The Embalmer's Apprentice by Lyra

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Chapter 57

Another difficult chapter.

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Chapter 57

After the next council session, Lord Laurilyo invited me to accompany him and some friends to a play in the afternoon. I suspected that Lord Roitaheru had recruited him to help me make friends among what he considered, against all reason, my peers. Then again, perhaps Lord Laurilyo was acting of his own accord, sociable fellow that he was. Either way, I had no objection to going to the theatre. I had to stay in the city for the feast anyway, as promised, and a play seemed like a perfect way of passing the time until nightfall. It was certainly preferable to spending all day at the palace, where Lord Roitaheru could remark on my hunched shoulders and insist that I take up archery practice again to improve my posture, which is what he did in the short time we talked after the end of the meeting. I was glad to have an acceptable excuse, and besides, I had happy memories of the plays I had seen in Andúnië and, last year, in the capital.

First, however, there was a conversation with Darîm to be had. The opportunity offered itself when he addressed me on the stairs to the building, with his usual air of obsequious superiority. "How goes your work, Master Embalmer?" he asked, bowing low. "How fare your apprentices?"
"The work goes alright. The apprentices are adjusting to it. I would have expected them to object more to working with the dead."
Darîm wagged his head. "Our people differ in many things, Master Embalmer, and this appears to be one of them. We do not want to die, any more than you do, but we know that it will happen, and we know that we must look well after the dead, as we want our descendants to look well after us when it is our time."

This confirmed my suspicion that he had known it all along, and I asked why he hadn't told me that there was no need to use prisoners, which is when he told me that he hadn't been able to pass up the opportunity to have these men released, and asked my forgiveness. I granted it, but couldn't help pointing out that some misunderstandings could have been avoided if he'd told me that the prisoners might consider my offer too good to be true as a result. "They were all eager to come, and then suddenly they turned all shy and close-lipped, and I thought it was because they were scared of having to work with corpses, and instead, apparently they were scared of being... set up for sacrifice. All that could have been avoided if you'd been more honest with me."

Darîm stiffened. His shoulders lost their polite forwards bend, his chin rose, his jaw clenched, his eyes hardened. Suddenly, I could picture him all too well on the throne of his ancestors, and I was afraid. Cold anger seemed to radiate from him.
"Set up for sacrifice?" he said in a hard voice. "Preposterous. Who says such things?"
Even though it was affirming that he found the suggestion as unbearable as I did, something about his tone gave me pause. "It appears to have been a fear that they shared," I said carefully, not wanting to name names.
"Preposterous," Darîm repeated, narrowing his eyes. "Outrageous. I am horrified on your behalf, Master Embalmer. I assure you that there will be consequences for this insult to both our honour."

Suddenly I wished that I hadn't said anything. "Well, in retrospect, I can understand that they were suspicious. They apparently expected something that - well, that warranted taking men out of prison because nobody would willingly do it, and didn't find it, because embalming didn't frighten them nearly as much as I thought it would. I guess it makes sense that they suspected something sinister."
Darîm shook his head decisively. "Your willingness to see their reasoning comes from a generous heart, of course, as always. But such an insult to your honour, and mine, is not easy to forgive."
Frowning, I asked, "How is it an insult to your honour?"
"Do not forget that I negotiated their employment. That means they were willing to believe that I would have brought them to be set up for sacrifice. It is unacceptable."
I felt the sudden urge to defend the apprentices from his anger. If he'd explained the whole thing properly - not just to the apprentices, but also to me - then perhaps none of these suspicions would've happened. "I'm sure they believed no such thing," I said. "I expect they thought I was trying to trick you and them both."
Darîm wasn't appeased so easily. "In that case, they would have been willing to believe that I was not fully aware of what I brought them to. That is also unacceptable." A pause. "You have already punished them accordingly, I trust."

