The Embalmer's Apprentice by Lyra

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Chapter 58

The spring festival is there at last.

Warning for athletic injuries and unnamed background character death(s).

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Chapter 58

 

"A word with you, in private, if you please," Master Selcheneb said tersely.

It was the eve of the spring festival, and we were at Lord Roitaheru's palace for some corresponding festivity for the Númenórean community. After the ill-gone trip to the beach, I had not wanted to attend, but Lord Roitaheru had insisted - everybody was expected to be there, he explained, and that meant everybody. I had been unable to come up with a good explanation for why I shouldn't, and though I had given up on the hope that I would be able to fit in, I had not grown indifferent enough to risk losing his goodwill. So there I was, in my outdated finery, feeling like an impostor among the community Lord Roitaheru kept talking about, certain that every glance that went my way came from somebody who knew everything - or rather, knew whatever Lord Laurilyo and his friends had told them. I definitely caught Master Belzimir giving me a pointed stare. He was talking to Mistress Tôdaphêl and her husband, who likewise turned towards me, studying me solemnly from across the hall. I knew then that some form of confrontation was unavoidable. And sure enough, Master Selcheneb had approached me shortly after, all pretty silks and measured manners, and asked for a word with me, in private.
I did not please, but I followed him out into the corridor all the same, because what choice did I have?

"You must be very brave," Master Selcheneb said by way of introduction, and I could very nearly hear the rest of the sentence, to come here, as if you belonged in polite company.
"His lordship insisted," I said, hoping to forestall any unpleasantness. "Bravery has nothing to do with it. Not that I have any to begin with."
Master Selcheneb raised his eyebrows in obvious scepticism. "Now that can't be true," he said, as if he himself hadn't insisted on taking me along to his secret hide-out mere days ago, before he'd seen me for what I was.
Before I could point that out, he went on, "You seem to have recovered very well...?" There was a strange uncertainty to the end of the sentence, as though it wasn't quite complete but didn't quite know how to finish. After another moment's thought, Master Selcheneb added, "I would never have guessed, you know. You appeared perfectly normal, before -- well. We saw what we saw."
I replied, "Why, thank you." I actually meant it. It was good to know that I had been able to appear normal until - well. They had seen what they'd seen. I nearly said that I was working hard to appear normal, too, but I was afraid that he'd take it to mean that I had fooled them intentionally - even more than he must already think that - so I just looked down at my feet.

"I very much regret," Master Selcheneb paused, evidently needing to sort his thoughts, and then continued, "the part I played in the... things that were revealed," adding hastily, "not just because it was gruesome to see. We should have accepted that you did not want to unclothe, for whatever reason, instead of pressuring you into it. I see that now."
That sounded rather like an apology, which was not what I had expected. Surprised, I looked up so I could see Master Selcheneb's face - pinched in discomfort, as though he found this conversation as worrysome as I did - just in time to actually hear him say, "I wish to offer an apology."
"Oh," I said. "Really?"
It wasn't a clever thing to say, but I couldn't think of anything clever to say. It hadn't crossed my mind that, rather than blaming me, Master Selcheneb might blame himself.

But apparently, that was what he did. "Of course!" he said urgently. "I behaved most insensibly, although I did not realise it at the time and assure you that I meant no harm. But that is no excuse. I nonetheless hope that you can accept my apology and that we can remain friends."
"Remain friends?" I repeated foolishly, now thoroughly confused. I hadn't realised that we had even been friends in the first place.
Master Selcheneb bowed, putting a hand on his heart. "I respect that you cannot forgive at once, and that is understandable. Friendship should be about trust, and we didn't trust you to have a good reason to keep yourself covered. Although I hope that you would have told us eventually - as far as that is possible - because, as I said then, we are not that superficial."
I was still trying to understand the unexpected turn the conversation had taken. "We?" I asked, latching onto the first thing I could think of. "Do all of you feel like that?"
"I can only speak for myself, of course," said Master Selcheneb, "but we did agree that we behaved very churlishly. I am certain the others will speak to you separately." He bowed again. "But I am asking forgiveness for myself. You need not answer at once. This time I will be patient."
"I forgive you," I blurted out. If against all reason he didn't think the worst of me, I wasn't going to let his apology sit and fester until he felt like taking it back.

I thought he was going to take it back right then and there, truth be told, or rather that I'd misunderstood him somewhere along the way and he'd demanded, rather than offered, an apology, because he looked so incredulous at my words. Then he smiled, in a shaky manner, and said, "Well, that is very kind of you." He held out his hands tentatively, almost nervously; but when I took them in mine, his smile grew broader and more secure. "You are as generous as you are brave, I am sure," he said.
I opened my mouth to protest, but he had realised his mistake by then. "I shall speak no more of it," he said quickly, "although I am willing to listen, should you be able to unburden yourself some day." He gave my hands another little squeeze, smiled more urgently, and said, with feeling, "I hope you have a wonderful evening, Master Azruhâr."
"Thank you, Master Selcheneb, and you too," I said, relieved that the conversation had gone so smoothly. I doubted that the evening would be wonderful, as such, but I did appreciate the sentiment.

