“Ship her here,” he said, indicating the specified craft. “It makes no difference.”
“No,” said my captor. “She is a private slave.”
“That is a camp collar,” said the officer.
“It has not yet been changed,” said my captor.
“Put her here,” said the officer, unpleasantly, indicating the same vessel he had earlier suggested.
“She was privately purchased by a high officer,” said my captor, confidentially.
“Who?” asked the captain.
“Others are interested in her,” said my captor. “It will not do to make that public until her collar is changed.”
“Am I to believe that?” asked the officer. I noted that some three or four of his men had now, perhaps sensing some difficulty, approached more closely.
“She is to be unobtrusively, privately, delivered,” said my captor.
“Seat her there, on a thwart there!” said the captain, pointing to the designated vessel, angrily.
“Of course, as you will,” said my captor. “But may I inquire your name?”
“Why?” asked the officer, warily.
“I will not have this on my head,” said my captor. “I must report it.”
“To whom?” asked the captain.
My captor leaned forward, and said, softly. “To Lord Okimoto, lord in Shipcamp, high lord of the Pani.”
“Ah,” said the officer. “Proceed.”
“My thanks, Captain,” said my captor, and he hurried west, toward the small boats drawn up, tethered, some one hundred paces or so to the west.
“Hurry!” called the captain, from several paces behind. “We are expecting any Ehn now the signal that the second whistle has sounded; then we must leave.” I supposed a keen ear could hear the whistle from across the width of the Alexandra, but those on this side of the river were apparently reading a flag signal, or such, informing them of the state of departure.
“There should be only one boat here,” said my captor, uneasily, “my boat,” as we approached two, small, two-oared boats. There were two I now saw, farther west on the beach.
He reached into the boat and gathered up a pack.
“Master!” I cried.
From the trees and brush nearby an armed figure had emerged. “I have been waiting for you,” he said. “Tyrtaios feared this.”
“Tyrtaios,” said my captor, “is very clever.”
“I think so,” said Axel of Argentum.
“He leaves little to chance,” said my captor.
“Very little,” said Master Axel.
My captor put down his pack on the beach, and stepped away from it, and away from the small boat.
“We trekked together in the forest,” said my captor.
“True,” said Master Axel.
“What are you doing here?” asked my captor.
“Surely it is clear,” said Axel.
“It seems,” said my captor, “that indeed I hold a live ost in my hand.”
“I do not understand,” said Axel.
“It is unimportant,” said my captor.
“You were to cut the throat of the slave, and report to the ship,” said Axel.
“I forgot,” said my captor. “Or I did not wish to dull the edge of a fine dagger, or I preferred to avoid the task of cleaning the blade, or such.”
“Or such, I think,” said Axel.
“I thought you were my friend,” said my captor.
“It seems,” said Axel, “that your head has been turned by a slave.”
“I have occasionally thought of her at my slave ring,” said my captor.
“Master!” I cried.
“Be silent,” snapped my captor. There was about five or six paces between the two men. That, I supposed, would give each the time necessary to draw a blade, and, unrushed, begin with care to attend to the exigencies of private war.
“It is then the sword?” said my captor.
“It is only necessary,” said Axel, “that you cut the throat of the slave and return to the ship.”
“I do not choose to do so,” said my captor.
“So it would seem the sword,” said Axel.
“Yes,” said my captor.
“You would risk your life for a slave?” asked Axel.
“For sport,” said my captor.
“I see,” said Axel.
“We are one to one,” said my captor. “I am not unskilled.”
“Nor I,” said Axel. “Nor are many who have taken fee north.”
“It is strange to me,” said my captor, “that Tyrtaios would trust this business to one man.”
“Not strange,” said Axel. “Few are to know of these things.”
“He deems one man sufficient,” said my captor.
“Apparently,” said Axel.
“It still seems strange to me that you would be alone,” said my captor.
“I am not alone,” said Axel. He then, without turning his head, gave a soft, low whistle. A moment later, its belly almost on the ground, with a quick, serpentine twist, the long body of the hunting sleen, Tiomines, emerged from the brush.
“It seems,” said my captor, “that one man was not deemed sufficient.”
“I think one would do,” said Axel.
“But noble Tyrtaios wishes an additional assurance,”