though determined to get to the bloody part of the fight no matter what anyone did to try breaking it up. If they had started just a little sooner they might have made it, but not with utter hilarity filling their minds. Their laughter turned to roaring mirth, the sort that holds you in a helpless grip, weakening your limbs and dripping tears from your eyes. Within moments they were just about convulsed with laughter, staggering around rather than circling, unable to accurately swing those monstrous swords even with two hands. Their weapons were down, their guards were down, and if I could hold off the draining tiredness a little longer, they would be down as well. A rumble of confused muttering had begun when their laughter had first started, rising when the mock hysteria had roared out, culminating in some of Tammad’s l’lendaa looking in my direction. I could only hope they were unsure of all that being my fault, and doubly hoped they couldn’t see the sweat on my forehead. They, better than any of the others, knew what I could do, and I was too close to success to stand the thought of their interfering. I forced myself to stand straighter under the weight of weariness, and tried to look as confused as everyone else.
“By the Sword of Gerleth, what insanity is this?” a deep voice suddenly roared, overriding the muttering and laughter alike. Tammad was down on one knee, Dallan was bent over holding his middle, both of them had dropped their swords, and both of them were laughing their heads off. The muttering stopped abruptly at the roar but not so the laughter, and that seemed to infuriate the newcomer even more.
The big man had come through one of the arches, leading ten or a dozen other newcomers. He was as blond and blue-eyed as all Rimilian males seemed to be, and though he was noticeably older there didn’t seem to be an ounce of fat on him. He wore a haddin of the red Aesnil’s gowns had been, a black leather swordbelt from which a golden hilt protruded, and one curving golden armband. Other than that he was no different from the other l’lendaa, except for being angrier. My grip on the two in the middle of the courtyard began to slip when he roared, and an instant’s thought told me it wasn’t worth recovering. I’d done what I’d hoped to do, and I didn’t have all that much left after the effort; what I did have would best be conserved for any necessary later effort.
“Dallan, what is the meaning of this?” the man demanded, stalking forward to stand and glare at the two ex-combatants. “Do I see grown men before me, or small boys in need of a sound strapping for childish foolishness?”
“Father—wait—” Dallan gasped, still unable to throw off the laughter, holding one hand up toward the other man. Then he slowly lowered himself toward the ground and dropped the last few inches, stretching himself out as though exhausted. Tammad had shifted from one knee to sitting hunched over, moving as slowly as Dallan had, looking just as weary. Strong laughter is very tiring, and theirs had been close to the draining of hysterics. They were finally bringing it under control, but the damage had already been done. I stirred where I stood, knowing they would soon be able to come after me, knowing also that I didn’t really care. Possibly I was too tired myself to care, but there was no confusion to the feeling. I was glad I had done what I had, and I would not have recalled the doing even if that had been possible.
“Perhaps you would now care to explain the meaning of this—this—witless exhibition,” the big man said, looking down at Dallan where he lay on the marble. “I am aware of the fact that I have not seen you in some little time, yet behavior such as this. Even as boys, you and your brother engaged in little of it. Who is this l’lenda, and those others as well, and what do you all do here?”
“Father, this was meant to be a contest to death.” Dallan panted, rolling onto his side and propping himself up with one elbow. “That it degenerated into the farce you saw was not our doing. The buffoonery was forced upon us.”
“Forced?” Dallan’s father echoed, frowning in obvious disbelief. “In what manner may laughter be forced on a man? And where might one be found who is capable of such a thing?”
“To find the one responsible, you need only look there,” Dallan answered sourly, sitting up and turning his head in my direction. Tammad had already been looking at me for a minute or two, and I was glad I was too played out to read them at that distance. From their expressions, it was easy to see that I wouldn’t have enjoyed what I read. “Her name is Terril, and I have just this day banded her,” Dallan continued, his tone going grim. “This day will also see her well punished.”
“She is not yours to band nor punish,” Tammad interrupted, bringing Dallan’s attention back to him. “The woman is mine, and I will see to her punishment when I have returned her to my bands. ”
“She wears my bands and will continue to do so,” Dallan answered, his tone even but his back straightening. “What disposition is made of her will be made by me. Have I not made my intentions sufficiently clear?”
“As clear as mine,” the barbarian returned, holding his gaze, both their hands moving together toward their swords again. Not even Dallan’s father seemed prepared to stop them, and I was more than sick of it.
“Perhaps there are those about who are interested in my intentions,” I said, stepping forward toward them before they were able to get to their feet. “I strongly feel that ignoring my intentions would be a great foolishness.”
Dallan craned back as Tammad looked up, but neither one of them got to verbalize the annoyance filling their eyes. Dallan’s father had had his eyes on me since Dallan had pointed me out, and he stepped forward to stand between me and them.
“I am Rellis, Chamd of Gerleth and lord of this house,” he said, looking down at me with curiosity and annoyance. “From what land do you come, that you have not been taught proper manners, eh, wenda? A matter of honor between l’lendaa may not be interfered with, most especially not by a wenda.”
“This is no matter of honor,” I countered, ignoring the rest of what he’d said, looking up into his eyes. “I will not be used as an excuse for bloodletting, no matter how noble the thing is made to sound. That they have greater interest in facing one another than in any end result they might attain is quite clear to me, even should no other be able to see it. It is for this reason that I am determined that neither shall win.”
“You mean to prevent the victory of one over the other?” he asked, his tone falsely astonished while his mind chuckled indulgently. “To do such a thing you must be a greater warrior than they, greater than any who has yet been known! I am truly honored to have you as guest within my house.”