The Knight

That had not happened yet. At the time I am telling about it was the Osterlings that mattered. They are people, only they are not much like regular people, especially lower down. The Caan and the princes and so on are pretty human, I guess because they can get whatever they want. But the more ordinary Osterlings have faces like skulls and horrible eyes that look like they are burning holes in you.

Here I am going to say something that maybe I should not say. They are thin, too. You can count their ribs and see where all the bones are underneath their skin. In America we liked people to be really thin and all the girls I knew were always trying to lose weight. West of the mountains it is not like that, and I think it is because of the Osterlings. Men are supposed to have muscles and wide shoulders and big, thick arms and legs, sort of like football players. (We are not supposed to have thick heads too, but pretty often that is the case.) Women are supposed to have big round breasts like grapefruits, two-balloon hips, and lots of meat on their arms and legs. Idnn was not like that, which could have been one reason she was not married already. But Gaynor always made me think that she ought to lose about twenty pounds, only I could not decide what parts I would like smaller.

So that was the way most people were in Celidon, which is where we were until we put out to sea, and it just made the Osterlings want to kill us that much more. But the fact was (I did not know this back then) that they would kill just about anything and eat it: horses and dogs, rats and cats.

The net I was talking about was made out of good-sized ropes and it was there to keep people out. It was a good idea, because the ropes were hard to cut and I could shoot arrows through the holes, which I did. But they could be cut after a while, which the Osterlings did, wanting to get at us, so chain would have been better.

In my dream I could see the one who stabbed me, and see the dagger’s blade coming at me, and all that. After I was stabbed I lay on the deck of the Osterling ship and bled and bled, and after a long, long time our captain came, shuffling his feet, and when he was standing beside me he kicked me in the face. But I do not think that really happened.

I woke up, and I had not been kicked. It was Pouk, and for a minute I did not know where I was (I thought I was back in my bedroom at home) or who Pouk was. You know how it is, sometimes, when somebody wakes you up from a dream.

“It’s me, sir, Pouk Badeye. I got some water here, sir, thinkin’ you might like it.”

I took it, the kind of wooden mug they call a cannikin.

“It ain’t good water, sir, but you can drink it. I been drinkin’ it. They feedin’ you, sir?”

It was hard to remember. Finally I said, “I don’t think so. I’ve been sleeping most of the time. Dreaming.” Back in a corner of my mind I was still trying to figure out how my bed had turned into a big coil of rope.

“I didn’t think so. I’ll try an’ get you somethin’, sir. Cook’ll give me somethin’ if he knows it’s for you.”

It was so dim in there that I could just barely make out Pouk’s face. That was when I asked Pouk where I was, and he told me, “Cap’n wanted to kill you, sir, only we wouldn’t let him. We’d o’ mutinied, sir, if he’d tried it. He was goin’ to, sir. He come up to where you was layin’ an’ raised up his sword, sir, and I felt it go all though the ship, men standin’ up that had been sittin’, an’ feelin’ for axes an’ knives an’ pikes. So he couldn’t, sir, not then. He had some carry you down here, sir, with Nur to watch ’em. Only I got to go, sir, ‘fore I’m missed.”

Pouk had become another dream. I heard him say, “I’ll bring you somethin’. I will that.” But the Osterlings were gaining on us, their thin black ship leaping across the sea, and the arrow was at my ear.

―――

A friend came and licked my face.

―――

Next time I woke up I was myself again. Weak, and scared when I saw how weak I was. It was damp in the cable tier; my wound was hot, but I shivered there for hours.

―――

“Here y’are, Sir Able, sir. Sprat dumplin’s, sir.”

I looked up at the sound of a stranger’s voice. It was too dark to make out his face, but metal clinked on metal and there was a good smell. In another second or so it was under my nose, crisp outside and soft inside, full of flavor, greasy and wonderful. I chewed and swallowed and had to fight to keep from swallowing without chewing. When I had finished, I asked who he was.

“Cook, sir. Hordsvin’s me name.” He gulped. “Fought next ta ya wi’ me cleaver, Sir Able. Had me napron on but warn’t hog’s blood on it. Me helper fought, ta, sir. Surt’s his name. He’s watchin’ out fer me na. Had me big knife.”

A warm thing was pushed into my hand. I took it, bit off too much, and choked.

“Drink this, sir. Your man come, Sir Able, only he’d of et it hisself, I was afeerd. So I brung ’em, sir. They’s me specialty, Sir Able, sir. I’ll leave th’ pan wi’ th’ lid on so’s th’ rats don’t get ’em.”