Master Belzimir did indeed approach me separately, later, just when dinner had been announced and everybody else was taking their seats. He was already a little into his cups, and more robust about it than Master Selcheneb had been. He didn't apologise about having been insensible, or pressuring me into revealing more than I'd been comfortable revealing, but he did apologise for having given the impression that anything had changed after the revelation, which he said it hadn't.
Of course it had. I had seen their faces; I still had his curses in my ears. But if he'd had second thoughts about it in retrospect, it would have been unwise to remind him. I said nothing.
"That is to say," he went on, "of course we were all a bit shocked. You understand that, I'm sure. I mean, it does look terrible! And you just don't often meet someone who was - I mean, who went through that, and came out at the other end. So." He gestured vaguely. "It was not a pleasant sight."

I managed not to say that it hadn't been a pleasant feeling, either, but I felt compelled to point out that I had tried to warn them.
He guffawed at that. "You could have made it clearer! - But that's beside the point. The point is, we're not thinking ill of you, or avoiding you, or something. Next time, we'll look away. Or manage to endure the sight, whichever you prefer." There was another awkward guffaw. "Tears of Nienna, if you managed to endure the process, then surely we can endure the sight." There was a strained quality to his smile. "So you shouldn't think that anything has changed."
"Right," I said, because there was simply no point in arguing. It was easier to nod and let him steer me towards the table, where Lord Laurilyo and the others had saved seats for us, and where Master Zainabên almost fell over himself to fill my goblet and, once the lamb arrived at the table, to give me some of the finest cuts. All but the lowest-ranking of the Umbarian servants had been given leave for the holiday, even here at the palace, so we were expected to serve ourselves, but I barely got around to that because Lord Laurilyo and his friends were so very attentive. It was better than the disdain I'd feared, to be sure, but it also made me uneasy.

That unease did not lift afterwards, either, once the meal was finished and the entertainments began. Like the majority of servants, the Umbari who usually played and danced at the feasts at the palace were attending their own people's celebrations, so instead, such craftsmen and merchants as were proficient on whatever musical instrument they had chosen played up (at some point, even Lord Roitaheru himself took a seat behind the great harp); and the lack of ladies was made up for by part of the gentlemen, some of whom leaned into the role with obvious delight, for the purpose of dancing.

I did not join in the fun. The others left me alone, which suited me fine. I was thinking of home. It would be the beginning of spring there, too, and people would be celebrating that, too. I tried to picture what my loved ones were doing. Amraphel had written that they'd be having a little feast with our friends, like we'd had after the hungry winter, so they must be preparing for that, boiling and baking and exchanging news and plans and (I hope) joking around and enjoying themselves. They'd probably cleaned the dining hall, and laid out the pretty embroidered tablecloths Lord Eärendur had gifted to me. The girls might have picked flowers and made wreaths and garlands, much like Nurdar had (although it must be said that the flowers here were brighter and more plentiful at this time of the year). Tomorrow, they would gather to celebrate. I wondered who would be there. Would Master Târik, and Mîkul and Karathon, join my family, or did they have to attend the feast at the palace? Surely Lord Eärendur and his family would have to. Surely the King would host the feast at the palace again.
There would not - I was certain about that - be a ceremony upon the Holy Mountain, either private or official. Not after what had happened last year.

"Snap out of it," Lord Laurilyo said, dropping in the seat next to me. I flinched - I'd been lost in thought and hadn't noticed him approaching - and turned around. He had spoken without apparent reproach, in a light voice, and he was grinning - his lips were even redder than usual, he must have painted them - but I still felt guilty.
"Snap out of what?" I asked.
Lord Laurilyo shrugged. His skin was glistening with sweat - I suspected that he hadn't missed a single dance until now - and he was radiant with the delight of a man who was enjoying himself thoroughly. "I don't know. Whatever place you were in."
"I was here, my lord."
He clucked his tongue at that. "In body, yes. Not in mind. That was far away. Must have been an unpleasant place, from the look on your face. So I thought it was time to get you back here."
"Ah," I said, embarrassed. Yes, in mind I had been far away. There was no point in denying that, and so, I just said, "I was thinking of home. Of other spring festivals."
"You must have been to some terrible spring festivals," Lord Laurilyo said, and I didn't know how to reply to that. Perhaps that was answer enough.

Lord Laurilyo helped himself to some wine and refilled my goblet while he was at it. "Happy days," he said by way of a toast, raising the entire flagon.
My smile turned out a little lopsided.
"You know," Lord Laurilyo said after a silence that had apparently gone on for longer than he'd liked, "I'm pretty sure you're allowed to have fun on occasion."
I was less sure, but there was just no way of explaining that to him.
"You deserve to have fun, anyway," he went on, taking another sip of wine, "can't be easy walking around as a state secret."
Again I didn't know how to answer, but then, I didn't need to; he was already going on. "I don't know how you do it. I'd be bragging left and right if I were you."
I replied instinctively. "I have nothing to brag about."
"Yes, whatever," Lord Laurilyo said, waving a hand dismissively, "mustn't talk about it, I got it. But Roitaheru is my uncle. Did you really think I wouldn't pester him until he told me?"