I did not like the sound of that at all. "Of course," I heard myself say, feeling my face flame up at the same time. It was not really a lie, I told myself. I had subjected them to an hours-long conversation about what they believed, and what I'd believed, and where we had misunderstood each other. It had doubtlessly been every bit as unpleasant for them as it had been for me. And it had also been my anger about these accusations that had led to me beating Elâl - he already appeared to have put that behind him, but I still felt rotten about it. Yes, there had been punishment.
Darîm nodded thoughtfully, still grim. "Then I shall let it pass, this once," he said. "But you will warn them that if they insult either of us like that again, there will be far worse consequences." He forced a smile, and added tersely, "If you please."
"I will tell them," I said, hearing my own voice hard and cold. Fortunately, Darîm did not appear to realise that the coldness was all for him, and no longer for my apprentices, for whom I suddenly felt nothing but pity.

It was a relief afterwards to join cheerful Lord Laurilyo and his friends - Master Zainabên and his wife, Mistress Tôdaphêl, who enviably also lived in Umbar, as well as two younger men I also remembered from the council sessions, Master Belzimir and Master Selcheneb - at the new theatre (which had replaced the one we were using for our council sessions, as I learned). I could use some cheering up.
In the event, Umbarian theatre turned out to be somewhat different. Although they spoke Adûnaic - it was a performance for "our community", Lord Laurilyo explained - much of the plot remained hidden from me. The stage decoration and costumes were incomprehensible, and the acting felt stilted and ritualised, not at all like the intensely life-like shows I had so admired at home. I could see that the actors had put a lot of effort into preparing for their performance - clearly they knew what they were doing - but I couldn't help feel a little disappointed.

Still, afterwards and all through the feast I had an interesting discussion about the differences between the theatre in Yôzayân and Umbar respectively. Lord Laurilyo, Master Zainabên and Master Belzimir agreed that our style of theatre was more life-like, while Master Selcheneb felt that the Umbarian tradition was more honest, never pretending that it was anything other than a performance, and exquisite in its stylised artistry. Mistress Tôdaphêl argued that both ways had their charm and value, and that they had different purposes and it was therefore impossible to compare them directly, illustrating her point with key scenes from different plays that she apparently had memorised. I felt out of my depth fairly quickly, although the others kindly did not remark on my ignorance. In truth, they might already have forgotten about my presence. Master Belzimir suggested that they should meet up the following Valanya to go for a leisurely ride to a nice spot he and the others appeared to be familiar with, for there was much enthusiasm from the others, and they made arrangements for their outing without even bothering to exclude me (although Master Zainabên and his wife excluded themselves, pleading prior arrangements).

The next day I returned to my considerably less luxurious house and the considerably less sophisticated company there (although I suspect ed that Yorzim and Sidi, at the very least, could easily have kept up with the discussion of the Umbarian theatre tradition, probably better than I had). We wrapped up - quite literally - our work on Yaphadin, and sealed it, too. Afterwards, I remembered the warning that Darîm had asked me (commanded me, really) to relay to the apprentices, so I did that.
I could see that they were alarmed. I could also see, from the way in which Sidi's jaw worked, that some anger was involved - either at me, or at Darîm, or possibly at both of us. "Just so that's clear," I said, attempting to reassure him, "having seen how he reacted, I'm going to tell him a lot less in the future. It was frightening."
"You don't need to be frightened of the Darîm," Yorzim said grimly.
Truth be told, I wasn't certain that Darîm wouldn't think of a way in which he could hurt me - tell Lord Roitaheru that I was allowing my apprentices to insult the honour of the great men of Yôzayân, for instance - but of course that was nothing I could tell Yorzim.
"Believe it or not, I found it frightening on your behalf," I retorted.

I suspect he did not believe it.

 

Now that Yaphadin had been laid out in one of the former barrel nooks, all wrapped and sealed, we were once more without real work (except for cleaning up the place and practicing the apprentice's writing). Elâl had more time than before to wrestle all the other apprentices and also the guards into submission, and to go on long runs to build endurance, and to do more push-ups than any of us cared to count. Bâgri seemed to grow calmer - there were several nights in a row in which the guards did not hear him rage or cry or plead with no-one in his shed - and Dârujan was once more as forthcoming and talkative as he had been on the first afternoon. Sidi even smiled on occasion. Sometimes I could even heard them trading banter and laughing when I wasn't in the room. I assumed that they no longer expected to be sacrificed or otherwise killed, and hoped that perhaps they might even be content. Yorzim, of course, remained grim and guarded. Unlike Elâl, he evidently wasn't in a hurry to forgive and forget.

