The Embalmer's Apprentice by Lyra

Chapter 53

Chapter 53

In the middle of the night, I woke up to shouting and screams, followed by a loud bang and what sounded like a scuffle. Since I hadn't wanted to leave a flame with my sullen apprentices - even a tiny candle flame could set a house ablaze, after all - I had left the Eldarin lamp with them, and I had extinguished the candle I had taken with me when I had gone to bed. Now, alarmed, I was stumbling through the darkness, bumped my toes on the leg of my bed, nearly tripped over the carpet, and took - unintentionally - the first three stairs at once. I landed painfully on my heels, cursing. I was half-way into the hall before I even realised that I should probably have called upon one or two of the guards. Unarmed and sleepy, I could hardly expect to achieve anything against five of them - not to mention that I was hardly representing the proud men of Yôzayân well, rushing into the fight clad only in my nightshirt.
And if my apprentices had indeed been up to mischief, it would surely have ended ill for me - and for them, too, though of course that would have been of no use to me, personally, after the fact.

As it was, they weren't. Although it certainly looked like it at first. In the pale blue light of the stone lamp, I could see that one of the benches had been pushed over - presumably, that had been the bang - and that Bâgri was lying face-down on the floor; Yorzim was sitting on his back, pinioning his arms to his side, and had clamped a hand in front of his mouth, which was producing muffled noises. Êlal was holding Bâgri's legs down. Bâgri struggled against the two of them in a rather desperate-looking manner. On instinct rather than intentionally, I raised my fist as I rushed towards them, at which Sidi - who had so far sat on his bed - pushed himself up towards me, then fell on his knees (effectively blocking my way) and raised his arms in pleading. "Please, Master, he means no harm," he said.
I paused, nonplussed. "He?" I said, after trying to puzzle out his meaning and failing. "Who?"
"Bâgri, Master," Sidi said, frowning as though it should have been obvious.
"I rather thought Bâgri was being harmed," I couldn't help saying, confused for good.
"They mean him no harm, either," Sidi began, although I couldn't imagine how Bâgri's position could be anything but harmful, and Bâgri, from the way in which he squirmed and tried to shake off his opponents, seemed to feel the same.
"It looks otherwise," I duly said, and, to Yorzim and Êlal, "Let go of him - you're hurting him, I'm sure!"

Rather than letting go, they exchanged a glance, and then Yorzim said something to Sidi, who raised his hands higher. "It is for protection, not hurt! To keep him from harming himself!"
I was unreasonably annoyed - because of the late hour, I suppose, and also because Bâgri's distress was so obvious. "So, now you need no invitation to speak," I snapped. Sidi's mouth fell shut, and he bent forward, placing his hands on the ground.
I struggled to regain whatever self-control there was available in the dead hours of the night, closing my eyes and breathing deep before I spoke again. "I did not mean to say that you shouldn't speak now, but that I would've preferred if you had said more in the afternoon. Come; get up." I turned to Yorzim and Êlal. "I meant what I said, though. Let go - or at the very least, give him some space to breathe."

Reluctantly, Yorzim removed his hand from Bâgri's face and got to his feet, head lowered. Bâgri continued to kick - or try to, fruitlessly - against Êlal's grip, but I observed that the only thing he did with his arms, now that they had been released, was wrap them around his head as if to protect it. It did not look as though he intended to attack anyone or push further furniture over. He was moaning the same thing over and over - ninnaleh, ninnaleh - and rocking on his belly with the effort of trying to get his legs free, but whatever the others were thinking, I didn't have the impression that anyone had to be protected from him. I told Êlal to release his legs as well. Far from encouraging Bâgri to jump up and attack, or whatever danger the others had expected, he fell very nearly still after that, although he was shaking and continuing to gasp his breathless ninnaleh against the floor.

I pushed the toppled-over bench back upright and sat down on it, heavily. "What is he saying?" I asked Sidi.
Sidi had knelt up, sitting on his feet, looking as tired as I felt. "Mercy," he said. I couldn't help pursing my lips as I glanced at Êlal and Yorzim, though it was wasted on the latter, who was looking resolutely at the floor. Jômar, astonishingly enough, was still fast asleep, or at any rate laying motionlessly, curled up under his blanket as though unaware of the chaos around him. Either he had a blessedly deep sleep, or he had decided to pretend to be fast asleep to avoid getting mixed up in the struggle. I couldn't blame him.
Bâgri's voice had faded into a whisper now, but he kept pleading persistently, ninnaleh, ninnaleh, lying on the cold floor in nothing but his loincloth, arms wrapped around his head as if to ward off invisible blows. "Yes, yes," I said without thinking. "Mercy. Ninnaleh." It didn't seem to register. Sighing, I turned towards Sidi. "So. Explain to me what was going on."