My stunned face made him laugh, although it faltered quickly. "Look, I know I should have asked you, but you said you didn't want to talk about it, which is understandable, I guess. So I didn't. So where could I take my incurable curiosity? To Uncle, of course. It's not like he told me a lot, state secret and all, but it was enough to make clear that you should have bragging rights."
He paused to drink, or maybe even to give me a chance to speak up. I didn't. Even if I'd wanted to, I honestly wouldn't have known what to say. I shrugged uncomfortably.
"Well," he concluded eventually, "it must be good to know your own strength, at least."
"Or rather, my own weakness," I said.
To my surprise, he found that hilarious; he let his head fall back and laughed uproariously, so much so that some of the dancers turned to look. I felt my face flush and told myself that he must have had too much wine.
"You can be really funny sometimes!" Lord Laurilyo said, sounding as though he meant it.
"And you almost had me thinking that you could be serious sometimes," I said, feeling unreasonably hurt. It had not been a joke.

 

I would have to speak to Lord Roitaheru, of course. Whatever he had told Lord Laurilyo, it had evidently given him an entirely wrong idea of what had happened. Of course, Lord Roitaheru didn't know a whole lot about what had happened in the first place, unless he had asked around after that first council meeting. On second thought, that seemed likely. In which case he still had given Lord Laurilyo wrong ideas about what I'd done (or rather, what had been done to me), and I'd have to talk to him about that, too. The chance didn't arise until he retired for the evening, because he was constantly in conversation or dancing or playing the harp or otherwise occupied, but at last, after several huge yawns, he bid the company a good night. I hurried after him and asked for a moment of his time. He looked put out at that, but when I explained what I needed to talk about, he took me along all the way to his rooms to avoid being overheard.

As it turned out, he still didn't know a whole lot, and wasn't happy about it. "I had to tell them something, though," he said. "I can tell my servants to mind their own damn business, but I can't brush my councillors off like that, and certainly not Laurilyo, who can make himself a right nuisance if he wants to."
"What did you tell them, my lord?" I asked, embarrassed that so many people had apparently asked about my grisly fate - servants (so they were not as indifferent as I had thought!) and councillors and, of course, Lord Laurilyo.
"Well, what could I tell them? You didn't really tell me anything, did you! My esteemed father-in-law also didn't tell me anything, except that the matter should not be spoken, let alone written about, and that certain sacrifices had had to be made for the sake of national security. All I know is what I got from Calmo." He fixed me with a stern glare, and I had to swallow hard.
"Now he was pretty antsy about it, too, and said he hadn't had anything to do with it, which wasn't even what I'd asked, but that as far as he understood it you had done the realm a great service, which is what Atanacalmo had already said, and that you were guiltless in the matter but had shown great bravery, as if that wasn't obvious." He rolled his eyes dramatically while I tried to process all that. Certain sacrifices had to be made for the sake of national security. That certainly sounded like the sort of thing Lord Atanacalmo would write, but I couldn't say that I liked all that talk about sacrifices recently, and liked the thought of being a sacrifice (a pawn offer, more likely) even less.

Lord Roitaheru continued, "So that's what I told Laurilyo, and the others who asked and had any right to now. I also told them to leave you in peace about it. You're welcome. But I do hope you will tell me what happened at some point. I like to think that I'm trustworthy, you know."
"I don't know if it will be safe to tell you at any point, Lord, if even Lord Atanacalmo doesn't," I said. "It's not a question of trust." And, because that seemed such an unlikely thing to have happened, I said, "Did Lord Herucalmo really say that?" The mere thought made my face grow uncomfortably hot.
"Pretty much in those words. Why?"
I grimaced. "Well, it sounds so... so clean-cut. Almost noble. Service to the realm. Great bravery. That's... not how it was. And it doesn't sound like something he'd say about me." In truth, it didn't sound like me, but I didn't want to be reprimanded for defeatism or self-depreciation or whatever Lord Roitaheru wanted to call it, even if it had nothing to do with that.
With a shrug and a twitch of his eyebrows, Lord Roitaheru said, "Oh, I'm sure Calmo knows how to give credit where credit is due." I had to bite my lips, which of course he noticed. "Well, I'll admit he can be rather shabby towards you a lot of the time. But that's because he's been raised in Arminalêth with all those snobby lords."

I blinked at the disdain with which he spoke of his kin. "Aren't you one of them?" I blurted out in my surprise, like the fool that I was.
For a moment, he gave me a dreadful glare. Then he said, "I know you're a commoner, so I'll forgive you for that - this once!"
I had already tucked my head between my shoulders, protectively, but now his features relaxed and he grinned at me. "Look here, laddie." So far, we had been standing, but now he put an arm on my shoulders and marched me to a couch to sit down. "Those nobles in Arminalêth, the Wise Men of the Realm, the royal council, they think they're above the rest of us. That includes irrelevant little second-born sons like myself. We get pushed into consolation positions like royal scribe or governor of the colonies, and never taken seriously. In their opinion, we're just barely higher on the ladder than common-born men like you. Joke's on them, of course, because I wouldn't exchange this place for any of their tiny principalities!" His grin had broadened in obvious delight. "Anyway, Calmo still has to get over that attitude. Not towards me, because I'm his father, but certainly towards you. It's worse because he knows you from home, I suppose. I've told him before that we're all brothers here, but he's had a hundred years of Atanacalmo teaching him that he's better than everyone else, so it has yet to sink in properly."
These were probably all things that my common-born ears should never have been told, but at least it was distracting me from the other things he had said, as well as the confusing events of the evening. However, I couldn't help asking, "Isn't Lord Atanacalmo a second-born son himself?"
"He is! But he managed to secure his place at the top, you see. So he's going to perpetrate that story just as much as the others." He yawned in a demonstrative manner. "Enough politics for tonight! An old man needs his sleep. It'll be a long day tomorrow - but a good one, I should hope!"

