The Darkside Of The Sun

overlapping pattern. He removed his fearsome helmet, wiped his forehead with his gauntlet, and smiled brightly at Dom.
    ‘Greetings, step-uncle. I thought you might be here. I hope you have not been overly bored?’
    ‘Not at all,’ said Dom airily. ‘Er, your costume …’
    Tarli raised his eyebrows. ‘I have been sham fighting. You do not fight sham on Widdershins?’
    Dom thought of one or two fights he had seen on the jetties, when four-foot-long dagon-knives were used. ‘It’s usually for real on Widdershins,’ he said. ‘Sham?’
    Tarli unslung a long bundle from his horse and drew out a sword as tall as he was. The handle was leather-bound, with no superfluous decoration. The blade was invisible, except when it caught the light, when it showed up momentarily as a thin green sliver.
    ‘Shamsword,’ he explained. ‘The blade is, of course, only a few microns thick, forged as a molecule in the special sword-light of dawn. Strong, too. Perhaps you are a good swordsman?’
    ‘I can use a memory sword,’ said Dom. He drew his own and demonstrated. Tarli took it gingerly.
    ‘How does it work?’
    ‘There’s a little matrix field projector in the stud that can generate up to a dozen shapes.’
    Tarli handed it back. ‘Not an honourable weapon,’ he said sadly. ‘You would perhaps like a sham battle?’
    He laughed at Dom’s expression and pulled two wooden lathes from his bundle. ‘For practice,’ he explained. ‘So novices don’t lose too many appendages in the learning. I am the second-best shamuri on Laoth.’
    Dom felt Sharli’s eye on him.
    ‘Okay,’ he said miserably. After all, he could handle a sword by proxy on the tstame board, even if it was only a two-inch skewer wielded by a mommet. And they were only wooden poles.
    Tarli unpacked another helmet and some pieces of leather body armour, and Sharli helped Dom into them.
    ‘You’d better explain the rules.’
    Tarli smiled. ‘This is only stick sham. Anything goes, but you’ve got to use the stick. Sharli will give us the signal.’
    The girl, who had been watching them with interest, shook her head and spoke sharply to her brother.
    ‘She says we’ve got to fight for a prize. My sword against your grav sandals. I don’t think that’s fair.’
    ‘Don’t worry,’ said Dom. He bent down and began to unstrap his sandals. Tarli sighed and laid his shamsword on the seat alongside them.
    Sharli waved a small handkerchief.
    The poles met in mid-air, once, and they circled each other warily.
    Dom felt emboldened and tried one or two lunges, which slid harmlessly off the other’s pole. Tarli smiled, and spun his pole around a finger. The spin carried on – the pole flashed across his back, was caught again and came down with a thud on the heavy padding of Dom’s helmet. Tarli made a few passes and completed the movement with another gentle blow to the head.
    Dom jerked aside and swung his pole downwards. Tarli hopped over it, lunged and twisted. Caught by the added leverage Dom slid several yards on his stomach in the gravel.
    Sharli put her hand over her mouth and turned away. Her shoulders were shaking.
    Dom’s pole came down with a crack across Tarli’s unprotected feet. Then he scrambled up and brought it down in a whistling arc that ended on the boy’s arm.
    Tarli staggered backwards, waving his arms desperately to keep his balance. Dom caught him again in the chest.
    Tarli disappeared.
    Dom ran forward in time to see his white face vanish under the water of the waterfall pool. He struggled out of his own armour and dived after him, hitting the water in a jangle of water lilies.
    Far below him a dark shape was sinking into the depths. Dom caught it, grabbed him by the arm and kicked out for the surface. As they broke water gravity found the heavy armour again and they both went under.
    He fought for the surface again, trying to find the buckles of the armour. Then a thick arm broke through the ripples and he snatched at it.
    As soon as she could get a grip of Tarli’s limp body the giant pushed Dom back into the water, slung the boy across her shoulder and set off at a run through the trees.
    Dom hauled himself out, painfully and shamefacedly, on the rocks at the far side of the pool. He coughed up water and waited for the pounding in his head to stop.
    He heard the swish of a blade, and threw himself backwards. Underwater he blundered into a thicket of finger-thick cabling, and surfaced again in a clump of water