In his dreams, Durbar relived his fight against the man from Rozkol. He dreamt of every punch and throw, every kick and blow. Again and again he saw himself victorious over his foe, and most of all he heard and saw the cheers of the people watching, and the love that they had for Durbar. He saw all of their faces and the joy that they expressed as he held Lahare down until he passed out. The surprise on the face of the man with the red beard and the silver coins was priceless. He looked shocked that his fighter was down, amazed that someone had beaten him, and afraid that Lahare was dead. Durbar never wanted to kill him though, only beat him to evoke the praises of the people. He also saw the shadowy figure at the rear of the room, and wondered if it was Njari—afraid that it was Njari.
Again and again he dreamed about his return to popularity, and the sun rose and beckoned Durbar to rise with it. Finally by mid-morning Durbar stirred from his slumber and opened his eyes. When he did Njari was there staring at him from a chair across the room, as if he stepped from Durbar’s dream. The bowman’s eyes squinted to focus, and then his muscles tensed as he confirmed that it was Njari. His heart’s beat went from calm and slow to worried and hasty, and he quickly sat up in his bed.