The Embalmer's Apprentice by Lyra

Chapter 33

It's not getting better. >_>

"Hey! Hey there, Embalmer! A word with you!"
It was a firm if somewhat hoarse voice that hailed me in the market, making me jump. My first instinct was to run away and hope that the crowd would swallow me. My second thought was that he evidently knew who I was, which meant that he could find out where I lived if he didn't know it already, which meant that running was pointless. At any rate, the determined-looking man striding towards me was wearing the clothes of a wealthy merchant, not a guard or soldier (as had been my first suspicion) - although of course a merchant who was displeased with something he thought I had done would bring guards quickly enough. Either way, there was no use in trying to escape, so I waited and tried to look unperturbed. The man who had by now caught up with me was looking very self-important, the kind of man who was used to people doing what he wanted, but he still had the grace of saying, "Thought I'd recognised you! Sorry to holler at you across the market-place. But you're just the man I've been looking for, and it was too good an opportunity to pass up. Do you have a moment?"
This did not sound like the prelude to major unpleasantries, so I allowed my shoulders to unclench just a little. "Yes, certainly," I said, and only then remembered to ask, "what for?"

He pursed his lips, then stretched them thin. I could not decide whether he was annoyed - and if so, whether it was my fault - or distressed, until he spoke again. "I have need of your service. I have tried to go to your office, but I have been unable to locate it."
"Yes," I replied, still wary and also fairly puzzled, "we are just in the process of building a new morgue."
"Expanding your business, eh? Good for you." He briefly brightened up, as if this was familiar ground, unlike whatever else he wanted from me. "Good for you," he said again, and then he evidently remembered his original purpose and sobered. "Well, I hope you'll be able to do business regardless. My mother is dying, and it is her wish to be preserved in the manner of the old King. I cannot say when exactly, but the healer says it will be soon. Possibly before your new morgue is complete, I'm afraid. Will that be a problem?"
I held up my hands to slow him down. "Wait, wait." Uncertain that I had understood him correctly, I asked, "Your mother wants to be embalmed?"
"It is her dying wish," he repeated, emphatically. "After the manner of the old King." With a sudden grimace, he said, "I realise that you may not be working for common folk, but if it is at all feasible -- we will pay you well --"

By now, I felt so far out of my depth that I needed a boat to save me. "I shall have to discuss this with my master, I'm afraid, before I can enter into negotiations," I said.
Now it was his turn to tilt his head in confusion. "Your master? But I thought... you were the master?"
I managed not to laugh. "Far from it."
"But you are the King's Embalmer?"
"Yes. It's a bit of a long story." I hesitated, then suggested, "I shall speak with my master. So far, we have only worked for the royal house-" and for criminals who had known nothing of their posthumous fate, and for Old Palatâr, but I kept that thought to myself - "but perhaps we can offer our services more widely. Where can we find you, Master...?"
"Dear me, I have not even introduced myself! I must apologise. It is all rather distressing, and in my eagerness to ensure Mother's last wish -- well. My name's Yadrahil. We live right above our depot - the big one in East Street."
"East Street." I frowned, trying to picture East Street in my head. There were plenty of big stores and depots there, since it was the street that led out of the city and all the way to the havens of Rómenna, making it attractive to merchants who imported or exported goods. "Wine? Furniture?"
"No, no, fine fabrics," Master Yadrahil declared. "We buy and sell fabrics."
I nodded. I still did not know the exact place, but had no doubt that I'd be able to find it. "Then I suggest that I'll send a messenger once I've had the chance to settle my questions, and we can meet again," I said.
"A messenger? Why go the long way round? Just come yourself - with or without your master." A short pause, then he spoke with a note of urgency: "When can we expect you? As I said, I do not know how much time she has left, and I would very much want to see her reassured." I wondered whether his inheritence depended in any way on her reassurance; I could not decide whether his composure was hard-won and his business-like tone a testament to long training, or whether he wasn't actually all that distressed. Of course, it did not ultimately matter. The important part was that Yadrahil's mother apparently wanted, of her own account, to commission us; and that, in the current situation, was a ray of hope.

