The Embalmer's Apprentice by Lyra

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Chapter 59

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Chapter 59

 

The spring festival had given me something to write home about that for once didn't require weighing my every word, so that was how I spent the afternoon, once I was back at the morgue, alone except for Nerad's family, who had returned around mid-day, and Urdad. He had made the return journey together with me, after Dârim had dragged him to the palace first thing in the morning because he'd had the audacity of negotiating for the bodies of the people killed in the tournament without apparent authorisation.
"He is authorised to negotiate on my behalf," I had told Darîm coldly. I felt simultaneously angry because Urdad wasn't trusted to do what he was evidently good at, and embarrassed that I was expected to give authorisation in the first place. That didn't feel right. If, however, I had any authority, then certainly my right-hand man could be expected to have some share of it, and exercise it as he saw fit.

Darîm relented almost at once, although of course he couldn't keep from handing out advice. "I apologise for my mistake," he said, "but it would not have happened if your accountant had some token of authorisation. But I am certain you have thought of that."
"He's wearing one of my own garments," I pointed out, because Urdad was still in the pretty green tunic I'd lent to him (and looking very well in it, too), instead of his usual livery. Granted, in theory he could have bought his own green tunic for the occasion. But I was fairly certain that Darîm should know better.
Darîm gave one of his obsequious bows. "That is a custom I am not aware of, Master Embalmer. Again, I apologise."

I was tired of the discussion already. I'd probably need to have a signet ring made for Urdad. And for myself, I suppose. Absurd. "Anyway," I said, to Urdad, "what was the outcome of your negotiations?" I felt that this was the best way of finding out what they'd been about without revealing my ignorance and the fact that Urdad had acted, if not without authorisation, then at any rate without consultation. I was certain that Urdad had acted in my best interest, but Darîm was clearly a stickler for these things. Safer to ask about the outcome, which I reasonably couldn't know yet.
"There is no outcome yet, sir," Urdad said, "as I could not finish them." He kept his face lowered humbly, so I could not see his expression. I gave Darîm a reproachful look on his behalf.

"I am certain they will be finished favourably, now that this misunderstanding has been cleared up," Darîm said smoothly. "I expect the families will appreciate the financial support."
That reminded me. "Speaking of families, what was the... disruption about, yesterday?"
Raising his eyebrows, Darîm replied, "Concerns about the compensation due to the family of one who died as a spectator, rather than as an athlete. There was some confusion as to whether or not compensation would be paid. The matter has been settled. It need not concern you, Master Embalmer."
I suppose it really didn't need to concern me, but I couldn't help thinking about it. "So compensation will be paid?" I asked, and because I knew that it was none of my business, I quickly added, "That might be relevant to the negotiations."
Darîm gave a thin-lipped smile. "Compensation will be paid," he said. "You need not take it into account."
I had to be content with that.

I accompanied Urdad to conclude the negotiations, which, perhaps due to Darîm's involvement, went more quickly (but also more uncomfortably) than the talks with Yaphâdin's descendants had gone. We had agreed to pick the bodies up tomorrow - there was no sense in going back to the morgue, and then back and forth with the cart, today - and then, since there was nothing else left to do with the city (including the palace) in a sort of after-festival stupor, we had returned to the morgue. Urdad had gone to his study to calculate the expenses of the last days and the money that would be left to us after paying for the new bodies, and I had gone to write my overdue letters home.

By dusk, the rest of the household had also returned, and we spent a fairly enjoyable evening eating the cold morsels that were the customary fare for the day after the holiday, and exchanging stories. Except for Yorzim, who was sullen as ever in spite of the free days and festivities, the other apprentices were in good cheer. Elâl was the happiest of the lot, of course. He seemed to have recovered from the disappointment and accepted praise and congratulations with obvious gratification. I was glad to see that the others also thought that he had done well - not simply because I still felt that he deserved the praise, but also because it meant that I wasn't being odd or too lax or anything of the sort. Yorzim's bad mood presumably didn't have anything to do with Elâl's performance, but rather with having to be here instead of wherever he pleased.

