The night passes quietly. Marianna sleeps, and I meditate. It’s usually relaxing, but tonight it does nothing to calm my nerves.

Nerves? Yeah. I might have been putting on a confident face, but in reality I am pretty frazzled. Seven people to fight, and I need to beat them all to guarantee I win. I’ve got a plan for a few of them, but the rest… well, I’ll have to keep thinking on that.

The sound of people moving about and doing their morning routines wakes Marianna. I am desperately trying not to hear what a large gathering of people with no plumbing sounds like, let alone smells like.

“Good morning, Ellie. Have you seen the bouts schedule yet?”

I shake my head. “I haven’t left the tent.”

Marianna rises fast and pulls some clothes on. “We face this together, then.”

It makes me feel better, knowing she’s fully on my side.

Outside, there’s what feels like hundreds of people. Well, dozens anyway. I can’t swing my arms without risking hitting someone, and that’s even considering how much space they give me. My arms are pretty long, after all. A lot of stares come my way; I guess it’s common knowledge that I’m a competitor. Marianna weaves through narrow gaps between tents, leading us to an open air market sort of place. It’s got a number of carts set up, and I can smell…

“Come eat the favourite dish of trolls everywhere! Twisted Lizard tail! Two on a skewer for a mere silver coin!”

I turn slowly and see Talla, who is set up in a prime spot on the market grounds. How the heck did he get here so fast? He’s got a small cart that he’s selling out of, and a very tired looking woman is working beside him cooking lizard tails on a grill. He sees me and immediately jabs his wife in the shoulder.

“There! That’s her! I told you!” His voice sounds thrilled, and also a little relieved.

“You know him?” asks Marianna.

I nod and we approach. It’s good to see a familiar face. “Talla! How are you?”

“Wonderful now that you’re here,” he says. “My lovely wife Trill was sure I had made you up. You see, my love? She is real! Oh, and of course, breakfast is on the house for you and your friend.”

“I can pay,” says Marianna. She sounds cold and smells slightly offended.

“This is my friend the Lady Cross, daughter of the lord Michael Cross.”

At my words, both Talla and Trill pale. They attempt to bow and curtsy, but the interior of a cart that’s been fitted for cooking has little room for such things. Thankfully Marianna waves her hand. “Please don’t. I only wanted to assure you that your work won’t go unpaid.”

The couple glance at each other, and then hand us four skewers, followed by four more. “Ellie’s is free, because she’s been a great help to me. Yours will be five copper.”

“I thought the rate was a silver coin for two?”

“That’s for the rubes and those with more money than brains,” says Trill with a shrewd look on her face. “Friends and family get the proper price. Just keep it ‘tween yourselves.”

Coins change hands but I’m distracted. I hear people talking. It’s barely audible, but they’re commenting on me eating from this stall. I grin at Talla and nod. “Looks like you might get more business. Oh and if you’re betting on the fights, bet on me.”

“To win?”

“Yep. And I’m gonna sweep it.”

We leave the couple, who are divided between serving their food and arguing about whether to wager on me. That reminds me. “Marianna, where do we go to bet?”

Five minutes later we’ve finished our meal and find ourselves in front of a fairly fancy tent. It smells of spices and smoke and sweat. Outside is a man wearing a beautiful loose garment made of light cloth that flows with his movements. He notices us and smiles. I can smell nothing on him but pleasure at seeing us.

“Ah, the troll, Ellie Dancer, and her sponsor, the Lady Marianna. Here, in case you haven’t seen yet.” He presses a sheet of paper into Marianna’s hand. “The schedule for today’s matches. Now, how can I help you?”

“We’re here to bet,” I say.

The man’s smile gets wider. “Of course! But sadly, you may not bet, as you are a contestant. No such restriction applies to you, my Lady.” He nods to Marianna.

I pass her all my money. There’s not much left. “You know what to do.”

She nods and ducks into the tent, but not before passing me the schedule.

