"Silence, you son of an _izzot_!" roared the sailor, red-faced. "Have respect toward your betters, or I'll strike you down and throw your body overboard." "It takes two to make a murder, just as it takes two to make a bargain," said Green in a loud voice, hoping that Miran would hear and be reminded of his promise of protection. But Miran shrugged his shoulders. He had done as much as he could. It was up to Green to make his way from now on. "It is true that I am a slave," he said. "But I was not born one. Before being captured I was a freeman who knew liberty as none of you here know it. I came from a country where there were no masters because every man was his own master. "However, that is neither here nor there. The point is that I earned my freedom, that I fought like a warrior, not a slave, to get aboard the _Bird_. I wish to become a crew member, to become a blood-brother to the Clan Effenycan." "Ah, indeed, and what can you contribute to the Clan that we should consider you worthy of sharing our blood?" What indeed? Green thought. The sweat broke out all over his body, though the morning wind was cool. At that moment he saw Miran speak to a sailor, who disappeared below decks and come out almost at once carrying a small harp in his hand. Oh, yes, now he remembered that he had told the captain what a wonderful harpist and singer he was, just the man that the Clan, eager for entertainment on the long voyages, would be likely to initiate. The unfortunate thing about that was that Green couldn't play a note. Nevertheless he took the instrument from the sailor and gravely plucked its strings. He listened to the tones, frowned, adjusted the pegs, plucked them again, then handed the harp back. "Sorry, this is an inferior instrument," he said haughtily. "Haven't you anything better? I couldn't think of degrading my art on such a cheap monstrosity." "Gods above!" screamed a man standing nearby. "That is my harp you are talking about, the beloved harp of me, the bard Grazoot! Slave! Tone-deaf son of a laryngiteal mother! You will answer to me for that insult!" "No," said the sailor, "this is my affair. I, Ezkr, will test this lubber's fitness to join the Clan and be called brother." "Over my dead body, brother!" "If you so wish it, brother!" There were more angry words until presently Miran himself came down to the middeck. "By Mennirox, this is a disgrace!" he bellowed. "Two Effenycan quarreling before a slave! Come, make a decision quietly, or I will have you both thrown overboard. It is not too far to walk back to Quotz."