The period came to an end before the teams got untangled. Blade could have easily scored another goal-the Black Rocks seemed to have forgotten completely that they had a hole to defend. However, he'd been in reach of the ball only a couple of times. It wouldn't be hard to convince his teammates he hadn't even seen it.
As he rode back to the White Trees end of the field, Blade scanned the crowd for the hiba-gan. There he-she-it was, right where it had been when the game started. It was still swathed in a rawhide cloak and hood that covered it from head to foot. When it did move, it moved slowly but steadily; there was nothing in its movements to prove it wasn't human. For now Blade was inclined to give the Holy Wanderer the benefit of the doubt in this matter.
River Over Stones was also stationed in the same place he'd been when the game started-ten feet to the right of the hiba-gan. His hands were crossed reverently on his stomach, and his eyes never left the shrouded figure. Since the hiba-gan came to the village two days ago, River had appointed himself its escort and protector. Since yesterday, it seemed that the hiba-gan had accepted this.
Being such an escort to a Holy Wanderer was a great honor and a sacred task. Many said that it was a sign the Spirits had forgiven River Over Stones for his opposition to Blade. So far no one was saying that it proved he might have been right about Blade after all.
On the other hand, no one said River Over Stones might be forcing himself on the hiba-gan to try and win back some of the honor he'd lost through opposing Blade. Hiba-gans were too much revered, and it was said their Voices were so powerful that deception was impossible. As for anyone even hinting that the hiba-gan might not be what it seemed, and that River Over Stones might be plotting with it-well, Blade didn't expect anyone to want to be burned at the stake for heresy. He didn't much care for the idea himself.
One thing about the hiba-gan had changed since the beginning of the game. It had put down the large leather sack it carried on a strap across its back. The sack now lay beside it on the gravel. Blade wasn't sure if it was just his imagination, or if the sack really did bulge oddly, as if there were something strangely shaped inside it.
Blade took several deep breaths and made his mind as blank as he could. He didn't use all his mental control; that would surely be detected by someone in the crowd and word sent to the Guardian. Blade wasn't sure what he was allowed to do by way of using the Voice, and he certainly didn't want to attract attention now.
With a blank mind he looked quickly back at the sack. No doubt about it. The bulge was in a different part of the sackas if what was inside the bag had moved.
The sun was hot, but for a moment Blade felt cold. His mental control very nearly deserted him. Whatever was in the sack was alive. He'd never heard of a hiba-gan carrying a live animal in a sack with it. Why was the hiba-gan doing something unknown on its visit to the Uchendi, just after Blade came to them and right before the war with the Rutari…?
It didn't add up. Or rather, it added up to something that had to be investigated. Openly if possible, secretly if not. Openly would be safer for Blade. That meant getting Winter Owl on his side. Doing anything against the hiba-gan would mean bending the law. If Winter Owl opposed that, nothing could be done-at least not to the hiba-gan.
Winning over Winter Owl meant one thing: The White Trees were going to have to lose this game of nor.
The two teams rode back onto the field for the second period. Blade stayed back toward the White Trees' rear, as if his ezinti were tiring. If he was careful, that would be the truth before anyone could get suspicious. Once the scrimmage began, most riders were too busy looking for the ball and for opposing players to worry about Blade.
Winter Owl must have given the Black Rocks a pep talk. They charged down on their opponents so hard that a few riders pulled up to save their mounts. This gave Winter Owl a clear shot at the White Trees' goal. He took it. The ball whipped past Blade like a bullet and plunked into the hole.
One of the White Trees rode up to Blade, grumbling, «You were the closest, Blade. Couldn't you have stopped that one?»
«Nonsense,» said Friend of Lions. «The ball was in the hole before Blade could have been in its path.»
«Yes,» said Blade. «If I had arms fifteen feet long I might have stopped it.» He shrugged. «Nobody ever said the Black Rocks were going to be easy. Or at least I never did. «
They rode back into the scrimmage. This time the two teams were evenly matched, until suddenly the tangle spewed out a Black Rock with the ball in his cup. Blade recognized him. He was one of the younger players and so far hadn't done a thing to make himself look dangerous.
Now, though, he had a clear path to the goal. Blade dug his heels into his ezinti. He was the best-placed White Tree to stop the young ballcarrier. If he didn't move, someone might become suspicious.
Luck was with Blade. His ezinti now really was tiring under his weight. He didn't have to rein it in more than twice. He was still a good ten feet behind the young rider when the other man flipped the ball toward the White Trees' hole. At that distance a drunken one-eyed man could have made the goal.
Blade rode back, listening to the cheers of the Black Rocks' supporters and the groans of the people with money on the White Trees. He didn't hear anyone mention his name. After all, he'd been the only one of the White Trees who even tried to stop the goal. The fact that his ezinti wasn't fast enough was hardly his fault.
Fault or no fault, however, the game was now tied at five to five. Winter Owl was no longer being the stoic warrior. He was grinning so widely that Blade began thinking maybe he had a chance of getting him on his side.
Now it was the White Trees' turn to get a brief pep talk from their captain. Friend of Lions made such a rousing speech that it had everyone cheering, including Blade. He wasn't entirely faking, either. Damn it, these people deserved to win! They'd put blood, sweat, and tears into both training and playing.
And if he was wrong about the hiba-gan… Blade was pretty sure he wasn't, though. And if he was right about the Holy Wanderer being up to tricks-well, there were more important things at stake for the Uchendi than who won today's game. Blade was gritting his teeth as he rode back into the game.
The pep talk worked so well that the White Trees promptly scored a goal without Blade's getting within twenty feet of the ball. Then Friend of Lions scored a second, and the Black Rocks came back and scored one of their own, both teams crippling several ezintis, which left them short-handed…
That made the score seven to six in favor of the White Trees. The crowd was silent now. Half were too hoarse and breathless to cheer, the other half too excited, too aware they were seeing an extraordinary game.
Blade would have been happier if they'd gone on cheering. In this silence, there could be a thousand eyes ready to fix themselves on the man who had the ball, watching for something to praise or criticize. Throwing the game under these conditions was going to be trickier than he'd expected.
The scrimmage that left both teams short-handed also made them cautious for the rest of the second period. There were no more goals or casualties on either side. Although he never had the ball, Blade rode around vigorously, to make sure his ezinti stayed tired.