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___Portunista’s attention wandered, with her imagination; she could practically taste the power awaiting at her destination! But soon enough she did recall the meeting still in session; and found her subcommanders lost in useless speculation.
___“Gentlemen!” she clapped her hands. “I think we have some hope!”
___Despite their dubious looks, she forged ahead.
___“Qarfax clearly could have only expected Seifas to beat an opposing force of no appreciable size—the others just as clearly were hired to protect his back, and maybe provide more targets for enemy fire. Yet Qarfax hired them anyway! They must have made some contribution to the tower defenses, whatever they are—so now those defenses must have a hole. Which I intend to exploit!
___“Of course,” she added, seeing some skeptical looks remained, “greater power provides for greater authority…to share with my faithful subordinates!”
___Dagon widely grinned at this. Othon rolled his eyes, but patiently sighed. Gaekwar snorted; yet he also settled back to consider a marching route.
___Seifas only looked at her again.
___She didn’t like him looking at her like that.
___“Get some dinner,” she told them, “and be back within an hour. A week and a half, or two, to march,” she muttered thoughtfully, as the men unwound and stretched, and exited.
___Seifas was the last to move.
___“Step carefully,” murmured the juacuar to her as he left. “The distance between life and death is less than you think.”
___That sounded disturbingly cryptic. Did his fair-skinned friend have anything to do with that…?
___Her thoughts returned to Jian, as they had often done since Midsummer’s Eve. She paced distractedly through her tent, chewing her lip. Who was he, really? Why was he here? He never did anything notable—helping the vendors, sparring a little with Seifas. Keeping away from her, mostly. She wondered what he might have contributed to her meeting, imagining how he would have looked, trying to guess what he might have said…
___Bah! She kicked a cushion. It flew across her tent with a solid thump.
___Very satisfactory. So she kicked another one.
___Feeling much better, she trod out the flap to find some dinner—maybe some longbread and quail…He would probably be near the quailcotes. She could order some pounded quail on sticks, maybe talk to him, figure out something useful…
___Mulling this over, Portunista wended downhill in the deepening gloom of twilight.
___She hadn’t gone far when she heard that voice—
___“You’re ready for kissing now, I see!”
___Her feet tangled—with her throat it felt like! Spluttering, she whirled around…!
___She only saw some nearby backs of people.
___She spun some more directions, just in case.
___Meanwhile, Dagon answered from within the crowd: “I’m ready for you to kiss my boots, if that is what you mean!”
___“Well said!” was the hearty reply; the crowd lightly laughed.
___Now Portunista knew where to look, and leapt atop an earthen berm, following as it encircled the hillside, clearing the edge of the crowd.
___“Commander Dagon and I have a bet to resolve,” said Jian to the gathering. “From myself: one thrust!” He quickly lunged, though not toward Dagon. “And from him: one parry!” He threw out a hand to the glowering man.
___Silence.
___“Ahem,” coughed Jian theatrically. “Your cue, good sir.”
___“Get on with it,” Dagon nervously growled. “I’m getting hungry; maybe I’ll visit the stockpen, before you clean my boots.”
___“And that is Dagon’s condition for my loss!” said Jian, resuming his rhythm. “If his parry succeeds, then I must clean his boots with my tongue—and he didn’t exactly specify a time or place, so who can tell what foulness he may stoop to—or stoop in, eh?” Again the crowd laughed; not a few clapped. Portunista only shook her head. Why must he be so headslappingly…fair?!
___“And in return, should his parry fail—I never said I would hit you on target, sir…” Jian grinned, as Dagon’s breath caught short. “Though I shall certainly try,” he added, and Portunista snorted. A fine idea, to throw away that advantage… “If he cannot parry my legitimate thrust to his chest,” and she tapped her foot in exasperation at this naive slip as well, “then he must give a kiss to Tumblecrumble…on the mouth!” Jian flourished to the crowd’s delight.
___“Are you ready now??” Dagon fretted, looking around at the failing light.
___Jian settled into a comfortable stance, within clean striking distance. “Ready and on-guard, good sir! Prepare yourself accordingly!”
___Dagon whipped his falchion into a ready stance, dead center of his mass, where he could easily parry in either direction. “You didn’t say that I had to use a stick, dear boy,” he smirked.
