“The killer is already known,” says Gorith.
“Wrong. The killer is not known. But if you want to be one of the first to know, stick close to me.”
Gorith tells me sharply that if I have any information regarding crime on Avula I should inform Lord Kalith immediately.
“It can wait till after the tournament. Makri’s student is putting up a fine performance, don’t you think?”
I return to the wise old Elf in charge of the book to relieve him of a little more cash. Osath is there, and he’s mighty pleased with me. Despite Isuas’s good showing so far, few other Elves are backing her and we still manage to get twenty to one on the third round. No one else can really believe that Isuas can possibly make any further progress.
Isuas, however, is making an excellent attempt. With Makri keeping her calm between bouts, she dispatches her next two opponents in a skilful if somewhat brutal manner. The trainer of a Corinthalian fighter actually complains in public to Lord Kalith after Isuas leaves him rolling round in agony with a series of wicked blows to the shins and ankles, followed by a sword pommel full in the face. The fighter from Corinthal has to be carried from the field and there are some fairly aghast expressions on the faces of the onlookers, the Corinthalian supporters howling their disapproval. Makri is unperturbed. Anything not actually illegal is fine in her eyes. The Avulans don’t seem to mind either. They may be astonished at the sight of gentle young Isuas dealing out destruction on all sides, but they’re with her all the way.
Isuas progresses without too much difficulty through her next fight and is now in the final. I am reliably informed by those close to me that there has never been such excitement here before. It’s unprecedented for a rank outsider like Isuas to make such a showing. As the final bout between Isuas and Firees-ar-Key approaches, the crowd is in a state of extreme animation. The only person still sitting is Lord Kalith, who remains motionless, unable to believe that the Orc woman has trained his daughter to fight like this in just over a week.
Firees himself has shown excellent form. In the semi-final he faced a youth from Ven who was favourite with many of the crowd and a fighter of unusual skill. The adroitness that Firees showed in overcoming him leaves the majority of Elves still certain that he must be the winner. The bookmaker has Firees as favourite at eight to eleven but is now only offering five to four on Isuas. I’ve already picked up plenty on Kalith’s daughter and I back her again in the final, but I also bet against her to cover myself, which is the prudent thing to do in the circumstances.
Right now I’m about as happy as an Elf in a tree. In fact I’m happier than most of the Elves in the trees. Successful gambling and a solution to the mystery, all in one day. I shouldn’t have succumbed to depression, really, but I don’t blame myself. If you put a man in a strange land, deprive him of beer and give his client a really hard time, you can’t expect him to remain cheerful in all circumstances.
The fighters walk out. The crowd bellows in anticipation. Lady Yestar has long ago abandoned all aristocratic reserve and is up on her feet cheering. The Council of Elders show every sign of equally enjoying the event. I’d say that Kalith’s daughter’s performance can only raise his status with his subjects. Even our Turanian Prince, not well disposed towards Makri, cheers as Isuas, thin, puny but determined, raises her sword against the formidable Firees-ar-Key.
Both fighters make a cautious start. Having got this far, neither wishes to make a foolish mistake early on. Makri, who up till now has remained impassively on the sidelines, finally gives in to the tension and rises to her feet to yell encouragement to her pupil. Beside her is a man who, from the family resemblance, I take to be Yulis-ar-Key himself, the mighty warrior.
The fight quickly heats up, with Firees having slightly the best of it. He gradually forces Isuas back, always searching for an opening. Isuas defends stoutly, but at no time does she have the opportunity to attack. After several minutes of fighting I can see that if it goes on like this, Isuas will tire long before her stronger opponent.
Misfortune strikes. Isuas drops her dagger when she mistimes a parry and suddenly finds herself at a disadvantage. Firees senses victory and moves in with renewed vigour. He forces Isuas back to the edge of the crowd, but just as it seems that he must soon overwhelm her, something seems to go off inside the younger Elf and she abruptly mounts one of the most furious attacks ever seen on the tournament field. She flies at Firees with a fury that whips the crowd into a frenzy, a frenzy that becomes even greater when she lands a stroke on Firees’s sword hilt, which causes him to drop his guard for a fraction of a second. In one fluid movement Isuas kicks him in the ribs, sending him flying backwards, and she takes the opportunity to quickly retrieve her dagger from the grass. The fighters again hurl themselves at each other. It seems to me that the fight has in fact got rather out of hand, though neither the judge nor the audience seems to mind.
The fighters tire, but neither of them loses spirit. No longer moving so freely, they stand facing each other, thrusting and parrying. Isuas looks close to exhaustion. Under a furious barrage of blows her legs start to give way. Firees rains blow after blow down on her till Isuas is on her knees. Finally Firees brings his sword down in a tremendous cut that shatters Isuas’s sword. He tries to follow up, but Isuas twists her body to avoid the strike, leaps to her feet and sprints towards the stands. Firees, momentarily puzzled at her flight, sets off in pursuit.
The crowd, thinking that Isuas is fleeing the field, cheer and clap in anticipation of Firees’s victory, but Isuas is not leaving. Rather she reaches the stands, grabs an elderly member of the Council of Elders by his tunic and hauls him off his chair. She then picks up the chair, whirls round and lands a crushing blow on the head of the advancing Firees-ar-Key. The chair splinters into tiny pieces. Firees is stunned. His arms drop to his sides.
“Die, cusux!” roars Isuas, then kicks him in the groin, stamps on his knee, and manages to chop him in the throat and claw his eyes as he falls unconscious to the ground.
For a second or two the only noise to be head is Makri whooping in triumph from the sidelines. Then chaos erupts in the crowd. Isuas has set new standards in foul play. She’s destroyed her opponent by the use of practically every illegal tactic in the book, and she’s roundly condemned for her tactics. On the other hand, no one can deny that she showed a lot of spirit.
Firees’s father is outraged. He rushes on to the field and in his haste to reach his son he bats Isuas out of the way. Makri cries in protest and races after him. I’m already on my way, fearing the worst, but the next thing anyone knows Makri and Yulis are facing up to each other, wooden swords in hands, and trading blows. Fortunately the Elves in attendance bring it to a swift halt, rushing on to the field to drag them apart.
I keep close to Makri, who throws off the Elves who try to hold her, and pushes her way through to Isuas. When she reaches the young Elf she picks her up and hugs her.
“Well done,” she says.
Isuas looks happier than I’ve ever seen her. Neither she nor Makri seems at all concerned that she will be disqualified, and Firees proclaimed the winner.
“Who cares?” says Makri. “He’s unconscious and Isuas is still on her feet.”
Makri turns to me.
“You remember the Elf who attacked us in the clearing? It was him, the father, Yulis-ar-Key.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course. As soon as we traded blows again I recognised his style.”
Lady Yestar appears, smiling broadly. She sweeps Isuas up in her arms and congratulates her.
“I’ll see you both at the reception at the Palace,” she says to us, before taking Isuas off to have her cuts and bruises treated by a healer.