 

The next day, after Dârujan (to reassure the families) and Jômar (to give him something less frustrating than writing practice to do), Urdad (to hand over the money) and I (ostensibly to oversee the transactions) had returned with the cart and the new corpses, Yorzim was gone. For a walk, the other apprentices said, but as the afternoon lengthened and we had carried the bodies down into the morgue and prepared them for embalming, Yorzim still hadn't returned. Nor did he answer when we called. And when the guards searched the grounds, he was nowhere to be found. It appeared that he had snuck away, tricking the guards somehow.

My first instinct wasn't even anger; it was relief. Although I didn't have the heart to dismiss Yorzim and send him back to prison, I couldn't say that I was particularly sorry to see him gone. I knew I couldn't let him get away with it, but I decided that I could wait until tomorrow before sending a search party after him. I told my guards that I was giving him a chance to bethink himself until nightfall, and after night had fallen, it was too late to send word to the city. That evening, we dined in awkward silence, all of us. The apprentices were uneasy, and the servants confused, and the guards restless. So was I. Probably Yorzim was the only one happy, I thought grimly, because he had gotten away. With any luck, he'd have enough sense to hide somewhere where he wouldn't be found, so I wouldn't have to be the one to deal out consequences.

It turned out that he didn't, and that I was. Yorzim was caught trying to climb the second wall that night (having apparently made it through the first before the gate was closed). The watchers at the wall bound him and beat him and then dragged him back to the first wall, and the guards at the first wall gave him another beating and then dropped him on my guards, who remembered that I had told them to alert me, rather than deciding on some form of punishment themselves. They woke me (in the most polite and cautious manner), just after I had managed to fall asleep. And in this manner, I ended up having to pronounce judgement in the middle of the night. It was what I had asked for, of course, but I half regretted that I hadn't given them permission to take matters into their own hands, this once.

To make matters worse, a money-bag had been found on Yorzim. It contained - well, not a great deal of money, from my current perspective, but certainly more than Yorzim should have by rights. I was trying hard not to jump to conclusions, tired and frustrated as I was, but it was hard. It was hard not to feel personally insulted that he had still, after all my attempts to be fair to him, tried to escape - and apparently to rob me, too. I tried not to be angry that I had to be awake and intelligent and responsible at a time when I normally didn't want to do any thinking at all. Now, instead of sleeping (or resting, at the least) I had to try and understand what had compelled Yorzim to run, and where he'd tried to go, and what he'd been hoping to achieve, and where he had stolen the money.

That last question was the only one Yorzim was willing to answer. He insisted that he had not stolen the money. Rather, the other apprentices had given it to him. From the sum, that even could have worked out, but I found it hard to believe that they'd just give him the money that had caused them such confusion and fear and that they could surely use themselves.
Still, I had learned my lesson (or so I thought) and did not want to be unjust, and so I had Sidi woken as well, to let him help and intercede on Yorzim's behalf. To my surprise, Sidi confirmed at once that they had all given Yorzim their money willingly, before he even had a chance to agree on a story with Yorzim.

I had to digest that. "That means you knew that he would try to run away," I was forced to conclude.
Sidi sighed deeply and bowed low. "Yes, Master."
"And you did not try to stop him."
"We tried to reason with him, Master," Sidi said.
"But you still gave him your money."
Another heavy sigh. "Yes, Master."
"And what was Yorzim supposed to do with the money?" I asked, pacing to keep myself awake, and also to keep my thoughts from circling endlessly around the sense of betrayal. Yorzim's escape I could handle, just barely. The thought that the others had aided him, even given him money, not so much.
Sidi glanced at Yorzim, who was staring ahead grimly. "I cannot say," he said.