 

It was indeed a long day, and a busy one, too. By the time I accompanied Lord Laurilyo and his friends down to the arena that Master Belzimir and his workers had erected for the tournaments, the ranks were already bustling with Umbarian spectators, and more were still waiting outside to be let in, queueing around the timberwork building and between the tents that had been pitched for the athletes and the bookkeepers and so on. For us, that was no concern, since two tiers were reserved for us - that is, the community - so we hadn't been in any hurry to make ready and walk down the hill, however.
"Have you registered your fighter already?" Lord Laurilyo asked, and when I said that I hadn't, he looked scandalised. "You're going to be lucky if you can still get him in now! They're going to close registration any moment, if they haven't already!"
"What about yours?" I asked, since I was certain that Laurilyo had slept easily as long as I had, or longer - he had certainly partied a lot longer - and hadn't dropped into town first thing in the morning, either.
"Oh, I let my agent deal with that. That's the smartest thing to do, unless you care for getting up really early!"
"I didn't know that," I confessed.
"Well, let's hurry - they might allow you to register him late, since you're one of us, but we still have to catch someone at the office. I hope he's already in the wrestler's tent so we can find him quickly."

Of course, I needn't have worried. Urdad had taken care of everything. We met him as we rushed into the tent that functioned as waiting area for the athletes, where he stood out in the green tunic I'd lent to him for the holiday among all the half-naked wrestlers. He waved when he spotted me. I looked around to find Elâl, and sure enough, there he was. He looked relieved, while Elâl was stepping from foot to foot, eager to begin - or maybe nervous. Probably nervous. I certainly would have been nervous in his place. The other wrestlers all looked bulkier and more self-assured than him, although Elâl wasn't small for a man of Umbar and had looked very powerful next to my other apprentices.
"I hope you do not mind that I went ahead without your leave, sir," Urdad said urgently when we'd reached him and he explained that he'd already signed Elâl up and paid the registration fee. "We did not dare to wait too long because they were going to close the office soon."
"You did well," I said, embarrassed yet again - and annoyed by my embarrassment. I'd had no way of knowing that you had to register athletes in this manner, let alone that you had to do it by a certain time, since nobody had told me and I could barely be expected to know about the rules of a festival I was attending for the first time. But I suppose I should have asked if there was anything I needed to know.
"Is there anything else I should take care of?" I asked now.
"No, Master, it's all done. Unless you wish to place a bet on Elâl." He hesitated. "Or anyone else, of course."

"You could place a bet on my wrestler," Lord Laurilyo suggested, pointing at a mountain of a man who looked like he could crush Elâl's skull in his armpit.
Urdad's eyes followed his pointing finger and said, "Kûrid is very good, yes. Although the favourite is Isliyûn." He lowered his head quickly, as if he had spoken out of turn.
"Who's Isliyûn?" Lord Laurilyo asked. Peering up but still keeping his head and back bowed, Urdad pointed out another wrestler (somewhat slighter than Kurîd, but still very imposing in his own right) who had a whole lot of cords wound around his waist and his bulging upper arms. These were the tokens of the sponsors and of the people who had bet on his success (that much, at least, I knew, because I had given one of the green ribbons we'd used on my household's livery to Elâl to wear in token of my support. The thin band of green was the only such token he had, while most of the other wrestlers had several ribbons and cords on them).

Lord Laurilyo nodded. "I'll put some money on him, then, just in case," he said, pulling a silver coin and a silver cord from his pouch. "What about you, Azruhâr? Oh, I forgot - you're not a betting person."
"I'm not a betting person," I agreed. "But I'll put some money on Elâl, for loyalty's sake."
He laughed at that. "Loyalty has nothing to do with it! Besides, he owes you loyalty, not the other way round."
"I'm fairly sure that loyalty should go both ways," I countered. And I bet a little more money on Elâl than I had meant to, although the odds weren't favourable.
"Are you certain, sir?" the clerk duly asked. "It is generally thought that Elâl is not likely to make it beyond the first round." In this manner, I learned that there were three rounds to the tournament, one to sort out the weakest contestants, one to determine the strongest four, and a final one to find the best of those. Bets could be placed either on contestants reaching a certain round, or on them winning the tournament entirely, and although the consensus was that Elâl was not going to reach even the second round, I put my money on him reaching the final round at least. I really wasn't as responsible as Lord Laurilyo kept saying.
He put a whole Crown on the victory of Isliyûn, and additionally bet on various other contestants that had caught his fancy or that he had heard good things about. Well, he could afford it, of course.

