A/N:Oh dear, Erik got let down by a piece of washing line. :D

Thanks for the reviews, Chantal (wow! I didn't know you were Vietnamese...:) Tell me if I go too wrong with the dialogue, I'm actually getting it all from one of those online "useful phrases" documents...heehee. And you know you like that part in chapter 2 really :D) and BleedingHeartConservative (I'm so glad you like it!).

Here is Chapter 4...

'Ah!'

The heavy cloth hit me squarely in the face, thrown by one of the half-drunken louts at the table. I had been granted access into the main, draughty cabin of the Vinh Quyen, but at a price: I was forced to endure the antics of this sorry lot.

Not only that, but my wrists were bound in front of me, and were also attached by a short length of rope to the bamboo wall. This length of rope was craftily cut; it was just short enough to prevent me from standing up straight. I was thus presented with two alternatives: either to stoop painfully for the entire night or to kneel broodingly, as they wanted me to, upon the ground. After the first ten minutes of stooping painfully, though, I had acquiesced in spite of myself and gone for the latter option.

It seemed, amazingly, that the sight of my perfectly hideous face did not put the group of pirates off their dinner. In fact, they spent a great part of their meal staring in avid awe at me as I glowered on my knees in the shadowed corner. Tonight I was their favourite subject of discussion , it seemed. I had not cared in the slightest, really, until that young oaf threw a cloth at me.

'Cover it up!' he shouted happily, the alcohol he had recently imbibed making him a little too loud. 'Your face makes me gag!'

I made no move to retrieve the cloth; I simply crouched there and fixed him with an intense, crippling gaze, silently formulating a suitable demise for him in my mind - a childish game, really, but most satisfying. The smouldering rage in my yellow eyes that caught the lantern-light seemed to be enough to disconcert him, though. His laugh became a little hesitant, and it took a great effort to tear his nervous eyes from me. Then another pirate put forth: 'I wonder if our Thày Phù Thuy hungers? Do you suppose he eats?'

At the mention of food, it dawned upon me that it had been days since my last meal. Suddenly feeling rather ravenous, I grumbled: 'Tôi doi. I'm hungry.'

'Give him the leftovers,' suggested one offhandedly.

'It's going to take more than leftovers to fatten him up,' remarked another, gesturing inelegantly at my emaciated chest, still exposed through the tatters of my tunic.

'How much do you suppose he eats?'

'Perhaps he feasts on human flesh.'

'Indeed...'

'But for now, he will have to be satisfied by steamed rice with nuoc mam,' said the first pirate decisively. The others nodded gravely in agreement, then a small bowl was prepared and placed before me. I stared down at the rice, not saying a word, until some bright spark understood the reason for my pointed silence and fetched me two pointed sticks of well-polished bamboo, which he set down in front of me before backing away. The men all watched me expectantly.

Now that I had something to eat with - never would I eat with my fingers, my mother had so often told me how ill-mannered it was - I reached down with my bound hands and picked up the bowl. After a lot of painful wrist-bending, I managed to pick up the sticks with my other hand, still balancing the bowl in the first. The pirates stared avidly at this small, dexterous balancing act, too dim-witted to take the hint and loosen my bonds. Had they expected me to crouch forwards and eat straight from the bowl like an animal?

I had watched them eating, and I was confident I could mimic the way they used the sticks. Gripping them in my left, dominant hand, I sank the points into the rice and attempted to lift out a small morsel. Unfortunately, the rice was of a gluey consistency and put up some resistance. Slowly I tried to lever it up, but just as I began to lose my patience, it abruptly gave up and promptly flew clean out of the bowl. I clenched my teeth as the men laughed, commenting on how I must surely be some creature other than a man because I could not even eat with those wretched sticks. I knelt there in stony silence until they gradually lost interest and went back to their table for another drink.

Once they had left me, I looked back down at the bowl. I plunged the sticks in once again, but at a shallower depth. This time I succeeded in lifting out a small chunk of steamed rice; my triumph, however, was short-lived, as the rope binding my wrists caused my hand to wobble, and the lump of rice fell back into the bowl.

After several tries, however, I managed to get a morsel into my mouth, though certainly not with the effortless ease that the Annamites had shown when I had watched them eat their rice. I poked about the bowl a bit more. The rice had a distinct tang of fish...apparently nuoc mam was some manner of fish sauce. Once I had haltingly eaten my fill, I put the half-empty bowl down.

