“But you … you…” Brother Qown all but pointed a finger at her. “That seat doesn’t belong to you. Neither does that purse.”

“We’re saving a spot for Her Highness, if she comes back. You agreed.” Dorna took a sip of the weak tea she’d bought from a vendor earlier, made a face, and traded up for the cider flagon the woman had left behind. “Much better. Now shush. Gozen’s up, and he’s my favorite.”

“A minute ago, you’d never heard of Gozen!”

“Don’t be silly, priest. Gozen works for the Sifen family. They grow mangoes.” She returned to watching the sport.

“You’re a terrible person,” Brother Qown muttered.

The old woman looked proud.

Two knights entered the grounds. The one in yellow and blue, Gozen, looked like he’d just purchased the basic knight starter kit. Too new or unsuccessful at the contests to have yet gained himself full armor and barding for his horse. He faced an older knight in full red regalia. The older knight’s colors and banners identified him as a Red Spear, a mercenary company who sold their skills to the highest bidder.

The two knights entered the yard and made their customary first circuit around the field, complete with hurled invectives. Brother Qown saw Count Janel, or rather, the Black Knight, enter the grounds.

No one noticed. No one had paid much attention to the Black Knight earlier in the day, and the new Black Knight still wore black armor and rode a flame-kissed ebony fireblood. The differences seemed obvious to Brother Qown. The knight rode a flame-kissed ebony fireblood, but since Talaras had not agreed to let Janel ride him, it wasn’t the same flame-kissed ebony fireblood. The tiger striping on his legs was an easy giveaway. The Black Knight’s armor suddenly appeared oversized, strapped down to a slimmer body.

Still no one paid any attention.

All energy focused on the two men, now before the warden and a table filled with eight different statues. Gozen bent down from his saddle and picked up the small statue of a pregnant woman sitting cross-legged on a tortoise’s back: Galava, the Mother. Gozen held the statue aloft so the crowds in the stands might see his selection.

“Ah,” Dorna said. She chewed on a wrapped porie leaf, another item Brother Qown hadn’t seen her buy. “The Fourth Contest. Interesting choice.”

“What’s the Fourth Contest?”

“Shhh. It’s starting.”

The priest gritted his teeth and returned his attention to the combatants and their contest, whatever form it would take. The Red Spear rode up to the table as squires ran to them with ropes. They carried two kinds—small, thin ropes, such as one might use to tie bundles, and a single large rope thick as a strong man’s wrist. Since Gozen had picked the contest, the Red Spear now had the right to pick which sort of “weapon” they’d use.