The melee became general, the ship rocked and lurched and Haplo swore. He’d been doing that a lot lately, he noticed. Aleatha had withdrawn to one side, watching with detached interest, keeping her skirt clear of possible blood.
“Stop it!” Haplo roared. Wading into the fight, he grabbed bodies, flung them apart. The dog dashed after him, snapping and growling and nipping painfully at ankles. “You’ll knock us out of the air!”
Not exactly true, the magic would hold the ship up, but it was certainly a frightening concept and one that he calculated would end the hostilities. The fight came to a reluctant halt. Opponents wiped blood from split lips and broken noses and glowered at each other.
“Now what the hell is going on?” Haplo demanded. Everyone started to talk at once. At the Patryn’s furious gesture, everyone fell silent. Haplo fixed his gaze on Roland. “All right, you started it. What happened?”
“It’s Her Ladyship’s turn to pump out the bilge,” said Roland, breathing heavily and rubbing bruised abdominal muscles. He pointed at Aleatha. “She refused to do it. She came in here and ordered one of us to do it for her.”
“Yeah! That’s right!” The humans, male and female, agreed angrily.
Haplo had a brief and extremely satisfying vision of using his magic to part the ship’s staves and send all these wretched and irritating creatures plummeting down however many hundreds of thousands of miles to the world below.
Why didn’t he? Curiosity, the old man had said. Yes, I’m curious, curious to see where the old man wants to take these people, curious to see why. But Haplo could foresee a time—and it was rapidly approaching—when his curiosity would begin to wane. Something of his ire must have been visible on his face. The humans hushed and fell back a pace before him. Aleatha, seeing his gaze come to focus on her, paled, but held her ground, regarding him with cold and haughty disdain. Haplo said nothing. Reaching out, he caught hold of the elf woman’s arm and hauled her from the cabin.
Aleatha gasped, screamed, and held back. Haplo jerked her forward, dragging her off her feet. Aleatha fell to the deck. The Patryn yanked her back up, and kept going.
“Where are you taking her?” Paithan cried, real fear in the elf’s voice. From out of the comer of his eye, Haplo saw Roland’s face drain of color. From his expression, it looked as if he thought Haplo were going to hurl the woman from the top deck.
Good, he thought grimly, and continued on.
Aleatha soon had no breath left to scream; she had to cease her struggles and concentrate on keeping on her feet or be pulled along the deck. Haplo descended a ladder, the elf woman in tow, and stood between decks in the small, smelly, dark part of the ship where the bilge pump stood. Haplo shoved Aleatha forward. She stumbled headlong into the’apparatus.
“Dog,” he said to the animal, who had either followed him or materialized beside him, “watch!”
The dog sat obediently, head cocked, eyes on the elf woman. Aleatha’s face was livid. She glared at Haplo through a mass of disheveled hair. “I won’t!” she snarled and took a step away from the pump. The dog growled, low in its throat.
Aleatha glanced at it, hesitated, took another step.
The dog rose to its feet, the growl grew louder.
Aleatha stared at the animal, her lips tightened. Tossing her ashen hair, she walked past Haplo, heading for the passage that led out.
The dog covered the distance between them in a jump, planted itself in front of the woman. Its growl rumbled through the ship. Its mouth parted, showing sharp, curved, yellow-white teeth. Aleatha stepped backward hastily, tripped on her skirt, and nearly fell.
“Call him off!” she screamed at Haplo. “He’ll kill me!”
“No, he won’t,” said the Patryn coolly. He pointed to the pump. “Not so long as you work.”
Casting Haplo a look that the woman obviously wished was a dagger, Aleatha swallowed her rage, turned her back on the dog and the Patryn. Head held high, she walked over to the pump. Grasping the handle in both delicate, white hands, she lifted it up, shoved it down, lifted it up; shoved it down. Haplo, peering out a porthole, saw a spew of foul-smelling water gush out over the ship’s hull, spray into the atmosphere below.
“Dog, stay. Watch,” he instructed, and left.
The dog settled down, alert, vigilant, never taking its eyes from Aleatha. Emerging from below deck, Haplo found most of the mensch gathered at the top of the ladder, waiting for him. He drew himself up level with them.
“Go back about your business,” he ordered, and watched them slink off. He left them, returning to the bridge and his attempts to fix their position. Roland massaged his aching hand, injured when he’d delivered a hard right to the elf. The human tried to tell himself Aleatha got just what she deserved, it served her right, it wouldn’t hurt the bitch to turn her hand to a little work. When he found himself walking the passageway, heading for the pumping room, he called himself a fool.
Pausing in the hatchway, Roland stood silently and watched. The dog lay on the deck, nose on paws, eyes on Aleatha. The elf woman paused in her work, straightened and bent backward, trying to ease the stiffness and pain in a back unaccustomed to bending to hard labor. The proud head drooped, she wiped sweat from her forehead, looked at the palms of her hands. Roland recalled—more vividly than he’d expected—the delicate softness of the small palms. He could imagine the woman’s skin, raw and bleeding. Aleatha wiped her face again, this time brushing away tears.
“Here, let me finish,” offered Roland gruffly, stepping over the dog. Aleatha whirled to face him. To his amazement, she stiff-armed him out of the way and began to work the pump with as much speed as the weariness of her aching arms and the smarting of her stinging palms would allow. Roland glared at her. “Damn it, woman! I’m only trying to help!”
“I don’t want your help!” Aleatha shook the hair out of her face, the tears out of her eyes.
Roland intended to turn on his heel, walk out, and leave her to her task. He was going to rum and go. He was leaving. He was … putting his arm around her slender, waist and kissing her.
The kiss was salty, tasting of sweat and tears. But the woman’s lips were warm and responsive, her body yielded to him; she was softness and fragrant hair and smooth skin—all tainted faintly by the foul reek of the bilge. The dog sat up, a slightly puzzled expression in its eyes, and glanced around for its master. What was it supposed to do now?
Roland drew back, releasing Aleatha, who staggered slightly when his arms were withdrawn.
“You are the most pig-headed, selfish, irritating little snot I ever met in my life! I hope you rot down here!” said Roland coldly. Turning on his heel, he marched out.
Eyes wide in wonder, mouth parted, Aleatha stared after him. The dog, confused, sat down to scratch an itch.
Haplo had finally almost figured it out. He had developed a crude theodolite that used the stationary position of the four suns and the bright light that was their destination as common reference points. By checking daily the positions of the other stars visible in the sky, the Patryn observed that they appeared to be changing their position in relationship to Dragon Star. The motion was due to the motion of his ship, the consistency of his measurements led to a model of amazing symmetry. They were nearing the star, no doubt about it. In fact, it appeared …
The Patryn checked his calculations. Yes, it made sense. He was beginning to understand, beginning to understand a lot. If he was correct, his passengers were going to be in for the shock of their—
“Excuse me, Haplo?”
He glanced around, angry at being interrupted. Paithan and Rega stood in the doorway, along with the old man. Trust it—Zifnab’d show up now that the trouble was settled.