The Crown of Dalemark (The Dalemark Quartet 4)

There was confused shouting, muffled and strange, from under the hoods. It sounded like “Bad on” and “Herry’s gone.”

After a second Kialan came sauntering down the steps at one side, trying, from the look of him, not to look as silly and sheepish as he felt, and stopped slightly to one side of the milling monsters.

“They always ask the most important visitor to start it,” Moril explained.

“Eye, eye, eye,” came the muffled shouts. “Owe it eye.”

Kialan nodded. Someone on the steps tossed him a great brown ragged ball. Kialan took it in one hand, bent over sideways with it, and heaved it high into the sky. He probably intended it to come down somewhere in the middle of the crowd, but either the thing was weighted oddly or Kialan miscalculated his throw. The ball came down again almost where he was standing. Kialan saw it come and simply ran for his life.

“Nor don’t I blame him!” Mitt said.

The whole crowd of monsters closed on the spot, fighting like maniacs. Many fought with fists and feet. But weapons appeared, too, which must have been hidden under the sober uniforms. There were clubs, whips, and sticks, and at least one person was wielding a short plank. It looked as if someone would be

maimed or trampled to death any second.

After a stunned minute Navis said, “This, I take it, is grittling?”

“That’s right,” said Moril.

“How comforting to know,” Navis said, “that the South is, after all, a comparatively peaceful place. And here was I thinking that all the bloodshed happened south of the passes.”

“Yes, but what are the rules?” Mitt wanted to know.

The rest of the spectators were shouting, “Up the reds!” and “Yellow, yellow, yellow!” as if they knew what was going on. Moril was not very sure, but he thought each of the colors was a team, and the aim was for one team to get the ball into its own special place round the edge of the big court. There were lots of places. There seemed to be at least seven teams. The fight rushed this way and that.

“I hope they don’t make a mistake and score with someone’s severed head instead of the ball,” Navis murmured. “How long does it usually take, and how many deaths result?”

“I don’t know,” Moril confessed. “Brid doesn’t do it.”

It seemed to take hours. Hours of yelling, battling, and thwacking, of giant surges and furious counterattacks. Long before it was over, Maewen was hiding her eyes. The sight of all this fighting, after someone had twice tried to kill her, was just too much. She wanted to leave. But as she had sensibly told Moril, they dared not leave.

Moril was not happy either. “It reminds me of Flennpass,” he said.

Mitt, on the other hand, had discovered that it was easy to pick Biffa out in the fray, and he was yelling with the rest. “Come on, Biffa! Hit him! Ammet, that girl’s strong. Go to it, Biffa! Go it!”

And eventually the ball went into someone’s goal area in a tumble of gray bodies and a great deal of shouting.

Shortly after that Hildy and Biffa joined them on the steps. They were both dangling blue hoods and were very flushed. The hoods were padded all over, particularly across the nose, and they must have been boiling hot in them.

“Well?” said Navis. “Did you win?”

Hildy’s chin lifted haughtily. “Of course. You must have seen.”

“I saw murder, mayhem, and confusion,” Navis retorted. “Are either of you seriously maimed?”

“Of course not—not with Biffa as our surnam,” Hildy said.

“It was great!” said Mitt. “Don’t mind him. Hildy, Ynen sends you his love.”

Hildy glanced at Mitt as if it were very tiresome to have to answer. “Thanks,” she said, and turned back to her father. The look settled on Mitt’s face again. It was not so much hurt as mortally wounded, Maewen thought. She wished someone had maimed Hildy.

“Father,” Hildy said, “I’ve come to a decision. I intend to be a really good law-woman and—”

“An excellent intention,” said Navis. “Is this recent? Did it come upon you during the grittling?”

Hildy stamped her foot. Maewen hardly blamed her. Navis could be maddening. “Oh, I wish you wouldn’t be so—so unserious all the time! You always try to stop me doing things by making me look silly!”

“Let us get this clear, Hildy,” Navis said, almost angrily. “I have never, ever wanted to prevent you being a lawyer. I am not trying to stop you now.”