At the end of the week, it turned out that Lord Laurilyo and his friends hadn't forgotten about my presence at all, but rather had assumed that I'd accompany them on their ride. I was still having breakfast when one of the guards announced that I had visitors, and when I hurried outside, there they were (with the exception of Master Zainabên and Mistress Tôdaphêl), on horseback, in reasonable travelling clothing, with full saddlebags and an air of excitement.
"Did you oversleep?" Lord Laurilyo asked cheerfully. "Or did you forget?"
"I didn't realise that I was invited," I said, puzzled into bluntness.
Master Selcheneb frowned at me as if that was the silliest thing he'd heard all week. "How did you get that idea?" he said mildly, and I didn't know how to answer that. Remind him of how I hadn't been able to contribute anything of relevance to most of the discussion? Point out my inferiority? I ended up giving no reply.
"Well, hurry up now!" said Lord Laurilyo. "We'll wait until you've dressed for travelling."
Master Belzimir grinned patronisingly. "And packed some lunch and some wine, perhaps. We'll be gone the better part of the day."

And thus I found myself once again in the congenial and somewhat overwhelming company of Lord Laurilyo and the two master craftsmen. We rode at a leisurely pace past fields upon fields of tender young wheat and lettuce and onions and broad beans, past pastures that had grown fat and lush after the rains of what they called winter here. Cows and sheep raised their heads to watch as we passed. Occasionally, we had to stop at the gates of one of the walls that supposedly kept out the enemies of Umbar, or Yôzayân, or both, although I had yet to see such enemies; all I could see were merchants showing the guards their wares to determine the tariff they'd have to pay, and farmers taking their produce to the markets in the city, some in carts and some in simple panniers they carried on their backs. We were waved through each time, and the waiting crowds bowed as we passed.
Master Belzimir and Master Selcheneb were talking about their work week. Unlike me, they'd had a lot to do, since both Master Belzimir's carpentry (to provide the stages and tiered seating for the spring festival) and Master Selcheneb's silks (to provide holiday robes) were in high demand at this time. Even Lord Laurilyo had been busy, since he was sponsoring several athletes for the spring festival and he'd visited them all to observe their training and hand out money and tokens and gifts. There was a wrestler among them, too. I felt that I finally had something to contribute and said that I was also sponsoring a wrestler. At the same time, I couldn't help being concerned about the rivalry that might arise if Lord Laurilyo's contestant had to wrestle against Elâl, but he just laughed.

"It's all in good spirit, I should hope," he said. "At least, I know that I'm a good sport! And I trust that you'll take the inevitable defeat of your wrestler in good stride." He winked as he said it, so I wasn't certain whether he really thought that Elâl's defeat was inevitable. Even though I hadn't, so far, particularly cared whether Elâl won or lost, as long as he played by the rules and didn't cause trouble, I suddenly felt rather defensive of his abilities. I raised my chin a little. "I will take whatever outcome in good stride," I replied, which made Lord Laurilyo laugh.
"You're always so earnest! Anyway, what have you been up to? Aside from overseeing your apprentice's wrestling practice, of course?"
"Well, the apprentices and I have finished working on our first -- project," I said. Very nearly, I would've said body, which undoubtedly would have soured the mood immediately.

Not that it helped. "Embalming, you mean?" Master Selcheneb asked at once.
"Yes," I confirmed, fully expecting him to grow cold at once, but he only grew thoughtful.
"And how did they handle it? As I recall, there was some concern that it might be too gruesome and they would not want to stay?"
It took me a moment to understand what he was saying, not because he wasn't speaking clearly (in fact, he was pronouncing everything perfectly clearly, as if he had studied the language extensively) but because I couldn't recall what he seemed to recall. The best I could make of it was that perhaps he'd gotten confused at the council session where I had applied for permission to take on my apprentices in the first place.

I tried to figure out how to explain. "The concern was that they might misbehave and forfeit their right to stay," I said, "although I guess that the work being gruesome might be a reason for them misbehaving to get away from it. But as it was, they could handle it pretty well." I felt my lips pull back in a sort of grim smile, trying to play down the frustration I still felt. "Actually, they were relieved to do the actual work. Before that, they apparently thought that one of them would end up being embalmed. As some sort of sacrifice." I regretted the words as soon as I had spoken them. The bitterness had just wanted out, but it had been a stupid thing to say.
Master Selcheneb gave a short, raw laugh - a sound of shocked surprise. "Sacrifice? What an absurd thing to say! Our people banned these horrid rituals - why would one of us ever bring them back?"

