Gabriel shrugged. “We’re really just along to be bodyguards for Mortirmir,” he said. He put a hand to his visor. “Although I’d like Ash to notice all the shipping I’m moving to western Galle, and how we’re all marching in that direction. I need him focused on my attempt to return by sea.”

Tom grunted. “Last I heard he didn’t see you?”

“Not me, personally. But all of us, and Mortirmir especially, must burn like the sun in the sense of potential enmity.” He shrugged. “I hope so anyway,” he said, and pulled his visor down and walked out onto the springy turf.

Long Paw followed him out, wearing a different pair of gauntlets. He flexed his fingers several times and then nodded to indicate all was well. He knelt, and Gabriel saluted him, and Gabriel was painfully aware that a thousand men and women were watching him.

So he was cautious.

He and Long Paw circled for a long time.

Then Long Paw came closer with a slow circling step.

Gabriel tossed a cut at Long Paw’s hands.

Long Paw covered and stepped in, his sword perfectly skidding down the length of Gabriel’s as Gabriel stepped back, attempting to leave the bind.

Long Paw was so-called for a reason. It wasn’t just the immense length of his arms but the speed with which he moved, his legs as well as his hands, all catlike. Despite Gabriel’s retreat, he closed the distance, and his sword point missed his captain’s armoured neck by the breadth of only three fingers as he won the bind and came on. Gabriel felt his hands rotate; he was in the weaker position, and to his immense consternation, Long Paw reached between his hands and plucked his sword away, disarming him.

He stood for a moment, blinking in an agony of outraged pride.

Long Paw handed him back his sword with a bow.

Gabriel hated to be mocked. He’d had a bellyful as a child.

“You alright?” Long Paw asked, his concern genuine.

Gabriel blinked away an irrational answer. “That was beautiful,” he admitted. “I just wish the victim had been someone else.”

Men were shouting; Oak Pew was applauding.

Both men made their reverences and saluted. Gabriel was now more cautious. He circled, he declined various provocations, and he tended to withdraw every time Long Paw advanced.

“Don’t be such a priss!” bellowed Tom.

Gabriel had forgotten how annoying it was to be surrounded by the judgments of men.

But when Long Paw attacked, a simple fendente, he covered and stepped forward strongly into the cover. He went for his dagger immediately, even as Long Paw’s left hand went for his sword and he let it go and tapped the lanky man on the helmet with the butt of his heavy dirk.

Long Paw laughed. “Ouch,” he said. “Well struck, Cap’n.”

Gabriel sheathed his dagger, his hands shaking, and stepped back to salute again.