bird before?â
It was obvious that Verdin hadnât.
âWhy, yeâre a pantywaist, ye are,â the rhowdor crowed fiercely. It walked along the rafter, and from the stumbling steps it took, Wick knew the bird had drunk far too much for its own good. âI could take ye with one wing tied behind me anâ me tail feathers on fire.â The bird held one wing behind its back and fluttered the other one, nearly knocking itself from the rafter. âIâll show ye. Somebody get me a rope anâ tie me wing up behind me back.â
âSomebody get me a stewpot ,â Verdin replied, and several of the tavernâs patronsâincluding members of One-Eyed Peggie âs crewâlaughed uproariously.
âIâll keelhaul ye!â Critter swore. âIâll turn ye inside out anâ hang ye with yer own tripe!â The rhowdor launched itself from the rafter, spreading its multicolored wings out in a three-foot span that suddenly made it look huge. It flew straight at Verdin, claws raking the air.
The human sailor ducked beneath the claws, eyes wide with surprise.
Critter sailed above the heads of the other patrons, wobbling drunkenly like a floundering ship, and managed to swing around for another pass. It screeched at the top of its voice.
Verdin stood suddenly and snatched a serving platter from a nearby table. The young sailor held the platter up like a shield.
Spotting the obstruction, Critter tried to stop the attack. Instead, all the rhowdor managed was an ungainly and panicked wing flapping. It hit the wooden serving platter with a pronounced thump! that scattered feathers in all directions.
The crowd all groaned, âOoooooooh!â in sympathy.
Even though he didnât especially like the rhowdor, Wick winced a little himself. The bird would be lucky if something wasnât broken by the impact.
Off balance, Critter sailed on, flapping weakly and somehow gliding back
toward Hallekk and the dwarven pirate crew. The front row of human sailors had to duck to let the rhowdor go by. It landed on its back, wings spread across the sawdust-covered floor, feathers wafting through the air in its wake, and came to a stop at Hallekkâs boots.
âThatâs gonna leave a mark,â someone promised.
â Awwwwwwrrrrrkkkkk! â Critter cried out. The rhowdor lifted its head uncertainly, bobbing at the end of its long neck, and fastened its beady eye on Hallekk. âHe sucker-punched me, Hallekk! Struck me while I wasnât lookinâ!â Its head wobbled one last time, then thudded against the floor. The rhowdor lay still.
Wick stood in frozen awe. Even though he didnât like Critter, heâd never wished the rhowdor harm. Well, maybe that wasnât quite as truthful as it could have been. He actually had wished Critter harm; heâd just never wanted to be there when it happened.
The silence held for a moment as everyone stared at the fallen rhowdor.
Finally, someone asked, âIs it dead?â
âWe should be so lucky,â someone else (and Wick truly believed it was one of One-Eyed Peggie âs crew that said this) unkindly added.
Hallekk knelt down and picked up the rhowdor by the feet. The bird dangled limply, a scrawny shadow of its former self. The dwarf squinted at it and smelled its beak.
âOh, itâs dead all right,â the big dwarf growled. âDead drunk .â He shook his shaggy head. âItâs still breathinâ.â
âBe careful with him!â Slops shouldered his way out of the crowd of dwarven pirates. Old and flinty-eyed, he was the shipâs cook. When Wick had been shanghaied and first crewed aboard One-Eyed Peggie , Slops had been a cruel taskmaster in the galley.
Twisting slightly and flipping his wrist, Hallekk tossed the unconscious rhowdor to Slops. The cook caught Critter tenderly, and held the bird in his arms like a newborn babe.
âYe gonna let that loudmouth