The thirty spokes unite in the one nave; but it is on the empty
space (for the axle), that the use of the wheel depends. Clay is
fashioned into vessels; but it is on their empty hollowness, that
their use depends. The door and windows are cut out (from the walls)
to form an apartment; but it is on the empty space (within), that its
use depends. Therefore, what has a (positive) existence serves for
profitable adaptation, and what has not that for (actual) usefulness.

-Tao Te Ching, (Sacred Books of the East, Vol 39) [1891], Chapter 11

Prologue

-"If you can't pay up, you can't stay aboard, laddie."

For what must have been the tenth time in a matter of minutes, the boy just looked back at his father's bunk.

-"He's jus' a kid, Cap'n! You can't drop 'em off in the middle of this bloody—"

-"I was gonna take'him ashore, for chri'sake! And where the hell do you get off telling me what to do, sailor?"

His father wasn't in his bunk.

-"It's jus'—where? Here? We can't abandon the poor lad on that godforsaken island! It's not right, Cap'n. That place is death!"

His father had not been in his bunk for some time now.

-"You're completely daft if you believe all those sodding rumors! He'll be fine. There are dozens of other young boys out there and every one of the vermin seem to be doin' jus' fine. 'Sides, there aren't enough rations to keep feeding this little cockroach until we reach the next port."

A threadbare blanket, no more than a meager piece of rough burlap, was tucked back neatly into the straw-filled mattress as though its occupant had made his bed before leaving home for the day.

-"Well, laddie, get your things together. We'll be droppin' anchor shortly."

When his mother had been alive, she'd always insisted the boy straighten the crude linens on his bed every morning when he woke. Good habits, she would say, so your guests know they can always expect a tidy home and a warm hearth.

-"Why do you suppose the bastard took flight, Cap'n?"

The boy's father had always given a gravelly laugh then. You're right insane, woman, if you think that any guest of ours could ever be impressed by this pathetic, empty shack we call a home.

-"Probably spent all 'is ready, couldn't afford to sail or feed the boy anymore."

His mother had just remained silent in reply. It would only be later, after the boy's father had gone for the day (days), that his mother would squeeze his shoulder and softly, softly, A house is only where we keep our possessions, Killian. A home is where we keep our family. Our hearts.

-"I thought he might've seen the king's men at that last port, gotten spooked."

The boy looked back at his father's bunk, one last time. But his father was not in it.

-"Almost looked like he wanted to run. From somethin'. Perhaps the boy knows."

Because his father was not coming back.