Master Târik agreed, and thus we went to the Master Yadrahil's house that very afternoon, to speak with him and (more importantly) with Mistress Nîluphêr, the dying mother. She was the kind of matriarch who had run the family's business behind the scenes, and even now that she was nearing the end of her life, she was still an iron-hard negotiator. She wanted to be treated like a king, but at the same time she did not want to pay like a king. Another difficulty was that even once she was embalmed, she clearly could not be put in the Noirinan, and she expected us to find a solution to that problem. But Master Târik managed to convince her that the family would need to apply to Lord Atanacalmo for that purpose, and that we could be responsible for the embalming and nothing else. He also managed to negotiate an agreement that would allow Mistress Nîluphêr to be embalmed in the manner she wanted, and us to make a reasonable profit from it, although of course neither would happen until she had actually passed away. I wondered - and felt guilty about it - whether we would be able to complete our new morgue first, or whether we would have to do the work in the family's house.

We were making some modest progress on our building, at least: a subterranean work-room and the storage-room were now clearly recogniseable, and the work on the vaults that would cover them had begun. Even using bricks, as we were, it was expensive work, and afterwards we would have to pay for plaster to cover it all, too. I envied my neighbours who could, for the most part, make do with what they found, marking their borders with walls made from turf or such stones as they dug out of their fields. The month of Súlimë had come with a dry spell and the typical winds, so the fields were no longer sodden. The ploughs I had commissioned were delivered (and my neighbours, to my great relief, agreed to split the cost) and over the course of one week, with everybody helping, half of the fields were ploughed. Our plan was to prepare only half the land at this time, and let the other lie fallow or feed animals for those who planned to buy them. Although this might mean a smaller harvest, it also meant a smaller investment of seeds, and moreover it allowed people to prepare the rest of the land as they found the time, rather than rushing through it. As it was, the turned land could rest a few weeks before it was time to sow. I had been told that this was highly beneficial, and that was how I had explained our approach to Lord Herucalmo. To my relief, he had accepted it.

A group of builders unexpectedly turned up one fine morning, and at first we feared that they had been hired by the men who were working on the cellar of the morgue, and that we would have to pay yet more. But instead, they began working on the other side of the road; and because the day was nice and they were in a talkative mood, we soon learned their purpose. They were preparing a tomb, they explained, commissioned by Master Yadrahil the Draper for his dying mother. Apparently, Lord Atanacalmo had sold him a plot on the Mountain's side of the road willingly enough. I remembered how I'd had to plead, and how Lord Atanacalmo had claimed to be worried about dead bodies poisoning the ground, and couldn't help but feel bitter. Though to be fair, the workers made sure to seal the walls well, creating a fine artificial cavern entered by narrow steps from a small house, rather like the ice-house in my garden. Using cut stone slabs, they progressed more quickly than our bricklayers, and the building was much smaller, anyway. "Well, we'll be able to work there even if our morgue isn't ready yet, "Master Târik said, eager to see the bright side. He was right, of course, but I was still feeling thoroughly frustrated.

Our own walls grew more slowly, and the holiday week was now approaching. Although there would be little building at that time, with all the professional workers enjoying their time off, I did not dare to go to Andúnië that spring. I was still planning to grow some food on my own plot of land, narrow and dug up though it was, and since I hadn't been able to prepare the soil earlier, I was hoping to catch up on it during the free week. Moreover, I had neglected the Welfare Society, and Lord Herucalmo wanted reports that I had yet to write. Lord Eärendur had been understanding, although he had also warned me against working myself too hard. "You do need a holiday," he had said, "so even though you stay at home, make sure to get some rest." I had agreed that I would. Part of me was touched by his concern, while the other part was annoyed that he thought me too weak to do my work. Amraphel and the children, however, travelled to Andúnië to stay with our friends with my blessing; it would have been selfish to keep them in town, just because I could not go. We agreed to meet again on Erukyermë eve, and then go to the hallow together on the holiday proper.