It was my turn to be surprised now, both because he was discussing the matter so - so openly, I suppose, without hushing his voice and without suggesting that there was anything shameful about my work - and because he seemed to know more about the history of these sacrifices.
"I don't think they were thinking very rationally about it," I said, encouraged by his response. "My accountant says that it isn't even clear whether the stories of sacrifice are true, but my apprentices believed in them all the same."
"Oh, they're true," Lord Laurilyo said conversationally. "Or used to be. As Selcheneb said, we banned that sort of thing - here in Umbar, anyway! The desert people are still doing it, as far as I've heard. That's savages for you."
I shifted uncomfortably in the saddle at the mention of the desert people, thinking of the war (or the punitive campaign, as Lord Roitaheru would have it, but I very much thought of it as a war) that was being waged while we were going on a pleasurable ride to the countryside. It was a sobering thought.

"Don't worry," said Master Belzimir, noticing my discomfort but reading it wrongly. "These customs have been stamped out thoroughly - so much so that folks have evidently forgotten that it was us who put a stop to them! Umbar is perfectly safe and civilised. Yes, perhaps the tribes in the desert still sacrifice people. But they're essentially meaningless."
"Except for the Tash-naga," I couldn't help saying.
"Who's that?" Master Belzimir asked, frowning, and I bit my lips when I realised that I probably should've kept that thought to myself. Then again, they were all on the council. They were allowed to know - in fact, they already should know, though perhaps they had forgotten in the meantime. After all, they had a lot on their minds.
"The desert tribe Lord Herucalmo and the army set out to fight," I said.
"Oooh!" Master Belzimir made. "Right. Yes, I suppose they could have become dangerous, but they'll be defeated quickly. If they aren't already!"
"Unless they're stronger than we thought, and they've already captured Herucalmo," Lord Laurilyo remarked, grinning. "I wonder if they'd sacrifice the stuck-up git?"

Perhaps it was meant tongue-in-cheek, but it wasn't funny, and I nearly fell off the horse in shock. "That is no joking matter," I protested.
"I agree," Master Selcheneb said, his voice still even but full of disapproval. "Such things should not be thought, let alone spoken, even in jest."
Lord Laurilyo raised his hands apologetically. "You know I'm thoughtless," he said.
"You can't always use that as an excuse," I said, more harshly than was my place. It slipped out of me before I knew what I was saying, and then I couldn't take it back. "Lord," I added, more softly, in a poor attempt at mitigation. I could feel Master Selcheneb's stare on my back, and my cheeks grew warm in embarrassment.

Fortunately, Lord Laurilyo did not get angry, as his cousin doubtlessly would have; in fact, he bowed his head in mock contrition. "I accept my judgement," he said, although his eyes were glinting with laughter and his tone was as light-hearted as it had ever been, "and ask for just and hard punishment."
"In good time," Master Belzimir quipped, and Lord Laurilyo laughed out loud. My face, meanwhile, flared up for good. But I managed to clench my teeth and keep my feelings to myself at last. There was nothing to win by belabouring the point - in fact, I'd probably already done enough damage - and I resolved that if Lord Laurilyo made further inappropriate jests, I'd let Master Selcheneb comment on it and keep well out.

There was one good thing about Lord Laurilyo's thoughtlessness, however, and that was that he didn't harbour hard feelings about my impertinence. In fact, he seemed to have forgotten about the incident moments later, and fortunately the two master craftsmen didn't call any further attention to it, either. We progressed through the Umbarian countryside, past farmhands in the fields and a group of labourers repairing a rain-damaged stretch of embankment and the occasional cart. It was a beautiful day, sunny and warm, with enough of a breeze to keep it pleasant; the wheat in the fields had already risen in high shafts, and the peas were flowering - an early summer day, it would have been at home, and it was strange to think that it wasn't even properly spring yet. Master Selcheneb pointed out a mulberry plantation by the roadside, the treetops teeming with shockingly large white caterpillars. "There feeds the new year's silk," he said with an air of satisfaction. I suppose it was an encouraging sight for a cloth merchant, though I found myself more concerned about the mulberries. Not that I didn't like the feeling of silk - it was undeniably a lovely material - but I hadn't particularly thought about how it might take away from trees that could otherwise bear fruit. Perhaps the trees still would bear fruit, but it was hard to imagine, seeing the greedy work of the silkworms.

