“Yea. Let their ship's boy give it a try. He's little and quick. I bet he can get past the bear and get our money back for us.”

“No!” Wintrow repeated louder, but his voice was lost in the general chorus of assent. It was not just his own shipmates urging him on, but the crowd in general.

Torg swaggered up to him and looked him up and down. He smelled of beer. “So,” he sneered. “You think you can win our money back for us? Somehow I doubt it. But give it a try, boy.” He gripped Wintrow's arm and dragged him toward the bear's square. “Our ship's boy wants to give it a try.”

“No,” Wintrow hissed at him. “I don't.”

Torg frowned at him. “Just get past him and onto his back,” he explained in an elaborately patient voice. “That should be easy for a skinny little weasel like you.”

“No. I won't do it!” Wintrow declared loudly. A chorus of guffaws greeted this, and Torg's face darkened with embarrassed fury.

“Yes, you will,” he declared.

“Boy doesn't want to do it. Got no guts,” Wintrow clearly heard a man say.

The beast-tamer had his animal back in the square. “So. Your boy going to try or not?”

“Not!” Wintrow declared loudly, as Torg firmly announced, “He will. He just needs a minute.” He rounded on Wintrow. “Look here,” he hissed at him. “You're shaming us all. You're shaming your ship! Get in there and get our money back for us.”

Wintrow shook his head. “You want it done, you do it. I'm not stupid enough to take on a bear. Even if I got past him and got on his back, there's no guarantee he'll give in. Just because he did it before . . .”

“I'll do it!” Mild volunteered. His eyes were bright with the challenge.

“No,” Wintrow objected. “Don't do it, Mild. It's stupid. If you weren't humming on cindin, you'd know that. If Torg wants it done, let Torg do it.”

“I'm too drunk,” Torg admitted freely. “You do it, Wintrow. Show us you got some guts. Prove you're a man.”

Wintrow glanced at the bear. It was a stupid thing to do. He knew it was a stupid thing to do. Did he need to prove anything to Torg, of all people? “No.” He spoke the word loudly and flatly. “I'm not going to do it.”

“The boy doesn't want to try, and I'm not going to stand around here all day. Money's mine, boys.” The beast-tamer gave an elaborate shrug and grinned around.

Someone in the crowd made an unflattering remark about the Vivacia's crew in general.

“Hey. Hey, I'll do it.” It was Mild again, grinning as he volunteered.

“Don't do it, Mild!” Wintrow entreated him.

“Hey, I'm not afraid. And someone's got to win our money back.” He shifted restlessly on his feet. “Can't go off leaving this town believing the crew of the Vivacia's got no nerve.”

“Don't do it, Mild! You'll get hurt.”

Torg gave him a savage shake. “Shup up!” He belched. “Shut up!” he repeated more clearly. “Mild ain't afraid! He can do it if he wants. Or do you want to do it? Hurry up, decide! One of you has got to win our money back. We're nearly out of time.”

Wintrow shook his head. How had it suddenly come down to this, to him or Mild getting into a square with a bear to win back someone else's money in a rigged game? It was preposterous. He looked around at the crowd, trying to find one rational face to side with him. A man caught his gaze. “Well, who is it?” he demanded. Wintrow shook his head wordlessly.

“Me!” Mild declared with a grin and danced a step or two. He stepped into the square and the beast-tamer released the bear's chain.

Later Wintrow would wonder if the tamer had not been irritating the animal somehow the whole time they were waiting. The bear did not lumber toward Mild, nor mince forward on his hobbled legs. Instead he lunged on all fours for the boy, slamming his huge head against him and then gripping him with his huge paws. The bear reared up with Mild yelling and struggling in his grasp. Blunted or not, his claws shredded the young sailor's shirt until a shout from his owner made him throw the boy aside. Mild landed hard outside the bear's square. “Get up!” someone yelled, but Mild did not. Even the bear's owner looked rattled at the violence of it. He grabbed the bear's chain and tugged hard on it to convince the animal he had control of it.

“It's over!” he declared. “You all saw it, it was fair. The bear won. The boy's out of bounds. And the money is mine!”