Bâgri had had a nightmare. That was how it had begun, or so Sidi said. Bâgri had often had such nightmares in prison, too, and when he was in their grip, he would jump up and shout and try to run who knew were, all without waking, throwing over what came in his way and running into walls and punching anyone who tried to stop him. Yorzim and Elâl, trying to keep him from hurting either himself or anyone else (and, though Sidi did not say it outright, probably to keep his outbreak hidden from me, too), had wrestled him down and kept him down until his panic had exhausted itself and all he could do was shiver and beg for mercy from a tormentor who wasn't even real.
"Poor Bâgri," I said.
"He is damaged in the brain," Sidi observed, knocking his knuckles against his own skull, "he means no harm."
"I can see that."

"We also mean no harm," Yorzim said in his gruff voice. "We tried to keep Bâgri from harm or destroying or running away."
"Yes," I said, "I can see that now, too." I went over to Bâgri and squatted down next to him.
"What's 'don't be afraid' in your language?" I asked Sidi.
"Daph orilakh", Sidi said - that's what it sounded like, anyway - and so I told Bâgri, "Daph orilakh. Ninnaleh, huh?"
"You would say, ninnam," Sidi said quietly. "Ninnaleh is asking."
"Oh. Alright. Ninnam, then," I said, not that it made any difference; Bâgri was still very much lost in his own mind. I reached out carefully, patting his head - the stubble on it was drenched with cold sweat - but he showed no reaction, neither for the better nor for worse.
The other three looked on in silence.
"Is it safe to put him back to bed, would you say?" I asked Sidi, who spread his hands to demonstrate ignorance.
"I do not know," he said, sounding embarrassed. "The question never came up."
"What do you mean, it never came up?"
"Somebody else took his place in bed. We only made sure he was silent. Never put him back."

There was a commanding voice from the door, "Stop talking in there! Go back to sleep!" One of the guards had heard us, it appeared.
I stood up, feeling guilty on instinct. Since the guard stood outside the circle of light from the Elven lamp, I could not see his face, but I heard the change in his voice when he said, "Oh. Begging your pardon, sir. I did not know you were there. Just heard voices on my way outside."
I managed to square my shoulders. "Not to worry; all is well. You can go to your post." I heard rather than saw the thump of his fist against his padded chest.
"Is all well?" Sidi asked, and I was so far out of my depth that I said, entirely honestly, "Damned if I know," before I remembered that I wasn't supposed to show uncertainty. "I hope so," I said, which was perhaps marginally better. Looking back down at Bâgri, who had stopped muttering, I said, "Let's try to carry him back to bed, since he seems to have calmed down. Êlal, can you take his feet again? And Yorzim, you can help me with his shoulders. Let's turn him over first. Sidi, you take care of his blanket, please."

Bâgri neither protested nor struggled as we turned him onto his back; perhaps he had really found his way back to restful sleep. At any rate, we managed to put him back into bed, and I tried not to think too hard about what had caused this nightmare in the first place, and who Bâgri had thought he'd been asking for mercy. Clearly, something was haunting him, and I felt that I should have been warned about that kind of haunting. It was evidently no surprise to Sidi or Yorzim or Êlal, so I felt a little resentful that nobody had felt the need to tell me in advance. Bâgri, I suppose, had good reasons to keep it secret, and his companions might feel that it wasn't their place to talk about it, but Darîm at the very least must be aware and should have told me. It would've been helpful to have been forewarned, both about Bâgri's past and about the extent of his damage, as Sidi had put it. (Would Sidi consider me damaged in the brain, too? I expect that he would, and that added a whole new level of concern about what would happen once they found out.)
For now, the others settled down again, and I returned back upstairs. Bâgri seemed to sleep quietly for the rest of the night, or at least I didn't hear anything untoward from below again, but of course I did not sleep well anymore.