I unfold it and glance over. Hmm. I expected to see all the fights of the whole tournament listed. With a round-robin there’s no reason not to publish them all at once, other than creating drama. Actually, that’s probably exactly why they did it like this. I picture Glenn, the seneschal, and his oily smile. Was he in charge of it?

The schedule is easy to read. Everyone’s name is listed first.

• Pitt Langford

• Catrice

• Black Morgan

• Todrick Bleems

Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!

• Hammer

• Scent of Rain in Morning

• Viola

• Ellie Dancer

Then we’re paired off in matches that have no time listed, just an order.

• Pitt Langford versus Catrice

• Todrick Bleems versus Viola

• Hammer versus Scent of Rain in Morning

• Black Morgan versus Ellie Dancer

Whew. I feel better knowing who I’m going to fight. I feel worse knowing that I’m last and that the guy I’m fighting—if it is a guy; Morgan is a versatile name—is basically an unknown to me.

Marianna comes out. She looks elated and smells nervous. “Let me see.” She grabs the list from me and reads it thoroughly. “Excellent. I was concerned that Catrice might be your first opponent. She’s going to be a challenge, is she not?”

“Maybe. I have a trick or two up my sleeve.” Or in this case, my sleeve literally is the trick: it’s fireproof. But my hands and feet and face aren’t. “Let’s focus on this guy. Black Morgan. I wish we could see him fight at least once before it’s my turn.”

“There was going to be someone you have to fight without foreknowledge of their skills. Don’t fret. I have faith in you.”

That calmed me down a little, at least until I learned I’d have to go do some kind of stupid ceremony before the tournament started. Marianna dragged me through the venue until I stood in the middle of a wide, grassy space. It was bordered by a number of cheap, shoddy bleacher-style seats and a few fancy raised platforms with more comfortable seating in them. Each of those boxes had someone who looked importantly occupying them. The fanciest one of all was higher than the rest and took up a spot at the far end of the grounds.

“That’s my parents’ box,” said Marianna in a whisper. Her scent told me she was tense and unhappy. “Now, there’s going to be a bunch of silliness with titles and announcements. Just kneel when the person beside you kneels and don’t make eye contact with my family. When this is over the fights begin.”

“Wait, what? Right now?” But it’s obvious that she’s serious; people are filing in and filling the bleachers. A small group of people are entering the main space, and I realize quickly that they’re my fellow competitors. Marianna takes hold of my fingers in her strong grip and drags me in.

“Don’t worry. You’re going to be fine. Just don’t start any fights outside the tournament. I have faith in you, Ellie.” With those words I am left alone.

Well, not alone. There’s six other people on the field with me, all dressed in varying outfits. While people are settling in, I surreptitiously take in my opponents. I think I can tell who Todrick Bleems is; there’s only one middle-aged man with a sword and shield here. He’s standing apart from the rest and isn’t paying much attention to anyone on the field. His gaze is fixed on the lord’s box.

Hammer, the dwarf, is easy to pick out. He’s got a big hammer planted on the ground and he’s leaning on it. He’s also staring at me with a very focused expression. Beside him there’s a woman dressed all in red and orange, and she’s speaking to a young man with a really big sword strapped to his back. They seem to be getting along all right; I can’t smell anything but friendliness on them from here. That’s either Catrice or Viola, and the young guy’s probably Pitt Langford.

A lone figure stands in the middle of the lineup, with his neighbours giving him more space than the rest. He’s wearing all black armour, from his head to his toes, and he’s holding a long spear in his hand. No, wait: it’s a lance. I remember the young guy telling about this fellow. Black Morgan. Hmm. In person he’s actually kind of intimidating. Also, I can’t smell anything from him. Nothing at all.

The last person besides me is another woman. She’s wearing all leather, and I do mean all; there’s not one inch of skin below her chin exposed. Even her throat is covered with seamless black leather. She appears unarmed. Her black hair’s cut very short and her boots are flat with no heel. I think she’s probably Viola.

