"Very well," says Humphrey, with the sudden brightness of a man who has found a door in a wall. "I withdraw the combat challenge. In its place, I propose a riddling duel. Three riddles. First to fail loses. No seconds required — it is a matter of wit, not arms." Reginald has gone very still. "Riddling duels," Reginald says slowly, in the tone of a man who has already looked and knows what is in the satchel, "fall under the Riddling Statutes of Nether-Clump, 1267." He produces another scroll. It is shorter than the first but considerably more dog-eared. "A challenge between parties of unequal species requires a licensed Riddlemaster to arbitrate, riddles submitted in writing, in triplicate, no later than the morning of the duel, witnessed by—" He stops. He checks the scroll twice. He looks briefly at the sky. "—a second." A long silence settles over the tournament field. The Goat eats the corner of the scroll.