And yet, the first thing I foolishly asked when it was time to assemble for breakfast was, "Have you slept well?"
Yorzim ignored the question, and Êlal glumly shook his head, but Bâgri of all people said "Yes, thank you," making me stare at him in disbelief.
"What about your nightmare?" I asked, wondering if he was trying to joke.
His eyes went wide and his brow creased, suggesting that he wasn't. "My..." he trailed off. "Did I...?" he looked at his companions, who nodded, then back towards me. "Oh. No. I am sorry." He looked down.
"We need to talk about that," I said, because it seemed like the kind of thing I should say, as a responsible master, although in all honesty I had no idea how to go about that talk. Either way, I could see that Bâgri didn't like the thought at all, because his shoulders started shaking again.
"Don't be scared," I felt compelled to say, and, trying to recall my impromptu language lesson from the last night, "daph orilakh - am I saying this right? I don't intend to punish you or anything. I just think that, since this seems to happen regularly, I have a right to know all about it."
He nodded without raising his head, and I heaved another sigh. "Well, let us have breakfast first."

After breakfast, which did not seem to be entirely to my apprentices' tastes, I took Bâgri to the study. I didn't ask Sidi along. Although he might know more about Bâgri's condition, he hadn't warned me about what had happened last night. Accordingly, I wasn't inclined to trust that he would tell me everything in this matter. I figured that Urdad knew the language just as well and might be more helpful. I explained to Urdad what had happened last night - he had slept through the whole thing, lucky fellow - and then turned towards Bâgri. He sat despondently, head and back bowed, and I felt the need to reassure him that I saw no occasion (so far, at least) to punish him. "However, I must wonder what you were thinking," I said. "Imagine if you had made it outside and run into the guards! They wouldn't have been as considerate as Yorzim and Êlal. And if one of the guards had brought you to me telling me that you had tried to run off, instead of Sidi explaining the situation, I would probably have been very angry. That was a huge risk. And you can't tell me you weren't aware of it."
Bâgri rubbed a hand against his ribs, perhaps unconvinced that his companions had truly been considerate. "I hoped it would not happen, out of prison." He hesitated, then said, pleadingly, "It is not every night."

"But you couldn't rule it out, could you?"
He shrugged miserably, and I felt compelled to ask, "What would you have done if you had managed to get outside and one of the guards had caught you?"
Another shrug. I felt myself getting impatient. "Look, Bâgri, I'm trying to work with you here. I'm trying to understand. But you've got to help me. So, please. Explain to me. Why didn't you at least forewarn me that something like this might happen?"
Instead of answering, he bowed lower over his hands, which had knotted in his lap again. His shoulders were shaking. At last, he began to speak, but it was in the tongue of Umbar, and I had to turn to Urdad for help. "What is he saying?"
Urdad said, "He asks forgiveness for wasting your time."
"No harm done," I said, irritably, "as long as he stops wasting it now. Can you ask him why he didn't tell me, in your language? Perhaps he can explain it better that way."
Apparently, he couldn't. "He is still apologising," Urdad said, frowning, "but I am not sure that he is really talking to us."

I didn't ask how he got that idea. In truth, the thought had crossed my mind as well, because Bâgri was quaking and whispering his apologies in a way that (I felt) was not at all appropriate in response to what I considered a reasonable question. Once again, he was acting as though expecting a severe beating or some other painful punishment. I was torn between annoyance and pity. I fought hard not to let annoyance win.
"Do you have any idea how we can reassure him?" I asked Urdad, hoping that he'd know what to do, but he shook his head.
The only idea I had was to say, "Bâgri, calm yourself, I'm not going to hurt you", trying to keep my voice friendly and reaching out for his trembling shoulders. He showed no sign of hearing me, but he gave a mighty flinch when I touched him, although I swear I was not ungentle. Frustration began to gain the upper hand; I had to breathe deliberately to keep from gripping Bâgri's other shoulder and shaking him.
"Surely I'm not that terrifying," I said. And when Urdad said nothing to that, I asked, "Am I?"
"No, sir," Urdad said, "but I was scared of you at first, too. Not that scared, of course."
"You were scared? What did I do to scare you?"

I thought back to our first few meetings - how incompetent I had felt, and how intimidating his quietly efficient way had been to me. I hadn't realised that he had been intimidated by me. I had to twist uncomfortably to be able to look at Urdad because I didn't want to take my hand off Bâgri's shoulder - he seemed to have recovered from the initial shock, and I didn't want to renew it by changing anything - and I expected that he would be smiling and telling me that he had been joking, of course, but his face was entirely serious.
"You asked my name," Urdad said, "and I thought you were going to report me to my lord."
"Report you? For what?"
Urdad gave a slight shrug. "Something I did wrong, I suppose."
"But you didn't do anything wrong."