Now, where’s the elf? There’s one more entrant, right? I glance from side to side but there’s nobody else present.

All of us on the field stand waiting in various degrees of awkwardness and then a hush falls over the gathered people. Beside me I smell tension and restraint mixed with excitement and anticipation. The lord and lady have ascended their box, and we’re all suddenly on display.

“Ladies and gentlemen, and others. Welcome to young Lord Shale’s first knight tournament!”

Clapping and cheering meets Glenn’s announcement. I try not to frown, then I remember that nobody can read a troll’s expression, so I let it happen. I fix my stare on the man, hoping he catches a little of my dislike for him, but he’s paying me no attention.

I find myself ignoring the announcements and preamble entirely. The lord and lady don’t seem to be involved in the ceremony at all. it’s all Glenn, and I only snap to attention when he starts listing names.

“Our first entrant, Pitt Langford! Skilled in the greatsword and bearing his family’s heirloom armour, this young man will surely be a force to be reckoned with!”

Pitt steps up and waves, then bows to the lord’s box. Far as I can tell nobody in there notices. I can barely see them in there regardless. The crowd, however, loves him and lets him know by their cheers. He’s pretty easy on the eyes.

“Catrice, fire weaver and rank four adventurer, come now to climb the ranks of society!”

The woman steps forward and bows, then spins her hand in a small circle. Flickering flames erupt in midair where her fingers moved, and the cheers turn into shouts of awe. She pokes a finger through the loop of fire and a burst of flame jets forth. With a grin, she steps back.

“Black Morgan, the faceless warrior!”

The black-armoured man steps forward. His bow is polite, but not nearly as deep as the others so far. The cheers are halfhearted at best for him. Maybe he’s an unknown? Why can’t I smell him?

“Todrick Bleems, famed duelist and master of Bleems’ Blades!”

Todrick steps forward and bows to the box. The cheers for him are a little muted, but still present. I’m realizing that at some point he’s gonna announce me. What’s he gonna say?

“Hammer, a dwarf as good as his name!”

Hammer steps forward and takes a full kneeling stance before rising and glaring at the rest of us. His hammer is as big as he is, and when he lifts it back to his shoulder, it’s clear that his strength is more than up to the task of swinging it.

“Scent of Rain in Morning! An… elf?”

Glenn’s voice rises in confusion. There’s nobody here by that name, it seems. Murmurs and angry muttering tells me this is not well received by the audience. Strangely, there’s also a strong scent of relief. He waits a moment, and then continues.

“Viola, mysterious brawler, formerly of the noble house of Sabine!”

A stink of anger, so strong it overwhelms everything else, rises from Viola when Glenn announces her. It’s not just anger; it’s hate, deep and strong. But she steps forward, bows politely, and returns to her place.

“Oh, and one more entrant for your entertainment. Ellie Dancer, a troll someone trained to speak. A late entrant, sponsored by Lord Michael’s eldest daughter, Marianna.” Glenn’s voice is a sneer. But it’s nothing compared to the reaction of the crowd.

People are whispering and speaking in low voices. This is obviously a surprise to many, and no doubt it’s going to start a lot of gossip.

But the most interesting of all is the smell of panic, coming from none other than Viola. She’s staring directly at me, and her eyes are wide. How did she go from hate to fear so quickly? She smells scared enough that I’m concerned she’s gonna wet her pants. Did she not realize I was fighting?

Someone coughs. I blink. Oh yeah, I’m supposed to bow and whatever. It takes a second to push down my desire to break Glenn’s arms off and step forward. I bow as well as I can, given my gangly limbs and hyper-mobile joints. Then I turn back and see that all eyes are on me.

“What? Never seen a troll before?” Of course nobody in the crowd can read my words from where they sit, but I growl loud enough that they hear my displeasure.

“Thank you all for your participation,” says a clear voice. It’s coming from the lord’s box. I look up to see a young man with features that resemble Marianna. It must be Shale. “By my name, I declare this tournament begun!”