«Yet we could not be sure, so I ordered the fight. If you perished, it would be a quicker death than you would receive at other hands than ours. If you lived, you would be no Steppeman, and your fate a matter for His Magnificence.»

«You are certainly no Steppeman,» said Tulu briskly. «They are mighty warriors on horseback, but far less dangerous on foot. They have no such arts of fighting with their hands and feet as you have. Nor do they ever show mercy to a foe. I saw how you were fighting, Blade. Am I not right in saying that you were trying to spare both Tzimon and Dzhai?»

Blade grinned. «I was. They had done me no harm. If I could keep them from doing me any without killing them, why shouldn't I do it?»

The duke shook his head, his face blank. He seemed to find either Blade's words or Blade's philosophy totally incomprehensible. Blade wasn't surprised. If the Emperor Kul-Nam's bloodthirstiness was normal for the Empire, mercy would be something seldom mentioned and even more seldom shown. The idea of someone casually refusing to kill a couple of men who were doing their best to kill him would be hard to grasp.

To help the duke over his embarrassment, Blade went on swiftly. «I wish I had been able to do better. I'm afraid that Dzhai has lost the use of one arm for life. He and Tzimon were too good. I had to move too fast or they would certainly have killed me. I hope someone will be able to take care of Dzhai now that he can no longer fight.»

Tulu stared at Blade. «You wish-help for Dzhai?» He shook his head, as bewildered as his father.

«Of course,» said Blade. «It was not his fault that he was defeated. I am a stranger with no money and no certainty that I will be able to live here in Saram. Otherwise I myself would offer him a place in my service. The world is full of jobs that a strong man who works hard can do with only one hand.»