Thorat slept better that night than he had since arriving in Tiadun. Iola would be winging her way back from the other world, too, and that meant that even if she were in Anamat, she would at least be on the surface of the earth again.
After breakfast the following morning, Thorat was told that the games would begin at high noon, and that he would be in the first round. He grunted and nodded, as if were all the same to him. The morning dragged by, but at noon, Ferrent and Thorat faced each other at last, their leather vests and arm guards strapped on carefully, wooden practice swords in hand.
“By Anara’s wing,” whispered his old comrade in arms. “It’s good to see you.”
“And you, too. I hear you were last year’s champion,” Thorat said, circling. “Is that why you couldn’t come back to Ana
