Free The Seascape Tattoo by Larry Niven

wedding.”
    â€œThe ransom will be huge,” he said. That was reflex: he would never touch it. “When did the news come?”
    â€œTwo days ago,” the old man said.
    â€œPirates?”
    The old man shrugged. “Don’t know. But that’s what I’ve heard. I think you’re going to have other fish to fry soon. They’re asking for death.”
    â€œI fed those people!” Aros shrugged his massive shoulders. Death came to all men. That didn’t bother him as much as its manner. He’d hoped never to die on a gallows. Given half a chance, he would force the guardsman to give him a cleaner, swifter end.
    So far he hadn’t had the chance.
    *   *   *
    In the first hour after midnight, the door of his cell opened. “It stinks in here,” said the man silhouetted in the door frame.
    The light hurt Aros’s eyes, and he shielded them with his arm. “Try shitting through a hole in the floor and see how you smell.”
    The man in the doorway cocked his head. “You are much as I remember you.”
    Aros squinted. “I know you? Come closer.” Whoever this was, perhaps he could be lured within reach.
    Aros had no friends in Quillia—he understood that now. Tor One-Eye had come once, bringing apples, but never since. If this fool had come to gloat, he would regret it. Briefly. Intensely.
    He was studying Aros … perhaps his tattoos. “That’s a nice seascape,” the intruder said. “You must have jumped back pretty fast.”
    The seascape was a calm ocean, flat beneath a setting sun, in four colors—but tilted twenty degrees. It crossed his heart. Several small ships showed below the horizon.
    â€œNot backward. I didn’t have a sword,” Aros said. “He got in one good slash right across my chest, and then I broke his knee and strangled him. Come, take a better look.”
    â€œThis is fine. Are you ready to die?”
    â€œWe are born dying,” Aros said. “Every warrior knows this.”
    â€œI was under the impression you were more of a thief than a warrior.”
    â€œOne makes one’s way in the world however one can,” Aros said. “Please, come closer. I still cannot see you. It is so dark in here.”
    The man stepped closer. Whatever he had to say, whatever offer he had to make, certainly nothing could be as satisfying as killing one more Quillian.
    â€œSo cold. So calm and certain,” the stranger said. “You are the man I thought you were. No pleading or bribery or protestations of innocence.”
    The stranger balanced on the edge. Just another step. “If any of those would have made a difference,” Aros growled, “I would have been happy to oblige. Are you saying they would? Please, come closer that I might see your face and know if you lie.”
    The man smiled. Where had Aros seen him before?
    â€œI will come no closer,” the man said. “I am not a fool.”
    â€œWhat are you? And why should I care? I am a man already dead.”
    â€œ Yesss .” The single syllable was serpentine. He could easily imagine this creature slithering across sand on its belly. Come to taunt him? A torturer perhaps. Well, the bastard would gain no satisfaction here.
    â€œHow would you like to live?” the man said.
    Aros felt something that he did not want to feel: hope . “Like a king. What nonsense is this?”
    â€œPerhaps you have heard the uproar around you. In the streets. The kingdom is in peril.”
    â€œI had nothing to do with the disappearance of your princess,” Aros said.
    â€œAh, yes. Your barbarian’s code.” He nodded. “I have to say that I have seen many things from you, but cruelty toward women was not one of them. Especially widows, I recall. I’ve often wondered if this had something to do with your past.”
    Who was this bastard? How the hell did he know so much?
    â€œFor