"It is the law of the great king," Oleric said. "Few such have been taken alive, but they have lived as slaves or died on the sands of the arena to make sport for the people at the great games which are a part of the Feast of Years."
For a moment, even Rose Emer was forgotten. Polaris looked up at the Maeronican captain with a blaze in his eyes that boded little of submission to the laws of Bel-Ar, the king.
When he spoke, it was very quietly. "Law or no law, backs shall break and spirits set out on their journeys before I shall become slave to any man."
"But the maid here," interposed Oleric—"would you bring doom upon her as well as upon yourself? Be not so rash, my brother. 'All things come to him that waits,' was a saying of that slave from whom I learned your tongue—O'Connell, he did call his name. I know not if his saying be true. I know he waited many long years, and death came to him."
Polaris shook his head slowly.
"There is little cheer in these words of yours, Oleric the Red," he said. "And I do not know why you should call me brother, for whom you foretell a life of slavery. But these things are bridges to be crossed when met." He turned back to Rose Emer. "Have you such a thing as wine on this ship?" he asked. "This swoon is long in passing."
Again the red captain regarded the broad back with satisfaction and smiled his craftful smile.
He stepped to the end of the cabin, and from the cabinet there fetched a tall glass flagon, bound with golden filagree-work, and a slender, twisted goblet. The liquor which he poured from the flagon was cherry-red, and sent forth a pleasing aroma.
"Here is of the best in Maeronica," he said. "Trust a captain of the fademes to know it."