We left the road (at no mark discernible to me) and rode westwards to the coast, which here was unfortified - at least, unfortified by Men. It fell down into the sea in steep cliffs that were in themselves forbidding, although there were stretches where they had collapsed and the fallen rubble jutted out into the sea, or where the sea had cut coves into the land. One such cove turned out to be our destination. Hidden away behind the endless stretches of mulberry trees and the sheep pastures between them and the sea, the cliffs curved down into a narrow bay where a sand beach, littered with driftwood, had formed between the hollowed-out rock. That was where we turned our horses. The wind whistled and the waves crashed hard upon the sand, and the four of us were all alone, although the occasional bleating of sheep on the pastures above and the ringing of their bells suggested that there must be people somewhere. I hoped that one of them would hear us, should the sea rise suddenly or the cliffs collapse further or some other misfortune befall us.

The others did not seem to worry about such things. We unhorsed, and Master Selcheneb unrolled the carpet he'd carried across his saddle so we could sit on it for our picnic. For a while, we were chewing in silence, as if everybody was starved after a few hours' travelling. After that, the beauty of that remote beach was appreciated; or rather, Master Belzimir asked whether I liked it, which I said I did, although I also said that I felt a little uneasy about being so far from the city, just the four of us.
"Worried about the desert people? Or the Umbari?" Lord Laurilyo quipped - with a little smile, so I knew that he intended no malice - and I shrugged awkwardly.
"Not as such. I just don't like being so far from anywhere I know - I don't think I'd find my way back on my own."
"Well, you do not have to journey back on your own," Master Selcheneb said reasonably. "But truly, you could ask anyone you met in the countryside to guide you back to the main road, and thence to the capital. Finding the way here, that is the difficult part. That's the beauty of it! It's a well-kept secret."
"It's good to get away from it all sometimes," Master Belzimir said, with feeling. "Shed all that responsibility and just be a private person."

"I'm sure you're right," I said, because I didn't know what else to say and it was clear that they had done me a great honour by taking me along to their well-kept secret hiding spot. At the very least, I felt flattered that they thought I needed to shed responsibility and be a private person with them, even if I continued to feel uneasy about the solitude and the distance to the city and the thought of the cliffs collapsing. It was a beautiful place, if you could ignore those cliffs. The water caught between the dark rocks sparkled under the sun, inviting in a way that the open sea wasn't, and hardy grass and small bright flowers had grown on the rubble of the fallen cliffs and in the cracks between the rocks. I remembered what Lord Roitaheru had said about his nephew - that Lord Laurilyo hated inconvenience, and thus wasn't likely to do anything dangerous - and tried to tell myself that doubtlessly it had taken a powerful storm to make the waves rise high enough to undermine the cliffs, and that nothing would happen on a sunny day like today. I couldn't full relax, but at the least I managed (I hope) not to show that I still felt uneasy.

Having finished our lunch, we sat and talked of nothing in particular - that is, the others talked, and I listened half to them and half to the crashing waves - until Master Belzimir got up. "Well, shall we attend to business?" he asked, towards Lord Laurilyo, who grinned up at him and said, "Gladly, Master." He rose, brushing sand off his shins, and winked at me, or Master Selcheneb, or both of us. "You'll entertain each other while we're off, won't you?" he said. I wasn't certain what he meant, but out of habit I nodded obediently, glancing at Master Selcheneb, who had his eyes half closed.
"I expect so," Master Selcheneb said in his measured, reassuring way, raising a hand to wave goodbye. "Enjoy yourselves."
"We certainly shall," Lord Laurilyo replied, smirking, and then followed Master Belzimir, who had already marched ahead towards the rocks.
I wondered what business they meant to attend to.
"It's good of you to keep me company while the lads are having their fun," Master Selcheneb said matter-of-factly. "I don't begrudge them their games, but they are not for me, and it can get a little boring to wait until they've spent themselves. Makes me feel like they only take me along to watch the horses."
I felt my face grow hot again as things fell into place and I realised what fun and what games Lord Laurilyo and Master Belzimir might be indulging in, exactly.

