And speaking of sound thrashings-what of Gerrard! Tahngarth frowned and took another deep draught of sweet wine. The young man who had stepped into the center of all their lives had been something of an enigma to the minotaur. Now, after regular visits from Takara, Tahngarth knew too much about Gerrard. Despite his outward calm, a great anger dwelt in Gerrard. Takara only enflamed it. He was angry about betraying his brother. He was angry about the deaths of Rofellos and Mirri. He was angry about everything, and every time Takara showed up, he grew angrier. At least she brought wine-and now, cups for drinking it.

Tahngarth poured a deep, dark-red stream into his cup and belched. The minotaur was rarely drunk, but on the few occasions on which he had let himself go, the results had usually been spectacular. His capacity for alcohol was amazing.

"Good wine!" The minotaur thumped his cup on the table for emphasis. Wine splashed from the cup and pooled on the heavy wood.

"Have you not had enough?" Karn asked, standing by the window.

Tahngarth growled in the back of his throat and drained his cup.

The silver golem stood impassively watching him. "Gerrard has slept all day today." "So?"

"I think we should wake him."

"What's the point?" The minotaur scraped his cup along the table, drawing a long, raw gash in the wood. He rose and walked, albeit unsteadily, to the window and gazed out over the lights of the city. Even at night, it seemed to him he saw the waves of heat rising from the rooftops.

Behind him the golem's calm voice said, "We should be sure Gerrard is all right."

"Fine. Wake him. He'll just have another drink." Karn strode to where Gerrard lay, sloppily tangled in a blanket. Stooping, the silver golem nudged his shoulder. "Aw, c'mon, Hanna. Lemme sleep." Tahngarth stomped up loudly, grasped Gerrard by both shoulders, and hauled him to his feet.

"All ri', all ri'." Gerrard stood unsteadily in the light of the room, his dark hair tousled and his clothing askew. He opened bleary eyes, and anger kindled there. "All right, Tahngarth! Challenge me, will you? All right!" Balling fists, he knocked away the minotaur's hands.

"Ah, at last, some entertainment!" Tahngarth said with relish.

Karn stepped back, leaving minotaur and man circling each other. "Fine entertainment for a pacifist," he rumbled.

Gerrard struck first, one hand darting out at Tahngarth's neck. The minotaur blocked the jab easily and countered with a swing to the head. Gerrard ducked under, came up, and brought both hands clenched together against Tahngarth's muzzle. It was a powerful blow, and the minotaur staggered. Gerrard snorted in satisfaction.

"Mutiny, is it?" Gerrard taunted. "You've wanted the ship ever since Sisay was kidnapped. Now she's gone, so you thought you'd have another try, eh?"

Tahngarth swung again. He connected with the Benalian's shoulder, sending him backward over the table and crashing to the ground. "You fool!" roared the minotaur. "You were never worthy to even lick Sisay's boots. You've done nothing for her ship and nothing for her!" He leaped at Gerrard.

The master-at-arms was too quick, rolling to one side and jumping to his feet. Tahngarth crashed past him. Gerrard spun, kicking him in the ribs. It was a blow that would have disabled a man, but a minotaur could shrug it off, and Tahngarth minded it little. He scrambled up, and he and Gerrard, each drawing a breath, rushed together.

Tahngarth was massive, but Gerrard was quicker and lighter on his feet. The Benalian had trained in hand-to-hand combat and had learned tricks that evened the odds.

Tahngarth grabbed him. Gerrard, with an agile twist, slipped through his huge arms and spun around behind him. One foot lashed out at the back of the minotaur's left knee. Tahngarth staggered forward with a cry and stumbled to the ground. Gerrard leaped on his back, clasping his arms around his opponent's throat.

"Admit it, you respect me," Gerrard growled.

Tahngarth merely flung Gerrard over his shoulders and onto the floor. "Admit it, you fear me."

Gasping, Gerrard rolled to his feet. "Who wouldn't fear

… a walking pile of bullsh-?" The taunt was ended by a crushing blow to the stomach.

The minotaur smiled through bloodied lips. "Who wouldn't respect a man almost worthy of the Legacy?" He got a foot in the teeth for that one.

The combatants reeled back a moment, gathered their strength, and lunged. Two fists carved the air. Two jaws cracked. Two sets of eyes spun. The fighters fell in opposite directions to the floor.

Brushing off his hands, Karn walked slowly between them and to the window. He peered out past the bars. "It's going to be a quiet night."

Chapter 13

Sisay staggered onto a blood-spattered deck. She hadn't time to see whom she fought-there were only pearly tridents and lashing scales-and then she was killing them.

The cutlass she had snatched below decks slashed down. It cut kelplike hair and clove a shoulder beneath. In fountaining gore, the beast crumpled. Sisay strode over it and caught a jabbing trident. She flung the iridescent prongs to the deck, where they stuck. Sisay's cutlass buried itself in a belly of scales and gutted the creature. It spilled messily at her feet, a net disgorging fish.

Another trident lanced in above the dead creature. Its twisted tines jabbed deeply into Sisay's side.

With a cry, she fell back, slipping on gore. She crashed down atop the two creatures she had slain. Her killer-that's what this scale-faced beast was-rammed the trident deeper. Sisay struggled, writhing back and forth on the impaling spikes. A hot gush came from her side, and she slumped.

The creature's fierce face changed not a whit. It hauled its trident back and spun to attack another crew member.

Sisay lay dying among the dead. She clutched the three ragged holes in her side but otherwise could not move.

The bloody battle all around became a dreamy thing… a masked dance. These fish creatures… they were beautiful in their clamshell armor and abalone masks… Green and gold, orange and red, they danced… What bright and flashing weapons they bore! The Rishadan crew-they were beautiful too. Tall, slim, bronze-skinned… Their cutlasses flashed in the dying evening. The players circled, fish and flesh. Steel joining them. Where it bridged the races, one would fall in red singing… How alike they were, scale and skin, when they bled and died. How alike were Sisay and the fish corpses that pillowed her…

She was death dreaming, she knew. This was the delirium of dying.

Amid the chorus of screams and the circling dance, there came a surreal figure. A beast as large as a whale vaulted onto the deck and clawed its way to the center of the fight. Warriors fell back in fear. The huge beast raised its fangy head and flung back green hair.

Stranger still-tangled amid that hair was a woman. She had ridden upon the beast's shoulders and now stood there streaming. She spoke to the stilled warriors. "Children of Ramos, fight no longer!"

It was Orim. Her voice was strained from the fist of the deep, and she was sodden to the bone, but it was she. In the tongue of the Cho-Arrim, she repeated the words. The vast beast beneath her roared something in kind.

The last tridents and cutlasses ceased their dance in air.

"We are not killers, but kin. The harpoon stroke that began this fight was given in error, and the second in terror. But those wounds are healed now. Already, too many of us lie dead from those absent strokes. Let no more die-"

Sisay smiled. This was not just a death dream. Orim and her Cho-Arrim magic had made allies of enemies. Even now, merfolk stripped feral masks from their very human faces. Their vast and scaly tails divided and reshaped into slender and very human legs. Where monsters had fought moments before stood only more humans.