That first Erukyermë under the new king had become a matter of some speculation. What would it be like? Some people expected Tar-Telemmaitë to introduce something new to the rites, to make his own mark, while others insisted that any change to the tradition would be bad luck and therefore avoided. Either way, it had now been long enough since the last pilgrimage that the mere revival of the official custom caused excitement enough. Master Yadrahil, when he inspected the construction of his mother's tomb (accompanied by a host of curious friends and business partners also interested in the building), happily boasted of the loads of white silk he had been selling in the past weeks. I assumed that this meant that the holiday robes were again becoming ostentatious and that my old robes would look second-rate once more, because of the out-dated cut alone. But as I didn't feel I could afford to buy new ones, they would have to do.

I managed not to cry too much when Amraphel and the children left for Andúnië. To be honest, I had seen precious little of them during the past weeks, being busy all day and sometimes sleeping on the construction site because I was too weary to hurry back to the city walls before curfew. The only difference now was that even if I did come home at the end of the day, the big house was half empty. Only Rahâk's family and Balakhil were there, with the others either accompanying Amraphel or visiting their own relatives. I remembered my first visit to Master Târik's house, silent and only half-used, and felt discomfited. Balakhil seemed to feel it too, and he was distracted and downcast. After the first night, I decided not to return until my family had come back. I did my business in the city the next day, and afterwards took my writing material with me, so I could work on my reports in the cold vault of our half-built morgue, in the ghostly light of Master Târik's Noldorin lamp, before sleeping fitfully and waking still exhausted.

My neighbours by the roadside, on the other hand, were in high spirits, looking forward to spring and their first year as farmers. Zamâl had bought lifestock after all, although it wasn't an oxen but rather two goats. He invited me to show off his precious acquisitions. Both goats were pregnant and expected to give birth soon, so they had been expensive, but Zamâl reasoned that all the money would come back once he could milk the goats and sell butter or cheese. And the baby goats would grow up, so in a year or two, he could take them to be covered and raise yet more goats and get yet more milk. "It's an investment," he announced proudly.
"What if they're all billies, though?" Karathôn asked. He had been helping me in the field, and had decided to come along to find out why Zamâl was so excited.
Zamâl thought for a moment, then shrugged. "I'll sell them as roast meat, and try again next fall," he said. "If I make less profit, I'll have to pay less to his lordship, right?"
"Then you should pray that all the kids are billies," Karathôn suggested, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

Once again, I felt pangs of jealousy towards my neighbours. The lengthening days were looking bright for them, full of opportunity, while I felt heavily shadowed by my worries about the future and the responsibilities I had been laden with. Once again, I stood at the foot of the Mountain with a forced smile on my lips and the flower-garland of joy on my head, but with apprehension gnawing at my heart. The children danced around me, exuberant after a week by the coast, and I was almost annoyed by their joy. I knew that it would be better after the ceremony, as it had been in the past, but just then, the young sunlight and laughter and the chatter of the other attendants felt like a mockery. The meadows were packed with pavillons and proud banners and, above all, with people - some in splendid robes lined with Yadrahil's silk, others in less costly attire - and more kept coming as the morning progressed. There were nobles and rich merchants, honorable shopkeepers and craftsmen, and plenty of the less well-to-do, all eager to worship or at any rate eager to be present when the new King ascended to the Mountain for the first time.

