It was not, Ru reasoned, that they were in danger from enemy Green Bones. They were underage, and Ru was a stone-eye, so he was doubly protected by aisho. However, as Ru’s mother frequently reminded him, opportunistic misfortune was always possible. Accidents and misunderstandings could be deadly. The wrong word or decision could have terrible consequences in another clan’s territory. All the Kaul children had heard the story of their uncle Anden being abducted by Gont Asch as intimidation against No Peak when he was eighteen years old, as a result of unintentionally wandering into Summer Park.
When Ru and Niko emerged from the unfamiliar subway station in Little Hammer, they had to consult a map to find the plaza where the duel was supposed to take place. Once they were in the vicinity, it was easy to follow the crowd. Several Mountain Fists and Fingers were standing around, keeping a space clear for the combatants. The Kaul brothers maneuvered their way into an inconspicuous position among the spectators that still allowed them to clearly see all the action.
“That’s him,” Ru whispered. Ayt Atosho, twenty-two years old, a junior Fist of the Mountain, was dressed in loose black pants and a traditional leather vest, a thirty-three-inch moon blade slung over his shoulder. He was speaking to an older couple who were probably his aunt and uncle in the Koben family, but he paused to smile and pose with Mountain loyalists who approached him with cameras in hand. Having never seen Ayt Ato in person before, Ru had to unwillingly admit that the photographs did not lie. The young heir of the Mountain was tall and handsome, with smooth skin, spiky hair tinted red and fashionably mussed, and three jade stones pierced above each eyebrow. If he was nervous about the fight, it didn’t show.
A short distance away, Ato’s challenger paced back and forth. No one in No Peak knew much about Niru Von, other than he was a junior Fist from a poor family. He was probably of a similar age to his opponent, but his pockmarked face made him appear older. Rumor was that he and Ayt Ato had quarreled over the assignment of Fingers. Ato had made mocking comments about the other man’s management style and southern accent. Niru offered a clean blade.
Rather than happening on the spot, as would be typical for most minor duels, the contest had been delayed for an entire week, for no apparent reason other than to allow the Koben family to spread the news to the entire city. Ayt Ato was a minor celebrity, after all, and his relatives were not about to waste an opportunity for publicity. Among the spectators crowding the plaza were photographers from several tabloid newspapers.
Ru craned his neck, hoping to catch sight of the Mountain clan’s leaders. It gave him a nervous thrill to be so close to Green Bones he knew only by reputation as enemies of his family, men who would murder his father if given the chance. He felt as if he were squatting in a pit of snakes. The muscular man with the heavy chain-link necklace of jade must be Aben Soro, Horn of the Mountain. He was standing a short distance away, arms crossed, speaking to two of his other Fists. Ayt Madashi was nowhere in sight.
“What a circus,” Niko grumbled.
At last the duel began, fifteen minutes late on account of Ayt Ato’s extended conversations. The crowd quieted as the two men touched their moon blades to their foreheads in salute. Niru attacked first—a sudden rush combined with a classic sequence of rapid cuts. Ato deflected the barrage neatly, leaping back Light, moon blade flashing defensively as his opponent pressed him to the edge of the available space. At an expertly timed moment, Ato pivoted off the straight line and threw a tight Deflection that hit Niru between the shoulder blades from behind, sending the other Fist stumbling almost to his knees.
Ato made a move forward to seize the advantage, then hesitated. Ru wondered if he’d been coached not to end the fight too quickly. Instead, the young man let his opponent regain his balance and waited for him to attack again, this time with swift but predictable whirling slashes. The white blades met and parted, striving, blocking, and countering. The two Mountain Fists fought back down the length of the plaza, Ato now clearly on the offensive. Both men were bleeding from cuts to their limbs where metal had made it past Steel and skin, but the wounds seemed superficial, nothing that would end the fight.
The tip of Niru’s moon blade began to sag toward the paving stones. He made a valiant rally, throwing a triple blast of Deflections that Ato was hard-pressed to dispel, then lunging Light and bringing all his Strength down in an overhead chop. Ato met the blow, directing its momentum past his shoulder and toward the ground with the angle of his own blade. Niru tipped forward and threw his arms wide to catch his balance. Ato swept the man’s leading leg out from under him, sending him to the ground.