misfortune we must put right at once.” Gull tucked one hand around Maura’s waist, while the other, outstretched, gripped hers. In that hold, he galloped her several times around a small circle of deck where none of the crew were sitting.
At first Maura squealed with a mixture of excitement and dismay as Gull whirled her around. Those squeals soon gave way to breathless laughter and her stiff, reluctant posture relaxed. By their last circuit, she appeared to be leading Gull a merry dance.
Rath took several slow drinks from the jug in his hand. In between them, he sat scowling while the sythria kindled a blaze in his belly.
Gull? Hmmph! The man’s name should be Gall, for he had plenty of it. More than enough to suit Rath.
What did the scoundrel think he was playing at, plying Maura with strong drink, then dragging her out of her husband’s arms for a wild jaunt around the deck? Did he not have the sense to know that she would draw the lecherous gaze of every man on board, the way her ripe curves filled out that boy’s shirt and breeches? Or did he not care?
Rath tipped the sythria jug again. He was beginning to enjoy its burnt, musky taste. Curses—the jug was empty!
He lurched to his feet only to find them as contrary as a mismatched team of balky horses. Each wanted to go its own way and neither would move in the direction he wanted them to go. Rath was not about to be thwarted by parts of his own body. So he started forward, letting each leg do what it wanted while he concentrated on keeping his balance.
He had managed to stagger a few steps when a clever idea occurred to him. If he waited at the edge of the ring of crewmen, Gull and Maura’s spinning dance would bring them right to him. He congratulated himself on getting stopped without pitching face-first onto the deck.
When Gull and Maura pranced past, Rath stopped them with a heavy hand on Gull’s shoulder. “I reckon you’ve done enough dancing for one night, friend…with my wife at least.”
Gull winked at Maura and laughed. “Fie, he’s almost as bad as Abri! We should have sent him off with her to hunt rats.”
“Sit down, Rath.” Maura lifted his hand off Gull’s shoulder. “Before you fall down. Don’t spoil the celebration.”
Her gently chiding tone did nothing to soothe Rath’s temper. Besides, his mind was so fixed on Gull’s last words that he scarcely heeded what she said.
“Hunt rats, you say?” He grabbed Gull by his long plume of dark hair and wrenched him high on his toes. “I won’t need to go far to find a rat, will I?”
“Leave off, you daft inlander!” cried Gull. “No man lays hands upon me aboard my ship!”
Suddenly, Gull heaved his feet from the deck, making Rath bear his full weight with one arm. Before Rath could let go ofhim or lose his balance and topple forward, Gull swung by his hair, driving his feet hard into Rath’s belly.
The air whooshed out of him as pain exploded within. He collapsed onto the deck, writhing and gasping for air that would not come fast enough. But pain and even air meant little to Rath Talward when his fighting blood was roused. Gull had roused it to a blazing pitch—first with his insults and now with this attack.
“Let that be a lesson to you, inlander.” Gull pulled himself up from the deck where Rath had dropped him. “Most men I’d have killed for what you just did, but…”
Did Gull reckon he meant to lie there and swallow such humiliation? Ha!
Rath swung his arm in a wide swath and caught Gull by the ankle, jerking him off his feet. Before he went down, Gull kicked Rath in the face with his free foot. Rath flinched, blood spewing from his throbbing nose.
The little demon could fight better with his feet than most men twice his size could with their fists! A distant, detached part of Rath’s mind acknowledged it even as he kept hold of Gull’s foot and landed a good hard blow to some part of the smuggler’s compact body.
For a few moments, the two men
At first Maura squealed with a mixture of excitement and dismay as Gull whirled her around. Those squeals soon gave way to breathless laughter and her stiff, reluctant posture relaxed. By their last circuit, she appeared to be leading Gull a merry dance.
Rath took several slow drinks from the jug in his hand. In between them, he sat scowling while the sythria kindled a blaze in his belly.
Gull? Hmmph! The man’s name should be Gall, for he had plenty of it. More than enough to suit Rath.
What did the scoundrel think he was playing at, plying Maura with strong drink, then dragging her out of her husband’s arms for a wild jaunt around the deck? Did he not have the sense to know that she would draw the lecherous gaze of every man on board, the way her ripe curves filled out that boy’s shirt and breeches? Or did he not care?
Rath tipped the sythria jug again. He was beginning to enjoy its burnt, musky taste. Curses—the jug was empty!
He lurched to his feet only to find them as contrary as a mismatched team of balky horses. Each wanted to go its own way and neither would move in the direction he wanted them to go. Rath was not about to be thwarted by parts of his own body. So he started forward, letting each leg do what it wanted while he concentrated on keeping his balance.
He had managed to stagger a few steps when a clever idea occurred to him. If he waited at the edge of the ring of crewmen, Gull and Maura’s spinning dance would bring them right to him. He congratulated himself on getting stopped without pitching face-first onto the deck.
When Gull and Maura pranced past, Rath stopped them with a heavy hand on Gull’s shoulder. “I reckon you’ve done enough dancing for one night, friend…with my wife at least.”
Gull winked at Maura and laughed. “Fie, he’s almost as bad as Abri! We should have sent him off with her to hunt rats.”
“Sit down, Rath.” Maura lifted his hand off Gull’s shoulder. “Before you fall down. Don’t spoil the celebration.”
Her gently chiding tone did nothing to soothe Rath’s temper. Besides, his mind was so fixed on Gull’s last words that he scarcely heeded what she said.
“Hunt rats, you say?” He grabbed Gull by his long plume of dark hair and wrenched him high on his toes. “I won’t need to go far to find a rat, will I?”
“Leave off, you daft inlander!” cried Gull. “No man lays hands upon me aboard my ship!”
Suddenly, Gull heaved his feet from the deck, making Rath bear his full weight with one arm. Before Rath could let go ofhim or lose his balance and topple forward, Gull swung by his hair, driving his feet hard into Rath’s belly.
The air whooshed out of him as pain exploded within. He collapsed onto the deck, writhing and gasping for air that would not come fast enough. But pain and even air meant little to Rath Talward when his fighting blood was roused. Gull had roused it to a blazing pitch—first with his insults and now with this attack.
“Let that be a lesson to you, inlander.” Gull pulled himself up from the deck where Rath had dropped him. “Most men I’d have killed for what you just did, but…”
Did Gull reckon he meant to lie there and swallow such humiliation? Ha!
Rath swung his arm in a wide swath and caught Gull by the ankle, jerking him off his feet. Before he went down, Gull kicked Rath in the face with his free foot. Rath flinched, blood spewing from his throbbing nose.
The little demon could fight better with his feet than most men twice his size could with their fists! A distant, detached part of Rath’s mind acknowledged it even as he kept hold of Gull’s foot and landed a good hard blow to some part of the smuggler’s compact body.
For a few moments, the two men
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