Except that the King wasn't there. Morning turned into mid-day, and still he was missing. The crowd had swelled to some thousand people, yet there was no sign of their sovereign. I expect most of them had not noticed it yet, since they would expect the King to be somewhere among his Nobles, but they were starting to get restless. I wondered whether the King meant to make a dramatic appearance, eagerly awaited by the masses, rather than waiting for the people to arrive as his father had done. It seemed like the kind of thing that he would enjoy. I would have liked to share my observation with Amraphel, but I did not dare to mention it within hearing of Lord Eärendur, who was somewhat out of spirits himself. Lady Nolwen was feeling unwell, and although Lord Eärendur told me not to worry, Lord Eärengolë had remained behind to look after his mother, and Lord Eärendur himself was clearly worried. "I wish we could get going," he said to me. "All this waiting makes me uneasy."
"That's why I like to keep busy all the time, my lord," I confessed, and he half smiled, half frowned at that.
"Well, we have nowhere else to be today," Master Târik said by way of reassurance, and that was true. There was no festival at the palace, not even for the nobility; rumour had it that Tar-Telemmaitë wanted to save money after the huge cost of his coronation. Be that as it may, we had the entire day for ourselves, or would have once we had returned from the hallow, at any rate.
"Still, if we don't go up soon, the pedestrians won't be able to get home before nightfall," Amraphel observed.
Lord Vanatirmo, who had once again joined Lord Eärendur on the road to the Mountain, agreed. "We should go soon. I don't know what's keeping Alcarmaitë, but the people won't wait much longer." Indeed, the chatter of anticipation had turned into a less content noise, and sure enough, one of the lesser counsillors pushed towards us through the crowd.

"Begging your pardon, my lords, but we are all wondering when the ascent will begin. Some people have a long way home."
"We are still waiting for the King, Master Gimluzîr," Lord Eärendur said kindly. "Let us wait another hour."
The hour passed with no King in sight. The crowd was now audibly angry, and there were loud chants of "Up! Up!" from the people who had to fear that the city gates would be locked on them by the time they returned from the Mountain.
Lord Herucalmo had joined us, first to ask me about the progress of my reports - I was very happy indeed that I had completed them during the holiday week - and then to converse with his noble brethren. Now he was looking alarmed. "One of us will have to tell them that we won't be going."
Lord Vanatirmo's round eyes went even more round. "They'll tear us to pieces. Listen to them."
"They are mostly people of Armenelos," said Lady Fáninquë, "so it should be up to Atanacalmo to speak with them."
"My grandfather is not here," Lord Herucalmo replied coldly. "He is not feeling young enough for the ascent. His knees are troubling him enough as it is."
"Well, then, you should talk to the people."
"Don't be absurd, Fáninquë, they don't even know who he is, let alone why they should listen," Lord Pallatin said. By now, most of the present nobles had flocked around us, and I wished I could have snuck away from their august circle, but I was caught in the middle, and the nobles in their turn were walled in by the people who were still, or again, chanting "Up! Up! Up!"

"Did the King announce that he would not go to the hallow?" asked Lord Ciryamacil of Nindamos.
"Not that I know," said Lord Herucalmo, "or I would not be here, would I?"
"Your grandfather would have known, I expect," Lady Fáninquë commented sourly.
"I expect so, and I expect he would have told me." Lord Herucalmo wouldn't be riled, but Lady Fáninquë was clearly still not convinced. "Well, what can possibly keep Alcarmaitë? He can't have forgotten what day it is."
"Who knows," Lord Ciryamacil quipped, but very quietly.
The chanting was growing louder. "Up! Up! Up!" I marvelled at the crowd's courage. I would have been afraid that this might already count as a riot, although of course we weren't in the city just now. But crowds often draw courage from numbers, and a few foolishly brave individuals suffice to pull the others along. At any rate, none of the nobles made a move to stop the people from chanting; no-one even suggested such a thing. They did not, for the most part, seem to be frightened, but they certainly seemed confused and at a loss.

