Tau couldn’t believe the man’s words. Hanged? Attacking a Noble? He let his father pull him back.
“Your indulgence with that Low Common offal did this,” Lekan hissed at Jabari.
Tau didn’t think; he reacted. He turned to Lekan, the man who had tried to force himself on Anya and then had her entire family murdered. “I fought Kagiso fairly,” he said, seething, “and, Common or not, I was the better man. I’m a better man than you!”
Tau’s hand went to his sword hilt, and Lekan stepped back, sputtering. Everyone who’d heard Tau’s words spoke at once, shouting over one another until Odili raised his hand in the air, commanding silence. When he had it, he poured slippery words in its place.
“Kellan,” he said, letting his voice carry into the crowd behind him, “this Lesser has the dangerous idea that he knows the sword.”
Like the sea before a ship’s prow, men parted and Kellan Okar stepped forward. A sculptor could have carved the champion’s nephew from granite and the likeness would have been too soft.
“He seems to know the sword as well as he needs to,” said Kellan. “Is a future Drudge worth our time?”
Tau bristled, the insult cutting too close to truth. His father clutched his upper arm hard enough to crush it.
“You mistake me,” said Odili. “I’m not asking.”
Kellan looked down at Tau and back to Odili. Jaw flexed, he locked eyes with the councillor. A breath passed and Kellan looked away. Taking his time, he unsheathed his sword and stood across from Tau.
It didn’t feel real, none of it. From the crowd massed around him, to the mountain of muscle facing him, to Lekan’s sneering face, none of it felt real. Tau’s heart began to pound, his hand tightened on his practice sword, and he looked to his father. Aren paid him no mind. He had a tight grip on Tau’s arm, but he was facing Odili and Kellan.
“Councillor Odili, this is my son. He’s barely a man and has not yet tested. I’m a full-blood Ihashe, with military status. I take his place.”
Aren pulled his sword free and shoved Tau toward his Ihagu. The men grabbed and held him as Aren strode over to Kellan Okar.
“Father!” Tau shouted, finding more arms had joined the others to hold him back.
Odili opened his mouth. It seemed he would deny Aren’s request to fight in Tau’s place. Aren didn’t give him the chance. He threw himself at Kellan and they crossed blades in a crash of metal and sparks. The crowd roared, its ranks swelling to form a wall of human flesh, and Odili’s protest died on his lips as the fighters circled.
Kellan was the bigger man, much younger too. However, he was an initiate, only two-thirds through training. Tau knew the Indlovu Citadel’s reputation, everyone did, but his father was the best fighter in Kerem.
Kellan struck, swinging his sword in a flashing arc. Aren blocked, point down, but Kellan’s attack had enough power to knock Aren’s blade back. Neither man was dressed for combat and Aren’s blade rebounded, cutting Aren in his side. Tau’s father gasped in pain and shuffled back, and Kellan was on him, swinging, cutting, and stabbing, using forms Tau had never seen and couldn’t have identified, given their speed.
Aren stumbled into the wall of people and they shoved him back toward the circle’s center. He was bleeding from his arm, side, and leg, and Kellan came at him again. Aren took a slash to the face, a sword pommel to the gut, and was sent to one knee by the flat of Kellan’s sword.
“They’re cheating. They’re using gifts,” Tau said, looking for the Gifted, the Enrager hidden in the crowd.
“No, they’re not,” said one of the Ihagu.
“End it,” said Abasi Odili, and Tau finally understood. This was a blood-duel, a fight to the death.
Tau strained against the men holding him. He shoved and pushed at them until a hand slipped off. He slapped one of the others and head-butted the last. He was free and ran for his father, who, in that short moment, had been beaten to both knees.
Tau was three strides away. His father was dazed and bleeding, sword down by his side. Kellan raised his weapon and swung.
“No!” Tau screamed, running, watching the bright blade burn through the air.
Aren lifted his sword to defend. Kellan adjusted, hitting him on the wrist, separating hand from forearm. Tau saw his father’s sword drop to the dirt. None of it felt real. His father screamed and collapsed.
Kellan stepped away and said to the crowd, “It’s done. I’ve taken everything from him that made him a man. The son’s offense is paid in full.”
With nothing on which to clean his sword, Kellan held it out from his body and walked back the way he had come.
“Stop!” said Tau. He couldn’t remember picking it up, but he was holding his father’s sword, its hilt red and slick in his hands. He had the weapon pointed at Kellan’s back.
“Put it down, boy.” It was Jayyed Ayim, the onetime adviser to the Guardian Council. “That’s a Greater Noble you’re threatening.”
Kellan turned to face Tau and Tau had sense enough to be afraid. Aren, with the hand remaining, clawed at Tau’s leg, trying to pull him to safety, but it was too late. Councillor Odili spoke.
“Dejen,” he said, calling his Body.
Face placid, Dejen drew his midnight-black sword and strode into the circle.
“Clemency!” Jabari pled.
“I stand for fief Kerem here!” Lekan shouted. “Councillor, I back your will.”
“Odili, it’s done,” said Kellan, arms wide.
Odili inclined his head and Dejen surged, driving his black sword so deep into Aren’s chest it tore open his back. Aren stiffened in shock, mouth open, and there was no time to move or breathe before the Ingonyama ripped the blade free, swinging it at Tau, spattering him across the face and body with his father’s lifeblood.
“Now it’s done,” Odili said.
BRAVE
The sword slipped from Tau’s fingers as he dropped to the earth beside his father.
“Councillor, it goes too far!” said Jayyed Ayim over the crowd’s din.
Tau held Aren, speaking to him, speaking words that made no sense. He spoke for no better reason than to hold his father’s attention, because as long as his father listened, his father was with him.
Aren’s eyes were unfocused. They fell on Tau, fell away, and returned with difficulty. His mouth moved, but he said nothing. He couldn’t, not over the horrible sucking sounds that came from his chest with every breath.
“Father? Father! Da…,” Tau said, as the man who had always cared for him convulsed, drowning in a sea of his own blood. “Da!” But it was too late. Tau’s father was gone and could not hear.
The noise of the fighting fields came back in a rush. It seemed everyone was shouting, until Odili’s voice cut through.
“This Common, a military man,” he said, pointing at Tau’s dead father, “fought a blood-duel on behalf of his son. The same son who assaulted one Noble and later raised his sword to another.”
The tumult did not settle.
“I see you are not satisfied,” said Odili, walking to Tau, sword in hand.
Tau watched him come. He didn’t move. Jayyed Ayim did. He stood over Tau with one hand near his sword hilt and the other raised to the councillor, blocking Odili’s way.