[Folwren]

Cnebba was, in point of fact, with Garmund and Javan, concealed, as it happened, by some rocks, jutting out from the scar. The boys had sought some privacy to work out the result of their bet, away from the noise and celebration of everyone else.

“Well,” Javan said, with some triumph, digging his hands deep in his pockets and puffing his chest out. He cut directly to business. “I guess that means you’re my slaves for the next week!”

Garmund and Cnebba looked at each other, and Garmund spoke, his eyebrows drawing together. “What are you talking about? The bet was if Thornden lost you’d be our slave for a week.”

“Yes,” Javan nodded. “But Thornden didn’t lose. He won the games.”

“Thornden was hit three times in that last round and was removed from the ring!” Garmund said. By his voice, it sounded as though he couldn’t believe there was any argument on the matter. “Nothing is clearer but that he lost!”

Javan’s hands came out of his pockets and his chest deflated a little as he made an exasperated sigh. “Must I explain everything to you simpletons? Thornden and Eodwine were a team - and if their team won, then it is clear that Thornden is the winner.”

“Their team didn’t win,” Cnebba put in. “It was a draw. Eodwine didn’t fight it all the way out, so even if you think that Thornden being kicked out of the ring isn’t losing, he didn’t win the last fight, so you’re still our slave.”

Javan’s eyes were flashing now. “Eodwine called it a draw because he knew that he would win,” he said fiercely. “Thornden did not loose and I will not be your slave for a week!”