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Carrying his lance clumsily by the middle, Tarli
walked over to his mount, which was scored with lance
hits. A stubby board projected from under each side of the
saddle. He studied them. "If these were bigger, I'd say they
were wings."
He turned to face Moran, his face alight. "It's supposed
to be a dragon, isn't it? You're training us to fight dragons,
like in the classroom tapestry."
Good guess, Moran thought. Once that was probably
true; now the drill was kept to honor Huma and to make
beginning squires feel clumsy and humble.
Aloud he said only, "Spotters," and passed the ropes to
the boys. "When I give the signal, raise the mounts into the
air. Riders, mount up, take reins and shields, and fasten
your lances."
The two combatants straddled their mounts. Saliak sat
easily and comfortably with bent knees, the unmistakable
pose of someone who had owned and ridden horses. Tarli
could only reach the stirrups by half-standing.
They set the lances in the saddle-mounted swivels. The
greater weight of the lance was in front. Tarli kept his
weapon upright by putting nearly his full weight on the butt
end. He swung the point up clumsily.
Saliak swung his sideways, up, down, and circled it
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