Olympus: It's Not Just a Game

Chapter 22

"Hey!" exploded Nancy.

"Hush yer mouth, missy," growled the mate, grabbing her roughly.

Nancy kicked him on the shin, with the deft and practiced toe of one who knew how. "I'm not your prisoner," she protested.

Lord Peter turned again. "Of course you are," he retorted. "You're all my prisoners. I captured you."

Nancy wriggled out of the mate's grasp and marched right up to him. She was hardly higher than his collarbone, but she didn't let that slow her down. "I am not!" she snorted. "If anything, you ought to be my prisoner. I saved your life out there!"

"I saved your life," the master of the ship insisted.

"That doesn't mean anything," Nancy proclaimed. "You didn't even mean to. You told me so yourself. You saved us by a total accident, but I saved your life because I meant to! I came to help you, and you would have been one totally wet puppy by now if it hadn't been for me!"

"That's not true," he said, defensively.

"Well, your precious sword would have been," she claimed. "Tell you what. Give me your sword, and then you can try to make me your prisoner!" She reached out and laid hold of the golden hilt.

"None of that!" he said shrilly, backing away from her.

"Where's your sense of honor?" she demanded. "We're not your slaves. Here you've taken us aboard under false pretences. If you don't want us, fine, throw us back into the sea." Her eyes glittered. "But give me your sword as my due!"

Lord Peter turned toward the adults. "Would you kindly restrain this child?" he asked, haughtily.

Mr. Avery decided to go with Nancy's instincts. "Sir," he began, clearing his throat, "I must confess that we mistook your taking us aboard as an offer of hospitality. We really have no intention of quietly going off as slaves. But please forgive my daughter's words. She's young, and less than tactful." He looked reprovingly at Nancy...but gave her a big wink. "Hand over the sword, and return us to the sea, if you wish. But that may not be necessary. I'm sure that Nancy, here, would be willing to part with her sword for safe passage to the nearest shore. Isn't that right, dear?"

Nancy was having fun, now. She hesitated. "I don't know, Dad. That's a great sword! It's all diamond, you know."

"Oh, say yes, you dope!" interjected Noah. "It's no good at the bottom of the sea."

"No, I'm pretty sure I'd rather have the sword," Nancy insisted.

"Really, you rather amuse me," Lord Peter broke in. Honor and wounded vanity had been struggling on his face, but both gave way to amusement. "Here, child," he said, "see if you even know how to hold this without hurting yourself." He drew the sword effortlessly, and offered it to her, hilt-first.

She took it, crooked her left arm behind her back, and saluted him with the blade. Then she slipped into the en guard position of a fencer.

"Oh, ho!" Lord Peter chuckled. "Where did you learn that move? Ballet school? Ahoy there, Pierre!" he shouted to a husky, tattooed sailor, who was lounging by the rail. "Whisk out a cutlass, man, and show this young lady the difference between a sword and a nail file!" Pierre laughed thickly, went to a locker, and hauled out a heavy saber, notched from numberless battles. "And be careful with her," Lord Peter added. "She'll fetch a pretty price at the slave market in Athens if you don't slice her up too badly."