At that she whirled hungrily to look. It was easy to pick Azkun. His wild hair and beard singled him out. Thalissa drew in her breath in a short gasp. She recognised enough of her own features from this distance, though she could surely not see his eyes. “Now take the gold or your life may be forfeit.”
Stunned by truth thrust in her face she allowed the coins to be dropped into her hands. Menish turned and stamped back up the gangplank. He felt a wave of nausea rising.
“Sail at once!” he cried to Awan. “I'm sick of the smell of this place.” With that he groped his way to the opposite side of the boat and leaned over. He was grateful for his illness. It hid his tears.
Chapter 8: Blood on the Decks
Azkun was all too aware of the turmoil in Menish’s mind. He had not intended to cause him pain. Menish had wanted to speak with that old woman so, when Azkun had felt the same mind nearby, he had told Menish where she was. When the young woman had rescued him a second time from the spectres they had all become he knew he could not leave her behind. Menish had thought he had delivered an ultimatum, either she came or Azkun stayed behind with her. He had not intended it so. All he had tried to say was that he would stay behind rather than be parted from her. He had expected Menish to leave him.
As the boat drifted away from the stone dock he peered through the mist at the forlorn figure of the old woman. No one else noticed her particularly. Hrangil and Drinagish huddled near the base of the central mast, plainly uncomfortable with the motion of the boat. Menish had not yet left his post at the far gunwale and the Vorthenki sailors were too busy, or did not care, or both. But Azkun could see more than a vague, shrouded old woman, he could see a broken heart with a yearning purpose.
Althak stood behind him. The Vorthenki seemed confused and Azkun remembered Menish’s assertion that his men would kill the old woman if they knew who she was, and he remembered the pig. Althak had slashed its side with the sword that still hung from his belt.
“This is strange behaviour for him,” he murmured.
“I believe he is ill,” replied Azkun in an effort to explain Menish’s actions and distract Althak from the old woman.
“Yes, the sea always picks Anthorians. They'll be no better until we reach land again.”
“You seem unconcerned about it.” Althak was indeed. His confusion over Menish was slipping away now that he remembered the sea retch that afflicted the King. Althak was, in fact, pleased to be afloat.
“Oh, no. They'll suffer discomfort but no harm. It was, after all, M’Lord’s choice to come by sea.”
“Why must we travel this way then?”
“It's faster. The lands we'd have to travel through by horse are wild and uncertain, and the paths few and poorly known. The only certain route would take us all the way back to Anthor and then south. It would add weeks to the journey. But you're not afflicted yourself?”
“No, I am well.”
“And you're not hungry yet?”
“No. I will not eat.”
Althak nodded as if he understood.
“You're a strange one,” he turned and appeared to notice Tenari for the first time. “What happened? Why do you want her with you?” He was almost reproachful in his question, as if he felt sorry for the old woman.
Azkun told him, trying to keep the trembling from his voice when he spoke of the spectres. The Vorthenki nodded slowly.
“I've never heard of such a thing.” He smiled suddenly. “You're full of surprises. How do your dragons explain this?”
“I do not know. Perhaps… perhaps the dragons wished her to come with us.”
“Perhaps.” he stepped back and looked at Tenari. She ignored him. Her vacant gaze was for Azkun alone, as if he held her in a trance. Her height and colouring made her clearly not Vorthenki. Thick, black hair framed an elfin face with clear, dark eyes. When she moved her head the droplets of mist in her hair sparkled like jewels. Something about her mouth suggested solemnity or sadness but in her eyes there was nothing.
When Azkun looked at her his perception failed him. He could see no thoughts behind her eyes. At first she seemed as dead as the wooden hulk of the ship, a blank wall, a nothingness. But, when he stretched his perception to its limits, he caught something. It was not a mind, an echo of a mind perhaps. Like a gap in the emptiness, a distant cry of anguish or mirth, he did not know which. It slipped too quickly from his grasp.
“A bath and a clean robe would not go amiss, but she's quite pretty. She has an Anthorian look about her, although their women are usually more muscled. She is slender like a young Vorthenki maid.” He turned and asked Azkun suddenly, “Do you speak any Vorthenki?”
“No,” Azkun wondered why he asked. He was still puzzling over his glimpse at her mind.
“Then the old woman’s ravings meant nothing to you. I suppose you don't even know this one’s name.”
“Tenari? I heard her call that.”
“Yes. She also tried to tell M’Lord that she was her mother, but she has a more interesting tale. I heard it last night in my kinsman’s house.” He paused, waiting to see if Azkun was interested.
“Who do you speak of? Tenari or… or the old woman?”
“Oh, Tenari, of course. The old one is the woman belonging to the fisherman who found her. But I've omitted part of my tale. Tenari is new to this village. She was found by one of the local fisherman the day before yesterday.”
“Found? Where? In the sea?”
“No. She was found on the rocks by the mouth of the Chasm. It seems that you're not the only one to leave that place. I was told the fisherman saw a dragon in the sky.”
“She was flamed?”
“Not as far as is known. But, Azkun, I inquired carefully the day and time she was found. She must have left the Chasm at the same time you did. Isn't that strange? It would seem that the dragon that was seen was the same one that flamed you. We saw it fly off towards the sea.”
“The same moment. The same moment I left the Chasm, so did she.” He peered at her carefully, almost suspiciously, as if she embodied the numb terror of the Chasm. But no, she had rescued him twice from terror. She also was a victim of the Chasm, and more so. For in her the numbness remained. Her mind, if it was there at all, had not yet broken free as had her body. Perhaps she had not been flamed, perhaps that was what was wrong with her.
“Does the fact mean something more to you? I thought it merely odd.”
“Surely it means something, but I do not know what.”
“And she doesn't speak. That too I learned last night. But you seem already aware of this.”
“She was not flamed. She still has the Chasm in her mind.”
“No doubt she will not eat either. Our provisions will last well.” His grin returned.
As they passed out of the harbour the fog drew back like a curtain. A breeze filled the sails, the sailors cheered their craft on and, with much creaking of ropes and timber, it gained speed.
With the fog gone Azkun could see the lie of the land around him, or rather, the lie of the sea. He had not considered that so much water could exist in one place. It stretched to the eastern horizon without so much as an island to relieve the vastness. It went on forever. On the south side rose tall cliffs, stark and cold, like the mountains that had refused him help. They were grey and treeless with patches of white scattered across their higher faces.
About midday Azkun, remembering Althak’s stories of dragons, searched the cliffs for them but there were none. When the cliffs changed their direction and veered away to the south he felt a sudden unease. At first he attributed this to the tossing of the sea. The wind changed with the line of the cliffs and the sea became choppy. He noticed Tenari sometimes broke her blank gaze from him and glanced away south.