With his nervous little smile, he said, "I thought I had offended you somehow. I did not know why else you would need my name."
"Oh." I thought about it, then asked, "Is it offensive in your culture? To ask people their name?"
"Offensive, no. Uncommon, yes."
Confused, I asked, "Don't people usually want to know who they're working with?"
Urdad shrugged again. "Not when who they're working with doesn't matter."
"That sounds impolite. I find it hard to be impolite."
He seemed to find that funny, because he made a noise half-way between a cough and a giggle. "Your people normally don't worry about being impolite to us," he said. Then he grimaced, as though he had said something inappropriate, and bowed his head. "Sir."

My stomach lurched unpleasantly. "I thought you weren't scared of me anymore."
"It is complicated," Urdad said. "I do not want to offend."
"You haven't offended. I hope you're not offended because you've just been sent off here." I remembered how Lord Roitaheru had talked about him - you're welcome to him - as though he were no more than a commodity to be handed around.
"Oh, no," Urdad said, which I suppose he would have said either way, but then he added, "I was hoping for it." His shy smile flashed up again. "I like being useful. And it's nice to be thanked."
I felt a smile tug on my own lips. "I'm glad. I was worried that you were sent here against your will." Urdad shook his head emphatically.

"Bâgri, on the other hand, is here against his will. I can see that now," I said. "I should have left him in prison; it really looks like he was happier there."
"No," Bâgri said quietly. He still hadn't raised his head, and his breath was still laboured, but he seemed to be responding to me again. "No. Please. I can do the work. I will..." he broke off and then started over, dully. "I will do what you tell me to."
I withdrew my hand from his shoulder. (At least it hadn't done further harm, I suppose.) "That's not the point, Bâgri. I don't doubt that you can do the work, and I'm sure you're willing to do as you're told. Alright? That's not in question. But clearly, you're helpless when the nightmares come. And now it happened in broad daylight, too. And I don't understand why it happens, and perhaps I don't need to, but I should have been told that it does happen. I need honesty now. And I need to know how we can deal with it, or this isn't going to work." I waited for Urdad to translate and watched Bâgri's head sink lower. "Please make clear to him that this doesn't have to be the end. Alright? If he really wants to stay, we can try. But we need to figure out what to do about his - his fears. He can't up and run every night, or every other night. And the others can't look out for him every night, either; they need their sleep, too."

Bâgri had by now bent double, his face hidden in his hands. I knew that if I had any sense, I should arrange for his return to prison right then and there. There was no good reason for keeping him, especially since - in spite of his protests - I did not have the impression that he wanted to be here.
But then he spoke, first in the language of Umbar, and then in mine. "I do not know how to answer," he said. His voice was hoarse, and he swallowed repeatedly before he went on. "I do not always know that I have a nightmare. And even when I know, I cannot stop it. I am sorry." His shoulders started shaking again. "But it is not every night. I really - " he returned to his own language.
"He wants to show that he is not too broken," Urdad translated. "It's his only chance, he says."

My soft heart constricted painfully. Wearily, I put my face in my hands before I remembered that I wasn't allowed to show weakness. I stapled my fingers, as Lord Atanacalmo so often did, to keep them from covering my eyes again and to look (hopefully) more businesslike.
"I want to give you that chance, I really do," I said. "And I will warn the guards about your predicament, and tell them not to be too hard on you if they see you outside at night, but clearly, it would be preferable if you didn't run outside at night in the first place."
Urdad glanced at something behind me. "Perhaps it would help to chain him to his bed," he said.
He meant well, I'm sure, but the thought nearly made my stomach turn. "Well, I can't magine that'll cure him of his nightmares," I pointed out.
"Cure him, sir?"

I wasn't certain whether he hadn't understood the word or whether he didn't understand what I meant by it. "Help him get better."
Urdad was still frowning. Bâgri, meanwhile, had lifted his head and was staring at me with such loss and confusion in his eyes that I was forced to suspect that I had said something extremely stupid.
"Never mind," I said, embarrassed. "At any rate, he'd still wake the others, and that would be unjust to them, too. So that strikes me as a bad solution."
"I am sorry," Bâgri said again.
"Well, so am I," I said, which was true, though there was little use in assuring each other that we were sorry. "But we still need to find a solution."

