Eodan ignored it. He stepped to the door and glanced out. The grappling plank was taken down, and only ropes and a single lashed gangway joined the two vessels; the hulls rocked enough to break any stiff bridge. It was dark and empty on this ship. Torches flared on the other, bobbing in a crazy dance, hoarse voices chanted and laughter went raw under a sky of reborn wind and hurried clouds. "What is that foolishness?" he snapped. Hwicca came to stand at his side and look, almost frightened, at the Tartarus-view. A naked black outline, hair and beard one mane, capered against fire-glow. You could just glimpse a circle of others, leaping and kicking with hands joined around the ship's hearth. "There was wine on board," said Hwicca. "Oh ... oh, yes. I remember now. And Tjorr let them have the cargo?" "He told me he could not stop them. It seemed best to grant them this night's drinking. Then tomorrow we could all take the big galley--" "And let the crew of that one have this. Hm. It is not such a bad thought." "You would let them go?" asked Hwicca, astonished. "I gave them my word," he said. "And what good would it do to kill them?" He closed the door again, muffling the racket. He picked up the leather bottle and drank thirstily. "Ah! But did they also have some food fit to eat on that ship?" "I do not know. I prepared what I could from the stores here." Hwicca pointed to a bowl of stew. "I fear it got cold while you slept." Eodan lowered the bottle. The roof was so low his head had to bow down to hers. "Why are you here?" he asked. "You should not sleep unguarded." She touched the knife in her girdle. His longsword lay drawn by the wall. He realized that he was unclothed. "Phryne could have guarded me," he said. Hwicca reddened. "Is Phryne your wife?" "Are you?" She gasped and turned her back. "Well, I will go!" she cried. "If you do not wish me here, I will go!" "Halt!" he said as she caught at the door's bolt. She stopped as though speared and turned about until she stood against the door facing him. Tears whipped down her face, and the breath rattled in her throat. Eodan felt inwardly gouged, but he stalked to her and took her by the shoulders. "I have had enough of this," he said. "Tonight you shall decide who your man is." "I told you I do not know!" she screamed. Eodan slipped his hands down over her arms until he had her wrists. "You shall decide," he repeated. "And you are going to choose me." She tried to pull free, but he dragged her to him and laid his mouth upon hers. She writhed her face away. He held her, one-handed about the waist, while his free hand drew her knife and stabbed it into the wall. Then he grasped her hair and forced her lips back where he wanted them. Suddenly she shivered. He let her go, and she sank to her knees, holding his. He sat down and laid an arm about her waist. She came to him, weeping and laughing. "It is you," she said. "It is you, Eodan."