WO-MAN! WO-MAN! she began to chant at the top of her voice as she tapped her shield rhythmically. She saw Rain look at her, her face as hard as stone. Misery met her eyes, and nodded. Rain understood.

WOMAN! WOMAN! WOMAN! Rain repeated it, louder. The chant spread like a plague amongst the Wolves. Kalyavan paused momentarily to listen, then his eyes widened only the slightest as he understood the implication. His grin vanished, and he raced towards Satyabhama, as if to outrun his doubts. I knew it. Misery flinched at the flash of steel, but clung to her cheers as if her life depended on it. For Kalyavan’s prophecy boasted that no man could kill him.

But Satyabhama was no man.

CALM inched closer as Kalyavan’s sword arm flashed up. She screamed Woman! with all her might at every swing Satyabhama made. She could see the chanting was getting to Kalyavan, for he threw her a glance that no doubt conveyed his wish to throttle her. Doubt began to creep over his face. Perhaps because he felt exhausted. Perhaps because no man had lasted this long against him in a duel. Whatever it was, the invincible Greek was tiring. The Red Cloaks too, had grown ominously silent, their shoulders drooping, their faces crestfallen. The constant, rhythmic chants of the Wolves seemed to have eroded their enthusiasm.

There was a movement in the watching circle as Krishna appeared, a blood-soaked bandage wrapped around his head. Trembling, he watched as his wife and his foe conversed with swords. Even he joined in the Woman! chant. Satyabhama lifted her chin briefly when she caught sight of him from the corner of her eye. Calm could see Krishna barely managed to suppress the urge to call off the duel. He knew he could not insult Satyabhama.

Kalyavan had grown dark and deadly now, his arrogance having abandoned him. He had taken off most of his armour to gain speed. Satyabhama followed suit. Calm understood it would be madness for them to duel on in full armour. They did not have strength on their side, but they had skill and speed aplenty. This was the duel that mattered, and the tide was turning. Satyabhama’s legwork had looked sluggish before, but that had been a feint. Calm had always known it. She had been preserving her strength. Kalyavan’s speed had made him look godlike before. But that’s the thing about being fast. The gazelle eventually runs out of air. Stamina matters more than speed in the hunt, as in swordplay.

LIST could see Kalyavan’s sword growing heavier every time he swung it. He was barely hitting back. They were both bleeding. Kalyavan’s breeches were soaked from the wound on his leg, and the hand Satyabhama had bitten, was raw. Blood streaked Satyabhama’s arms and cheek. But Kalyavan was the one panting more, which at the moment seemed more important than who was bleeding more. List was sure Kalyavan had reached the same conclusion: he was the better swordsman but Satyabhama had somehow outlasted and outwitted him. She had taken her share of cuts to let Kalyavan get ahead of himself, and now the Greek was in trouble.