___“Quite true,” Jian smiled in return…
___…sounding no less amused, and yet…
___Portunista blinked. Was she imagining—?
___“Quite true. I didn’t. I take it you’re ready now.”
___“Anytime!” the Krygian snapped.
___“Anytime…” echoed the juacuar nearby. Dagon jerked his head and eyes—
___—Go now! thought Portunista, he’s distracted—!
___But Jian turned round and saluted his friend, slowly so Dagon would not mistake it for the thrust. “It’s good to know Howclear is here,” he said to Dagon, “lest your blade should slip a bit. I wouldn’t want my supper ruined.” Then he returned on stance. “Ready as well!”
___Fine, thought Portunista, let him lose…he deserves it after his blunders…
___With a snap Jian stabbed from where he stood, then followed smoothly with a lunge. Dagon barked a laugh and whistled his blade—!
___But there was no clang.
___Even in the dimming light, everyone could see the stick, touching Dagon almost in the center.
___“Pucker up, dear sir.”
___Jian recovered to attention, with a salute, as the crowd erupted. Dagon stood frozen in shock; but Portunista smiled in surprised appreciation.
___Then, Dagon raised his hands. “Silence! I have something to say!” The noise abated somewhat.
___“Congratulations, sir,” he gritted through his teeth. “Clever timing: in this purply haze, I could hardly see a competent disengage. However,” he continued, “would you be willing to give me a chance to recoup? Double or nothing?”
___“Don’t do it!” “He’d not’ve given you th’ chance!” These and other calls came out of the gathering; ones that Portunista heartily agreed with!
___But… “Before I consent, I must hear the terms you are offering, sir.”
___“Torches,” stated Dagon. “Plenty of ’em. Also, I think you did not quite fairly play with me…sir…for if you disengaged my blade, it wasn’t any straight thrust!”
___“That’s debatable, Dagon!” Seifas warned.
___“True!” returned the Krygian smartly—angering Seifas must have seemed better than kissing Tumblecrumble—“But debatable either way. Correct?” He turned toward his opponent. “Shall we see for certain whether you played by what you said?”
___Jian considered this a moment. Then, “Done!” he granted. “Torches!” Dagon cried, and people ran to fetch them. Portunista found that she was growling beneath her breath…but at least he couldn’t really lose…
___“And just to keep things interesting,” added Jian, “I voluntarily reinstate my own end of your terms!”
___Portunista’s jaw popped as it fell open. Even Dagon’s eyes went wide. “As you say!” he crowed. “The crowd is a witness!” The maga stamped her foot in frustration—
___“Commander Portunista!” Jian turned round to her. She hadn’t known that he had known that she was near!—caught off balance, she nearly tumbled off the earthen berm.
___This did not improve her temper any.
___“Would you kindly wisp the area for us, please? I wouldn’t want for Dagon to be cheated by the flickering of the torches.”
___“Done!” she barked, and whistled up some floating globes.
___“Same shot!” Jian announced; then he came on guard.
___Dagon grunted, face and body tensing tight as steel, as he brought his falchion into line. “And no feints!”
___“Certainly not. One straight shot. If you’re ready.”
___“Ready!” gritted Dagon, his eyes boresighted on the wooden stick, as if by force of will he could destroy it…
___With a proper stab, Jian set up the shot—and then lunged home.
___“GRAAAHHH!” Dagon roared, falchion flashing in the brilliant sea of orangish-white—!
___He roared. But didn’t clang.
___The blunt wide tip was resting just about dead center of the Krygian’s chest.
___“I didn’t disengage you last time either,” Jian smiled up at him.
___“Now—!” the fair man spread his arms to quiet the crowd as the cheering began again. “You have a problem, Dagon. You bet me double or nothing, but frankly there isn’t any point in kissing Tumblecrumble twice. So, to me, your second terms seem rather open.”
___Dagon started to dispute, but the juacuar stepped forward and overtly stared into his ear. The Krygian leaped away in panic: “Get back from me, you freak!”
___“Only checking,” Seifas warned.
___“So I was thinking,” Jian continued, with relentless cheerfulness, “I’ll choose something you consider yours, to kiss. And as I’ve had that kiss already, I’m glad to report your account is almost clear. Fair?”
___Dagon looked dissatisfied with this; the logic seemed suspicious. But, what else could he do?
___“Agreed,” he mumbled.
___Jian saluted Dagon and the crowd, and then he strode away; downhill through the cheers. Portunista huffed a sigh: a perfect opportunity for him to extort his enemy—altogether wasted!
___But, as the crowd and Seifas started hedging Dagon toward the edge of camp that Tumblecrumble favored, Portunista turned to follow Jian.