"So," Master Selcheneb said, turning towards me with a friendly smile, "you haven't been here all that long. Where do you hail from, originally?"
"Arminalêth," I said, trying to pull myself together.
"The royal city itself! Then of course everything here will feel backwards and remote to you. But don't worry; I doubt this place is less safe than Arminalêth, on the whole."
He had a point. I'd seen some unsafe corners of Arminalêth myself. "And you?" I asked for the sake of making the conversation less one-sided. "Where are you from?"
"Almalda (1)," he said. "You probably haven't heard of it - it's a small fishing village all the way over in Andustar. Bit west of Andúnië."
"Andúnië!" I heard myself exclaim, like the fool that I was. "Then what brought you here?" To my mind, anyone lucky enough to live near Andúnië would doubtlessly want to stay there.
From the wry smile he gave, he was guessing what I was thinking. "Business, of course," he said. "Someone has to look after this side of the family business, and that part has fallen to me. And currently, I'm better off for it. There's no money to be made with silk in Andúnië right now, you see."
My lips spread into a sympathetic grimace. "Yes, of course," I said, thinking of Lord Eärendur's recent misfortunes.

Master Selcheneb refilled our cups. "So you know Andúnië well?" he asked.
"I wouldn't say well, exactly; but I know Andúnië," I said. "How did you know?"
"Oh, something about the way you reacted - it's clearly a place you have strong feelings about, even though you aren't from there. And you evidently knew at once why silks don't sell there at the moment, too. That suggests some familiarity."
I nodded. "I had the honour of being invited to Lord Eärendur's house a few times," I said. I didn't want to admit just how much I knew about the lack of funds in Andúnië, and hoped he wouldn't ask.
For the moment, he had other questions. "Oh? In your function as embalmer?"

I bit my lip. He hadn't said it, but I was certain that he would begin to doubt whether I really was good company any moment now.
"No," I said, and again my cheeks were growing warm. "In my function as a private person." In my function as the Good Man of Arminalêth, I thought to myself, but that would have been to complicated to explain and probably have come across as self-important, anyway.
"Ah!" Master Selcheneb's frown had disappeared. "I was going to say, I rather hoped his lordship didn't need the services of an embalmer! That is, if he holds with embalming at all, which I'm not so sure about."
Briefly, I pursed my lips, attempting to keep myself from debating him. Then I decided that quoting Lord Eärendur was hardly debating. "Actually, he feels that if the knowledge that their body will be preserved incorrupt helps people to accept the Gift of Ilúvatar more readily, then our work is valuable to him." (I really did remember that day perfectly, whatever they said about concussions.)

After some time of reflection, he shrugged his shoulders. "That is an interesting thought. Then I expect your apprentices will find great solace in their work."
I bit my lips. "I certainly hope so. Once they understand it properly and stop fearing that they'll be sacrificed."
"Obviously. Silly men." He shook his head, a bemused smile on his lips; he clearly wasn't as offended as Darîm nor as horrified as I was, but then, it didn't concern him personally. "Well, they'll have time to get used to everything, won't they? You'll be here for a couple of years."
"Indeed," I said, and couldn't help sighing at the thought. I think Master Selcheneb noticed that this was a touchy subject, because he promptly changed it, and talked instead about interesting places around Umbar and interesting people in Umbar. Considering how strongly he had opposed my request to take on apprentices, I was surprised by how friendly he was now.

After a while, though, he tired of talking, and declared that he fancied going into the water.
I cast a doubtful look at the choppy sea. "It doesn't look very inviting," I said.
He laughed at that. "Well, it isn't the tender warm waves of Andúnië," he said, "but it's quite invigorating!" He was already undressing. "You should give it a try; it's good exercise."
"I am not a strong swimmer," I admitted.
"You don't have to go in deep! Just far enough to feel the waves."
I shook my head, biting my lip in worry at the mere thought.
Relenting, he said, "Well, of course, you can skip the sea and just go directly to one of the pools. They're are nice and calm. And warm! It's where I'll warm up when I get tired of fighting the waves, too! No swimming required there - it's almost like sitting in a bath-house." He smiled, folding his loincloth and putting it on the neat pile of his discarded clothing. "See you there."

