“Dain—”

“No, Thum. I must see the king. I must speak to him today.” “Well, you can’t,” Thum said flatly. “No matter how much you want to, it’s impossible. Only the champion of the tourney will speak to his majesty—” “That’s it!” Dain said.

“What?”

“I know what I’ll do.”

Thum’s freckled face knotted in a frown. “This is ill-advised, Dain.”

“You haven’t even heard my plan yet.”

“Nor do I want to.”

Dain stared at him a moment, then spun on his heel and set off. Thum darted after him, catching up in a few strides and gripping him by the back of his tunic.

“Dain!”

“Let go,” Dain said, pushing off his hand.

They stood in the midst of the bustle and chaos, glaring at each other.  “This isn’t Thirst,” Thum said. “You can’t pull some prank and hope to get away with it.”

“Either you are with me,” Dain said grimly, “or you are not. Help me, or let me go about this as I must.”

Thum’s hazel-green eyes darkened with anger. He glared at Dain, saying nothing, until Dain started to turn away.

“Damne!” Thum swore. “Of course I am with you. Though it probably means my head.

What mean you to do?”

Dain grinned at him in relief. “I knew you were a true friend. Come, for there isn’t much time.”

He set off again, dodging his way through the squires and horses. Thum stuck close at his heels.

“But, Dain,” he said, “what mean you to do?”

Dain ducked behind one of the tents. Close by, he could hear the steady plink-plink-plink rhythm of a smithy’s hammer. He gripped Thum’s arm and pulled him close.

“Well?” Thum demanded impatiently. He looked pale with apprehension. “What—” “Hush,” Dain said softly, keeping a wary eye out to make sure they weren’t overheard. “I mean to take Sir Terent’s armor and enter the tourney.” Thum’s mouth fell open. “You can’t!”

Dain growled at him and gave him a little shake. “You said you were with me.”

“Aye, but not to help you be a total fool!” Thum said with brutal frankness.

“Gods, Dain, have you lost your wits?”

“I have not,” Dain said with stronger determination than ever. “I’m near enough his size—” “You can’t take his armor!”

Dain reddened. “I do not intend to steal it,” he said stiffly. “If I ask him, he will lend it to me.”

“Think you so?” Thum said sternly. “If you command him to surrender his armor, you might as well command him to cut out his heart. It is not done.” “Morde a day, these rules you all live by!” Dain cried, throwing up his hands in exasperation. “Can nothing be altered? Do circumstances never matter? I am not seeking to destroy the man. I only want to wear his mail for an hour.” “You are not a knight, and therefore you are not eligible to enter the contest.

Unlike Gavril, you cannot insist the rules be waived for you.”