Lord Laurilyo also bought some snacks from the vendors that stood around the tents and at the entrances to the arena, and then we went to find his (our?) friends in the ranks, where they had managed to reserve some of the last seats for us. The benches were already full of people, and the wooden tiers swung and reverberated under the feet of the many people walking around to find their acquaintances or simply a place to squeeze in. It was a feeling a bit like being aboard a ship, which I didn't like much. I tried to tell myself that there was probably no safer place than next to Master Belzimir, who had after all planned and overseen the building of the whole thing and would be the first to notice when something was wrong, and also that I was still fairly comfortable. Further up, in the tiers where the Umbari sat, things were even more crowded, and in the uppermost tier, there weren't even benches on which to sit. People who hadn't managed to be let onto the ranks filled up the gap between the arena and the audience, and probably would've flooded the arena as well, if guards hadn't ringed the perimeter to keep them back.

Although there couldn't possibly be any more audience members be let in, it still took at least an hour until the festival proper began. It began with the blowing of trumpets, and speeches delivered by Lord Roitaheru (looking very nearly as impressive as the King had at the coronation but rather more colourful, with robes in a stunning pattern of purple and gold and black and plenty of gold jewellery and long artificial braids in his short hair) and Darîm (also very beautifully decked out, but somewhat more modes than Lord Roitaheru). A prayer to Vána was offered by young Umbarian ladies, barefoot and dressed in gowns the colour of ripe wheat, whreathed in bright flowers. Lord Laurilyo said that one of them was Darîm's daughter, but I couldn't recognise any of them. By now, the sun was high in the sky, and it was beginning to get hot.

Then the trumpets were sounded again, and the competitions began. It was a confusing spectacle, made even more confusing because on top of the goings-on in the arena, people in the audience (including all the dignified men of Yôzayân, it must be said!) hollered their support or their contempt for the athletes, and stamped their feet and clapped their hands and sang songs that were apparently known to a great number of other people, who joined in. If the timberwork construction that held the audience had initially swayed gently like a ship moored in a harbour, it was now properly shaking and groaning as if caught in a storm, and I kept glancing at Master Belzimir to make sure that he was still looking relaxed. Well, not relaxed, because he was watching the proceedings avidly, cheering and booing and applauding and otherwise reacting to them - but at any rate, he did not look like a man who was worried about his construction tumbling down around him.

It took a good while until Elâl and the other wrestlers entered the arena. There were various races first, and long jumping and pole vaulting and acrobatics, and then at last it was time for the wrestling matches. So far, I had watched the competition with admiration but no particular investment, but now I could no longer escape the fervour that had already gripped the other spectators. I didn't yell and beat my fists upon the wooden balustrade as some of them did, but I certainly couldn't help grimacing and clenching my fists when Elâl was struggling, and clapping my hands in true relief rather than just polite appreciation when he was doing well.
He was doing well more often than not, fortunately. He was wearing a few more ribbons now, which suggested that he'd acquired some additional supporters at the last minute, and he deserved them. He might not be the most impressive fighter in terms of physique, but he was quick and cunning.

Even Lord Laurilyo acknowledged that he was good, after Elâl had won his third match in a row. "Of course, he used to train with Kûrid back in the day, which has given him an edge," he observed. "I've heard it said that he'd lost the edge, due to his imprisonment, but he seems to have found it again."
"I didn't know you knew Elâl," I said.
"'Know' is saying too much. I know of him. This isn't his first time here, although he's been missing for a while, obviously. I didn't know he was one of the people you'd snuck out of prison. Not a bad choice, all things considered."
"I didn't sneak anyone out!"
"It was a joke! Relax, man, I'm not actually accusing you of a crime.You need to - Oh, look at that!" he cried out, distracted from our converastion when Elâl managed to trip his most recent opponent over the edge of his foot, sending him flying into the sawdust and holding him down relentlessly until the match was declared in Elâl's favour. "Well done!"
He applauded generously, and I couldn't help feeling a little proud on Elâl's behalf. I did not bother to ask what I needed to do, in his opinion.

Of course, Elâl wasn't the only wrestler doing well down in the arena. Lord Laurilyo's fighter Kûrid certainly was a force to be reckoned with, and so was Isliyûn, whom Urdad had identified as the favourite. There were several other men you wouldn't want to get into an argument with, too. At this point, all of the wrestlers had bruises and abrasions, and one man had forfeited the rest of the tournament after Kûrid had twisted his arm behind his back until (in my layman's opinion) it popped right out of its socket, which was apparently perfectly within the rules of the tournament. And then Kûrid pretty much crushed his next opponent - he simply ran him over and threw himself onto his chest, and I was certain that I heard the crunching of bones even over the deafening din the audience made. The poor man couldn't rise by himself even after the match was over (in fact, he was unconscious, and didn't wake when he was carried from the ring and to the side by the guards), and there was a sudden hush before the next contestants - the formidable Isliyûn, and a man whose name I hadn't quite caught - entered the ring.

