A tug at his arm reminded the human why he was hanging in space over the deck. “Then more is the pity for you, Bare Tree,” Galwylin said sadly. While Teldin struggled to keep his feet on the ropes, the elf continued the lesson.
When the work was finished, Teldin gratefully clambered down the shrouds. “Now’s the time,” he decided, intent not to let his trust be betrayed once more. With a resolute stride, he made his way aft to learn from Luciar just what was going on, only to have Cwelanas block his path at the afterdeck stair.
“Where are you going, human?” Her face was grim.
“I want to see Luciar,” Teldin replied with polite firmness. He carefully kept his distrust suppressed. “I want to know what’s going on."
Cwelanas didn’t move. “Captain Luciar has retired to his cabin. He does not want to see you and he has nothing to tell you. Go help Galwylin splice line-Bare Tree.” From her tips, his nickname sounded like an insult.
The farmer did not let her gibe get to him. “Captain Luciar can’t speak for himself? Let’s ask him and see what he says,” Teldin insisted. His gaze locked with Cwelanas’s. He suddenly felt the heart pain again, which Grandfather had described, from something deep in her eyes. Given her attitude toward him, the pain he felt only made Teldin more sarcastic.
“He will not see you,” she said more fiercely, though she was unable to take her gaze from him.
“Or is it that you don’t want me to see him? You’re afraid he might like me-a human,” Teldin blurted. “That would just ruin your day, wouldn’t it?” Even as he spoke, the farmer knew the words were a big mistake.
For a moment, Teldin thought Cwelanas was going to relent. Her hard gaze softened and her pale cheeks flushed with pink. Then, just as suddenly, her old temper returned. “Get back to work, human!” she spat, her finger pointing toward the rest of the crew. “Do as Galwylin tells you."
Teldin could feel his temper rising. Rather than push it over the limit, the yeoman bit his lip and strode back toward the bow. After a few long strides, he vented his rage in a low, fierce mumble. “Damned proud-”
“Human!” Cwelanas angrily called out. “Did you think I would not hear you?” She came down the stairs and walked up behind Teldin. The whole plan was turning into a disaster, but if Cwelanas was going to be so stiff-necked about it, Teldin was damned well not going to apologize to her. He clamped his mouth shut to keep himself from doing anything else stupid, then slowly ruined to face her.
Cwelanas continued her tirade. “Ever since you appeared at our ship, you have been nothing but trouble. When you could not buy your way on, you stole on board. Now, because of some moldering old laws, we’re forced to take you to Sancrist!” Cwelanas was shouting, her voice choked with rage. “You eat our food, you demand to see the captain, and now-now you suggest that I-I-Ohh! I will not be so insulted!” Her hand went to the sword at her side, and before Teldin could say a word in defense, the blade of her silvery cutlass flashed in the sunlight. She lunged blindly forward, but Teldin instinctively threw himself to the side.
“Now wait a-” Teldin tried to say, suddenly very aware that their argument had gotten out of control, but already Cwelanas had recovered and held her sword raised, intent on hewing him. Instead of backpedaling, Teldin remembered one of Gomja’s lessons-”Do the unexpected.”- and so dove forward beneath her arcing blade, trying to knock the elf off her feet. With her quick speed, it was futile; Cwelanas lightly sprang to the side at the last instant, Teldin’s fingers barely brushing her thigh. The cutlass swished through the air behind him, carving out a slice of air.
Teldin sprawled on the deck, then rolled as quickly as he could. Cwelanas wheeled to face him. Her face was flushed red, eyes wide and wild. “To the Abyss with the laws of hospitality,” she muttered.
Teldin’s hand found his spear resting near the rail. Frantically the farmer got one hand on the shaft and swung the weapon up just in time to block her lunge. The elfs cutlass skittered off the haft, shaving the wood as it did so and almost knocking the spear from Teldin’s grip. With a solid thunk, Cwelanas’s blade wedged into the ship’s railing. She tugged at the sword, but it was stuck fast. Teldin, still on his back, kicked hard with his legs and caught the elf full in the side. She crashed to the deck with a startled grunt, hardly expecting the human to transform their fight into a brawl. The fall wrenched the cutlass free.