"Well, I cannot believe that," I replied. "Surely you wouldn't give Yorzim your money for no purpose, or for reasons unknown. You must know what it was for." Unbidden, I remembered the manager at the mithril mine, who had secretly sent some of the mine's yieldings to an enemy tribe, and I felt my fists clench. "What were you trying to buy?" I asked Yorzim. "Something to rid yourself of me, perhaps - weapons? Poison?"
"No," Yorzim said stubbornly - and nothing more.
"What then?" I asked, exasperated. "Your secrecy makes me expect the worst."
"It is nothing against you, Master, I swear it," said Sidi.
"So you do know what it is! You lied to me. Why should I believe you now?"
Sidi sighed heavily. "I did not lie, Master. I said that I cannot say. That is true. I made a promise not to say."
I was not in the mood for sophistry. "A promise to whom?"
Sidi didn't answer, but from the sideways glance he gave Yorzim, I could guess what the answer would've been.

My fists were clenched so tightly that they were beginning to tremble from the effort. "Well, I command you to tell me," I said with all the sternness I could muster. Under the circumstances, I thought it was quite a lot.
It was not enough to move Sidi. All it did was to make him exchange another glance with Yorzim, who glared daggers at him and said something in the language of Umbar, probably to the effect of Keep your mouth shut.
"I swear to you," Sidi said again, clasping his hands pleadingly, "on my life, it was urgent, or we would not have done it. And it is nothing against you."
I had to let my breath out slowly to control my anger. Apparently I had no chance of winning a conflict between Sidi's loyalty to his friend and his loyalty to me. It was certainly frustrating to be put in my place like that.

"Very well," I managed to grind out. "Then, Yorzim, you tell me - it is your story anyway."
My demand was met with stony silence and a resolute glare.
I tried to figure out what to do. The obvious solution was locking Yorzim up and dragging him back to Captain Thilior in the morning. An ugly thought reared his head, a memory of the mines, a memory of the trials at home. I could have attempted to beat the secret out of Yorzim, or Sidi, or both at once. Yorzim was already bruised from his encounter with the watch at the walls; I would not be the one to start the violence. For a moment, I considered the thought, but I was forced to acknowledge that they could indubitably endure pain for longer than I would endure subjecting them to it - and besides, that was not the sort of man I wanted to be.

I closed my eyes and forced myself to breathe evenly. The night was mild, and alive with the chirping of crickets and the rustling of the wind in the vinyards and the hooting and howling of night animals. It could have been a beautiful summer night, if not for the circumstances. I managed to unclench my fists and stretch my fingers. Who was I? Who did I want to be? Not somebody who threatened or hurt people into submission. In truth, it was ridiculous that I should even be in a position to do that. But if I had no authority without using force, then what good was that authority, anyway? I wanted to be someone like Lord Eärendur, who generally got his way without resorting to violence, whom people obeyed happily, whom they even admired, without him having to fight or threaten or subdue.

Not that it was likely that I'd ever achieve that. Still, it was time for a different approach.

"Untie him," I told the guards who had stayed with Yorzim. "Go back to your post. I'll call you when I need you again."
Hamzir gave a questioning look, but I nodded firmly, at which he gave a shrug and began, more slowly than I would've liked, to fumble with the knots. After what felt like an endless wait, he handed me the rope, saluted, and walked off. Ôyam accompanied him, turning back repeatedly as he left. They were doubting the wisdom of my choice, I could see that, but at least they did as they were told.
I tossed the rope to the side, hoping that I wouldn't need it again. Sidi had tilted his head, watching me with a mixture of concern and curiosity. Yorzim was staring ahead, his hands now in his lap. If he was grateful to have them freed, he did not show it.
I sat down on the porch next to them.

"Look," I said, ostensibly to the night air. "Yorzim, I'm sure you understand your situation. And you probably understand mine, too. I've already given you a second chance, which anyone would tell me was a mistake, and now you've gone and blown that, too. I don't even have to bother finding out why - I could just send you back to prison right away. In fact, if I don't do that, that could get me into trouble."
Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I could see a shrug, but when I turned my head to look at Yorzim, he was motionless.
Fine. Why should he care about my trouble.

