of my friends survived, mostly women, and we were loaded into boats and taken much further north than we had ever wanted to travel.
“For two years I was in their power. I was traded for and sold more times than I can remember, though I always contrived to keep Olcish near me. They degraded me and made me sing for them, though they broke my old harp…” here her voice faltered and her shoulders shook with pain.
Althak placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“Enough. I believe we know the rest, and you're rescued now.”
She nodded, covering her face with her hands and pulling away from Althak as if she feared the touch of another Vorthenki. She let herself weep. Young Olcish clung to her arm, whispering comfort to her.
Menish was at a loss to deal with this hurt. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably and glanced at Althak. The Vorthenki was smiling.
“I think I can ease your loss a little.” He turned and rummaged in one of the packs that lay behind him. Menish was puzzled. Althak muttered some Vorthenki curse when he could not find what he wanted. He left his seat and searched further. Finally he returned, his smile broader than ever. Olcish saw what he had but Althak put his finger to his lips before the boy spoke. Then, carefully, he placed his harp on the woman’s lap.
Her sobs abated. She choked them back to make way for her confusion. Carefully, delicately she felt the object in her lap. Her fingers glided across it, almost caressing it. She felt the strings as if she dared not pluck them.
Then she lifted it and returned it to Althak.
“You are kind, but I can't play it. It's not my own.”
“It is your own,” said Althak placing it firmly back on her lap. “I give it to you.”
She was unused to kindness. She tried to protest but her voice broke into weeping again. Althak drew her close to him, enfolded her in his great arms and rocked her gently. At first she rejected his comfort but he persisted. Presently she wept into his shirt.
Menish looked away, embarrassed. It was innocent enough but Althak's extravagant comfort reminded him of Vorthenki orgies. His own folk would never behave this way. Yet Menish's natural compassion approved. Should he have done this with Thalissa when he met her on the dock? Instead he had taken away the only things she cared about and left her weeping. Unable to resolve these conflicts he rose, left the circle of lamplight and walked into the darkness.
*
In the darkness lay Azkun.
As consciousness slowly returned to him he stirred. The pain in his forehead, and also his neck, which had taken some of the shock of the blow, was intense. But his main discomfort was that he was sick with horror. He could still smell blood on the decks, he could still hear the screams of dying men, and he could still see that darkness of oblivion they had been dragged into.
Death. He remembered the death of the pig only vaguely now. It had appalled him at the time, but it paled into insignificance before the death of a man. This afternoon he had felt many men die.
The horror writhed inside him. The darkness was no longer a thing that had opened and shut for the pig. It had opened, gorged itself, and now it lay in wait for its next victim. There was a foul availability about it, like the stench of drying blood. He moaned quietly and opened his eyes.
At first the darkness confused him. The moving yellow light of the lamp was unfocussed and mysterious. He did not know how much time had passed. Had he, also, passed into the darkness? Was there something on the other side? But his vision cleared. He recognised the lamps for what they were, the part of the deck he lay on was shrouded in shadow. He could only just make out the figure of Tenari beside him. She still sat dumbly staring at him.
Someone had placed something soft beneath his head but his body lay on the hard deck. He sat up, feeling his bones stiff and sore. Something had dug into his ribs while he lay prone and they now ached painfully. He felt out the irritating object with his fingers and lifted it to the light so that he could see it.
It was a man’s finger.
For a moment the horror of the battle rushed back at him. The gouging of swords, the hacking of flesh, the jaws of oblivion. Menish had attacked him, he knew why for he had perceived Menish’s intention. Menish had attacked him to save him. The paradox knotted itself in his mind. It suddenly seemed absurdly funny that Menish could rescue him by crashing his shield down on his head.
He giggled.
He held a man’s finger in his hand. It looked quite normal. He could bend it at the joints. Only the sticky wetness at the severed end hinted at its owner’s demise.
The man was dead.
Dead.
The darkness had swallowed him.
Menish had hacked at his hand as it reached over the gunwale. Azkun had felt his horror as he fell into the water below, his heavy armour dragging him under.
The finger was the same size as his own, as if he had six fingers on that hand. A wind was blowing through him. A numbing wind from the Chasm, but still he giggled at the finger, at the paradox, at the wind. He rolled on the deck, hugging the finger, cackling insanely as his mind was blown away by the wind.
Suddenly firm hands gripped him. He tried to fight them off but they overcame him. The shape of Tenari bent over him and slapped his face. She wrenched the finger from his grasp and tossed it into the sea.
The madness left him cold, shaking and frightened. By the time Menish, who had heard the commotion, arrived Tenari had resumed her blank stare.
“Azkun, what happened?” He shook him until his teeth rattled.
“Nothing, nothing, an evil dream, I think. It has passed.”
Azkun saw Menish look pointedly at Tenari for a moment then he picked up a flask of ambroth and offered it to him.
“How do you feel now? Would you like some of this?”
“No, no, thank you. I am… no, I am not well, but I am better. My head-”
“I'm sorry. You took a fit and were in danger from the pirates. If I'd been less pressed I'd have simply moved you to a place of safety.”
“I know, you did what you had to.” He smiled. “My head is sore, but I am alive still. So far.”
“Are you sure you'll take no ambroth? It's good for hurts.”
“I am determined not to.”
“Some water then?”
“No.”
“Then you'd best sleep at least. A blow to the head can addle the brain. One’s thoughts become twisted. The time is best passed in sleep, besides it's night.”
Chapter 10: The Dolphin
When Azkun next awoke the sun shone in his face. He was aware of Keashil. Her grief penetrated his perception acutely. Even comforted she left shadows of sorrow in his mind, reminding him of the old woman at Lianar, the one who had claimed that Tenari was her daughter.
Tenari still sat blankly at his side like a ministering angel who had forgotten her purpose. He remembered the finger, or was that a dream? His memories of the day before were mercifully muddled. He did not want to look at that darkness again.
Keashil’s pain ached in him. He could see her from where he lay. She sat curled against Althak, her blind eyes still weeping the tears she had refused in her captivity. Azkun knew that she was blind. The fact was stamped indelibly on her mind. Her eyes were darkness, yet they were not darkness. They did not see darkness, they did not see anything. Althak held her and stroked her hair. Azkun felt his compassion and it eased the hurt that he had taken as his own.
