TGC 15 In which we begin our (second) journey

I slept not a wink that night. The smell of burning timber seemed to engulf the entire lake. Its bitterness filled my nostrils as I wriggled and writhed on the floor of the ship. The edges of the planks seemed to push into me no matter how I positioned myself. Eventually, I gave up and watched the moon float across the star-filled sky. I was surprised by how steady the ship was; it cut through the water as effortlessly as a knife through butter.

Silently, we carved through the water – black under the night sky. Manquer stood – hooded – at the stern of the ship, silhouetted against a sea of stars to make her look more like a statue towering above us than just a mere goblin. Handeln sat close to her, leaning lazily against a barrel. Mother meanwhile lay a foot or so from me, staring resolutely up at the stars in the sky. So it was that as we sailed away from Hafen across the great lake towards the Schwer – I realised that I had never felt so alone.

Gradually, the stars began to fade away as the eastern horizon slowly started to lighten. An hour or so later, the sun started to peek over the trees that lined the lake and finally rose up into the sky, banishing the darkness. I lifted myself from the hard wooden floor, shuffled over to the side of the ship, and peered out at the distant coast. It must have been miles away; the trees that no doubt would have towered over our ship (masts and all) seemed smaller than a fingernail. Looking higher still, I noticed quite how huge the sky was out here in the middle of the lake, stretching all around us. It seemed as I looked at it, that it had in fact stretched too far and started to tear in the middle, leaving huge white clouds and silence to fill the gaps between.

“Quite something isn’t it.” Handeln’s grunt took me by surprise. He was startlingly light of foot when he wanted to be.

Still angry at him for his deceit, I shrugged indifferently - unwilling to engage him in conversation.

“The sky that is,” Handeln grumbled on. “I’ve never seen the sky like this before. Size. The sheer magnificence of it.” He seemed to be talking to himself now, his voice more of an absent-minded mumble than his usual grumble. “Makes you think- as flies to wanton boys- and time- it’s all there- stretching- back to the beginning. On. On to what?”

“What are you talking about?” I asked crossly – so confused by his ramblings that I forgot that I wasn’t talking to him.

“I’m just thinking about an old friend,” Handeln sighed, “a philosopher.”

“A philowhat.”

He chuckled, “a philosopher. It’s a fancy word. It means someone who thinks about things.”

“Don’t we all think about things?”

He chuckled again, “Yes, yes I suppose we do. I guess it’s what they think that makes them different. They come up with different thoughts – different ideas,” he paused, before adding, “or maybe they just think they’re cleverer than the rest of us.”

“That sounds like my father,” I said, staring at the horizon as I spoke, “the first bit that is, not the second bit.”

“Yes, I suppose it does.”

“Wait, do you know him?” I asked, startled.

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.