As she and her brother had agreed beforehand, Fulvura stepped forward.
"I am fittest among the fleet of the Destined Race to march with the humans," she said.
"Ah-if we get into a fight-" a merchant asked.
"If so, then I will be in the forefront, as I ought to be," Fulvura said. She put her hands on her hips, to let the humans see her full height and strength. Zeskuk thought that if they had seen his sister fully-armed as well, some of the merchants might have soiled themselves with terror.
"I stand forth, to march with the minotaurs," Sir Darin said. He stepped forward also, to within a forearm's length of Fulvura. He did not quite match her height, but he looked hardly less strong.
The speed of Sir Darin's action suggested prearrangement by the humans as well. That was as Zeskuk had expected. What he had not expected was Sir Darin, who would know far more about minotaurs than any other human and be likely to make "observer" really mean "lawful and honorable spy."
How to turn this danger aside?
"Sir Darin is not altogether equal to Fulvura, if one measures each by their rank among the fleets," Zeskuk said. "Will another of you with more rank step forward?"
Before any other human could have had a chance to volunteer, Sir Darin said, "I have a sworn and trusted comrade, veteran of battles beside me, who has spoken of our never being parted. Would that comrade's joining me make the human observers equal to those of the minotaurs?"
The way he pronounced "observers" darted close to the edge of scorn without flying into the forbidden territory of insult. Zeskuk looked at his companions. He was inclined to give Darin his wish, as long as neither minotaur nor human raised objections.
Both minotaurs nodded slightly. The humans were either nodding or unsure what to say. Zeskuk decided to lake this for assent.
So did Darin. Captain Torvik left in haste, and Zeskuk called the servants in to bring more refreshments. Zeskuk would have no obligation to serve the humans dinner. He did not wish to have them aboard his ship that long, nor to burden his cooks with catering to human tastes, nor to serve them simple minotaur fare and watch them wrinkle their ridiculously sharp and small noses at it.
If Zeskuk wished to attack guests at his table, he would choose a more vital spot than their noses!
Knocking came. Fulvura opened the door to admit a tall human in blued mail, with plate covering the legs, arms, and head. Indeed, the helmet was so close-fitting that only the eyes were visible.
But Sir Darin undid the helmet fastenings with quick twists of his powerful fingers. The "comrade" combed long brown hair with her fingers, and grinned at Sir Darin as if they were alone, not only in the cabin but aboard the ship.
That smile told Zeskuk that he now faced Sir Darin's elven-blooded wife Rynthala. Her name was not unknown to Zeskuk, but he had never imagined that she would be so nearly of a height with her husband. He had encountered full-grown minotaurs of both sexes whom she could look in the eye.
Then he caught a glimpse of the humans. Plainly this was as much of a surprise to them as it was to him. To all, that is, except Captain Torvik. The others were straining, and in some cases exhausting, their self-command, not to gape and stare.
The minotaur chief decided to put his visitors out of their misery. "Sir Darin, Lady Rynthala," he said. "You are well suited for what you have come among us to do. I rejoice in your coming."
Another knocking heralded the scribes with the copies of the agreement, in both Common and minotaur. All that was needed was filling in the names of the observers and signing-Zeskuk and Juiksum for the minotaurs, Sir Niebar, Gildas Aurhinius, and two merchants for the humans.
It would not even be necessary, it seemed, to allow the observers time to pack their gear. Fulvura was already packed, and except for her weapons (two chests of them) always traveled light. As for Sir Darin and his lady, it seemed they had all they needed aboard the human vessel, carefully loaded by Rynthala in her guise of a "guardsman."
Zeskuk endeavored to end the meeting as quickly as possible without giving the appearance of dismissing the humans. The cabin was growing stifling, his stomach was rumbling for more than biscuits smeared with meat paste and ale from a barrel scarcely cooled under the keel, and the humans were looking very much as if they had things they wanted to say to one another without minotaurs present.
The minotaur chief did not dishonor himself or his guests. He waited until their ship had cast off before he put his head down on the cabin table and bellowed with laughter.
Sir Pirvan stood on the afterdeck of Giggling Wench, staring into the dusk as the minotaur fleet receded. The breeze was up, and the sails were full and drawing. The oarsmen were, for the most part, lounging on deck. The steersman was below and, Pirvan hoped, out of hearing.
Torvik hurried aft, as fast as he could without appearing undignified, Pirvan wanted to bark at him to hurry, but did not dare. He was angry enough that he had to look down at his feet to be sure his boots were not charring the deck planking.
"You wished to speak to me, Sir Pirvan," Torvik said. It was not a question. Indeed, the young captain sounded quite unrepentant.
Some of Pirvan's anger leeched away, Torvik sounded now remarkably like his father and mother, when they had chosen some course of action from which they would not turn aside, no matter what others thought or said. Blazing at Torvik would not only give mortal insult, but it would waste breath.
"Did you know that Sir Darin was bringing Rynthala, disguised, aboard the ship?" Pirvan asked.
"I suspected it," Torvik said. "But I could not be sure. Even had I been sure, would it not have been a matter to be judged among the knights? I could not withhold help to Sir Darin on such slight grounds. And are Solamnic Knights afraid of their wives?"
Pirvan nearly saw red for a moment, as cowardice could not be a jesting matter under the Oath and the Measure. Then he realized that the Oath and the Measure held no sway here.
"Yes," he said. "Or at least as much as any husband with wits in his head. You will discover that when you wed. I'm surprised that watching your mother has not already taught it to you."
Torvik grinned. "I will take your warning to heart," he said.
"Take another warning, too," Pirvan said, his smile fading. "Do not hold back knowledge we might need. I saw your face when Zeskuk spoke of the attention of the gods influencing the weather. I held my tongue, because your secrets may not be yours to reveal. But consider carefully the price others may pay if you are silent."
"I have," Torvik said. "It is true. I learned things during my escape from the sea creature that are others' secrets. But I am not bound by oath to keep them. Only by honor and good sense. I can tell you, and Gildas Aurhinius. I can and will tell anyone, if there is danger to the sea otters from my silence."
"You spoke freely enough about their driving off the monster, and your crew did the same," Pirvan suggested. "I think that most humans and even minotaurs would be fools to go flinging harpoons after hearing that."
"Both races have their share of fools," Torvik reminded the knight. "Gratitude might not be enough to spare the shallows-dwellers."
"The shallows-dwellers?" Pirvan said. "That, if I recall truly, is the old name for the Dimernesti."
"Yes."
Pirvan was tempted to ask for the rest here and now, but refrained. He suspected that he had already learned all he needed to know.
He also suspected that it was not only honor and good sense binding Torvik's tongue. The young captain's face reminded him of his own, when he had realized that he was falling in love with Haimya and she with him, while she was still bound to another.