"It's Kûrid against Elâl, after that," said Lord Laurilyo, matter-of-factly. "That should be interesting."
In spite of the heat and the close quarters, I felt as though I'd swallowed a lump of ice. Instead of focussing on the ring, my eyes kept straying to the side, where a healer had been brought in to take care of Kûrid's last opponent. The poor fellow was still lying motionless and showed no sign of waking. Suddenly, I wondered what I'd do if something like that happened to Elâl. I remembered that he had mentioned family, when I'd first given them a day off. They were probably watching somewhere among the other Umbari, and I didn't like the thought of having to justify that I'd let their son, or brother, or father, compete in this dangerous tournament, where injuries - even severe and debilitating injuries - were treated as a matter of course.

Isliyûn won after a drawn-out match, to great acclaim, and shook his beaten (but conscious and hale) opponent's hand. Kûrid stepped up, rolling his imposing shoulders, and so did Elâl, his chin raised a little in a display of stubborn bravado. And as if the entirety of the crowd was just as invested in this match as I was, the noise stopped.
It seemed that the opponents were both wary of each other, for at first, they were evasive, making half-hearted attempts at gripping the other but drawing back as soon as the other reacted. Their caution was punished with boos and whistles from the audience, who had clearly expected an entertaining fight instead of two men circling each other, doing their best to stay out of each other's reach.

"They can't go on like that," Lord Laurilyo said, sounding dissatisfied. "If one of them doesn't make a move soon, they'll be penalised."
While I understood the impatience, I was still annoyed. "Oh, so it's not against the rules to break someone's ribs or dislocate his arm, but being cautious will be penalised?"
Master Belzimir turned to give me a bemused look. "It's wrestling. What did you expect?"
In that moment, Kûrid lunged forward and grabbed Elâl's wrist, and a roar went through the audience. At the same time, Elâl made a quick turn right into Kûrid's lunge so they both faced in the same direction. He bowed forwards and bent his knees.
And Kûrid stumbled over him.

Kûrid turned a sort of cartwheel on the spot, except that he hadn't planned on it and couldn't steady himself, and he crashed into the ground like a falling rock. The crowd exploded into wild cheers (on the side of Elâl's supporters) or furious curses (on the side of Kûrid's supporters). Elâl immediately moved in to hold Kûrid down, but the powerful wrestler wasn't as dazed as one would expect after such a fall, and he twisted out and dragged Elâl down beside him and very nearly managed to heave himself onto his back in turn. Elâl just barely managed to jump to his feet and stumble back out of reach.
"He's good," Lord Laurilyo said admiringly. I wasn't certain who of the two he was talking about, and I didn't want to ask. I had barely understood him, anyway, for the noise in the audience was now once more deafening.

Again, the opponents circled each other, but this time, Kûrid managed to grasp Elâl's upper arms at the second attempt, and after that held him at arm's length distance with pure strength. For a moment, it looked as though the two were locked in a violent dance. Then Kûrid hooked his arms around Elâl's shoulders and began to bend him down, inexorably. Elâl was struggling to stay upright, but he couldn't hope to match Kûrid's force. His head was bent at an awkward angle (I was beginning to fear for his neck), too, and he must have injured himself during their scuffle on the ground, for he was limping slightly, favouring his left leg so that his attempts at getting himself out of Kûrid's downwards shove were hampered further.

Kûrid had noticed the limp, and of course he immediately used it to his advantage. He leaned even more heavily onto Elâl, lowering his own left shoulder to increase the weight on Elâl's injured right leg while Elâl tried to relieve the pressure on it. He was still straining against Kûrid's superior strength, but it was clear that he must be crushed any minute. I had my fists so tightly clenched that the fingernails cut into my palms.
Suddenly, Lord Laurilyo whistled between his teeth. "It's a ruse," he muttered, "don't fall for it, you bloody fool!"

I couldn't say what had made him suspect that Elâl's limp was a ruse, and Kûrid certainly had no such concerns, still bending Elâl onto his right leg. And then Elâl stopped resisting the pressure. He simply sat down, turning out of Kûrid's brutal grasp and stretching his right leg to steady himself as a he sat and pulling the unbalanced giant down. This time, he took no chances: he slung his legs around Kûrid's throat and hooked them into each other while he held Kûrid's head and chest and shoulders down with his entire body. Kûrid struggled against the chokehold, but Elâl was merciless now, and at the last the judge began counting down from seven, and the audience was taking up the countdown, and although Kûrid bucked like a wild horse, he couldn't shake Elâl off.
And like that, the match ended.

I cheered then. I completely forgot that Lord Laurilyo had sponsored Elâl's beaten opponent and that I did not want to offend. I jumped to my feet, raised my arms, and yelled out in triumph as though I was in any way responsible for Elâl's victory, aside from allowing him to take part in the first place. I didn't even think about Lord Laurilyo and how he must be feeling until he pulled me into an embrace and slapped my back and shouted "Well done! Very well done!" He had to shout because the entire crowd was shouting. Elâl and Kûrid shook hands - both looking as if they couldn't quite believe what happened - and the next two wrestlers stepped up.

