‘So who do we put up against him, if not me?’ Tynisa asked.

‘He’s really that good?’ Salma had not been in Collegium last year.

‘Better,’ confirmed Totho, the apprentice, gloomily. ‘He can beat any of us.’

‘Che should fight him,’ Salma decided.

‘What?’

‘With the best will in the world, Che, you’re our… you’re not our best fighter.’ Salma shrugged, but without real apology. ‘There it is. It means we can win by the numbers.’

‘He’ll go easy on you, probably,’ Tynisa told her.

‘He won’t,’ Totho said darkly.

‘Look, this is all assuming that we even get to choose,’ said Che hurriedly.

‘Quiet now,’ hissed Tynisa. ‘Look, they’re calling it.’

Kymon held out a fist from which projected the corners of two kerchiefs. Stenwold indicated that Master Paldron should choose first. The magnate squinted at the Master of Ceremonies’ hand suspiciously, and then tugged at one corner. The kerchief that he drew out had one red-stained end.

‘Now that’s a shame,’ said Salma, as the townsman waved the rag triumphantly at his team.

‘Golden Shell, the first match is your choosing,’ Kymon announced.

There was dissent in the ranks. Piraeus was arguing with his team-mates as to precisely who should have the honour of fighting him. From his jabbing finger it was clear that Tynisa would be his choice and, despite her earlier boasts, the Spider girl compressed her lips together nervously. The casting vote seemed to be with Falger, old Paldron’s nephew. When the Mantis-kinden stepped forward he looked sullen and dissatisfied, pointing at Salma.

‘Piraeus the Champion to fight the foreign prince,’ announced Kymon, stepping forward. Stenwold and Paldron hurriedly found seats out of harm’s way as the Master of Ceremonies strode to the very centre of the Prowess Forum. A circle of bare, sandy earth was there, raked level after every bout, contained within a square of mosaic whose corners boasted martial scenes picked out in intricate detail.