Chapter 3

‘Neath a southern sky

(A/N **...** denotes written communication)

The tides and the winds favoured the Grey Swan as she travelled south from Kalavir to Cantria to discharge her cargo of charcoal. It was an easy passage for the crew and they were in good spirits. Their brief stay in Kalavir had allowed them to refresh the supply of drinking water and restock the larders with fresh fruit and vegetables. They had even purchased a goat and several laying hens so that their ailing passenger could benefit from fresh eggs and milk, the surplus going to supplement the diet of the crew. Zerbah had been most insistent on what her patient would require if he were to recover; fresh fruit and vegetables, lightly cooked fresh fish and fresh milk and eggs. She told them to avoid giving Min the salted fish or pork that made up the staple of the crew’s diet, until he was fully recovered and able to eat and drink freely.

Tat was again handed the responsibility of caring for Min, a job he tackled with cheerful and dedicated enthusiasm. He had fought hard for the life of the man and he now allowed himself some hope that he would recover.

In Cantria the Duck picked up a mixed cargo; barrels of rich wine, bolts of jewel-coloured silks, bales of furs and chests of spices, all for a port even further south along the coast of Harad.

Min was only vaguely aware of the passage of time or distance. He sensed the movement of the ship as it rode the gentle swells of the open ocean but the passage of hours or days held no relevance to him. He was a biddable patient, tolerating Tat’s gentle chiding, allowing the boy to move him, care for him, feed him. He took the potions without complaint and swallowed the food Tat spooned into his mouth, only turning away from the spoon when he could take no more.

He never spoke and only rarely did he meet the eye of either Tat or Cardolan. The only time his voice was heard was at night but it was not words that they heard, just the screams of a man reliving the torments visited upon him. The dreams must have been truly terrible for they left him pale and shocked and soaked in sweat. Sometimes it took both the Captain and Tat to restrain him and prevent him from harming himself in his distress. They dosed him up with herbs for pain and the potions Zerbah had left to send him into such deep sleep that even the worst nightmares could not touch him.

Very slowly he regained his strength as his wounds healed and his body threw off the last vestiges of the lung fever that had so nearly cost him his life. Once he could sit unaided he was carried out on to the deck each afternoon. He would sit and doze and watch the crew as they moved in the rigging above him from under the protection of a tarpaulin shade. His face lost its ghostly pallor and as his hair and beard re-grew he began to look less gaunt.

The first time they tried to set him on his feet his knees buckled from the pain and they had to abandon the attempt, the open wounds from the beating were healed but the scars on the soles of his feet were still very tender. One of the crewmen who had seen the attempt approached the Captain and spoke to him quietly; the Captain grinned and nodded his approval to his suggestion. An hour later the crewman presented Min with a pair of sheepskin sandals, consisting of a shaped sole that wrapped up and around his foot, laced into place with long leather straps. The thick fleece gave just enough padding to protect his feet against the wooden planks of the deck. It was such a kind and thoughtful gesture and Min’s face lit up and he gifted the crewman with a brilliant smile, his eyes bright and full. Word passed swiftly through the crew; it was as though the sun beamed a little brighter, so glad were they that their newest comrade was finally coming out of his shell.

His recovery continued apace, each day he took a few more steps until he was able to move around unaided; not that Tat allowed his charge to escape his vigilant care. Tat was his shadow, a constant but discrete presence who made it his business to ensure that Min did not overtax his returning strength. It was to his credit that Tat was not fazed by the silence of his charge; Min remained mute but he managed to convey his gratitude to the careful solicitude extended to him.

By the time the Grey Swan returned to the small harbour at Kalavir a whole season had passed and the dusty port was sleepy under the hot summer sun. They tied up at the dock at dusk and with the Captain's permission the crew took it in turns to go ashore and sample the cold brews on offer in the harbour-side inn. Min retired to his hammock in the small cabin he now shared with Tat. It was a cramped space, barely more than a cupboard, the only seat being the top of Tat’s small cabin trunk. Min had no possessions of his own to stow, even the clothes on his back had been gifted to him by members of the crew.

As this was essentially a social visit there was no cargo to load or unload; the Boson made sure the ship was re-provisioned for the long journey north towards the Isle of Tolfolas. Min showed no inclination to go ashore and explore the harbour, indeed he hadn’t stepped foot on land since his rescue. There were no chores to do and he found himself with time on his hands. He borrowed a small knife and retrieved a piece of driftwood from his cabin. He settled himself by the rail of the poop-deck under the shade. The handle of the knife was comfortable in his palm and the blade, which was only half its original length, had been honed to a fine point, its edge wickedly sharp. He pulled his wide-brimmed hat down over his forehead to block out the glare of the sun and concentrated his attention on the object taking shape under his skilful fingers.

Zerbah requested permission to come aboard and the Captain escorted her to his cabin where they could talk in private. He handed her a wooden chest, decorated and inlaid with a design of stylised flowers and birds and fastened with a polished metal band and a small decorative key. She opened the lid carefully and gasped. It was an apothecary’s chest, lined with silk and fitted out to hold measuring spoons, a finely crafted set of measuring scales and numerous vials and bottles and cork-topped canisters of herbs and spices and potions.