For a while, none of us said anything. At last, Bâgri spoke up again. "Perhaps -- perhaps." He seemed to sort his thoughts once more, and then started over, "Perhaps I can sleep in another place. Downstairs. In the caves. Perhaps."
"You think you won't have nightmares down in the catacombs?" Personally, I found that highly unlikely. Even unused, as they were now, the narrow tunnels and caves were an unsettling place; and once we had bodies to put there, it would be even creepier. Even a person not inclined to have nightmares would get them down there, I felt. I certainly would.
Apparently, Bâgri saw the point; he even smiled a little, in a helpless and uncertain way. "I will have nightmares," he said, "but I will not disturb."
"I'm not sure," I said, although in all honesty I didn't have any better ideas myself.
It was Urdad who suggested, "The tool shed, maybe?"

The tool shed was not actually a tool shed. It had probably been one back when this house had been a winery, but after the bankruptcy, it had been stripped of every sickle, every piece of string, every last basket or bucket. It was big enough for a man to sleep in, just barely - I knew this because we had used it to store Nêrad's family's old mattresses, after the new furniture was delivered, and they had flopped over and unrolled on the floor. Being a storage place, it could be barred from the outside.
I still didn't like it, but short of giving up on Bâgri entirely, I didn't have a better idea. "I suppose it's better than the cellar. Bâgri can have a look at it and say if he agrees."
Bâgri, I suspect, would have agreed to pretty much everything; he was now in control of himself again, and despite his earlier horror, he appeared eager now to stay.
"And I," I told Urdad, "will go and see Darîm this afternoon. Or is there anything that I'll be needed for?"
"The shoemaker will come for the measurements," Urdad said. "But I can manage that, with your permission."
"Permission granted," I said. In all honesty, Urdad would have discussed business with him, either way; I would merely have nodded it off. I felt slightly guilty leaving the responsibility in his hands entirely now, but I needed answers from Darîm, and I felt that waiting longer would only deepen the rift between myself and my apprentices.

Darîm appeared rather surprised when I asked to see him, although he welcomed me with the utmost friendliness, as usual. Yes, of course he would make time for me immediately. No, it was no trouble at all. He led me into the sitting room with the pleasant view of the shaded garden and had his servants deliver refreshments. Only then did he say, "I confess I had not expected you today, Master Embalmer. How may I help you? Is there a problem with your new workers already?"
"As it happens, yes."
His mien changed immediately; whereas he had been all charming host, polite but very much in charge, he now bowed obsequiously and assured me, "I very much regret to hear it." There seemed to be genuine concern in his voice as he asked, "What happened?"
I told him of Bâgri's nightly outbreak, and the way in which he had frozen up when I'd tried to talk to him this morning. Darîm nodded and made sympathetic noises as I described the trembling and crying and pleading. I finished my account by describing Yorzim's and Êlal's and Sidi's unsurprised - indeed, fairly practiced - reaction, and concluded, "I must say, after you have shown such concern about the suitability of some of the others, I can't help but wonder why you didn't at least warn me about Bâgri's nightmares."

"You are right to wonder, Master Embalmer, and I have failed in my duties, for I did not know that he had such nightmares." Darîm had spread his hands placatingly and bowed his head in contrition. "Bâgri expressed concern about his bad memories, but I did not realise that they manifested in this manner. I must apologise. I would never have encouraged you to take Bâgri if I had not thought him competent."
"I don't even know whether or not he's competent. All I know is that he's terrified of something beyond my knowledge and certainly beyond my control. And beyond his own control, too. I haven't harmed him - there's no need to be so terrified of me - and it doesn't seem to me like a good foundation for his apprenticeship if half of the time when I ask a question or talk about a mistake he ... he starts seeing terrors that aren't even there. What happened to him?"

Darîm had straightened again, although he did not meet my eyes. He sighed deeply. "I am not familiar with all the details. There is a former employer of Bâgri who was... needlessly cruel. Excessively so. I have heard some dreadful stories, although I do not know in how far they apply to Bâgri. But whatever happened, perhaps it has damaged him permanently. His last employer did not complain about nightmares, however. He said that Bâgri was hard-working, obedient and honest. He spoke for him when he was arrested after his theft, too. I truly did not know."
"Then why did he not keep him employed, if he liked him so much?" I latched onto what I felt was a weak spot in the story.
"He could not afford it when the drought came," Darîm said, spreading his hands in regret. "Food was very expensive then, you see. People could no longer pay workers and feed their family, so they sent the workers away. It is why Bâgri stole, too. He would not have done it otherwise, I am sure. But the hunger in that year was terrible."