Once on his feet, Teldin cautiously backed away from the bloodthirsty elf, keeping his spear up and ready, as Gomja had taught. A cloth flapped at Teldin’s back, and he realized his bizarre cloak had grown of its own accord, transforming itself from the small collar he normally wore.
At the start of the fight, the crew members had politely ignored the pair, until steel had flashed. Now they were gathering at a safe distance, uncertain of just what to do. Someone had already gone for the captain, while Galwylin hurried to fetch Gornja.
Amidships, the two fighters warily circled each other; the human backed away as the elf kept trying to close. Fire still smoldered in Cwelanas’s eyes. Her sword flicked out in feints and jabs, and metal tang on wood as Teldin blocked her attacks with his spear. He did not want this light, and he tried to avoid using any threatening moves. The elf may have started the battle, but he didn’t want to end it in blood-his or hers.
“Stop this foolishness!” Teldin demanded. Cwelanas answered with a low feint to the legs, followed by a lunge for his chest. Teldin saw the feint just in time and barely managing to beat away her attack. While she was badly out of position, Teldin made no attempt at a riposte. His arms ached from warding off the ringing fury of her blows. “Stop it, Cwelanas! Let it go.” He turned and shouted to the crew gathered around them, “Stop her!” None of the seamen made any attempt to interfere. A strange sense of honor kept them from the battle, apparently.
Likewise, Cwelanas did not seem to hear him. She made a few quick attacks, testing his parries, probing for weak spots. In desperation, Teldin faked some lunges, trying to keep her off balance and away from him. The cloak, which flapped in the breeze, hindered his moves somewhat. Teldin realized he was working against himself, feeding her rage. Her countenance was cold and businesslike, seemingly immune to the human’s reasoning.
“Do the unexpected.” Teldjn remembered the axiom again. At the same time, he could remember his Grandfather saying, “Pick your fights wisely, son.” The memory was startlingly clear-Grandfather wiping the tears from Teldin s dirty face after a childhood brawl. He even remembered the cold draft that blew through the rip in the oilcloth of the kitchen window. This was not a fight he wanted, nor a battle he wanted to win, but Cwelanas was offering no choices. One of them had to lose. In his mind, Teldin knew what to do. He just hoped it wouldn’t get him killed.
“Why fight?” Teldin asked aloud. Suddenly standing straight, he cast his spear down with an angry thrust, dropping his guard. There was a thunk of wood as the spear hit the deck. Teldin stood before Cwelanas, his arms spread, ready to receive her blow. “I won’t fight you, Cwelanas. If you still want to kill me, I suppose you can," he said, trying to sound as brave he could.
Cwelanas, with her hair falling over one eye, took a step forward, her cutlass pointed at his chest. She took another step. Teldin forced himself to stand his ground. Part of him prayed that his gamble would work; the other part waited for the blow to land. The only sounds were the waves booming against the hull and the sails snapping in the wind. Teldin’s cloak swirled behind him in the gusts.
Before Teldin knew what her choice would be, Gomja roared through the small crowd of sailors. The big giff easily bowled aside the delicate elves. Distracted, Cwelanas started to turn toward the onrushing giff, but before she could complete her move, Gomja lashed out with his broadsword. Suddenly the elf maiden was on the defensive, driven back by the raging mass of muscle that bore down on her. Gomja moved with a speed surprising for his bulk, hewing at the elf’s parries. There was a ringing clang of metal and Cwelanas’s sword was knocked from her grasp. The blade slid toward the rail, where it was grabbed by an onlooker. Gomja restrained himself and stepped between the mate and Teldin, his sword pointed at Cwelanas. His huge chest heaved rapidly.