The Honorable Barbarian by L. Sprague de Camp Page A

Kerin was leaning on the port rail, enjoying the hypnotic effect of the endless procession of wave crests. He watched the occasional silvery flash of a flying fish as it sculled along the surface until it reached airborne speed and skimmed away over the crests on glassy wing-fins. He had learned to walk with a nautical roll, to forestall a loss of balance when the deck abruptly changed its slant.
    He looked sharply at the horizon. Yes, unless he was suffering hallucinations, there was a stretch of land. A touch on his arm made him start; Janji had glided up beside him.
    "Is that land?" He pointed.
    "Yea; that is first of the islands we call the Peppercorns."
    "Means it we near Salimor?"
    "Nay, not yet. The Salimor Archipelago is farther east; but we are more than halfway from Akkander. I must be taking ship south of the Peppercorns, to stay away from rocks. If this westerly holds, this will be our fastest passage. Coming back is harder; we must tack against the westerlies or sail much farther south to pick up easterly trades."
    She pressed her bare arm against Kerin, then turned to bring a breast in contact. Kerin felt a familiar surge. Down, dog! he sternly told himself.
    "Are you still keeping secret of mission?" she purred.
    "Aye, you st—" he began but choked off the word "strumpet." "I'm under a vow."
    "Oh," said Janji. "People are all the time taking such vows in Mulvan; but I am thinking all Novarians are monsters of lust."
    Kerin shrugged. "Tales grow in telling. Isn't that another island?" He pointed.
    "Aye; it is the biggest of the Peppercorns. It takes half the night to sail past. We call it Kinungung."
    "Does anyone live there?"
    She shrugged. "They say there be a holy hermit, clept Pwana; but no tribes or villages." She glanced back at the wake, which the setting sun had turned into a furnace of molten gold. "Time for dinner is coming. I shall see you soon!"
    At dinner, the normally jovial Huvraka seemed dour and preoccupied. Later Kerin, preparing for bed, was roused by angry voices through the bulkhead between his cabin and the captain's. He put his ear against the planking but could catch no more than an occasional word.
    "Belinka!" he called softly.
    "Aye, Master Kerin?" The little blue light twinkled round the compartment.
    "Couldst eavesdrop on what goes on there?"
    "Drop an eave—is not that part of a roof? How can one?"
    "I mean, listen in and report back to me."
    "I will try, but her bir may chase me out."
    The uproar continued for another quarter-hour. Then Belinka's light flickered into view, and her voice buzzed: "Oh, Master Kerin, you must leave the ship ere Captain Huvraka kills you!"
    "What? How? Why should—"
    "They quarreled, and the bir took a pull at the tari and now lies drunk in a corner. The captain is jealous of the navigator, whom he accuses of granting you her favors, as you Prime Planers say. He says he watched you and her on deck. She says, she will futter whomsoever she wishes; and Huvraka like it not, he can get another navigator. He says he will cut you in pieces for fish bait, and methinks he mean it."
    "I fear him not. My brother taught me how to oppose those curved swords with my straight one."
    "But he will bring sailors to help him, and they will seize you from behind. So please, please go like a man of sense! I am supposed to keep you safe, and I cannot let you get into a fight where you would have no chance. So go!"
    "How? I cannot walk on waves."
    "Use that little boat atop the deckhouse. Hasten, and be as quiet as you can!"
    "Oh, very well." Kerin crammed his belongings into his bag, donned his sword, and stepped out into velvety darkness. He looked aft and was relieved to see that the man at the tiller was out of sight behind the deckhouse. By getting a toehold on his cabin porthole, he climbed to the roof and examined the boat. With his dagger he cut the lashings.
    The boat took all his strength to move, but he managed to slew it around so that one end overhung the deck