Fyskar

Chapter 12

Finished with lunch, Seonaid and Fearchar took up their positions on the rug once more. "You have surely led a remarkable life, Eoin." Seonaid drank from her cup.

Eoin nodded reluctantly. I had hoped, running as far as I could, that my boys and I would be safe, he explained. He sipped at another cup of qahva. Setting it aside, he paced the length of the house before settling his back against the main door frame to study the couple on his rug.

Fearchar glanced at his wife to study her reaction before turning back to the doc. "The slavers didn't take your hairstick or your torc?" The handyman pointed to Eoin's neck.

Eoin fingered the heavy gold. I had dropped the bracelet in my house by accident when I tried to hide my boys before we ran to try to escape the flames and the slavers. I retrieved it later, on my return here. I wanted to see Egret Nest, what had become of it. I had a jeweller in Morocco straighten it for me, seeing as I couldn't wear it with the bracers.

The slavers thought about killing me to get my torc off. One man was too intelligent to let the rest do that. My sons and I were too different, even for Egret Nest housing a wide variety of people. The shape of our face, my tattoos, the torc were enough to make that man suspicious. The boys can speak Xhosa, Maba and Komuz - what the people of Egret Nest spoke. That's all they had ever known, outside of my internal communication.

For me, they never gave me an opportunity to touch them outright after that blow. I was just the mute doctor chained to everyone else. They took my necklaces, my sash, my kente, everything that the Egret Nest used to recognize my status as their medicine man. Masud knew when he would make a deal on the valuable oddities. He grimaced at the thought of the old man. He drank deeply from his cup at the thought.

Seonaid stumbled through the explanation, some of the words still unfamiliar. "You speak our language well enough in here." She pointed out, tapping her skull. "Why do you use the Norman's language with your hands?"

He looked down at the milky white skin of his knuckles. His forefinger and middle finger were still stained blue, though the brilliant depth of the shade had lightened with a good scrub. He turned them over, the light blush of colour across his palms barely noticeable in the house's dark. Henri, he signed the man's name.

"Henri?" Seonaid reached out her hand to Eoin, wanting to know more. He did not reach out to her. He stared down at his bracers sullenly. She retracted her hands and laid them in her lap, waiting.

Death, you are familiar with. Destruction you have seen. But have you ever watched the life leave a body that continues walking? Have you ever witnessed unending terror that breaks the soul? What came after Amina and Tau and Egret Nest was a new level of horror that I could never imagine humans could possibly reach. Living on this Isle, away from the mainland and the things they did, I wasn't aware that such atrocities could possibly even exist. I thought the world had come unhinged, his fingers slumped. Seonaid made her best explanation for Fearchar, but they both knew what he had said had more depth than what she could understand.

"Ye dinnae 'ave ta show us." Fearchar eased the man's trembling.

Eoin shook his head. He rubbed his splotchy face with his hands and pulled his hair over his shoulder to brush through it for a minute. They let him comfort himself, waiting patiently for when he would open up again. He carefully plated the length into a thick braid and twisted it upon his head, pushing his hairstick back into it to hold it out of the way. I must leave for a bit.

"Where are you off to in this weather? You'll freeze." Fearchar heaved himself off the rug and brushed off his kilt. Eoin turned to his bags and rummaged out the remainder of his clothing, padding himself in warmth. "Chief, yer not goin' out in this." Fearchar touched Eoin's hand to draw his attention. A massive bird flew at him in the void. He ducked, pulling away from the contact. "What was that?" Fearchar demanded, trying to get a handle on his heartbeat.