"I see," I said. Everything kept coming back to that accursed drought, it seemed. "But I don't see what I can do to help Bâgri, frankly."
Darîm had his head half-tilted, a quizzical expression on his face. "You help him by giving him new work, I think," he said. "A new purpose. But if you decide that he is damaged beyond repair, you can send him back to prison, of course." His brow creased in regret. "You may tell him, in that case, that I do not hold it against him."
I frowned in turn. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"Bâgri will understand," Darîm said. "It may help him make a clearer decision. I worry, perhaps, that he is too afraid of you."
At that, I couldn't help but give a little snort. The idea of being afraid of me - of all people! - was ridiculous. "I haven't even done anything to frighten him," I pointed out. My fingers were playing with the tassels on the cushion, nervously; I had to clench my hand to make them stop.

Darîm smiled - not his usual charming and slightly arrogant show of teeth, but a cautious twitch of the lips. "You personally are very friendly, but Bâgri does not know you well. He only knows what power you have." I nearly snorted again - me and power - but remembered in time that with Lord Roitaheru's support, I was not as powerless as I was used to being. Unaware of my thoughts, Darîm continued, "And he has made very bad experiences. That can leave a lasting impression, you see. It can make people afraid of people who remind them of other people. Or of places that remind them of some old danger." Was I mistaken, or was he now studying my face intently? I was convinced that he was alluding to my short spell of panic before we had entered the prison. At least, I thought it had been short. I thought I had masked it reasonably well. Had it in fact been longer? The thought made my face grow hot. Had I been staring into nothing without noticing it, until I had become aware again and pretended that it was nothing? I tried to read the answer in Darîm's eyes, but as soon as I met his stare directly, he lowered his head modestly.

"Many men do not have the strength to master such fears. In fact, very few men do," Darîm went on evenly, and I concluded that it might have been coincidence. "If you decide to have patience with Bâgri, maybe he will learn the strength. But naturally, it is your decision. I apologise that I brought it before you. As I said before, I would not have recommended Bâgri if I had known this. I assure you he was a fine man before he was broken. Such a pity." He shook his head, at himself or at Bâgri, I do not know.
"I'll have to think about it," I said. Poor Bâgri, I thought, not for the first time. I doubted I would have the heart to send him back, but I also doubted that he'd have occasion to learn strength. "He did not seem to be so afraid when I questioned him in prison," I observed, "although I would have thought that it was a more frightening situation."
Darîm gave a soft shrug and a regretful smile. "Strange though it may seem, it was a familiar place. He knows Captain Thilior. He knows the rules and the consequences. Now, everything is different. Maybe it is too much."
I had no answer to that. My fingers began messing with the tassels again. "Were there any consequences for Bâgri's employer - I mean, the one who tormented him?" Torment of some kind seemed to me the likeliest explanation for Bâgri's state.

"In a way. He was killed by two of his servants, some years back," Darîm said in a matter-of-fact tone, still smiling. "That was when his treatment of his workers came to light. It is how they justified the murder, and there was sufficient evidence to keep them from being put to death themselves. It was after Bâgri's time, and Bâgri did not speak about it, but I assume that he also suffered when he was there." The smile grew strained. "There is a great deal of suffering on this side of the sea, you know."
There was a great deal of suffering on the other side of the sea, too, I thought; but I did not say so. I merely nodded and said, once more, "I see." And then I frowned. "Was he - was he one of my people?" That certainly would have shone a new light on Bâgri's terror.

Darîm shook his head. "No. He was one of mine. If he had been one of yours, the servants surely would have been put to death." Again, the smile he gave was more like a grimace. "But I expect that such wanton cruelty is unknown among your noble people."
I could not bring myself to lie. I suppose I should have said nothing, but I couldn't do that, either. Instead, I said, "I'm afraid that cruelty is known on either side of the sea," hating how hoarse my voice sounded.
Darîm bowed his head, although I thought I saw a glint in his eyes before they disappeared from view. "Your words, Master Embalmer. Not mine."
I rode back to the winery feeling every bit as frustrated as I had come.