‘Let it be to first blood,’ Corban said. ‘If anything, that will reveal the greater skill.’

Both men stared at him, then nodded.

‘Then begin,’ Corban said and stepped back into the crowd.

The two men raised their swords and without any other sign attacked.

Their blades rang, a flurry of high blows from both men, neither giving ground. Then Gar stepped in close and kicked Akar in the knee. Akar staggered back, for a fleeting moment his cold face twisted with shock and anger. Gar followed him, striking in a long, relentless combination to head, neck, groin, gut, heart, head – Corban recognized each and every blow, one flowing into the next, fluid as a song.

Akar defended, something the Jehar did rarely, giving ground with a shuffling backstep, favouring, protecting his injured leg.

Corban felt a presence behind him, glanced back quickly to see crowds forming, seemingly every man woman and child in the weapons court. The sound of iron on iron had drawn them.

Gar did not let up, Akar’s defence beginning to appear frayed, disjointed as he tried desperately to parry every blow.

Abruptly Gar stopped, took a step back and walked slowly around Akar.

‘You are right to say that the world has touched me, moulded me,’ Gar said, eyes never leaving Akar as he paced around the warrior, who was taking advantage of the respite, setting his feet, controlling his breathing.

‘But you are wrong to say it has made me weaker.’ Gar stepped forward, sword moving again, iron clashing, ringing loud. This time Akar did not give way and the two of them stood, chopping and lunging, blocking, stabbing, parrying, neither one able to break through the other’s defence, each parry turned into a strike that was in turn blocked. Blow by blow they inched closer, until they were standing with swords locked above them, grating sparks, legs planted, leaning into their blades as if they were an extension of their bodies, both staring at each other, sweat dripping. Then Gar’s head jerked forward, headbutting Akar on the nose. Blood spurted and Akar stumbled back a step, Gar’s foot hooking behind Akar’s ankle and then Akar was on his back, blood running down his chin, Gar’s sword hovering over him.

Corban let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Coralen’s used that move on me a hundred times, and I eventually learned to do it back to her. Looks as if Gar’s been watching us spar.

‘You’re bleeding,’ Gar said. ‘Do you yield?

It was an unorthodox move, something these Jehar would probably consider beneath them. But as Coralen always says – dead is dead.

Akar stared up at Gar, emotions warring across his face. Then something in him softened and he nodded.

‘First blood is yours,’ Akar said. ‘I yield.’

‘The world has touched me, but it has made me stronger, not weaker,’ Gar breathed. ‘Now, give me your hand, brother.’