Lord Laurilyo managed to pull me back into my seat before I could shout myself hoarse. "What a fight, eh? He's a clever one, your Elâl. What a victory." It was then that I remembered that Kûrid had been his athlete.
"I'm sorry he beat your fighter," I managed to say.
"It's all in good spirit!" Lord Laurilyo assured me cheerfully, as he'd said on our ride to the beach. "It's just a sport. He lost deservedly. And I didn't put all my eggs in one basket, so it's not a big deal." He slapped my back again. "I'm happy for you, really!"
Mistress Tôdaphêl leaned over to say, "You could have told us that he's that good, though. Then we could have bet on him, too."
"I bet on him," Lord Laurilyo said with a grin. "Not a whole lot, but with the odds we were given, it'll pay off nicely."

By defeating Kûrid, Elâl had made it into the final four (which meant that my bet, too, would pay off), but he lost the match against Isliyûn, who was just as quick and somewhat stronger. Having sustained an injury in that match, he lost again against a bald wrestler called Turzi (this time, the limp was real, and after a certain amount of testing the waters, Turzi realised that, too). Isliyûn went on to take the championship (another investment that paid off for Lord Laurilyo) while Elâl had his injured knee bandaged, watching from the side with a grimace that (I hoped) stemmed rather from disappointment than from pain.

The wrestling was followed by boxing, and after that it was time for (as Lord Laurilyo said) the true highlight of the tournament. It was called the Jâgan and turned out to be a fast, terrifying Umbarian sport played on light and agile two-wheeled chariots, steered by a charioteer at break-neck speed while the actual player stood on the narrow platform of the chariot with his mallet. The purpose of the game was (as far as I could discern) hitting a small leather ball through a goal at the opposite end of the field while at the same time avoiding to fall off the chariot, be trampled or run over, receive a lethal blow with another mallet, or crash into the audience. Not all of the players (or charioteers for that matter) succeeded in this purpose, and more than once, the game had to be paused to carry injured participants (and spectators!) off the field, to clear away the debris of a broken chariot or replace an injured horse with a fresh one. The audience evidently loved the terrifying display, but I was relieved when it was over, and even more relieved when Lord Laurilyo explained that his uncle had forbidden all folk of Yôzayân under his rule from participating in this game, even for their own entertainment, because of how dangerous it was.

"Why isn't it forbidden altogether?" I asked, unable to tear my eyes away from a rather large bloody patch in the arena.
Lord Laurilyo shrugged. "There are things you have to tolerate in order to maintain the peace, and this festival, and the Jâgan, are among them. The people would riot if they couldn't have it. Besides, it's mighty exciting, isn't it?"
"Too exciting for my taste. How can people risk their lives like that?" I couldn't help asking.
"It's a great honour, apparently," Master Selcheneb said without sounding entirely convinced; I suspect he wasn't too fond of this game, either, although he didn't say so directly. "That makes it worth the risk. They view it as we would a battle; the glory is worth the sacrifice." (That word again!)
"You mustn't forget they're short-lived, anyway," said Master Belzimir with a shrug, "and besides, if they win, they're given riches and luxuries they couldn't otherwise dream off. All of the champions get money and prizes, of course, but the team that wins the Jâgan is rewarded above all. In the old days, under the kings of Umbar, the winners were given all the public offices, which obviously isn't done today, but they do get houses and money and servants and whatever else you could ask for. When you know what a lot of them live like, normally, that may be worth dying for."
I was about to say that I very much doubted that, but then I remembered that I had once been willing to commit a crime that could have destroyed my life in the vain hope of just a little wealth. I hadn't expected to be caught (otherwise I'd never have done it), but the risk had been there. So I suppose Master Belzimir had a point. It was a rather sobering thought.

Once the arena had been cleaned and the champions been presented once more to the cheering audience and received symbols of the prizes they would apparently be given later, once final prayers had been offered, once the spectators had begun to trickle out (but by no means away), Lord Laurilyo and I went and collected our winnings. It turned out that Lord Laurilyo had really put some money on Elâl - not a lot by his standards, but the same sum as I had - which, due to the long odds, almost covered the losses from his bet on Kûrid.
"I felt sorry for you and the lad," Lord Laurilyo explained. "So I thought I should share your misery. Or your victory. Whichever, really."
"Why the secrecy then?" I asked.
He smiled his charming smile. "I didn't want you to feel like you had to bet on one of mine in turn, for loyalty's sake."

Lord Laurilyo went to congratulate or upbraid his athletes, and I went to find Elâl. He had company, though not nearly as much as the winners of the tournament. I could see now that one of the new cords he had wrapped around his arm was indeed Lord Laurilyo's silver. I was a little annoyed that he had snuck his bet under my nose, but also a little touched. He was right; I would have felt obliged to put some money on Kûrid in return. The third cord, in bright red, apparently belonged to none other than Darîm, who was having an animated and not entirely friendly discussion with Elal. At least, I had the impression that it wasn't entirely friendly - they were speaking in the tongue of Umbar, but Darîm's words came hotly and fast, and Elâl was hanging his head in what looked like shame.

