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Chapter 21. Regrets |
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orisedd sat near the prow, selecting the quietest part of the boat after observing the sailors trimming the lateen sails or securing the boom at the right angle to tack and ware against a strong head wind. Having spent his life immersed in the rhythms of the natural world, it did not take him long to realize they were headed in entirely the wrong direction. The corsairs left the safety and security of the coast and entered open ocean much sooner than usual. Granted, he had only taken a boat to Cantha a few times, but he also knew sailors preferred to keep in sight of land when possible and only broached the deep at need. Watching the angle of the sun relative to their course, he also knew they were heading due south. Pondering this and trying not to be alarmed, he decided to whittle to ease his mind. He turned a small red and gold piece of cedar wood in his hand, gazing upon it thoughtfully before stashing it back inside of his pack and putting his knife away when no inspiration came to him. He probably should tell Belenus they were off course, but then again, he loathed the man and trusted him about as much as the Corsairs. In his experience, better to play ignorant, particularly since there was no where to hide if he stirred things up. He watched one of the Corsairs descend into the hold where the terrible reek of confined animals spilled out into the fresh salty wind. The man balanced a large clay water jug on his shoulder and clutched the tin ladle in his hand. Morisedd had not bothered to pursue what had been done with Pendaran. He honestly did not care. The man could rot in the hold for eternity as far as he was concerned. Boredom, however, caused him to rise and follow the man, his legs already accustomed to the constant roll of the long sleek ship. He descended the steep rungs of the ladder secured to the edge of the open hatch. It was wide enough to receive quite large animals and he wondered why the Corsairs were carrying them and where they were bound. His feet struck the slick planks that were propped barely a hand span above the dark rank swill of the bilge. The narrow causeway was lined on either side with stalls or storage bays that were now crammed with animal cages. On the starboard side they were largely empty, but immediate to his right as he gazed down toward the aft end of the boat, he saw a cage bearing a sad looking yak calf caked in its own filth and curled upon the planks and bars of its cage. A roar of rage emanated from further down, indicating a big cat of some kind. He could not see the stalls beyond the Corsair. Morisedd watched as the Corsair passed a ladle full of water through an opening in a stout cage to the shaking hands of its occupant. Morisedd felt pity for the filthy naked figure, a man in an animal cage too small for his height so that he had to crawl and kneel on the dirty planks and bars of the cage floor. Then his pity turned to cruel amusement when he realized it was Pendaran. How apt that he should be treated for the dirty beast that he was. The Corsair glanced at Morisedd, then recognizing him, nodded and went back about his work, taking the empty ladle away and checking the lock on the cage before moving to his next charge. Morisedd followed until he stood over the cage and gazed down at Pendaran. Seeing the man he hated suffering such humiliation caused him to laugh out loud. Pendaran lowered his face miserably and backed away to his stinking bed. “I could not have devised a better place for you myself.” “It is sad to see you this way,” Pendaran said, his voice barely audible above the creek of timbers and slosh of the bilge, “I knew you hated me, but I never imagined you delighted so in the suffering and degradation of your fellow man.” “I only delight in your degradation. You have earned it one hundred fold.” “That is for the gods to decide,” Pendaran replied. “You aren’t unlucky,” Morisedd snapped. Invoking the gods was always the last bastion of the scoundrel and it incensed him, “Everything that has happened to was earned, Pendaran. You were meant to die on the blades of those assassins and your disgusting lust caused to you court that demon and let her use you like the cheapest whore. You disgust me. You are an affront to humanity and a stain upon the land. I hope you enjoy your eternity in Torment.” Pendaran drew his knees up against his chest and wrapped his arms around his shins as if he were trying to hold himself together. He was weeping, struggling hard not to make a sound as he did so but so obviously racked with sobs he could not prevent his body from shuddering with them. “Some friend you are leaving your beloved master out to dry,” Morisedd continued, the sight of his hated enemy broken and reeling only driving him on, “Zhou saves your life and you reward him by running off with my sister. What a thoughtless pig.” “Please just leave me alone,” Pendaran pleaded. “You’ll have plenty of time alone when I’m done with you.” "Please," Pendaran sobbed, "I have tried to make amends. I know I have wronged you. The gods know I regret everything I have done to hurt you, Murdi. Please don't do this." "You weak little worm." "What do you gain from this?" Pendaran choked, "Uriel will not come back to life. Teleri really will learn to hate you and think of Mabane. Gods, Murdi, he has already lost one father. How could you do this to my innocent children? You are no better than the bandits who killed your own parents." Morisedd recoiled as if he had been slugged in the gut. For a moment he was ten again, hiding under the bed with Teleri clutched against his side as their parents pleaded for their lives. He heard in Pendaran’s voice that of his father begging to live for his children only to be slaughtered like an animal for little more than three days of food and what little coin was hidden in their dirt-floored hut. He remembered the vindictive laughter of the thieves. Their voice had emerged from his own throat. Grief overwhelmed him and he turned away, trembling as he stumbled up the ladder and emerged into the bright light of day. Swyno had once told him it was unnatural not to weep for what he had lost, but for years he had felt nothing at all. He scrambled toward the railing and leaned over the side of the boat, retching as a long stifled cry of horror emerged from his throat. He vomited as if to remove the taint of his parents’ murderers from his flesh. Gods, what had he done? “But he wronged you! He used Uriel and then she followed him to her death!” He dropped to his knees, delirious and suddenly exhausted, his arms clutching the railing and his face pressed into his arm. He had pleaded with Uriel not to enter Torment, to let the others find Pendaran and not risk her own life. Now he remembered the words that had convinced him to let her go, though he followed her in anger and resignation. “What Pendaran did was wrong, but however much you despise him, it was also my choice. If you condemn him for what he did, then you must condemn me also.” “But you had to do that to get free of the curse. He didn’t. He used you.” “And I used him without his knowledge or consent to free me from the curse. Instead of resentment, he is grateful. Look at how much of my dream is to be funded by his gratitude. What does he have to do to convince you that he has changed for the better, Murdi? Let it go before you drive off those who love you.” Morisedd rose stiffly, wiping his face with the back of his sleeve as he strode once more toward the prow. The landless horizon stretched out before him, sea meeting sky. Somehow he had to undo his mistake without letting Belenus know he had changed his mind. In Cantha then, provided they got there, he would have to deal with the scoundrel and take Pen home. And pray they could forgive him.
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