The pirates were still drinking. They seemed to have forgotten about me, which meant I would probably be left tied up here for the rest of the night. Now that I would not stand for...

Being the master of ropes, I decided that I had very much had enough of kneeling meekly, and was tired of keeping the pirates placated. I wished to stretch my legs a little...

A few swift flicks of my wrists, and I was soon free, the rope falling to the floor still with all the ropes intact. It was very liberating indeed; I saw no need to stay tied up like I had when that crowd had dragged me off a couple of days ago, seeing as the number of pirates now seemed far less threatening to me. The benefit of freeing myself by far outweighed the risk of being attacked...

Straightening up, I stretched my stiff limbs and rubbed my wrist. I was about to silently slip out of the cabin door when I heard an exclamation from the table. A pirate had spotted me, seeing as I towered conspicuously high over them. His comrades cried out too, and before I could make a hasty exit, I had been grabbed again. Luckily, though, the pirates did not seem to have realised my talents as the master of ropes, and simply tied me up again, double-checking all the knots. They all stared at me warily as I stared back at them, my hands tied a second time. Then, once I had their full attention, I gave a barely perceptible turn of the wrists and the ropes simply fell away again.

'Oh!'

'Cài này là gi? What is this?'

A small, arrogant smile curled my lips at the sight of their unabashed awe. I was re-bound no less than three times, and on each occasion I simply made the rope fall to the ground, as if they had not even tied knots in it. I freed myself from four different knots in quick succession, and when I effortlessly escaped from a knot that was so tight it cut off the circulation in my wrists, the pirates ran out of challenges and regarded me with a new form of respect. I had not been named Thày Phù Thuy for nothing...

I held their entire attention; they were like enthralled children when I walked calmly to the table and showed them some of my best tricks. I captivated them just as I had captivated all of my audiences, and soon they were fully in awe of me.

Once my little improvised performance was over, I was welcomed to the table, and given a drink, too. They all chattered excitedly of my boundless talents, while I basked in their praise. I took a swig of the liquid they had put in front of me, then fought back a splutter. It was something very strong and heady; Chinese, I assumed. It burned the throat and made my eyes water, much to the amusement of the pirates. Nevertheless, for the sake of courtesy I took another swig.

'Ban thich no chù?' Ngai asked me, wanting to know whether I liked it.

'Co,' I affirmed, nodding, trying to stop my voice from sounding too strained. I took another hearty draught to prove my point, then blinked a few times to clear my head from the heady fumes that were filling it. Strangely enough, the more of this beverage I drank, the better it seemed to taste. Soon I was happily throwing it back, while the other pirates chuckled, nudging each other.

'This truly is rather nice,' I murmured conversationally, in considerable surprise. It no longer burned my throat; instead, it spread a fuzzy heat about my larynx, making my voice feel like it wanted to escape from my throat. I did not hold it back, and in ten minutes' time, I began to make earnest conversation.

'Non, honnêtement! Je n'ai jamais bu quelque chose d'aussi...fruité, mais à la fois aussi fort et...brûlant. Du beau charactère, c'est sûr! C'est vrai que je me considère comme quelque chose d'un connoisseur de vin...c'est bien du vin?' I chattered aimlessly but in a heartfelt manner, falling into French without knowing it. Luckily, the pirates were too inebriated to notice or even care what tongue I was speaking it. 'No, honestly! I have never drank anything so...fruity, but at the same time so strong and...burning. It has great character, for sure! It's true that I consider myself something of a conoisseur of wine...is this truly wine?' My voice was entirely out of my control now, jumping from language to language in a bid to express itself. 'Oh, che khoob! Vaghe'an azash khosham miad! ' I found myself mumbling good-naturedly in Persian, after another swig. 'Oh, that's good! I really do like it!'

I was distantly aware of their drunken sniggering and confused frowns, but I did not care.

