SOS the Rope by Piers Anthony Read Free Book Online Page B

slightly when put under strain, but otherwise was nothing more or less than a rigid pole. It was one of the easiest weapons to use, though it seldom led to a quick decision. It readily blocked any other instrument, but was as easily blocked itself.
        Sol feinted four times with the heavy club, watching the defensive posture of his opponent, then shrugged and lashed out with a backhand blow to the chest that neatly bypassed the horizontal shaft.
        Sav looked surprised, fighting for the wind and steam that had been knocked out of him. Sol placed his club gently against the staff and pushed. The man fell backwards out of the circle.
        Sos was amazed. It had looked so simple, as though a lucky blow, but he knew it was not. Sol had expertly tested his opponent's reflexes, then struck with such quick precision that no parry had been feasible. It was a remarkable feat with the crude club-and no accident. Sol, nothing special outside the circle, was a tactical genius within it. A man had been added to the group, efficiently and virtually uninjured.
        It appeared Sol needed no advice on terms of combat.
        Sav took it philosophically. "I looked pretty foolish, didn't I, after all my talk," he said, and that was all. He didn't mope and he made no further overtures to Sola.
        The law of averages Sos had read about indicated that it would be a couple of weeks before they encountered any really able warrior. That afternoon, notwithstanding, they met two men with swords, Tor and Tyl. The first was swarthy and greatbearded, the second slim and cleanshaven. Sworders often shaved, as did daggers; it was an unofficial mark of their specialty, since it subtly hinted their skill with the blade. Sos had tried to shave with his sword once and had sliced his face severely; after that he stuck to the shears and did not try for closeness. There were electric razors in the ëabins, though few men condescended to use them. He had never understood why it should be considered degrading to use the crazies' razors, while all right to eat their food, but that was the way convention had it.
        Both sworders were married, and Tor had a little girl. They were friends, but it turned out that Tyl was the master of the group of two. Both agreed to fight, Tor first, with the stipulation that what he won belonged to Tyl. That was the way of a tribe of any size.
        Against Tor, Sol took a matching sword. These were straight, flat, slashing instruments twenty inches long, pointed but seldom used for stabbing. Sword contests were usually dramatic and swift. Unfortunately, wounds were frequent, too, and deaths not uncommon. That was why Sol had taken the staff against Sos, weeks ago; he had really been sure Of his skill and had not wanted to risk injuring his opponent seriously.
        "His wife and daughter are watching," Sola murmured beside him. "Why does he match weapons?"
        Sos understood her question to mean Tora and Tori as spectators and Sol's matching sword to sword. "Because Tyl is also watching," he told her.
        Tor was powerful and launched. a vigorous attack, while Sol merely fended him off. Then Sol took his turn on the offense, hardly seeming to make an effort yet pressing the other man closely. After that there was a pause in the circle as neither attacked.
        "Yield," Tyl said to his man.
        Tor stepped out and it was over, bloodlessly after all. The little girl gaped, not understanding, and Sola shared this confusion, but Sos had learned two important things. First, he had seen that Tor was an expert sworder who might very well have defeated Sos himself in combat. Second, he knew Tyl was even better. This was a rare pair to come upon so casually, after going so long without meeting anyone of caliber-except that that was the way the averages worked.
        Sola had thought that sword against sword meant inevitable bloodshed, but in this situation the truth was opposite.