Malspire Read Free Page A

know of it. I could not see it either, but I felt it. A clock was ticking, its rhythm slowing with every swing of the pendulum. It felt like the end was coming and Ajator could not see it. The clock stopped.
    Opening my eyes, it was pitch black. I felt around and realised I was in my small cabin still. Sitting up, I winced at the sharp pain. My back was tight, and wounds cracked under the movement. How long had I slept for? Reaching across from my cot to the desk, I found my silver tinderbox. Opening the box I felt for the flint and steel, then ran the flint along the steel showering blinding sparks into the box at the back of which was a section of char cloth. Blinking away the sparks, I saw a small lick of flame on the cloth. Then I took a piece of ripped paper from the tinderbox and lit this. Using the fragile flame, I managed to light a small oil lamp and snapped the tinderbox shut.
    It was a simple cabin with a cot, desk and chair, chest and cupboard with hardly enough room for one man to stand in. All the furniture apart from the chair was crudely nailed to the floor. My cot was clean which surprised me. I looked down and saw my body was wrapped in white bandages. They too were clean. I was weak, but alive.
    It transpired that I had been asleep for eight days and the Sea Huntress was again heading north for the Imperial Emben capital of Norlan - the ancient island city at the heart of the Emben Empire.
    "We thought you was a goner, sir," said Willan, one of the cabin boys. "You had a fever and there was blood and puss everywhere."
    I half sat in my cot where the boy had found me. The first thing I did was order Willan to fetch water, wine and broth which the skinny boy quickly did; an eager lad, not yet ruined by the world.
    "You feeling better now, sir?"
    "I'm alive," I croaked, gulping down the wine. I felt awful but relieved to have survived the flogging.
    "Harl reckoned you had been left for dead. That flail was fouled. Someone's got it in for you, sir. He saw to it that you got looked after though."
    "Harl?" I asked, but thinking of Crosp. The man had fouled the flail, or had someone do it! That was tantamount to attempted murder.
    "Aye. Doctor Feasler came and went but he didn't do nothing. He would sniff the air, check your wrist, then go again. Harl had you cleaned and given water. I helped," Willan added enthusiastically.
    I now remembered being given water. It was like tasting the cool tears of an angel. Feasler was a snivelling coward who constantly worried about contagion and rot. The man would have cabin boys touch his patients for him rather than get his own hands grubby. He was constantly sniffling or complaining about some ache or pain.
    "It seems I owe you my thanks, Mister Willan."
    "Nah. Nothing worse than washing me old nan, sir. Anyway, Mister Harl made me."
    I remained in my cabin for another six days and was visited regularly by Willan who brought me my food and drink and emptied my bucket. The pain was awful whenever I moved, and the bandages had to be replaced every day to stop the rot. Peeling off the cloth was excruciating as it opened wounds and pulled at the tender flesh. Willan helped apply a poultice which one of the crewmen provided and swore by. All I knew was that the fatty mixture looked foul and smelt worse. After this, a new bandage was wrapped tightly round me. The captain seemed to have forgotten me as there was no visit by any officer, nor a summons by Crosp. Feasler did appear on the second day after I had awoken and checked my pulse after which he wiped his hands on a handkerchief and then hesitated before putting it back into his pocket, deciding, I suppose, it was worth the risk of infection to save on the cost of a new cloth.
    "You'll live," Doctor Feasler announced, and then quickly departed. The man had obviously been holding his breath and had to retreat once he made the statement. I could well imagine the stink in the stuffy cabin. Mister Harl never appeared, but Willan