___Dropping nimbly off the berm, she trailed him from a distance.
___He walked in unobtrusiveness, often changing direction, finding the path of least attention.
___When he reached the quailcotes, he asked a vendor for sticks of pounded meat—just as she’d expected.
___When his sticks were ready, he turned to leave—
___and found the maga waiting, holding cups of mead and bracing up a loaf of longbread with her arm.
___“Do you mind?” she asked. “I could use some company, while I eat tonight.” Good start, she thought and pleasantly smiled; very smooth. In fact, he looked a little thrown off-balance…
___“Send some extra sticks of quail to me,” she told the vendor, and then turned to suggest her tent for solitude…but Jian had already moved away.
___“Thanks! That sounds fine!” he told her over his shoulder. He walked to find a nearby fire, and there he settled back against a log. No one else was at the firepit, but it wasn’t private. Seven paces distant, some of Othon’s company were heartily shoveling down their evening meal, as a sapling crackled in their fire.
___Jian began to nibble neatly on his skewered strips of quail, pausing for a sip of mead. Portunista pulled the bread in halves, and tossed him one.
___“So,” she started, and she munched her bread. “Very impressive. You don’t even care if he kisses the beast?”
___Jian shrugged. “I’m not worried. If he doesn’t, he will undermine his own authority, showing himself to be a man who breaks his oaths—though granted, of a minor sort.”
___Portunista nodded. Very clever—devious even. “And if he fills your terms, he looks a clown.” She took another bite of bread. “But, you might have lost.”
“So?” he asked, and looked at her directly…
___…she saw that he was utterly insane…
___She tromped down on that burst of fear, and drew the clear conclusion.
___“You rigged it.”
___He chuckled and sipped some mead.
___“No. And yes. Sort of. I didn’t fix it so I couldn’t lose.” He smiled a most unnerving smile.
___“But…if you had lost—!” Maybe he was insane…! Had she just spit out a chunk of the bread…?!
___“Nothing a jug of water couldn’t fix. I didn’t say that I would swallow anything, nor that I’d lick his boots all totally clean at once.” Not an especially comforting explanation, the maga thought! “I’m sure it would’ve tasted vile,” he added.
___“But—you would’ve looked—!” The implications dawned on her.
___“A fool?” he finished for her—with a grin she normally would have described as diabolic. “As you can see”—he paused to take a grateful-looking sip of mead—”I didn’t have much to lose; and plenty to gain, no matter what. I played it fair and in good temper; had I lost, I would have paid the same. People probably would have bought me supper for a week,” he chuckled.
___Portunista’s quail arrived. The boy who carried it scurried away when Portunista scowled at him—his grin and Jian’s seemed much too close for comfort.
___She shuffled some things around in her mind, while they ate together in silence. She absently hoped that Jian hadn’t seen that bit of bread fly out of her mouth…
___On the other hand—she had to swallow a grin herself, when she caught him perusing her, over his meal. She had slipped into a few old habits, calling attention to herself…and away from that bit of bread, she hoped…
___Jian had seemed to constantly give away his advantages—but now she thought he must have been securing them while doing so.
___“Are you really that good with a sword?” she asked, hiding her interest under a tease.
___“No,” he chuckled. “And, yes; in a way. I did win the bet, after all.”
___“How?” she asked, more forcefully than she’d intended.
___“Surely you don’t believe I’m going to tell you all my secrets just like that!” he laughed. “Dagon led himself into it, through his overcare and pride. Seifas probably knows the trick—or any of several regular veterans. It wouldn’t hurt for you to talk to them a little anyway, you know.”
___But, she decided she would not ask Seifas, or anyone else. Now it was a challenge; a minor one perhaps, but if successful, maybe with interesting rewards…
___Wait…He was finishing up, and…Was he preparing to leave her at the fire? This was hardly something she was accustomed to!
___“And what about that gibberish at the end, about the terms already being fulfilled? What did that mean?” she rattled out, off the top of her head. He was about to leave her there…!
___“You mean you have no clue?” he winked.
___And then he strode away into the dark—probably to return his cup and sticks to the vendor and quailer! she slunk, thinking to herself—
___and then she nearly choked on her bread.
___She was absently rubbing the tip of her nose.
So yes, it’s real, and yes it works, and if someone does it right against someone who doesn’t understand it and isn’t expecting it, it really is an (almost) unbeatable thrust. (There’s a way which someone who doesn’t understand it could use to accidentally beat it, and several ways to intentionally beat it once it’s recognized, but I’m not going to spoil how it’s done by describing those.)
Just don’t press the comparisons too far.
Book 2 only has one extensive new “set”, too, for that matter, although that’s a small city so it’s more complex than the valley and its (relatively small) tower.