“We mean you no harm,” said Hugh in elven.
The elf raised a delicate eyebrow, glanced around at his armed crew, who outnumbered them twenty to one.
“No kidding,” replied the elf.
But the Hand knew something of the ways of elves, apparently, for he continued without pause, speaking their language fluently.
“We’ve been stranded down here. We want to escape. We’re bound for the High Realm—”
The elf sneered. “You’re lying, human. The High Realm is banned. Ringed round by magical protection.”
“Not to us. They’ll let us pass,” said Hugh. “This child”—he pointed at Bane—“is the son of a mysteriarch. He’ll—”
Limbeck found his place. “Distinguished visitors from another realm—” From outside came a clunking and clattering of iron.
“The whistles! Use the whistles, you fools!”
Two whistles screeched—the elf captain’s and that of the wizard holding the box.
The dog growled, its ears pricked, its hackles bristled. Haplo stroked the animal reassuringly, but it wouldn’t be calmed and began to howl in pain. The clunking noise and the whistling grew louder. A shadow appeared in the hatchway, blotting out the sunlight.
Alfred shrank back, pulling Bane behind him. Limbeck was reading his speech and didn’t see the captain. An ironclad arm shoved the Geg roughly aside, knocking him into a bulkhead. The elf stood in the hatchway, blasting on his whistle. He had removed the helm. The eyes, glaring at his crew, were red with rage.
He took the whistle from his lips long enough to shout savagely, “Do as I command, damn you, lieutenant!” The wizard, box in hand, hovered at his charge’s elbow.
The elf facing Hugh lifted the whistle with a hand that seemed to move of its own accord. The lieutenant’s eyes went from his captain to Hugh and back to the captain again. The rest of the crew either lifted the whistles or toyed with them. A few blew tentative bleeps.
Hugh didn’t understand what was going on, but he guessed that victory hung upon a note, so to speak, and so began to sing hoarsely. Haplo joined in, the captain blasted away on the whistle, the dog howled in pain, and everyone, including Limbeck, came out strong on the last two verses:
The Arc and Bridge are thoughts and heart.
The Span a life, the Ridge a part.
The lieutenant’s hand moved and grasped the whistle. Haplo, marking an elven warrior near the officer, tensed, ready to jump the man and try to wrest away his weapon. But the lieutenant did not put the whistle to his lips. He gave the thong on which it hung a vicious jerk, broke it, and hurled it to the deck. There was ragged cheering among the elven crew, and many—including the ship’s wizard—followed their lieutenant’s example.
The captain’s face flushed crimson with rage, blotches of white stood out on his thin cheeks, foam flecked his lips.
“Traitors! Traitors led by a coward! Weesham, you are my witness. They are mutineers, filthy rebels, and when we get back—”
“We’re not going back, captain,” said the lieutenant, standing straight and tall, his gray eyes cool. “Stop that singing!” he added. Hugh had only a vague idea of what was going on; apparently they’d stumbled across some sort of private feud among the elves. But he was quick to recognize that it could turn to their advantage, and he made a motion with his hand. Everyone hushed, Alfred ordering Bane twice to keep silent and finally clapping his hand over the boy’s mouth.
“I told you this man was a coward!” The captain addressed the crew. “He hasn’t the guts to fight these beasts! Get me out of this thing!” The elf captain could not move in the iron suit. His geir laid a hand upon the armor and spoke a word. The iron melted away. Bounding forward, the elf captain put his hand to his side, only to discover his sword was gone. He found it almost immediately; Hugh was pointing it at his throat.
“No, human,” cried the lieutenant, moving to block Hugh.
“This is my battle. Twice, captain, you have called me coward and I could not defend my honor. Now you can no longer hide behind your rank!”
“You say that very bravely, lieutenant, considering that you are armed and I am not!”
The lieutenant turned to Hugh. “As you can see, human, this is an affair of honor. I am told you humans understand such things. I ask that you give the captain his sword. That leaves you weaponless, of course, but you didn’t have much chance anyway—being one against so many. If I live, I pledge myself to assist you. If I fall, then you must take your chances as before.” Hugh considered the odds, then, shrugging, handed over the sword. The two elves squared off, falling into fighting stance. The crew was intent on watching the battle between their captain and his lieutenant. Hugh edged his way near one of them, and Haplo guessed that the assassin wouldn’t be weaponless for long.
The Patryn had his own worries. He had been keeping his eye on the riot raging outside the ship and saw that the WUPP’s, having defeated the coppers, were blood-crazed and searching for trouble. Should the Gegs board the ship, the elves would think it was an all-out attack, forget their own differences, and fight back. Already Haplo could see the Gegs pointing at the ship, yammering about treasure.
Sword clashed against sword. The captain and lieutenant thrust and parried. The elf wizard watched eagerly, clutching the inlaid box he held to his breast. Moving swiftly but smoothly, hoping to attract as little attention as possible, Haplo made his way over to the hatch. The dog trotted along at his heels.
Jarre stood on the gangway, her hands grasping a broken tambourine, her eyes fixed on Limbeck. Undaunted, the Geg had climbed to his feet, adjusted his spectacles, found his place, and resumed speaking.
“—a better life for everyone—”
Behind Jarre, the Gegs were rallying, urging each other to go into the ship and grab the spoils of war. Haplo found the mechanism for raising and lowering the gangplank, and quickly studied it to understand how it operated. His only problem now was the female Geg.
“Jarre!” Haplo cried, waving his hand. “Get off the plank! I’m going to raise it! We’ve got to leave now!”
“Limbeck!” Jarre’s voice was inaudible, but he understood the movement of her lips.
“I’ll take care of him and bring him back to you safely. I promise!” That was an easy promise to make. Once Limbeck was properly molded, he would be ready to lead the Gegs and develop them into a united fighting force—an army willing to lay down their lives for the Lord of the Nexus.
Jarre took a step forward. Haplo didn’t want her. He didn’t trust her. Something had changed her. Alfred had changed her. She wasn’t the same fiery revolutionary she’d been before she went off with him. That man, meek and inoffensive as he seemed, bore watching.
By this time the Gegs had goaded each other to action and were marching unimpeded toward the ship. Behind him, Haplo could hear the duel between the two elves rage on unabated. He set the mechanism, prepared to raise the gangway. Jarre would slip and fall to her death. It would look like an accident, the Gegs would blame it on the elves. He put his hand on the mechanism, ready to activate it, when he saw the dog dash past him, running across the plank.
“Dog! Get back here!”
But either the animal was ignoring him or, in the midst of the singing and the sword clashing, it couldn’t hear him.
Frustrated, Haplo let go of the mechanism and started out onto the gangway after the animal. The dog had latched on to the sleeve of Jarre’s blouse and was tugging her off the plank, herding her in the direction of the Palm. Jarre, distracted, looked down at the dog, and as she did so, saw her people advancing on the ship.
“Jarre!” cried Haplo. “Turn them back! The Welves will kill them! They’ll kill all of us if you attack!” She looked back at him, then at Limbeck. “It’s up to you, Jarre!” Haplo shouted. “You’re their leader now.” The dog had loosed its hold and was gazing up at her, its eyes bright, its tail wagging.