Both Mok and Sol jumped as their chains yanked� but it was Sol who hung on to his star. Mok's handle slipped from his grasp, and he was disarmed. Neq realized that this was exactly what Sol had intended. He had deliberately engaged the other weapon, not trying for the man at all, and had jerked sharply the moment contact was made. Mok had expected the entanglement to interfere with both warriors, so that he could use his weight to advantage in the clinch. Sol's strategy and timing had been superior. Or could it have been sheer luck? "What would you face?" Sol asked Neq. Already! Not the star, certainly! Was it courtesy or confidence the man showed? What to answer! A sword or dagger in a skilled hand could hurt him severely, like Hig. The sticks were blunt, but the pair of them could rattle his brain. The club was blunt and slow, but a real mauler when it connected. The staff� "The staff!" One piece, slow, no edges, safe. Sol calmly brought out his staff. They entered the circle and sparred. Neq felt guilty for his cowardice. A real warrior would have chosen to oppose his own weapon, so the threats were equal. The quarterstaff was safe, but hard to circumvent. Neq feinted� When he came to, his head was throbbing. He was on a bunk in the hostel. The woman wearing Mok's bracelet� Moka�was sponging his face. Neq refrained from asking what had happened. Obviously he had been felled by a blow he had never seen. Could Mok have struck him from behind? No�that would have been a gross violation of the circle code, and there had been no evidence that either Sol or Mok were the type to practice or tolerate such dishonor. The staff must have passed his guard� He touched his head. The welt reminded him. An astonishingly deft maneuver, the staff avoiding his sword as if it were fog, whipping in�ouch! Well, he was a member of Sol's tribe now. The badlands tribe. If there were kill-spirits there, they hadn't hurt Sol much! On balance, it wasn't such a bad outcome.