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been ready for this and adjusted her blow on a downward slant. This time she didn’t pull her stroke, and the bokken hit against the Dragon’s Tail spell Nissa had released.
    The sensation was rather like hitting a punching bag. The surface Brenda struck against yielded, but not much. Brenda yelped as the force of her own strike reverberated up her arms.
    Over on the side, Riprap laughed, although not in the least unkindly.
    “Stings, doesn’t it? You don’t get the same bounce if you’re using an edged weapon, but still you feel the resistance.”
    Riprap rose, and came over to join them.
    “Nissa, you shouldn’t have ducked. That’s a waste of motion. The Dragon’s Tail is wrapped around you, and you’re pretty safe unless your opponent is using something like fire or gas or liquid poison. You knew Brenda just had that bokken. You should have been working on your countermove.”
    “But it’s hard to strike out of a Dragon’s Tail,” Nissa protested. “What could I do?”
    “A counter spell. Dragon’s Breath, for example. Or you could have turned tail and run. A Dragon’s Tail blocks, but it doesn’t leave you immune to, say, having a net tossed over you.”
    “I didn’t want to hurt Breni,” Nissa said. “She doesn’t have a protective spell up.”
    “You could have mimed tossing another bracelet,” Riprap said relentlessly. “Go through the routine again. This time trust that Brenda’s bokken is going to get nowhere near your pretty head.”
    Nissa stuck her tongue out at him, but she followed instructions. So did Brenda.
    They’d worked up a sweat to match Riprap’s own by the time Nissa’s Dragon’s Tail gave up beneath repeated pummels and they decided to call it quits.
    As they headed inside, Brenda glanced up. She caught a glimpse of Pearl standing at the window, looking out. Brenda waved, but Pearl did not respond. Clearly, she was seeing nothing present, and Brenda was very glad.
    Pearl’s expression had been very fierce.

 
     

     
     
    Thundering Heaven!” Loyal Wind yelled. “Come forth. I would speak with you.”
    His challenge bugled across the open field, but only its echo from the rocks of the Tiger’s cave came as reply.
    “Field” was something of a misnomer, for the area at whose farther edge the Horse stood was nothing but hard-packed dirt. A field, yes, but a killing field whose only crop was the promise of death.
    Loyal Wind called again, more loudly.
    “Go away!” came an answering shout. “You’re not the one I wish to see.”
    The voice sounded hollow, but did not reverberate from the rock. Spoken from within the cave, then.
    A dark shadow stood against the grey of the rock face. Standing within that shadow . . . Yes. A darker figure, man-shaped, holding fear within its outline.
    Had Loyal Wind been other than himself, he might have backed away, but Loyal Wind had faced more than his own death. He had confronted and admitted his own shameful part in that death. Fear had little power over him.
    He stepped out into the killing field, muttering a charm that would keep him safe in case the creature within decided to launch a missile attack. Such preventative measures did not indicate that he feared—or so Loyal Wind told himself—but doubt whispered beneath his breastbone.
    “Thundering Heaven,” Loyal Wind repeated, and tried to keep the note of challenge from his voice. “Come forth. I want to ask you a question.”
    The dark shape of fear took a step forward and, illuminated in the harsh, directionless light that hung over the killing field, became Thundering Heaven.
    He was older than when last Loyal Wind had seen him: a man in his prime, strong, heavily muscled, yet lithe and graceful, powerful, as a tiger given human form must be. Thundering Heaven’s jet-black hair was caught up in a knot near the nape of his neck. He was clad in a green tunic over green trousers, the fabric dyed so dark a hue that his clothing showed as muddy black except where