What does that matter? "Stout-Heart. Lares Stout-Heart," he said hastily, not seeing what it could hurt for this man to know his name. What could it help to hold the information?
The captain nodded. "Let 'im go," he barked to the men holding Lares, and a moment later he was on all fours on the deck, catching his breath in bewilderment.
He swayed to his feet, sea-legs being something he'd never owned, and walked after the giant bear of a captain.
"Begging pardon, Sir," he began, easily falling into a submissive role with who was obviously the alpha dog on board, "but why did my name make a difference, when naught else had?" He'd protested, of course, of his loyalty to Anala's safety. It hadn't mattered -- that sailor who'd witnessed it didn't trust him at all, and would not vouch for Lar