"The people want to go up," Lord Vanatirmo said, as though anyone hadn't realised that.
"Well, they can go," Lord Eärendur pointed out. "There is no law that they have to wait for the King, even on this day."
Lord Ciryamacil frowned. "They expect to be led - in the ascent, and in the prayer."
"You can lead them up the Mountain," Lord Vanatirmo suggested. "And you have led us in prayer before, Brother." That was addressed at Lord Eärendur, of course, who looked less than happy about it.
"In a semi-private ceremony," he said. "But this is half the populace of Armenelos."
"Nonetheless, you could do it. If the King doesn't come, then somebody else has to take his place," said Lord Vanatirmo.
"Nobody has to," Lady Fáninquë said sternly. "We should send the people home, or tell them to go on their own."
"They want to be led," Lord Vanatirmo echoed. "And they want to go. It should be done."
"Then lead on, Vanatirmo," Lord Pallatin said testily, making Lord Vanatirmo raise his chin angrily. "Very well, I shall do it!"

Lord Eärendur put a hand on his shoulder, and looked around with a frown. The crowd continued their chant, and it was clear that some kind of action needed to be taken. With a heavy sigh, Lord Eärendur said, "If it is done at all, we should do it together, as the King's Council. No one should step forward in the King's place, no matter why he isn't here. Let us stand together, and lead the people that way."
"I am not afraid," Lord Vanatirmo announced, as if he hadn't worried about being torn to pieces earlier.
"You aren't?" Lord Ciryamacil promptly queried, eyebrows raised. "You should be. I hear your son-in-law is less than happy in his marriage--"
Lord Vanatirmo's face turned red at these words, and he opened his mouth to protest or counterattack, but Lord Eärendur said, "Peace. Do not endanger yourself. And let us show unity in the face of confusion. Either we led them together, or none of us leads. What shall it be?"
A quick show of hands revealed that most of the nobles wanted to go (if only so they hadn't travelled to the Mountain in vain, I suspected). With the exception of Lady Fáninquë, Lord Pallatin and Lord Herucalmo, they voted in favour of Lord Eärendur's suggestion, and he solemnly said, "Very well. Then let us alert the other councillors."

As if on cue, Master Gimluzîr reappeared, wringing his hands. "My lords and ladies, I'm afraid the people will wait no longer..."
"They need wait no longer," Lord Vanatirmo said brightly, giving Lord Eärendur an encouraging look.
Lord Eärendur forced a tired smile. "We have decided that the Council will lead the people. Try to find as many of us as you can, and tell them to meet us in the middle of the hallow."
And thus, with a delay of several hours, the ascent was finally begun. When it became clear that the Nobles were moving towards the path up the Mountain, the people responded with cheers and applause. I couldn't deny that I myself was relieved to be moving. The crowd's eager response clearly strengthened the resolve of the King's Council, too, because a fair number of them managed to make their way to the middle of the summit. I, in the meantime, had succeeded in falling back by carrying Palatârik, who was heavy enough to slow me down. I did not want to be too close to the centre of attention.

It was strange to be upon the Mountain with so many people once more. The crowd made the holy silence feel unnatural, unsettling. During my first and only Eruhantalë with Tar-Ancalimon in the centre, his voice and the prayer, unintelligible though it had been to me, had made for a focus that justified why nobody else spoke. Now, as the council silently went through the motions, their unspeaking audience gave off an almost resentful air, although their faces were cheerful and enthusiastic enough. Now that we had finally gone up, the atmosphere was one of peace and unity, as befitted the holiday, yet that peace did not reach my heart this time. Perhaps it was just my inner shadows, making me feel darkness where there was none.

Or maybe it was a premonition. For when we came back down, there was a whole troop of guards waiting. At first, I thought that the King had arrived after all, for they were wearing the livery of the palace guard, not the black of the city watch. But the King was not there. The guards had formed a semi-circle around the entrance of the path, and as the members of the Council stepped off the path, they approached, levelling their spears at chest-height. The common councillors stepped back on instinct, while the nobles, confident in their rank and purpose, simply stopped. I was behind them still, but I was close enough to hear when the leader of the guards stepped forward and announced,
"In the name of the King! Eärendur of Andúnië, you are arrested under suspicion of sedition, sacrilege and high treason."

