“Execution?” inquired Lord Nishida.
“To put to death this enemy,” said Seremides.
“There will be no execution,” said Lord Nishida.
“Very well,” said Seremides, and turned to me. “Challenge!” he said.
“I am unarmed,” I said.
“Arm him!” said Seremides.
“I know your blade,” I said. “I am no match for it.”
“Arm him!” said Seremides.
“No,” I said.
“Challenge! Challenge!” cried Seremides.
“I do not accept your challenge,” I said.
The men about reacted to this, looking about, startled. Amongst them, this response was incomprehensible.
Seremides himself seemed startled.
“Cosian,” sneered a fellow.
“They are all alike,” said another.
“No,” said another fellow who, I supposed, was Cosian. Under his reproachful gaze I suffered.
“No place here for such as he,” said a man.
“True!” said the fellow I took to be Cosian.
“Craven urt,” said another.
“Over the rail with him,” said a fellow.
“Kill him,” said another, “and be done with it.”
I clenched my fists.
“Not at our table will he eat,” said a man.
“Let him fear to go on deck after dark,” said another.
“Perhaps,” said Tarl Cabot, quietly, “you would accept a champion?”
“No!” cried several men, in gray.
Seremides stepped back a pace. Had a sudden flicker of disquiet crossed his features? In any event, for whatever reason, it seemed clear he did not welcome this intrusion. Yet I knew well the former captain of the Taurentians. What had he to fear? City champions had reeled from his blade.
“No,” I said, “I will not have another fight for me.” The tarnsman, Tarl Cabot, I gathered, did not know the skills of Seremides. I would not have another die for me. Even were he, somehow, a match for the former Taurentian’s skills, it would be wrong of me to accept his intervention. A Merchant, a laborer, a free woman might accept it, but I could not, not in honor. I had served Cos.
“A challenge has been issued,” said Seremides. “I do not accept its rejection. That is my right.”
“An Assassin’s right,” I said.
“Prepare to die,” said Seremides, “armed or unarmed.”
“Hold,” said Lord Nishida, lifting his hand, the sleeve falling back about his wrist, as he did so. “Good Callias,” said Lord Nishida, “I do not think you are a coward. Why, then, do you refuse to accept the challenge?”
“It is a challenge without honor,” I said. “The animosity borne to me by your Rutilius of Ar has nothing to do with Cos and Ar, with politics or war, with defense or security, nor with justice or law. It is personal, and from the past. I know of things of which I gather I am not to speak, and it is because of this that your Rutilius of Ar seeks my blood, that he may have nothing more to fear from me. He knows I am no match for him. Thus, he would conceal a murder beneath a veil of equitable arbitration, of fair contest, mask a murder under the mantle of a duel. If he would kill me let him do so now, publicly, in cold blood, dishonorably cutting down an unarmed man, one who holds him in contempt. So let my death soil him, and cling to him in the eyes of men, marking him, proclaiming him for what he is in fact, a wretch, a dissembler, a fugitive, a criminal, a coward, a butcher.”
“I do not know this Cosian,” said Seremides. “Nor do I understand him. It seems he has me confused with another. That is neither here nor there. But, if he will not fight, if he is so craven and cowardly, so much a frightened urt, so enamored of his worthless existence, so unwilling to risk it in fair, open combat, that is his choice. Certainly I cannot, in cold blood, slay an unarmed man. Doubtless he understands that, and thus tries to purchase his worthless life, counting on my honor. Such a killing, however in order, he doubtless realizes would not be permitted by my honor, an honor which I hold sacred, and have never betrayed. Too, it would be embarrassing for me to allow the blood of such a piteously craven urt to stain, however briefly, an honorable blade, that of Rutilius of Ar.”
Some of the men about smote their left shoulders, in approval.
“Yes, yes,” said others.
“Do not go on deck after dark,” said a fellow to me.
“But,” said Seremides, “if he is to crawl amongst us, as the slithering ost, unnoticed but deadly, tiny and poisonous, must he not in some way purchase his passage?”
“Yes,” said more than one man.
“That was my intention,” said Lord Nishida.
“I have no money,” I said.
“One purchases one’s passage with steel,” said Seremides. “I earned my berth by slaying six men.”
“True,” said a fellow, “six.”
“Passage is dear on this vessel,” said a fellow, “not free.”
“The Cosian has proved he is afraid to fight,” said another.
“At the ringing of steel, the laughter of blades, he would hide,” said another.
“Over the rail with him,” said another.
“Berths are limited, Cosian,” said Seremides. “They are to be earned, and in such a way that the best occupy them. Let the slow and clumsy perish, let the swift and skillful live. Let the weak die, let the strong survive. It is the way of nature, that of the tarn, of the sleen and larl. If one is added, let one be subtracted.”
I shrugged. “Give me a blade,” I said.
“Excellent,” said Lord Nishida. “It is as I and Tarl Cabot, tarnsman, intended.”
I had thought the tarnsman bore me no ill will. Now I was to be matched, to the death.
A blade was brought, nicely balanced. It was a not unfamiliar sensation, having such an instrument of war again in my grasp. Surely I preferred it to the oar. I touched the blade to my sleeve, and saw the threads part. I looked about. One or two men looked uneasy. One stepped back. I smiled. I was now, again, a man among men.
The tarnsman smiled.
“Bring the thief and wretch, Philoctetes, from his cell,” said Lord Nishida. “He has fed enough.”
The cloaks of some of the men moved in the wind. The yards above, carrying their large square sails, creaked, turning, as the sails took the rising wind, moving from a gray north.
In a few moments the prisoner was on deck, and given a weapon, rather as mine. We stood a few feet from one another. He was in a ragged blue tunic. He stood unsteadily.
“My dear Callias,” said Lord Nishida, “you behold before you a trustless rogue, Philoctetes, a miscreant and felon, a liar, a cheater at stones, one who robs men at night, who steals food, obtaining extra rations for himself, a villain who would cut a throat for a copper tarsk.”
“I trust that he is skilled,” I said.
“Enough,” said Lord Nishida. “He may not have the skills of one who stood first spear, but we deem his skills adequate for our purposes, that of adjudicating a war right to a berth. I advise you not to take him casually. A lucky stroke might fetch him freedom.”
I moved the blade about.
It had been long since I had held such a weapon.
Lord Nishida, the tarnsman, and others, moved back, further enlarging the space at our disposal. The boards of the deck were white, and closely fitted, stone cleaned.
Philoctetes seemed unsteady.
“Has he been fed,” I asked.
“Yes,” said Lord Nishida.
I faced Philoctetes. “Are you ready?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said.
“You wear the blue of Cos,” I said.
“It is my right,” he said.
“You are Cosian?” I said.
He shrugged.
“My Home Stone,” I said, “is that of Jad.”
He regarded me. “That, too,” he said, “is mine.”
“You must,” said Lord Nishida, addressing me, “be prepared to forswear your Home Stone.”
“One of us is to die?” I asked.
“Yes,” said Lord Nishida.
“Have you forsworn the Home Stone?” I asked Philoctetes.
“No,” he said.
“Then,” said I, “stand at my back and we will die together.”
“You are serious?” he asked.