And off he went into the sea, hopping between the waves as if there was no greater pleasure in the world. Not long after, Lord Laurilyo and Master Belzimir returned, already - or, more likely, still - naked. Lord Laurilyo in particular looked flushed, red splotches all over his backside, but also very pleased with himself. Both men threw their clothes next to Master Selcheneb's, and ran headlong into the water as well. I looked down, embarrassed, but my gaze was drawn back to them by their laughter. I saw Master Belzimir straighten himself after having been, apparently, caught off-guard by one of the stronger waves. He didn't seem to mind the sand and salt water in his hair.
"Come in, it's delightful!" Lord Laurilyo called, turning back to me, grinning from ear to ear.
I shook my head, feeling awkward and embarrassed. "I'd rather not." And again, I said, "I cannot swim very well."

Truth be told, it wasn't just concern about the waves and the currents that kept me from joining them in the water. I was also worried about what they'd think of my various scars. I never bathed with my apprentices, either. In their case, it was to preserve the reputation of the invulnerable men of the Yôzayân, since it was probably bad enough that Nerâd knew what I looked like under my dignified clothing, but I had sworn him to silence and hoped that he'd keep it. In the case of the masters and Lord Laurilyo, I didn't have to worry about the reputation of Yôzayân, of course - only about my own. But that was precisely the point. Although it had been somewhat stressful to keep up the act of belonging among them, I had sort of enjoyed being treated as one of their own. Lord Laurilyo, perhaps, would still be willing to talk to me, but I couldn't imagine the same reaction from the masters. They had already proven that they had quite strict views about who did or didn't deserve certain rights, and I couldn't say I was eager to be put back into my proper place.

But of course, the excuse of being a bad swimmer had no power when it came to bathing in the rock pool. It wasn't even properly a rock pool, like the ones in Andúnië, which had been full of crabs and sea urchins and anemones and other creatures that I could've claimed to be afraid of. It was just water - from the sea, or rain, or maybe both - trapped in the hollows between the sand and rocks, evidently not permanent enough to sustain life. I suppose I should have claimed to be water-shy in general. As it were, when the others left the cold waves and sat comfortably in the pool, my hesitation drew remarks, and they were no longer entirely friendly. Master Belzimir observed loudly that he personally found it unsociable when people did not participate in communal activities, whereas Master Selcheneb expressed concern about what he described as a lack of trust.
"I cannot find it comfortable," he said in his measured tone, "when you watch while we bath."
"I can turn away," I pointed out. "Watch the horses."
"That's silly. We've come here as a group of four; it's absurd for one of us to stand aside, like a servant."
"You needn't be worried that anyone's going to seduce you, you know," Lord Laurilyo said wryly. "Belzimir and I are sated for the moment, and anyway you've made it clear that you aren't interested."
"I wasn't worried about that," I said, blushing yet again.
"Well, then what's your damned problem?" said Master Belzimir.

I came to the conclusion that I was losing their regard either way, and attempted a version of the truth. "I am marred," I confessed. "You will think ill of me when you see."
There was a short pause as they processed this. Then, a hurt look appeared on Master Selcheneb's face. "Do you think us so superficial?"
"Come on now-" Master Belzimir was impatient rather than offended - "we're all educated men, and know that a blemish doesn't necessarily mean a lack of virtue."
"Nor are we all that concerned about virtue in the first place," Lord Laurilyo said with a smirk. "Well, Selcheneb is, maybe. But he tolerates us, so there's nothing for you to fear!"
"It's a little more complicated than that," I said tersely, but it was clear that I was fighting a losing battle.
Indeed, Master Belzimir just made a disdainful noise, slapping the water with his hand. "Just hop in. Good grief, one might think you're scared."

My courage and my patience both ran out. "Well, I am," I snapped. I also got rid of my clothing in a very undignified hurry, tossing it next to the disorderly heaps of Lord Laurilyo's and Master Belzimir's clothes and Master Selcheneb's neat little stack, and went into the pool as fast as I could so they saw as little of me as possible. The pool was fairly shallow - if one sat upright, the water barely came to one's chest - but I hunched over so only my head looked out of the water. It was nice and warm, as Master Selcheneb had promised - it could have been pleasant, in a different body - but I still had to clench my jaw to keep my teeth from chattering.

