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“Hope you can fight well,” the barkeep says nervously.

“Why?” asks Fifer. “What difference would that make to you?”

“If they have another poor fight, it could be bad,” he admits.

“Been bringing him a few losers?” Jiron asks.

“You could say that,” replies the barkeep. “After the first couple of fights, no one around here is willing to face their champion.”

“Just who is their champion?” Fifer asks.

“A very fierce warrior,” he answers. “Brought up from somewhere deep within the Empire. Rumor has it he’s forced to fight for that man there, but why has never been told.”

“Interesting,” muses Jiron.

“Looks like they’re ready,” the barkeep says.

Glancing to the pavilion, Jiron sees the leader of the group and the large hooded man coming toward them. He and the barkeep, with Fifer staying several feet behind proceed to meet them in the center of the cleared area. A hush falls over the crowd as the two fighters meet.

Jiron looks beneath the hood but even with the light of the many torches illuminating the courtyard, he’s still unable to make out anything underneath.

The leader says something to his fighter who removes the hooded cloak.

Jiron hears Fifer gasp as the features of the man he’s to fight is seen. Tattoos cover most of his exposed skin. Bearing two swords, one longer than the other, Jiron knows exactly who or rather what his opponent is. A Parvati!

Breaking out in a grin Jiron gives the Parvati a friendly nod. A murmur grows through the crowd at his reaction. Never has anyone shown a reaction other than startlement or fear when he removed his hood. Now here’s this man, shorter and only bearing knives, giving him a friendly nod.

The expression on the Parvati’s leader’s face shows his confusion as well. He has always revealed his warrior’s features at the last minute to instill fear and doubt in his opponents. But that didn’t happen here and he doesn’t know why.

If the Parvati has taken any notice of Jiron’s nod, he fails to reply. His expression remains placid.

The barkeep steps between them and says, “There’s only one rule here. He who lives, wins!”

At that the crowd around them begins to cheer and call out. Raising a red flag high over his head, he continues, “When I let this go, begin the fight.”

The barkeep watches as the crowd moves back a little bit further to give the combatants room to fight. When he sees enough room has been cleared he waves the flag in a circle around his head. Just before he drops it, Jiron says to the Parvati, “May your swords drink deep.”

Stunned that he would know to say the traditional Parvati greeting, the Parvati stands there motionless when the red flag is dropped. “May your knives drink deep,” he says a smile coming to him as he draws his swords.

Jiron draws his knives and the battle begins. The Parvati begins with a few testing maneuvers to see how strong his defenses are. After several passes, he begins the fight in earnest.

When Jiron realized that he faced a Parvati, his first inclination was to produce the necklace and declare himself a Shynti. But what the barkeep said kept running through his mind. Rumor has it he’s forced to fight for that man there.

Working more on defense than actually trying to do him harm, Jiron easily blocks every strike, deflects every thrust. “Why do you do this?” he asks the Parvati during a series of intermittent probes from the Parvati.

“Do what?” he asks as he launches into a vicious attack which Jiron has a hard time in countering.

“This. Fighting for that man over there,” he clarifies. “From the Parvatis I’ve known, they would never let themselves be used thus.” Blocking an attack, he steps back a minute as they both catch their breath.

The crowd has been cheering the interplay of weapons. Over beneath the pavilion, Jiron can see the leader of the Empire’s men smiling. He’s definitely getting his money’s worth.

“I am honor bound to fight for him so long as he doesn’t set me against my own people,” the Parvati states. Coming at Jiron again, his blades are a veritable blur as they seek to penetrate his defense.