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Long road to Ann begins at Dawn.

Wixer bowed before her. "A gift from one warrior to another, in token of the alliance between our two proud nations."

Keelam grinned at his sarcasm. "Alliance? Who cares about alliances? Just keep me supplied with wine and I'll fight anyone whom you name as your enemy."

Sharmoon stood up, hauling a rather reluctant Keelam to her feet. "Ready, Wixer?"

Wixer nodded and led the way out through a rear door into the tavern's small enclosed yard. It was empty, except for a few old barrels stacked along one wall. It seemed very dark after the brightness inside, but the full moon dappled the cobbles with a pale silvery light.

"No need for lamps," said Wixer, sniffing the warm night air. He walked over to a corner near the door and rummaged in a pile of junk. Among the jumble of splintered crates and old broken crocks he found the remains of a wicker fence and selected two sturdy staves of beechwood. They weren't quite straight, but nor did they bend easily when he leaned his weight on them.

"These will suffice," he observed, throwing one of the staves to Sharmoon, who caught it deftly in her left hand.

Keelam and Nimi sat together on a low barrel with their drinks, Nimi swigging from an earthenware ale-bottle while Keelam gulped mouthfuls of wine.

"Good luck, Sergeant Wixer!" Nimi yelled, as the protagonists squared up to each other. Then, turning to Keelam, she asked: "Surely they'll stop fighting before they inflict any serious hurt?"

Keelam shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. But Wixer's skull is thick and hard, so do not fret for his safety."

Nimi gazed at Sharmoon, admiring her supple limbs and athletic form. "I can see why Wixer is so keen to make love to her. She is very beautiful."

Keelam smiled. "Yes. She is."

"Are you her lover?" Nimi inquired.

Keelam nodded. "Occasionally. Whenever the mood takes her. But it is her friendship, not her lovemaking, that I cherish most of all. She is indeed the best of all our warriors: the deadliest swordswoman, the most loyal comrade."

Nimi said nothing, but her eyes remained fixed on Sharmoon, who now assumed a fighting stance: knees bent, shoulders relaxed, swaying gently on her hips. Wixer faced her, his greater height and frame making him seem awkward and ungainly in contrast to his opponent's lithe form and easy grace. Without warning he suddenly lunged at Sharmoon, thrusting his staff at her belly. She dodged the clumsy jab with a twist of her body and repaid it by smashing her own staff across Wixer's back as he stumbled forward. He gave a yell of pain and swung his weapon wildly, aiming for her head. She ducked, and jabbed at his ribs, knocking him off balance so that he staggered. He steadied his feet, but a swift jab to his left knee thwarted his effort to remain upright and he fell heavily to the ground. Keelam loudly applauded her friend's skill, and Sharmoon acknowledged the praise with a wave and a smile.

Nimi frowned. "She's a far better fighter than Wixer. Why does he permit himself to be shamed like this?"

"He lacks the skill," Keelam replied. "He's a fine warrior whose strength usually prevails against his opponents, but strength alone is of no avail against Sharmoon. She's too agile for him."

As if to confirm Keelam's assessment, Sharmoon dodged three more clumsy blows before felling Wixer with a jab to his belly. He sprawled on all fours, coughing and gasping.

Nimi drained her bottle and placed it on the ground near her feet. She shook her head. "This isn't fair. The contest is too uneven!"

Keelam winced as another well-placed jab sent Wixer crashing into a pile of old wooden crates. She laughed, and Sharmoon turned around to wink at her. This proved too much for Nimi, who suspected that Sharmoon was mocking the drunken sergeant.

"That's enough!" she yelled. "Give him a chance to fight back!"

Sharmoon gave her a nod and a smile, then turned to face another wild charge by Wixer.

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