"But nonetheless," I went on, "I don't want to be unjust. Sidi says that you had something urgent to do. I expect that might be true, because I know you aren't stupid and you must have been aware of the risk you took. And you went and did it anyway. And the others gave you the money to do it. It stands to reason that they wouldn't have done that if they didn't believe in the importance of whatever you were trying to do. So please. Explain to me what's so important."
Sidi said something, almost under his breath. I couldn't quite catch it, but it made Yorzim open his mouth at long last. "It makes no difference," he said, his tone hard and hopeless.
"Then you can as well tell me. It can't get worse, can it?"
Yorzim spat out. "It can get worse."
"Worse than being put back in prison?" I asked.
He shuddered again, clenching his eyes shut. "Yes, worse," he said.
"Well, if you say so," I said, because I didn't know what else to say. "But perhaps it can get better, too. Perhaps I can help. Are you being blackmailed? Do you have debts you need to pay off? Explain it to me. Please."
Silence.

It was Sidi who broke it. "Tell him," he said softly. "It is worth trying."
Yorzim replied in his language. I caught a negation, but not much more beyond that. "Can you say that again," I said, "in Adûnaic?"
Baring his teeth, Yorzim growled, "You cannot help."
More likely than not, he was right - I couldn't even help myself, after all - but nonetheless, I wanted to get to the heart of the matter. "Try me," I said.
Unexpectedly, Yorzim broke into hollow laughter. "You people of the Yôzayân think you can control everything," he said bitterly. "Know everything. Make everything like you want it. But only a fool would think that. There are many things you cannot control."

There was a sharp intake of breath from Sidi, but I couldn't even feel insulted, either on my own behalf or on that of my people. I couldn't help but laugh in my own turn because the idea was the funniest thing I'd heard in a long time. "Oh, I'm under no illusion that I can control anything," I said. "But you're right, I'm a fool. I'm a fool who is trying to make sense of you. Who is trying to help you, even, although you're doing your best to irritate me."
"I don't need help," Yorzim said stubbornly, and Sidi hissed again as if he'd been struck.
"You're a liar," I said, because if any man needed help, it was clearly Yorzim. "I'm a fool, and you're a liar. But if you don't want my help, that's your business. I will call Hamzir back now, to take you into custody, and tomorrow I'll hand the whole matter of to Captain Thilior and Darîm. Perhaps he can make sense of you. At any rate, I am through. I guess I should never have let things get this far. As for the rest of you -" I gave Sidi a grim look - "I will think of consequences."

I stood up and brushed down my nightshirt, and in this moment, Sidi threw himself at my feet and gripped my ankle. He didn't grip it hard, and the way in which he stroked my leg appeasingly with the other hand made it clear that it was not intended as an attack, but I still had to fight down the urge to kick him off. "Please, Master, have patience," Sidi said, staring up at me with wide eyes, as if I hadn't tried my damned best to be patient this past hour. It was that, I think, that made my patience run out for good.
"I am trying to have patience!" I snapped, yanking my foot free. "Tears of Nienna, I really am trying. But there's no point - surely you'll agree that there's no point. Yorzim won't talk, and neither will you."

Yorzim was hugging his chest, staring into the darkness, and it was clear that he wasn't going to either answer or ask for mercy himself. He appeared to have resigned himself to the end of his apprenticeship (which I suppose he counted no great loss) and the end of his freedom (which he didn't particularly seem to care about, either).
Sidi was breathing hard, his hands still stretched out pleadingly, although he did not touch me again. He said something in the tongue of Umbar in a low, urgent whisper.
Yorzim shook his head violently.
But Sidi apparently felt that Yorzim did need help. Perhaps he even believed that I'd be willing to give it, or if I couldn't, that at the very least it wouldn't do further harm.
And at last Sidi broke his promise and his silence. "The money was meant for a midwife," he said, sounding every bit as exhausted as I was feeling. "Yorzim's daughter is having a child."