"So now a ship is to be a republic?" called Flavius from the poop. "I wish you joy of your captaincy, Eodan!"
The Cimbrian closed fingers about his sword. He could not feel the anger that snapped from Tjorr; it seemed of no great importance when Hwicca had cloven herself from him.
"I do not wish this," he said mildly.
Emboldened, the Spaniard stepped close to him. "Oh, Master Captain, there was no thought of mutiny," he exclaimed. "Why, we are your best friends! That was the first thing I said, when we met to talk this over, the captain is our captain, I said, and—"
"I have better things to do than skulk about these waters."
"But Captain, sir, we'll be your men! We'll do anything you say." The boy grinned confidently, pressing his words in. "Just treat us like men, with some rights of our own, is all we ask."
"I'll treat you like an anvil first!" snorted Tjorr. His hammer lifted.
"No, wait." Eodan caught the mate's arm as Quintus scuttled back squealing. "Let them have their way."
"Disa!" said Tjorr with horror. "You'd turn into a louse-bitten pirate, who could be a king of the Rukh-Ansa?"
"Oh, no. We shall still leave the ship in Egypt, as we planned. But if they want to take it afterward and go roving, it is no concern of ours." Eodan bent close, muttering, "Until we do get there, we'll need a willing crew."