Politeness would have demanded that I wait until they had finished their conversation; sympathy made me ignore it. As far as I was concerned, Elâl had done exceptionally well today, and whatever Darîm had to reproach him for, surely it could wait.
So I interrupted them by stepping in and declaring in my most enthusiastic voice, "Elâl! Here you are. How well you fought. What a great tournament!"
Darîm made a sort of half-turn, dipping his head towards me in a polite greeting, as though the interruption was perfectly normal (perhaps it was?) and not at all rude. Elâl, meanwhile, was biting his lips, and then he knelt down in a very formal manner that perhaps was normal for an athlete before his sponsor but still made me feel uncomfortable, especially in the light of his injury. He placed his hands on the ground and bowed over them. "I apologise for failing you, Master."

"Failing me?" My surprise was genuine. "What are you talking about? You put up such a good fight, and you made it to the final four - you did so much better than everybody expected! You even managed to win against Kûrid!"
"And he could have won against Isliyûn, too, if he had not wasted his trick on Kûrid," Darîm said. Towards me, his tone was perfectly conversational, but he glared down at poor Elâl as he said it.
Elâl said nothing in his defense, but I couldn't help protesting, "Would he have won against Kûrid without his trick? I don't think so." And to Elâl, "Please, stand up. Or better yet, sit comfortably. As far as I am concerned, you have no reason to apologise, and besides, you mustn't aggravate your knee further."

Elâl hesitated, looking up with a frown first at me and then at Darîm, and didn't rise until Darîm had given him a curt nod (rather grudgingly, as I thought). "He should have held Kûrid down properly from the beginning," Darîm said sternly. "His chances to become champion may never be as good again as they were this year."
I was dumbfounded. "His chances, from what I have been told, were far from good this year! The bookkeepers told me he wasn't expected to make it past the first round."
Darîm gave a disdainful huff at that. "You knew that they were wrong, didn't you."
Elâl said mildly, "It was a trick, Master. Another trick. They were made to think that I had become weak and that I had barely practiced, so that the stronger men would underestimate me. I was away for long, and entered the list late. Next time, they will know to expect more from me."
That made sense, I suppose. "Well, alright, but you still did very well. You did only have a few weeks to practice properly. And Isliyûn is clever. I'm sure he wouldn't have underestimated you either way - not at that point in the tournament. I for my part am proud of you, although I understand that you're disappointed because perhaps you could have gone even further."

"Maybe so," said Darîm, although I hadn't spoken to him, "but-" Again he was interrupted, this time by loud wailing and gruff commanding voices and a scuffle of feet. I turned to see the guards holding back two women - one old and white-haired, and one young - and a young boy, who had the tearful faces of the newly bereaved, and who were trying to get into the tent.
"Excuse me," Darîm said, "I shall need to address this disruption." He gave a curt bow and then hurried over to the guards.
"What's going on?" I asked Elâl.
Frowning, Elâl said, "They must be the family of one of the men who were killed. But today is not a day for mourning."
"Well, I'm sure they'd prefer not to be mourning! But the loss is just as painful today as it would be on any other day - more so, when everybody else is celebrating, I'm sure!"
"Of course," Elâl agreed. "But it has to be kept private until the celebrations are over."
"So they should - what? Go home so they don't... disrupt?"
"No, Master, they must celebrate with the others and mourn tomorrow. It is bad luck not to take part in the festival. Only slaves and prisoners do not celebrate. And the dead. People who do not celebrate can become one of the three, in the year ahead."
"Oh," I said, as if that made any more sense. "And that's how everybody feels?"
"Yes, Master. That is the custom."

I wondered why these people were breaking the custom - surely they must have good reason, if it was such a powerful custom - but Elâl had no idea, and I did not want to spoil the day for him (any further than Darîm already had) by making him speculate about things he clearly found upsetting. Perhaps I could ask Darîm later.
"What about your family?" I asked Elâl instead. "Do you think they watched you wrestling? They must be proud and happy, if they did." Happy that you have survived, I thought, but I didn't say so. "I hope you'll get to celebrate with them, later?"
Elâl's face brightened. "Well, yes, if you allow it! They are probably outside and waiting to see me. If you allow it, we can find them, and I can introduce them to you."

I allowed it gladly. He deserved to celebrate with his family, whatever Darîm thought about missed chances. Besides, considering how little I knew about my apprentices' families, meeting Elâl's parents and sister felt like a little step forward - even though they behaved in a ridiculously awestruck manner towards me. Elâl's mother kissed my hands repeatedly and thanked me for being so kind to her boy. I assume he'd never told her about the misunderstanding that had ended in my punching him. I must confess that I didn't have the heart to tell her, either. Although I didn't know what Elâl had told his parents about me, he'd probably wanted to put their minds at ease - parents want to know that their children are doing well, after all - and I did not want to paint him a liar, least of all on this day, when they (and he) should be allowed to be proud of his achievements. Besides, it was nice to have my attempts at being a kindly master appreciated - even if it wasn't entirely honest. So I smiled and shook their hands and, after a while, left them to their joy and celebrations while I rejoined Lord Laurilyo and their others on the way to yet another feast.