'Vin ou bière, bière ou vin, que mon verre soit toujours plein,' I sang quietly, quoting from "Faust" in a sudden rush of poetic incitement as I slowly swilled the interesting liquid about in my cup. The warm, foggy waves that were rolling through me threatened to add a lilt to my voice, almost throwing me off key. I gave a soft, delirious chuckle at the possibility. The pirates, however, were not laughing - they were either unconscious, looking awed, or wiping tears from their eyes. Apparently they, too, had been entranced by the unparalleled talent I had, the beautiful voice that I was gifted with. Their wine-addled minds were exposed to me at this moment; they were most vulnerable to my voice now. I grinned with all my teeth, unaware that I was swaying unsteadily as I did so. My cup being almost empty - ooh! well, all four...six...er...two of my cups, actually - I reached out for the bottle. Pouring the wine out was a little challenging, as I was not all that certain which of my four cups to fill up. On top of that, they were blurring into each other in a most uncooperative manner. Frowning in concentration, I succeeded in pouring a generous measure onto the table, then into the only cup that was actually physically there. I took a triumphant swig, feeling a strange sense of euphoria rise drunkenly through me. My mind felt deliciously full of warm, foggy fluff that smothered all memories of the past for a blissful moment, dulling the pain of living, spreading a comforting glow across the bleak, dark sky of my life. My, did I feel poetic all of a sudden...

The walls were beginning to shift most off-puttingly. I was certain that walls were made to stay put...being knowledgeable in architure, I knew very well that they should not be moving in this manner. But then again, we were in a boat...and there was a three-quarters-empty cup of strong Chinese wine in all four and a half of my hands...

I realised my head was beginning to move with the walls, and found myself feeling very tired all of a sudden. Head spinning, I promptly keeled over forwards, my forehead hitting the table with a dull "thunk". I mumbled an inaudible Persian expletive at my state of total inebriation, before passing out entirely.

An Annamite who was still conscious frowned at his companion. 'What did he say?'

'I think Thày Phù Thuy blesses our humble ship and wishes us long life and prosperity,' replied the second Annamite optimistically.

'Ah. Tôt.' said his friend. 'Good.'

Consciousness came slowly, in long, rolling waves of throbbing pain. I was vaguely aware that I was in a recumberent position, although I had no memory whatsoever of lying down. What was more, I felt horrendously awful. My skull felt like something was slowly squeezing it, my throat was raw, and the inside of my mouth tasted like the floor of a distillery. I gave an indistinct groan and blearily opened my eyes.

A wooden ceiling swam into my field of vision. I stared directly upwards for a second, wondering where the hell I was. All I was aware of was that the floor was gently lurching beneath me for some unexplainable reason.

My memories were jumbled; I knew I had spent a very busy few days, and escaped death a couple of times...the details however, were not very clear. I decided my temporary amnesiatic state was due to a lack of wakefulness, so I heaved myself into a sitting position. This, unfortunately, only aggravated my splitting migraine as the blood drained from head, causing me to give another groan and clutch at my throbbing skull, my eyes bloodshot. I had never had a morning like this...

Brief flashes of the previous evening drifted groggily back. Ah, the wine. Oh, dear...I was obviously so unaccustomed to this Asian beverage that I had simply been overcome. And now I was sufferring the consequences...

I got painfully to my feet, then promptly staggered as I felt the ground shift slightly. Why was the floor so unsteady? I looked around the plain, wooden room in confusion, then remembered. Aha...I was still aboard the Vinh Quyen, which was on the water. I was also still inside the main cabin, where we had dined the previous night. There was no sign of the crew here; they were apparently all outside.

Clutching at my poor, sore head, I left the cabin and was almost blinded by the unbearable sunlight that glared straight into my sensitive eyes. Groaning, I squeezed my eyes shut against the light, staggering blindly back to the safe darkness of the main cabin.

I was just on the verge of curling up in a corner to nurse my splitting headache, when somebody entered the cabin, apparently having seen me when I had stepped outside. It was a young fellow dressed in a drab brown tunic, a grin on his face at the sight of my dreadful state. He was holding a cup of something in his hand, which he set down beside me, gesturing towards it and encouraging me to drink it. I looked at it suspiciously with bloodshot eyes, and he bobbed his head once and left me.

'What could this be...' I grumbled to myself, picking it up. It was hot, still steaming, and smelled vaguely herbal. I assumed it was a remedy of some sort for terrible hangovers...

The drink was bitter but oddly invigorating. I downed it all, placing the cup back down on the ground and rubbing my forehead vigorously. Getting to my feet once more, I found my head marginally clearer and proceeded to make my way out of the cabin.

The sunlight was less intense once I grew used to it; as long as I kept my head down I was spared from the splitting headache. My bare feet, pale under the grime of several days' worth of walking, dragged across the bamboo floor of the boat, as I shuffled to the front. I peered around the corner, and noticed the esteemed crew were gathered about the front, examining the goods they had stolen the previous day. They were a slovenly lot, in the harsh light of day, rather than the violent ruffians I had taken them to be upon our meeting. From my vantage point, I studied the faces that greedily examined the contents of crates.