“This is too much, Sir. I cannot possibly afford to pay you for this,” she said, reluctantly passing the box back towards him.

“I expect no payment,” he assured her, placing it back in her hands, “This is a gift for your care of our young friend.”

“But you paid me. . .more than was required.”

“You saved his life. No gift is too much to thank you for that. And with this box you will be able to help many others.”

“Then you have my thanks, Sire. Would it be possible for me to see him now, or has he gone ashore?”

“No, he doesn’t venture far but he is much recovered. He seems to have regained his strength and he has started to help out around the ship. . .just simple chores in the galley. He has some strength in his arms and a strong grip; I think he is used to hard work,” Cardolan explained as he led her back through the hatch onto the main deck and indicated that she should precede him up the steps onto the poop-deck.

She watched Min for a while whilst his attention was focussed on his carving. She would not have recognised him as her patient. The man before her now was bare-chested, his skin tanned from exposure to the sun. He was still too thin but his well-muscled shoulders and arms confirmed Cardolan’s earlier assessment. She couldn’t see his features clearly but a healthy growth of fair whiskers caught the sun as he twisted his head from side to side as he worked. Once or twice he put a hand up to his ear and seemed to press hard and rub over the orifice as though it pained him.

“Does he do that often?” Zerbah asked as Min again shook his head.

“Aye, now you mention it, I recon he does. He doesn’t complain of pain,” he assured her.

“He has regained his speech then?”

“No, not a word! We still don’t even know what language he speaks. He and Tat seem able to communicate well enough but no, he doesn’t speak.”

“I would like to look him over, if he’s willing. Could I use your quarters. . .give him a little privacy?”

Min removed his hat and bowed to the healer when the captain ushered him in but there was no hint in his expression that he recognised her. He made to put on the sleeveless shirt he carried but Zerbah gently took it from his hand and indicated that he should take a seat. He was obviously self-conscious under her scrutiny but she spoke to him softly and smiled to reassure him when he finally met her gaze. To put him at ease she started by examining his feet, nodding her approval at the unique footwear that protected his scarred soles. The wheals on his back were well healed and the scars, though still raised and angry-looking were benefiting from exposure to the sun’s healing rays. When she placed an ear against his back he pulled away but she stilled his retreat and went back to listening to the sounds from his chest. Finally she ran her fingers over his skull and noted that besides a slight depression in the bone behind his ear the wound was well healed and was now hidden beneath a cap of white hair that curled against his scalp.

She handed him back his shirt and grinned at his obvious relief that the examination was over. While he redressed she moved around behind him and, keeping a close eye on his reaction, banged a heavy wooden bowl onto the table top. Min never even blinked and her resigned sigh was obvious to the Captain.

When they were again alone Cardolan challenged her for her diagnosis, though he feared he already knew what she was going to say. “Well, is he healed?”

“He is recovered from the lung fever, though he will probably always have a weak chest and a susceptibility to a recurrence.”

“And the scars?. . .his feet?”

“They are healing better than I expected. The sandals are a very good idea but his feet will gradually harden as he moves around more. The scars will fade with time. He has other older scars that tell of a long history of injuries, and that was not the first flogging he has suffered. I suspect he was a soldier or a sailor in the past.”

“And what of his speech? Why does he not speak?”

“He does not speak because he is deaf!” Zerbah said sadly

“Has he always been deaf?”

“Who can say? Those deaf from birth never learn to speak but if we are right to assume that he has a military background then he must have had hearing. . .he would never have been accepted for training with such a major handicap.”

“So was it the blow to his head that took his hearing?” Cardolan asked.

“It could have been. It was a heavy blow and he was lucky to survive it. I have known others to have been so afflicted.”

“Will his hearing ever recover. . .is there nothing you can do?”

“Even with this special box, I have no herbs or potions to work such a miracle. Sometimes time heals such injuries but that is in the gift of the gods.”

“I can understand that a powerful blow could affect his hearing but why would he remain mute?”

“I have no explanation, Sir. But when you consider how much he must have suffered under such protracted torment it may just be that his mind has retreated from communication to protect himself from greater harm. . .”

“But he is safe here. None will harm him while he is under my protection.”

“I believe you, Sir. And maybe one day he will believe it too. The more secure he feels the greater the likelihood of him recovering his faculties but there are no certainties.”

“And still we know nothing about him. . .and he shows no interest in discovering his past.”

“We know he is a brave man; he must be to have survived, and we know he has a tenacious hold on life. Without a past he must rebuild his life from this point onwards.”

ooooOOOOoooo

By the time the Duck sailed into her home port on the northern coast of the Isle of Tolfalas autumn was turning to winter. Captain Cardolan gave the crew two weeks shore leave while the ship underwent repairs. The Captain spent many hours in discussions with Prince Imrahil’s agent, discussing future voyages and going over the ship’s ledgers and cargo manifests and agreeing what portion of the trading profits should be turned over to the Princes account. Bookkeeping was Cardolan’s least favourite responsibility but he was by nature an honest man and though his accounts were messy and disorganised he never worried about the tally. The agent knew and trusted the Captain and they both accepted that some discrepancies were inevitable when so many different transactions were involved.