Master Belzimir was the first to find his voice. "Well, damn," he said.
Silence again.
"I admit that this is somewhat upsetting," said Master Selcheneb, and I would have laughed at the obvious understatement if I hadn't been so upset myself.
"You could just have believed me," I managed to say.
"Well, when you said you were marred - I thought you had an ugly birthmark or hair on your back or something of the sort! Nothing so...," Master Selcheneb paused to look for the right word, "violent."
"What happened to you? You look like you've been tortured!" Lord Laurilyo observed without - for once - the slightest trace of amusement.
"That's because I was," I said, since there was no point in denying it.
"Tears of Nienna," Master Belzimir swore, "what for?!"

No doubt they must think me a traitor or something like that. The awful thing was that I couldn't even explain what had really happened, because I couldn't speak ill of the King and it was simply impossible to tell the true story without speaking ill of the King. If rumour hadn't made it across the sea to Umbar - and apparently it hadn't, not even to Master Selcheneb - then I wouldn't be the one to start them, let alone confirm them. I was fairly certain that it would have been actual treason. At any rate, the King would hear of it, and I didn't want to imagine what his revenge would be this time. Besides, who would believe me, anyway?
"I mustn't talk about it," I said, tempted to hide entirely under water. It wouldn't help - and I'd have to re-emerge after a short while and still face them - but nonetheless the urge was very strong. Perhaps I could not re-emerge. Perhaps I would run out of air, and simply not breathe again. Perhaps they'd drown me anyway, once they'd drawn their conclusions.

"Did you fall into enemy hands?" Lord Laurilyo asked earnestly, staring in my eyes as if trying to read the truth there. (Maybe he would. Would I be blamed if he saw the truth in my eyes? I did not know how to hide my thoughts from someone who could look into my mind. All I could do was lower my eyes to escape his prying gaze.)
I had indeed fallen into enemy hands, come to think of it, but not in the sense that he meant it. It had simply been my own personal enemy. Who also happened to be, unfortunately, the most powerful man on the entire Yôzayân. Well, aside from Lord Atanacalmo, perhaps - but it made little difference.
"I mustn't talk about it," I said again.
"Mustn't, or don't want to?" Master Selcheneb asked (how he could still sound so calm I did not know).
"Both, frankly," I said, rather less calmly, "and I'd appreciate if you could leave me in peace now."
Master Belzimir ground his teeth and turned his face away, out to the sea. "Well, damn," he said again.
That certainly was a sentiment I could agree with.

There were some half-hearted attempts at light-hearted conversation afterwards (amongst the others, that is - not with me), but their eyes kept returning to me, unsettled and unsmiling, and it wasn't long until they decided that it was time to return back to the capital. The day had been spoiled, and it was beyond anyone to salvage it. Part of me was resentful, too. If they'd just left me alone instead of insisting I join them, the day wouldn't have been spoiled, so it was their own fault and they deserved it. Of course, that was hardly fair. I simply hadn't made a good case for myself.
To their credit, at least they didn't drown me right then and there. They didn't leave me behind on that far-away beach, either. They didn't even hurt me, now that it was established that I could be hurt. They were very civil, all in all, deliberately looking away when I got dressed. I attempted to be civil, too, but I was badly distraught, and it took all my feeble strength not to break into tears. I wished I could have shed my hateful skin. When we were back at the morgue at long last, they said a few words of farewell, but I could barely listen and responded in monosyllables. I do not recall what I did the rest of the evening. I expect I must have spoken with Urdad and Nêrad at the very least, and probably others, and I must have dined and made myself ready for bed; but all was lost as if in a grey mist.

---

Chapter End Notes

(1) Almalda: Christopher Tolkien mentions a place called "Almaida" on one early map of Númenor, but Quenya doesn't actually do d as an individual consonant (and it doesn't fit with what we know about Adûnaic either), so it seems likely that CT misread it, and that it was rather meant to read Almalda, Almanda or Almarda. I've gone with the former. It translates to "Blessed Tree", which seems approriate for a place in the Andustar.