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“Do you know what your ship’s cook is called?” Hawl’s burly voice boomed out.
I leaned back against the rails, trying as always not to be intimidated by the imposing presence of the massive, nearly seven-foot-high, burly brown bear glaring down at me.
“I can’t say I do...Wait.” I snapped my fingers. “A woman, I believe. Wemak? No, Vemak, isn’t it? Something of the sort.”
“Vemak. That is correct.” Hawl leaned forward. I could see the whites of the Bearkin’s eyes. “VemakBear-Killer.”
Beside me, I heard Gawain make a stifling sound.
I managed to keep my own features impassive. “A very unusual surname. Though I suppose it might be common in some parts of Myntra. I take it the woman is mortal?”
“Mortal, yes. She seems unduly proud of her family name, vile though it is. Whereas to me, an Ursidaur, a Bearkin, a species nearly extinct thanks to the stupidity of mortal hunters, the name is exceedingly offensive.”
“Indeed,” I murmured. “I can see why you would find it so.”
Hawl straightened their back, towering over me even higher than I had thought possible. “Hence, I demand that you instruct her to change it. Immediately. Furthermore, I will pay no damages for the pans which were thrown. Or the pots.”
“Pots? Pans? Change it?” I glanced at Gawain. The bastard was hardly hiding his laughter. I decided I would throttle him later. “I’m not sure I—”
“Or better yet, why don’t you simply ban the name from all of Myntra completely,” Hawl demanded. “Yes, that would be most just and fitting. And while you are at it, there should be a ban on the hunting of any Ursus, intelligent or otherwise.”
I cleared my throat. “You do realize, Hawl, that in some of the more rural parts of Myntra, common, non-speaking bearsarea threat to some of the subsistence farmers and their families.”
The Bearkin snorted. “Nonsense. Bears don’t bother those who don’t bother them.”
“Lies!” a female voice shrieked from behind. A second figure was ascending to the deck, her face red and panting. “Oh, the dent you put in my pan! Cast-iron that was! I hadn’t thought it possible, but for a brute like you, I suppose even the worst things are. You’ll pay! Oh, yes, you’ll pay.”
“Oh, dear Vela, this is going to get even better,” I heard Gawain mutter beside me.
“Clap your hand over your mouth if you can’t contain yourself,” I snapped at him as I eyed the woman I presumed must be the ship’s official cook stomping up the wooden steps towards us.
In contrast to the towering Ursidaur, Vemak Bear-Killer was no more than five feet tall.
She had a mane of unruly, gray hair tied up under a ragged blue bandana, but it was her faded, stained, white apron which really got my attention, embroidered as it was with the title “Bear-Killer” in bold, red letters.
I wondered if the name was merely a family surname after all or pertained to an accomplishment she was personally proud of.
Sure enough, as she neared us, the cook yanked up on the leg of one of her pants, revealing a wooden peg leg.
“Do you know wherethiswent, Ursidaur?” she shrieked like a crone caught by a cauldron in the woods.
Hawl stared down their nose at the woman, almost as if bored. “I presume you lost the limb in some tedious accident. Mortals are always tripping over their own body parts. Silly little creatures.”
“A bear took it!” the cook screeched. “A bear, you fool!”
“Nonsense. Look at you. What bear in their right mind would wish to eat you?” Hawl shook their furry head in disgust. “You look as if you only bathe once a year.”
“Hawl,” I said warningly under my voice to the Bearkin. Stepping forward, I inclined my head to the woman. “Pardon me, Cook, but I don’t believe we’ve been introduced formally.”
The woman stopped and stared up at me, something like horror crossing her face. To my chagrin, she started to try to sink to her knees. “My Grace... I mean, Your Grace... Oh, Your Majesty...”
“There’s no need for that,” I said quickly. “Gawain.”
The big man hurried forward and gently raised Vemak back up.
The little cook tried again. “Your... Highness. My prince... my emperor...”
“You may address him as Prince Kairos or Your Highness,” Gawain said, not unkindly. Shockingly, he had managed to repress his laughter for a moment.