Now fully recovered from his physical injuries, Min showed no inclination to leave the Grey Swan. He was taken on as a full member of the crew and given his own small purse of coins to kit himself out with clothing and personal items from the stalls and markets crowding the harbour. Because of his disability he was reluctant to go ashore and it took some coaxing by Tat and the Boson to persuade him to join them. He completed his purchases quickly and would have retreated straight back to the ship but the Boson guided them along a side alley away from the crowds and into a small tavern. The place was noisy and chaotic and despite finding a table in a quieter nook, Min was clearly ill at ease. There was something about the sights and smells; unwashed bodies, stale ale and the aroma of overcooked food. . .something familiar. Min’s anxiety turned to panic, his breathing rapid and shallow, his body chilled with icy sweat. . .he couldn’t get enough air. He fought his way through the crowd and out into the alley, out into the fresh air. By the time Tat and the Boson reached him he was collapsed on the ground, curled tightly, his hands fisted in his hair as he convulsed in pain. Finally after many anxious minutes he stilled, lapsing into unconscious oblivion. He slept deeply for several hours, not even stirring when they carried him back aboard. He was subdued for several days and didn’t attempt to go ashore again.

It wasn’t the only time the crew were witness to these new symptoms but they learned quickly how to deal with them when they occurred. They rarely happened at sea but they could never work out the specific trigger. In view of this uncertainty and because of Min’s existing handicap due to his deafness, Captain Cardolan ruled that whilst Min could take on all other duties on board he was not to go aloft; it was too great a risk as he couldn’t hear warnings or orders and the chances of him having one of his turns while up in the rigging would not be countenanced.

The Grey Swan continued its voyages up and down the coast from Eryn Vorn in the north to the lands of Far Harad in the south. Min had demonstrated to all the crew that he was more than capable of fulfilling his duties and responsibilities despite his handicap. They accepted his silent presence and were very protective of him. He had an instinct for sensing danger that they soon learned to trust and more than once his quick actions had saved a crew-mate from serious injury.

Another of his skills came to light when the crew were loading a new cargo in one of the busy ports of Umber. The crew were stowing the barrels in the hold when Min, who was standing beside the Captain, suddenly pointed to the ledger and then to the cargo. Unable to make the Captain understand him he took the pencil from the Captain’s hand and wrote a figure next to one of the columns and then held up five fingers. When the Captain still didn’t catch his meaning he forced himself to speak.

“Five b-b-barrels missing!”

Cardolan was so astonished to hear the scratchy whisper that for a minute he was himself speechless.

“Five barrels missing!” Min repeated with more urgency.

“You can read and count?” Cardolan exclaimed. Min didn’t respond to his question but continued to point to the cargo. The Master nodded and handed the ledger to Min while he went to speak to the shipping agent about the discrepancy.

When the cargo was finally stowed and the ship out at sea, Cardolan ushered Min into his cabin and sat beside him at the desk. He took a slate and a stylus from a drawer.

**You can read?** he wrote. Min nodded.

**And write?** Min took the stylus and wrote **Yes**.

**Can you hear?** Min shook his head.

**Can you hear anything?**

Min forced himself to speak. “Buzzing. . .constant noise. . .no words!”

**What is your name?** Min shrugged his shoulders.

**You don’t know! Where are you from? What happened to you?**

*Don’t know** Min wrote.

**Don’t you remember anything?**

“NO. . .you, the boat. . .Tat. . .nothing else!” Min was clearly distressed by this line of questioning so Cardolan changed tack.

**How did you know the cargo was light?**

“I saw the ledger and kept count as they were loaded. . .the shore workers switched some of the barrels before they were loaded,” he explained, his voice stronger.

**They were deliberately cheating us?**

“Yes.”

**Have you noticed discrepancies before?**

“Suspicious. . .no proof!”

Cardolan considered for a moment and then pulled the cargo manifest in front of him. He set Min several tasks; counting up totals, calculating profits and losses. He left the man alone while he went to ponder on what he had discovered. Min could read and write and handle numbers and had obviously received at least a basic education; he could also speak, though he was clearly reluctant to do so. The Captain didn’t know whether the fact that the youngster could hear buzzing was good or bad but he could sympathise that it must be distressing and it explained the habit that Zerbah had observed months before.

Cardolan was happy to turn over responsibility for the cargo manifests to Min. The youngster was neat and precise and took his new responsibilities seriously. Shipping agents up and down the coast soon learned to treat him with respect. He had an instinctive knowledge of the men he dealt with and was quick to pick up and challenge those who were less than honest in their dealings.

His ability to now communicate with the Captain was not extended to the rest of the crew as not even Tat could read or write. His interactions with his crewmates remained as they had ever been; he spoke occasionally at great need but for the most part he kept to himself, seemingly happy with his own company and council.

ooo0000000ooo

TBC