"The champion bared his big yellow teeth and nodded at the injured limb. ‘Does that hurt, pretty boy? Fetched you a fair knock, didn’t I?’
‘Hmm. Yes. Can’t deny it.’ Alvarado cast a glance at Zemudio’s leg, rivulets of blood welling from the wound and spattering over his heavy boots, leaving thick wet drops in the dust. ‘But first blood to me, I think.’
Zemudio made a gesture of acknowledgement in a way that said it meant nothing to him. ‘I’ve killed seventeen men in single combat. Sometimes they blood me first, sometimes I blood them first. Makes no difference in the end. They always die.’
Alvarado took care not to let the agony he felt in his arm show on his face. ‘That’s quite a pile of bones you’ve left behind you,’ he said. But what he was thinking was: Seventeen! Shit!"