More footsteps; excited voices. “He knocked out the man who was guarding the barbarian doctor,” Sano heard Nirin explain to someone. Desperately he rattled the window bars, which held firm. The office door flew open. Sano turned as Nirin burst into the room.

“Kenji, go to the mainland and fetch Chief Ohira immediately,” the commander ordered. “Tell him—” His startled gaze took in the clerk, bound and gagged, and Sano at the window. Fury suffused his face. “You.” He spoke on a disgusted laugh. “I might have known.”

In a motion so fast that his image blurred, Nirin whipped his sword from its scabbard and lunged. The blade whistled through the air, straight toward Sano’s neck. Sano had his stolen long sword ready, but its unfamiliar weight and grip disconcerted him. He almost failed to parry Nirin’s stroke. Their blades met in a jarring clash of steel. Swinging his sword free, Sano tried a cross-body cut.

His blade glanced harmlessly off the commander’s armor tunic. Nirin laughed and launched another assault. Sano, unaccustomed to fighting in armor, found himself at a serious disadvantage. He saw that Nirin was no better a swordsman than himself; his own helmet, tunic, and leg and arm guards shielded him. But this style of combat demanded a different strategy. All strikes must target an unprotected area of his opponent’s body: face, neck, thighs, or upper arms. As Sano thrust and parried and circled, his wounded shoulder grew sore. The tunic chafed against the bandage. And he could tell that Nirin knew about his handicap.

The commander centered his attack on Sano’s upper body, forcing him to fight with his sword raised, which strained the injury even more. Sano managed few counterstrokes while Nirin chased him around the room. He leapt backward over desks, bumped cabinets and screens. He heard shouts from the doorway. Clerks and guards burst into the room.

“Stand back,” Nirin told them, slashing at Sano. “He’s all mine.”

Sano was gasping in pain, sweaty and panting with exertion. Warm blood trickled down his chest. Nirin, not even winded, closed in on him. Completely on the defensive now, Sano dodged and parried. His shoulder weakened. Nirin aimed a cut at Sano’s neck. Their blades crossed, locking Sano’s arm in a high, awkward twist. Pain shot from his shoulder to his hand. He let go the sword, and the spectators cheered. Nirin raised his weapon in both hands. Sano leapt backward just in time to avoid the slice. He drew his short sword, but with his reach reduced, he couldn’t get close enough to Nirin to score a cut. The commander’s longer, heavier sword battered his. If this continued, the fight was lost.