But not quite yet. Even she, aninexperienced observer, could guess that the large man was tiring too quicklyfor the amount of muscle he possessed. It was a ruse-and the staffer suspectedit, too, for the more the motions slowed the more cautious he became. Herefused to be lured into any risky commitment.

      Then the sworder tried an astonishingstrategem: as the end of the staff drove at his side in a fast horizontalswing, he neither blocked nor retreated. He threw himself to the ground,letting the staff pass over him. Then, rolling on his side, he slashed, in avicious backhand arc aimed at the ankles. The staffer jumped, surprised by thisunconventional and dangerous maneuver; but even as his feet rose over the bladeand came down again, it was swishing in a reverse arc.

      The staffer was unable to leap againquickly enough, since he was just landing. But he was not so easily trapped. Hehad kept his balance and maintained control over his weapon with marvelouscoordination. He jammed the end of the staff into the turf between his feetjust as the sword struck. Blood spurted as the blade cut into one calf, but themetal of the staff bore the brunt and saved him from hamstringing or worse. Hewas wounded and partially crippled, but still able to fight.

      The ploy had failed, and it was the endfor the sworder. The staff lifted and struck him neatly across the side of thehead as he tried to rise, sending him spinning out of the circle. He fell inthe gravel, stunned, still gripping his weapon but no longer able to bring itinto play. After a moment he realized where he was, gave one groan of dismay,and dropped the sword. He had lost.

      Sol, now the sole owner of the name,hurled the staff into the ground beside his barrow and stepped over the plasticrim. He gripped the loser's arm and helped him to his feet. "Come-we musteat," he said.