"I am Sol of All Weapons," he announced. "I contest for mastery." This set Neq back. Mastery meant the loser would join the tribe of the winner. Because it was a voluntary convention, it did not violate the crazies' stricture against deprivation of personal freedom, but a man honor-bound was still bound. Neq had only fought once and practiced some, and didn't trust his luck in serious combat. Not so soon, anyway. He didn't want to join a tribe so soon, and had no use for a tribe of his own. "You use all weapons?" he asked, putting off the implied challenge. "Sword, staff, sticks�all?" Sol nodded gravely. "Even the star?" He glanced at the morning star maces on the weapons rack. Sol nodded again. It seemed he wasn't much for conversation. "I don't want to fight," Neq said. "Not for mastery. I�I just achieved my manhood last week." Sol shrugged, amenable. About dusk a woman showed up. She wore the sarong of availability, but she was if anything less young and less pretty than the one Neq had met before. She must have borrowed many bracelets in her time, yet no man had retained her. Sol paid her no attention; he was without his own bracelet, showing he was married. So it was up to Neq again�and again he did nothing. The woman prepared supper for them both, at this was the function of the available distaff. She had the same assurance about her cooking that Sol did about his weapons. This must be her territory, so that she was used to catering to any men who came here, hoping that some would prefer capability to beauty and would leave the bracelet on her. No woman ever took her bracelet directly from the rack; it had to come from a man. Before the meal was served, a third man arrived. He was a large warrior, paunchy, gruff, with many scars. "I am Mok the Star," he said. "Sol of All Weapons." "Neq the Sword." The girl said nothing; it was not her place. She made another setting at the table. "I contest for mastery," Sol said.