Tavi nodded. “They, uh, eat their enemies. And anyone who shows up without permission is considered to be one.” He coughed. “It probably makes it sort of difficult to learn about them.”
Amara shook her head. “If we get out of this, I want to know how you managed to not get eaten and wind up leading a Marat horde of your own to save this valley.”
Fade let out a low, apprehensive hoot of warning. Tavi looked at the slave and found him staring intently at the walls.
In the ragged hole in the fortress’s walls, shapes stirred. Several riders on horseback, tall Horse Clan Marat, rode in. Tavi recognized Hashat at once, her pale mane flowing, though fresh blood spattered her hair, upper body, and saber arm. Tavi identified her to Amara and his uncle.
“Headman?” Bernard demanded, something in his tone offended. “She’s a woman. And she’s not wearing a shirt.”
Amara let out a low whistle. “Those eagles on her belt are from Royal Guardsman. If they’re genuine, she must have been part of the horde that killed Princeps Septimus.”
“She’s nice enough,” Tavi said. “She won’t confront Atsurak herself, but she’ll follow Doroga’s lead. I think they’re friends.”
At the gate, the Marat stirred and parted to let the Wolf headman in with a pair of rangy direwolves beside him. A long, clean cut marred the pale skin of his chest, clotted with dark red. The man looked around the courtyard and bared his teeth, showing the long canines of his clan. “Skagara,” Tavi supplied. “Wolf Clan headman. He’s a bully.”
Hashat dismounted and stalked over to stand beside Skagara. She faced him the whole way with a dangerous little smile on her mouth. Skagara took a step back from her when she reached him. Hashat’s teeth showed, and she made a point of examining the cut on his chest. Then she turned to face Atsurak and Doroga, folding her arms, one bloodied hand remaining near her saber. Skagara gave her a sullen scowl, then did the same.
Doroga leaned on his cudgel, staring at the ground. Atsurak stood patiently, spear loosely gripped in one hand. Silence and mounting tension reigned for several moments. Only the crows made any noise, a low and steady cawing in the background outside the walls.
“What are they waiting for?” Amara asked Tavi.
“The sun,” Tavi said. “Doroga said they always wait for the sun to rise on the results of a trial.” He glanced up at the walls, the angle of the shadows there. “I guess they don’t think the fight will take very long.”
The morning light swept across the courtyard, as the sun rose higher. The line of shadow described by the still-intact walls swept from west to east, toward the two Marat headmen.
Doroga looked up, after a time, to the sunlight where it had barely come to rest on the head of his staff. He nodded, lowered the weapon with a grunt, and advanced on Atsurak.
The Herdbane headman whirled his spear in a loose circle, shrugged his shoulders, and stalked toward Doroga on cat-light feet. He moved swiftly, his spear’s tip blurring, as he thrust it at the other Marat, but Doroga parried the blow to one side with the thick shaft of the cudgel, then swept it in a short thrust at Atsurak’s head.
Atsurak avoided the blow and whipped the spear’s tip toward Doroga’s leg. The Gargant headman dodged, but not quickly enough, and a line of bright scarlet appeared on his thigh.
The Marat in the courtyard let out a low murmur. Someone among the Herdbane said something in a grinding tongue, and the warriors let out a rough laugh. A low chatter began between the Herdbane and Wolf present.
“Are they betting on the fight?” Amara asked, incredulous.
Tavi nodded. “Yeah, they do that. Doroga won his daughter betting on me.”
“What?”
“Shhhh.”
Doroga drew back from the exchange with a grimace and glanced down at his leg. He tried to put his weight on it, but faltered, and he had to swing the staff of the cudgel down to help support him. Atsurak smiled at that and spun his spear around again. He began a slow, deliberate stalk toward Doroga, circling the Gargant headman, forcing him to turn to face his enemy, putting pressure on his wounded leg. Doroga’s face twisted with a grimace of pain.
“Tavi,” Amara breathed. “What happens if Doroga loses?”
Tavi swallowed, his heart pounding. “Then The One has said that Doroga was wrong. And the rest of the clans follow Atsurak like they would have before.”
“Oh,” Amara breathed. “Can he do it?”
“Five silver bulls on Doroga,” Tavi responded.
“You’re on.”
Atsurak rushed Doroga abruptly. The Gargant headman whipped up his weapon and parried the spear aside, but his return stroke was clumsy and drew him off balance. Atsurak dodged and immediately leapt in again. Once more, Doroga barely deflected the incoming stroke, and this time it cost him his balance. He fell to the stones of the courtyard.
Atsurak pressed in for the kill, but Doroga swung the long-handled cudgel at the hordemaster’s feet, forcing him to skip back to avoid it. Atsurak scowled and spat some harsh-sounding word, then lifted the spear, circled, and darted in at Doroga with deadly purpose.
The Gargant headman had been waiting for Atsurak’s charge. With an easy grace, he swept the spear aside with one hand, jabbing the tip into the stone, then gripped the shaft in one huge fist. He drove it back toward Atsurak with almost casual power, the spear’s butt striking the hordemaster in the belly and stopping him in his tracks.
Doroga jerked the spear from his opponent’s grasp. Atsurakbacked warily away, sucking for his breath. Doroga stood up with a casual grace. Then he lifted his wounded leg and snapped the haft of the Aleran spear, tossing its bits to one side.
“He tricked him!” Tavi said, gleefully.
“Hush,” Amara said.
“He’s got him now,” Bernard said.
Doroga tossed the huge cudgel to one side. It landed on the stones with a dull thump.
“I remember the Fox,” he said, his voice very quiet. Then he spread his hands wide, and with that same flat, hard-eyed smile, he came toward the smaller Marat.
Atsurak paled, but spread his own hands, circling Doroga. He moved abruptly, a darting motion reminiscent of one of the predator birds, leaping and kicking high on Doroga’s chest.
Doroga took the kick full on, though it stopped him in his tracks and rocked him back a step, but his hands flashed up to Atsurak’s ankle and caught his foot before the other could draw it away. Atsurak began to fall, and Doroga’s shoulders knotted, his hands twisting.
Something in Atsurak’s leg broke with an ugly pop. The hordemaster gasped and fell, but kicked with his good leg at Doroga’s ankle. The Gargant chief’s foot went out from under him, and he fell, grappling with his foe.