For a moment, it was very nearly as silent as it had been on the Mountain-top. Then Lord Eärendur asked, incredulously, "What?"
"Why him?" Lord Ciryamacil demanded, equally incredulous. He had stepped in front of Lord Eärendur as if to shield in, and some of the others had instinctively taken the same step, while the common councillors had simply stopped walking, forcing the walkers behind them to stop in their turn.
"You have taken command of the King's Council in the King's absence and unlawfully led the people in prayer," the chief guard declared, ignoring Lord Ciryamacil. "Are you going to come peacefully, or do we have to use force?"

I wondered how the guards knew about these things at all. Had Lord Herucalmo informed them, or had it been the noble couple of Rómenna? But no; that would have taken too long, unless the guard had already been well on its way here. Which suggested that somebody had known, or hoped, that this would happen. Which meant that we had all been set up. I tried to follow that line of thought, but somebody behind me muttered, "What did he say? What has he done?", distracting me.
"Nothing," I snapped, returning my attention to the events ahead of us. Lord Eärendur had spread his hands outwards, peaceably, and although I could see that he had gone very stiff and very pale, he spoke in a clear, even voice. "There has been a mistake, surely, and I will be happy to help clear it up."
"The mistake appears to be yours," the chief guard announced while two of his spear-bearing minions stepped forward, and I could stay safely at the back no longer. I dropped Palatârik in Amraphel's arms, and started forwards. "No!" I shouted. "It was a trap!"
I was stopped short not by any physical obstruction, but by Lord Eärendur's voice. It was no longer calm, but sharp, harsh like the crack of a whip. "Stay back," he barked at me without even bothering to turn around. "Shut up. You have nothing to do with this."

That was certainly clear enough. I stood back and shut up. When Lord Eärendur spoke to the guards, his voice was mild once more. "I am certain that there has been a misunderstanding," he repeated. "I am confident that we can settle it. I am coming peacefully."
"Why him?" Lord Ciryamacil spoke up again. "What has he done that we haven't?"
"That's not for us to determine, my lord. We have been ordered to arrest him specifically," the chief guard responded. "Do not obstruct us."
"I am not obstructing you, I am merely asking questions," Lord Ciryamacil said belligerently while the guards stepped further into the circle.
"It is good, Ciryamacil," Lord Eärendur said in spite of all evidence to the contrary. "You can speak for me on the Council."
"In the name of the King, stand out of the way," one of the guards said, for Lord Ciryamacil and his supporters were still standing squarely in front of Lord Eärendur, although they did make room now. I expect they would not normally have given way so quickly, but they probably all remembered Lord Arnavaryo's grisly fate. Lord Vanatirmo's brow was beaded with sweat, and his bulging eyes gave him an almost comically shocked look. I could not see the other faces, but I expected they were similarly shaken.

The crowd behind me was watching in stunned silence as the guards took Lord Eärendur's arms and led him from the circle. I remembered how, just a little over a month ago, Lord Arnavaryo had been arrested in secret, to protect his good name until his guilt had been ascertained. No such care was taken for the reputation and dignity of Lord Eärendur, who was now manacled in front of everyone present. He stood tall as ever, unflinching, and complied readily as the guards asked him to mount one of their horses. He didn't look back, not at Lord Ciryamacil, not at Lord Vanatirmo, not at his servants, not at the watchful crowd. Not at me, either. Amraphel had closed the short distance I had jumped, standing reassuringly at my back, and that was the only thing that kept me from bursting into tears right then and there. Under the eyes of the crowd and the remaining councillors, the guards mounted and rode off towards the city, their captive in the middle. There was a great deal of muttering now as people processed the event, but I did not bother to listen. The noblemen made for their pavillons, presumably to pack up. None of them paid me further heed.
"What is going to happen now, Atto?" Nîmirel asked, peering up at me with wide eyes.
"I don't know," I confessed, feeling more lost than ever. "I don't know." I pulled myself together, but it was hard work. After a moment, I said, "We should go home."
And we went home.