oni. That's what they always say there."

"He was a fool! It was not necessary to teach you, but to hang you,"
says Haggart, adding morosely: "Don't talk nonsense, sailor. Hand me a
bottle."

They drink. Khorre stamps his foot against the stone floor and asks:

"Do you like this motionless floor?"

"I should have liked to have the deck of a ship dancing under my feet."

"Noni!" exclaims the sailor enthusiastically. "Noni! Now I hear real
words! Let us go away from here. I cannot live like this. I am drowning
in gin. I don't understand your actions at all, Noni! You have lost your
mind. Reveal yourself to me, my boy. I was your nurse. I nursed you,
Noni, when your father brought you on board ship. I remember how the
city was burning then and we were putting out to sea, and I didn't know
what to do with you; you whined like a little pig in the cook's room. I
even wanted to throw you overboard--you annoyed me so much. Ah, Noni, it
is all so touching that I can't bear to recall it. I must have a drink.
Take a drink, too, my boy, but not all at once, not all at once!"

They drink. Haggart paces the room heavily and slowly, like a man who is
imprisoned in a dungeon but does not want to escape.

"I feel sad," he says, without looking at Khorre. Khorre, as though
understanding, shakes his head in assent.

"Sad? I understand. Since then?"

"Ever since then."

"Ever since we drowned those people? They cried so loudly."

"I did not hear their cry. But this I heard--something snapped in my
heart, Khorre. Always sadness, everywhere sadness! Let me drink!"

He drinks.

"He who cried--am I perhaps afraid of him, Khorre? That would be fine!
Tears were trickling from his eyes; he wept like one who is unfortunate.
Why did he do that? Perhaps he came from a land where the people had
never heard of death--what do you think, sailor?"

"I don't remember him, Noni. You speak so much about him, while I don't
remember him."

"He was a fool," says Haggart. "He spoilt his death for himself, and
spoilt me my life. I curse him, Khorre. May he be cursed. But that
doesn't matter, Khorre--no!"

Silence.

"They have good gin on this coast," says Khorre. "He'll pass easily,
Noni. If you have cursed him there will be no delay; he'll slip into
hell like an oyster."

Haggart shakes his head:

"No, Khorre, no! I am sad. Ah, sailor, why have I stopped here, where I
hear the sea? I should go away, far away on land, where the people don