The Seascape Tattoo by Larry Niven

barricaded the door, and they sank back into the shadows, arms around each other.
    Terrible things were happening above-decks. She heard shouts and then the shrill call of steel on steel. The Proud Abyss was being boarded. Screams and shouted orders. Captain Dinos’s voice above the howling wind.
    Then another scream, low with agony and wet against the rain. The captain’s voice was stilled.
    A pause, and then a banging at her door. “Open the door, Princess.” The voice was like stone. “Open the door, and we swear you will come to no harm.”
    Drasilljah held her tight. No.
    â€œOpen the door. We know your nursemaid is with you. If you force us to break the door open, we’ll kill her. If you open it yourself and offer no resistance, I promise no harm will come to her.”
    She looked at Drasilljah for guidance, and her nurse shook her head. No.
    Tahlia thought frantically. This was nightmare. Whatever happened next, she knew those men could break down the door and take her. If there was any chance that Drasilljah could survive this, she would have to take it.
    â€œI’ll open the door,” she said. Drasilljah pulled at her, silently begging, but Tahlia held her at arm’s distance, suddenly transformed into the older of the two. “Whatever happens next,” she said. “If I am to survive it, I will need you at my side.”
    The tears streamed from the old woman’s eyes. It was not concern for herself that caused them; it was fear for her charge. Shame that she could not protect the girl she loved. Gratitude that that girl would think of her nursemaid before herself.
    Tahlia opened the door, then shrank back.
    The man at the door was the largest human being the princess had ever seen, a full head taller than the captain of her mother’s guard. Part troll, perhaps. She had heard of such obscenities.
    It snorted, its flat broad nostrils blowing hot air and wet drops at her, but she didn’t flinch. It seized the meat of her upper arm like a wrestler grabbing a baby, and pulled her out onto the deck.
    The man waiting there was smaller but more dangerous. He was broad and thick but moved with an odd fluidity, like a palace dancer. A sense of coiled, leashed potential. This was the power. This man. He was the one to deal with.
    There was something else. Captain Dinos sprawled dead, curled on his side like a child. He had died protecting them.
    But Chastain, the first mate, the man whose eyes she had felt crawling upon her from the first day … Chastain was alive. More than alive, Chastain stood at the side of the man she now assumed was the leader.
    So, a traitor. She felt Drasilljah tense, heard a whispered curse.
    â€œNot now,” Tahlia whispered, and was relieved to feel Drasilljah relax away from the edge of the precipice.
    â€œYou are in charge here,” she said to the leader. Not a question, a statement.
    â€œYes, I am,” he said.
    â€œWho are you?”
    His smile was, considering the circumstances, rather kindly. “I hope you understand that the less you know of me, the more you can hope to eventually be returned to your mother safely.”
    She weighed his words. This man was not discourteous; he spoke well, with the enunciation of one who spent a great deal of time at some court, layered over a rougher tone. A military man, totally confident in his skills. Someone who had lived hard and fought his way to power. A man who lived by his guts. And yet … something about the delicacy of his phrasing, the excellent bones of his face suggested nobility. Perhaps even royalty.
    Who was this man? Could his word be trusted?
    She threw the dice. “I have your word that if I come with you without resistance, you will protect my life and that of my attendant?”
    â€œYes, you do,” he said.
    â€œThere is one thing I must do before I leave this ship. Have I your permission?”
    â€œWe have not long, princess,”