Day after day, the Game, each day the same. The sameness became maddening. And on this day, with the memory of the shrine fresh in his mind, Duncan bit at his lip and weighed his life and gave another answer. “With weapons,” he said.
Niun’s eyes nictitated, startlement. He considered, then from his belt drew the av-tlen, the little-sword, two hands in length. He laid that before him; and his pistol, that he put to the left, and apart; and the weighted cords, the ka’islai, that depended from his belt and seemed more ornament than weapon. And from an inner pocket of his belt he drew the small, hafted blades of the as-ei, with which the Kel played at shon’ai. All these things he laid on the mat between them, pistol on the left, and the yin’ein, the ancient weapons, on the right.
“There is missing the av-kel,” Niun said. “It is not necessary here.”
The kel-sword: Duncan knew it, a blade three feet long and razor-edged; he had returned it to Niun, and it lay now wrapped in cloth, next Niun’s pallet.
“You may touch them.” Niun said; and as he gathered up the small blades of the as-ei: “Have a care of them. Of all these things, kel Duncan, have great care. This ” He gestured at the pistol. “With this I have no concern for you. But kel’ein who have played the Game from childhood die. You are barely able to play the wands.”
A chill, different fear crept over him in the handling of these small weapons, not panic-fear he no longer entered the Game with that but a cold reckoning that in all these arms was something alien, more personal and more demanding than he had yet calculated. He considered the skill of Niun, and mri reflexes, that quite simply seemed a deadly fraction quicker than human, and suddenly feared that he was not ready for such a contest, and that Niun waited for him to admit it.
“It seems,” Duncan said, “that quite a few kel’ein might die in learning these.”
“It is an honorable death.”
He looked at the mri’s naked face and sought some trace of humor there, found none.
“You are a kind,” Niun said slowly, “that fights in groups. We are not. The guns, the zahen’ein, they are your way. You do not understand ours, I see that. And often, Duncan, often we tried to approach humankind; we thought that there might be honor in you. Perhaps there is. But you would not come alone to fight. Is this never done among humans? Or why is it, Duncan?”
Duncan found no answer, for there was a great sadness in the mri, so profound a sadness and bewilderment when he asked that as if, had this one thing been understood, then so much else need not have happened.
“I am sorry,” Duncan said, and found it pathetically little.
“What will you? Will you play?”
The grief still remained there. Of a sudden Duncan feared edged weapons with such feeling still in the air. He looked down at the small blades he held, cautiously attempted the proper grip on them nonetheless.
Niun’s slender fingers reached, carefully adjusted his, then withdrew. The mri edged back to a proper interval.
“One blade at a time, Duncan.”
He hesitated.
“That is no good,” Niun said. “Throw.”
The blade flew. Niun caught it. Gently it returned.
Duncan missed. It hit his chest and fell to his lap. He rubbed the sore spot over his heart and thought that it must be bleeding despite the robes.
He threw. Niun returned it. Awkwardly he caught the hilt, threw again; it came back, forth, back, forth, back and his mind knew it for a weapon suddenly, and he froze, and a second time it caught him in the ribs. He gathered it from his lap and his hand was shaking. He cast.
Niun intercepted it, closed his hand on it and did not return it.
“I will keep playing,” Duncan said.
“Later.” Niun held up his hand for the other. Duncan returned it, and the mri slipped both back into his belt.
“I am not that badly hurt.”
The mri’s amber eyes regarded him soberly, reading him from shaking hands to his unveiled face. “Now you have realized that you will be hurt. So do we all, kel Duncan. Think on it a time. Your heart is good. Your desire is good. Your self-knowledge is at fault. We will play again, sometimes with wands, sometimes with the blades. I will show you all that I know. But it is not all to be learned today. Let me see the injuries. I judged my throws carefully, but I could make a mistake.”