Of appearance, many of them bore marks of previous fights and struggles...a couple even had very minor disfigurements brought on by their felonious lifestyle. Of course, all of them were handsome devils when compared to me, but I rarely bothered to try and discover whether there was anybody in the world more hideous than I.

My perusal of the pirates was interrupted when I was distracted by a light breeze that blew gently across my bare, protuding cheekbone. Like a child with a short attention span, I turned my head away, half relishing the sensation, half feeling ashamed of the joy it brought me. This shame was something I could not fight; whenever I felt the wind on my bare skin like this I felt a nagging urge to cover it. Ghosts of screams and exclamations of horror echoed in my ears as I turned my face away from the breeze, a scowl curling my lips. Even life's simple pleasures I was denied; echoes of the past always came back to remind me that my head must always be down, my face always out of sight as penance for coming into the world so hideous...

I turned on my heel and retreated into the safe shadows of the cabin.

Among the older, less comely pirates who always were reserved, bitter and introverted because of their battle-ruined faces, I was regarded as the prince of the disfigured. They seemed to look at my ugliness with some kind of wonder and respect, awed by the way my extreme hideousness surpassed their own deformities. They knew, like I did, of the trials one must face when one's physique is assymetrical and distorted to any extent. But what shocked them the most was the way I bore this burden. To them it seemed as if I did not care, as if my horrible death's-head was something I had accepted as part of who I was. They saw the way I carried myself with dark majesty, when they themselves - they, whose faces were hardly scratched at all, compared to mine! - kept their features averted in shame. Thày Phù Thuy became the embodiment of all that was unexplicable to them, all that was ugly but curiously elegant and graceful at the same time...a walking paradox. I paid them no heed; I kept to my shadowy corner in the main cabin, invisible but for my smouldering eyes. I was a ghost, a god, a spirit - I was Thày Phù Thuy. The part of me that was Erik seemed so bland and boring compared to the decadent, hideous magnificence of the silent Thày Phù Thuy...I decided that I might as well forget about Erik for the moment, since I felt so liberated when I was not trying to be a simple mortal man like the rest of the world...

At night, though, all the creatures, monsters and men I had ever been pooled their collective memories together to bring me terrible images in that quiet moment of peace before I slept. Curled up in my corner, far from the crew, I clutched at my poor head, wishing for the amnesiatic bliss that I had experienced on my first night aboard the Vinh Quyen. Bent almost into a full circle, I twisted my fingers into my black locks, tugging at my scalp, hoping the pain would keep me from the dreams I knew I would have. But all creatures, no matter how monstrous, must sleep eventually, and so I unwillingly fell into restless slumber, vulnerable to the vicious violence of my own mind...

I was in the darkness...in the darkness so deep underground that the light of day was but a mere fanciful memory, and eyesight meant nothing. However, for some reason I could distinguish the odd silhouette here and there...even so, all that I was predominantly aware of was the oppressive, deep darkness that stretched out to infinity above and around me. I had no doubt about where I was: I had somehow ended up in the pit of corpses again.

'I must leave...I have to leave...' I muttered deliriously to myself, clawing myself upright using the nearest wall. The blackness was so thick and cold and oppressive that it was difficult to breathe, and I began to become wary of what might be hiding in the shadows - what I could sense was hiding in the shadows, all around me, watching me! I flattened myself against the wall, then hunched myself over defensively, trying to see just what it was that was hiding in the blackness. I had always been so vain of my mastery of the dark...but now this darkness was not ordinary, safe darkness, but the wild, dangerous, terrible darkness inside my own head -

'Child!'

I jumped, my entire body stiffening in shock. The harrowingly familiar voice froze me, making my blood turn to ice in my veins. I knew that voice well - I knew that hateful tone, too! It was the voice that had lodged itself irreversibly inside my poor head and made me carry it across the world with me...it was the first voice I ever remembered hearing, the voice that had deep, torturous roots within me. The voice of my mother, whom I had only known for the first seven years of my life...

'Child!'

I clutched at my head, trying to block it out. 'No - leave me!' I shouted. 'You are simply a delusion...go away! Va-t'en! Laisse-moi tranquille!' My own words sounded pitiful in comparison with the power of the distant, female voice, the voice made infinitely powerful by pure seething disgust and hatred. She had never named me...she only called me by what I was, not who I was. That was because I was not anyone, and I had to create my own identity or have one created for me against my will.

