Page 38 of The Neverfear

‘It’s the little ex-princess!’ said Vigo.

‘I challenge you, Vigo Nex,’ she said, ‘to a pirate duel.’

Vigo’s lip curled. ‘Wha’s this nonsense, Princess?’

‘My father told me years ago that a pirate king has to agree to a duel if challenged.’

‘You want ter fight me?’

‘Yes. And I set the terms. If I win, you give me the Belt of Hippolyta.’

Vigo smirked. ‘An’ what do I get if I win? If you ken so much about pirate lore, you must know tha’ the stakes must be fair an’ even. What d’you have tha’s worth as much as a priceless piece of Glimourian history, little girl?’

‘I …’

Christopher could see her searching furiously about herself for something valuable. They had almost no money left, and no jewels. He could offer his sword – but without that, they would be defenceless. He thought with agony of all the treasures in Glimt, useless to them now: his sphinx tooth on his bedside table; the gold goblets in the strongroom.

There was a cough, and a fluttering of wings.

Jacques came to land in front of the pirate. ‘If you win,’ he said, ‘you get me. I am the wager.’

‘The bite-size dragon,’ said Vigo. A covetous spark ignited in his eyes. ‘What d’you mean, I get you?’

The dragon held his chin high. ‘I will live and work in your service, should Anya Argen lose the duel. I swear it. I do it in honour of a great woman, and her hiccup cures.’

Greed and desire flashed across Vigo’s face; then he snatched a glass of black liquid from a nearby pirate and downed it. ‘All righ’. I’ll put you in a wee waistcoat an’ leash, an’ tie you to my chair. Shake on it.’

Anya shook his hand. She bowed, and beckoned him to the circle in which Christopher still stood. ‘We fight.’

Vigo gave a roar of laughter so huge Christopher could see his tonsils. ‘By the Immortal, lass, I’m not goin’ to fight you! It’d be like a lion fighting a wee maggot! Did you no’ know tha’ the pirate king can offer up a deputy in his place?’

‘Yes,’ said Anya, though her face said she had not known it.

‘Skadi Finnesse! Come here.’ Anya’s eyes narrowed as the young woman who had been singing pushed through the crowd, unsmiling. The woman – not much more than a girl – was tall, broad in the shoulder, her muscles defined like the roots of a tree. She looked like a sculpture. She wore small gold hoops in her ears: the sign of a Berserker.

She turned to Vigo. ‘I’m not going to fight an unarmed kid. It’d be embarrassing. Give her a weapon.’

‘Pavel.’ The man was long and thin as a knitting needle, with eyes as sharp. ‘Take the lass t’the weapons tent. Quick, before my attention wanders an’ I kill you all.’

The weapons tent was in the far corner of the camp, lit by flaming torches. Christopher ran after Anya as she followed Pavel in through the canvas doorway. Her eyes were very bright and her lips were tight.

The tent was a murderer’s dream. Knives and swords were ranged on tables, crossbows leaned against the canvas wall and vicious-looking throwing stars were piled in pyramids.

‘Pick fast, kid,’ said Pavel. ‘Don’t matter which you choose, you’ll be down in seconds.’

Christopher felt a dreamlike horror. ‘Anya! Don’t do this – you’ll be slaughtered. Let me. I’ve got the obsidian sword.’

But Anya’s face was full of a fierce and angry joy. ‘I’m going to fight, Christopher. And I’m going to win. For Irian.’ And more than that – for all the times she had longed to fight and had not been allowed to, had been held back. There would be no holding back now.

She picked up an ugly broadsword and set it back down. ‘Too heavy.’ She bent to one of the wooden trunks, and her eyes suddenly lit up. ‘The crest of Dousha!’

Anya pulled from the trunk a dusty leather harness, with two long, very narrow leather sheaths that crossed over the back of the wearer. From each sheath protruded a silver hilt stamped with a winged unicorn. She turned to the pirate. ‘Why do you have this?’

‘Vigo raided a Doushian ship, years ago. Pick something. If we keep him waiting he’ll punish all three of us.’

But Anya ignored him. With the soft whistle of metal on metal, she unsheathed the two rapiers. They were perfectly matched, each as thin as a reed.

‘I’ll take these,’ she said. She swiped them through the air. ‘Don’t panic, Christopher. She won’t actually kill me – and like Nighthand says: What’s a little bit of maiming between friends?’