Star Wars_ Splinter of the Mind's Eye - Alan Dean Foster [67]
“Luke boy—” she started to argue.
He shut her up with a wave. “Not now. It doesn’t matter anymore.” He handed the lightsaber to the Princess. “All right … what are the rules? And who do I fight? Let’s finish this … one way or the other.”
“You fight,” Halla translated laboriously, listening to the chief’s words, “until one of you quits, or dies. The word for quit is saen. That doesn’t matter, since you’ve nothing to gain by saying it.”
Luke merely grunted, walked toward the chiefs. The entire crowd was babbling now, apparently in anticipation of the imminent battle. Luke found that despite the coolness he was beginning to sweat.
The crowd parted and Luke had his first glimpse of the Coway he apparently was going to fight. Some of the tenseness left him. Though broader than he was, the creature was the same height. He didn’t appear especially ferocious, either. There were larger Coways in the crowd and more fearsome-looking ones. Yet this modest-appearing specimen was the chosen champion. There had to be a reason, which he was sure to discover sooner than he wished. He examined his opponent guardedly. For its part, the Coway stared back, gave him a profound bow and made an intricate movement with both arms.
Unable to duplicate the complex ritual, Luke gave the Alliance salute. What sounded like a murmur of approval issued from the crowd. It might also have been their way of saying that he was going to be torn to small furless bits, but he preferred to believe the other.
The Coway walked past him, stopped on the far side of the pond. “What do I do now?” Luke wondered, calling back to Halla.
“Walk to this side of the pond and face him,” he was told. “When the second chief, that one in the middle with the blue spines sticking out of his collar, drops his right arm, the two of you go after each other.” Her voice held no humor now.
“Do we have to fight in the water?” he inquired worriedly.
“No one’s said so.”
“That’s good enough for me.”
A singularly chilling howl came from the crowd. It was followed by dead silence. The middle chief raised its arm, dropped it with a swipe. Immediately, the Coway started across the pond toward Luke.
Luke prowled his side of the water, trying to decide what to try. Should he strike at the head or body? It was impossible to detect any obvious vulnerable spot under that gray carpet of fur. Shouts from the onlookers thundered around the cavern walls.
“Why did you bother to tell Luke the word for quitting,” the Princess whispered to Halla, “if he can’t gain anything by using it?”
“I’m hoping he’ll get in a tight spot and use it as a last resort,” Halla whispered back.
“But why?”
“Because it’s not the Coway term for quitting. It’s a local swear word. Has something to do with parentage, I think.”
Whirling, the Princess gave her a shocked look. “In Alliance’s cause, why’d you do that, old woman?”
“I thought it might do us some good if Luke yells something defiant while that brute is choking the life out of him. We’ve nothing to lose by it. Luke doesn’t either. The Coway admire spirit.”
The Princess was too shocked and disgusted to reply. Her obvious feelings had no effect on Halla. She was staring past her, toward the pond.
“If we’re lucky he’ll never have to utter it,” she said blithely. “In any case, there’s nothing we can do about it now.”
Luke jumped around the edge of the water, trying to get some estimate of his rival’s mobility. Either his opponent was too clever to respond, or more likely he just didn’t care. The Coway headed relentlessly straight for Luke, splashing and kicking up water in a fine display of indifference to anything Luke chose to do.
As far as Luke was concerned, the Coway was far too enthusiastic about this contest. Its actions bespoke an assurance Luke couldn’t begin to share.
If he remained where he was, Luke reflected