'You are a disgrace!' that terrible voice yelled at me. 'To think a creature of my own flesh could be so wicked, deceitful - evil! I know well what you have been doing all these years - I know of every single man you robbed, lied to, tricked, murdered! I have seen every sin you have committed! You fully deserve to be left to rot amongst this pile of corpses!'

'No!' I bawled back defiantly into the malignant shadows. 'No, I do not! You have no hold on me! I am no longer a powerless child!'

'Then what are you?' taunted the awful voice. 'Certainly not a man! Look at yourself - how can you be blind enough to believe yourself anything above a beast or a monster?'

'It is YOU who made me what I am!' I screamed, my knuckles turning white, ready to crack the paper-thin skin again. A cold laugh echoed all around me.

'Did I instruct you to run away from your only home?' the voice challenged. 'Did I tell you to kill all those men? Did I not try and force into your beastly, twisted little mind the notions of right and wrong?'

I faltered, knowing my defeat but not wishing to accept it. However, before I could open my mouth to defend myself, the voice rang out again:

'All those men, child - all those men who died at your hands or were victim of your tricks - they are here now! They are here in this very pit with you! And they deserve their vengeance!'

'No!'

I could only watch helplessly as a harsh, red light flickered about the walls of the pit, illuminating the grisly bodies that lay around me, in numbers to great for comfort. As one, the corpses twitched and shifted, raising themselves to their feet and making their way towards me. Those that could not raise themselves clawed their way painfully across the ground with dreadful, inexorable movements, reaching out to pull me down with them. My eyes flashed from corpse to corpse in panic. I was outnumbered, encircled, powerless! Even the darkness was pressing down upon me! Bodies crawled towards me, heads lolled horribly on necks that I myself had broken, sunken eyes glared at me with a deep hunger for revenge.

'No! No, leave me! Stay back!' I snarled, but my voice became increasingly desperate as the crowd closed in on me, ready to tear me apart. The claustrophobia set my heart racing, and I felt mad with terror...

'You cannot escape from them...you can never escape!' the voice mocked me as I spun around in my ever-tightening circle of empty space. 'You are not a complete man, nor a complete corpse - but they will remedy that! It is all you deserve; you were born a beast, and you did nothing to counter it! You behaved just like any evil little creature would! You refused to keep your head down and do what you were told - you are a monster!'

'No!' I choked, struggling to stay upright as the hundreds of twisted hands closed around me. I writhed and thrashed, then managed to beat them away only to have them return. 'No! I am not a monster!' I cried.

'Then what are you?' the voice thundered back derisively.

I bawled at the top of my lungs: 'I...AM...ERIK!!'

I woke abruptly, my eyes opening. The dream faded, but the adrenaline still stung in my veins, my limbs tense and my skin covered in perspiration. Hazy, early-morning light came into the main cabin, revealing to my eyes the excited gathering of pirates around me. It seemed that I had been crying out or thrashing in my sleep, and they had come to have a look. Apparently their attention had been redirected to a more interesting matter, as one of them now held my pouch of priceless gemstones and gold coins while the others chattered in excited awe. I cursed inwardly, scowling as I pushed a lock of dark, damp hair out of my eyes. My movements must have uncovered that pouch, causing it to be instantly grabbed.

Sitting up, I rubbed my head. I was certainly happy to be awake...it was no wonder that I hardly slept. I got to my feet, and the pirate Ngai saw me, giving me a crooked-toothed leer.

'Thày Phù Thuy should have told us of his fortune!' he gloated. 'Aboard the Vinh Quyen, all of the crew share! We shall be taking this to its proper place now.'

'Không sao,' I replied calmly, with a negligent shrug. 'Very well, Ngai. As you wish...' Then I added under my breath: 'But be aware that Thày Phù Thuy's riches are magical, like he is, and they could very well disappear from right under your noses...'

My quiet warning proved true a few minutes later when I brushed past the pirates on the way out, and the pouch mysteriously vanished from Ngai's belt only to unexplainably reappear deep within the folds of my tunic. The funny thing was, the idiots didn't even notice and continued to gloat as I walked out onto the deck. I estimated it would take them a while to realise, so I had about ten minutes' peace of mind ahead of me. I sat on the very back of the boat, dangling my feet over the murky water.

I shook my head. What was I doing here...?