Surbus threw the girl over his shoulder and went to the counter.
'I am not pleased with her,' he said to the proprietor.
'I am sorry, Noble Surbus,' said the man, 'I shall have her beaten.' 'I am not pleased with her!' cried Surbus.
'You wish her destroyed?' asked the man.
'Yes,' said Surbus, 'destroyed.'
'Her price,' said the proprietor, 'is five silver tarsks.'
From his pouch Surbus placed five silver tarsks, one after the other, on the counter.
'I will give you six,' I said to the proprietor.
Surbus scowled at me.
'I have sold her for five,' said the proprietor, 'to this noble gentleman. Do not interfere, Stranger, this man is Surbus.'
Surbus threw back his head and laughed. 'Yes,' he said, 'I am Surbus.' 'I am Bosk,' I said, 'from the Marshes.'
Surbus looked at me, and then laughed. He turned away from the counter now, taking the girl from his shoulder and holding her, bound, in his arms. I saw that she was conscious, and her eyes red from weeping. But she seemed numb, beyond feeling.
'What are you going to do with her?' I asked.
'I am going to throw her to the urts,' said Surbus.
'Please,' she whispered, 'please, Surbus.'
'To the urts!' laughed Surbus, looking down at her.
She closed her eyes.
The giant urts, silken and blazing-eyed, living mostly on the garbage in the canals, are not stranger to bodies, both living and dead, found cast into their waters.
'To the urts!' laughed Surbus.
I looked upon him, Surbus, slaver, pirate, thief, murderer. This man was totally evil. I felt nothing but hatred, and an ugly, irrepressible disgust of him. 'No,' I said.
He looked at me, startled.
'No,' I said, and moved the blade from the sheath.
'She is mind,' he said.
'Surbus often,' said the proprietor, 'thus destroys a girl who has not pleased him.'
I regarded them both.
'I own her,' said Surbus.
'That is true,' said the proprietor hastily. 'You saw yourself her sale. She is truly his slave, his to do with as he wishes, duly purchased.'
'She is mine,' said Surbus. 'What right have you to interfere?'
'The right of Port Kar,' I said, 'to do what pleases him.'
Surbus threw the girl from him and, with a swift, clean motion, unsheathed his blade.
'You are a fool, Stranger,' said the proprietor. 'That is Surbus, one of the finest swords in Port Kar.'
Our discourse was brief.
Then, with a cry of hatred and elation, my blade, parallel to the ground, that it not wedge itself between the ribs of its target, passed through his body. I kicked him from the blade and withdrew the bloodied steel.
The proprietor was looking at me, wide-eyed.
'Who are you?' he asked.
'Bosk,' I told him, 'Bosk from the Marshes.'
Several of the men around the tables, roused by the flash of steel, had awakened.
They sat there, startled.
I moved the blade in a semicircle, facing them. None of them moved against me. I tore off some of his tunic and cleaned the blade on it.
He lay there on his back, blood moving from his mouth, the chest of his tunic scarlet, fighting for breath.
I looked down on him. I had been of the warriors. I knew he would not live long. I felt no compunction. He was totally evil.
I went to the slave girl and cut the binding fiber that fastened her ankles and wrists. The chains which she had worn while serving paga, and when she had asked for my protection, had been removed, doubtless while she had been in the alcove, sometime after I had left the tavern, that she might have better rendered Surbus, Captain of Port Kar, the dues of the slave girl. They had been serving bracelets, with two lengths of chain, each about a foot long, which linked them. I looked about the room. The proprietor stood back, behind his counter. None of the men had arisen from the tables, though many were of the crew of Surbus himself.
I looked at him.
His eyes were on me, and his hand, weakly, lifted. His eyes were agonized. He coughed blood. He seemed to want to speak, but could not do so.
I looked away from him.
I resheathed the blade.
It was good that Surbus lay dying. He was evil.
I looked upon the slave girl. She was a poor sort. She was scrawny, and thin faced, with narrow shoulders. Her blue eyes were pale. The hair was thin, stringy. She was my poor slave.
To my surprise she went and knelt next to Surbus, and held his head. He was looking at me. Again he tried to speak.
'Please,' said the girl to me, looking up at me, holding he head of the dying man.
I looked upon them both, puzzled. He was evil. She, perhaps, was mad. Did she not understand that he would have hurled her bound to the urts in the canals? His hand lifted again, even more weakly, extended to me. There was agony in his eyes. His lips moved, but there was no sound.
The girl looked up at me and said, 'Please, I am too weak.'
'What does he want?' I asked, impatient. He was pirate, slaver, thief, murderer. He was evil, totally evil, and I felt for him only disgust.
'He wants to see the sea,' she said.
I said nothing.
'Please,' she said, 'I am too weak.'
I bent and put the arm of the dying man about my shoulders and, lifting him, with the girl's help, went back through the kitchen of the tavern and, one by one, climbed the high, narrow stairs to the top of the building.
We came to the roof, and there, near its edge, holding Surbus between us, we waited. The morning was cold, and damp. It was about daybreak.
And then the dawn came and, over the buildings of Port Kar, beyond them, and beyond the shallow, muddy Tamber, where the Vosk empties, we saw, I for the first time, gleaming Thassa, the Sea.
The right hand of Surbus reached across his body and touched me. He nodded his head. HIs eyes did not seem pained to me, nor unhappy. His lips moved, but then he coughed, and there was more blood, and he stiffened, and then, his head falling to one side, he was only weight in our arms.
We lowered him to the roof.
'What did he say?' I asked.
The girl smiled at me. 'Thank you,' she said. 'He said Thank you.'
I stood up wearily, and looked out over the sea, gleaming Thassa.
'She is very beautiful,' I said.
'Yes,' said the girl, 'yes.'
'Do the men of Port Kar love the sea?' I asked.
'Yes,' said said, 'they do.'
I looked on her.
'What will you do now?' I asked. 'Where will you go?'
'I do not know,' she said. She dropped her head. 'I will go away.'
I put out my hand and touched her cheek. 'Do not do that,' I said. 'Follow me.' There were tears in her eyes. 'Thank you,' she said.
'what is your name?' I asked.
'Luma,' she said.
I, followed by the slave Luma, left the roof, descended the long, narrow stairs. In the kitched we met the proprietor. 'Surbus is dead,' I told him. He nodded. The body, I knew, would be disposed of in the canals.
I pointed to Luma's collar. 'Key,' I said.
The proprietor brought a key and removed his steel from her throat. She fingered her throat, now bare, perhaps for the first time in years, of the encircling collar.
I would buy her another, when it was convenient, suitably engraved, proclaiming her mine.
We left the kitchen.
In the large central room of the tavern, we stopped.
I thrust the girl behind me.
There, waiting for us, standing, armed, were seventy or eighty men. They were seamen of Port Kar. I recognized many of them. They had come with Surbus to the tavern the night before. They were portions of his crews.
I unsheathed my blade.
One of the men stood forward, a tall man, lean, young, but with a face that showed the marks of Thassa. He had gray eyes, large, rope-rough hands. 'I am Tab,' he
