The Embalmer's Apprentice by Lyra

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Chapter 62

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Chapter 62

 

The return of the army meant that there was to be an extraordinary council meeting. I briefly entertained the thought of skipping it in order to keep up with my work, but that was quickly squashed by a special summons to join the preliminary meeting of Lord Herucalmo and his generals. I had not taken his assertion that I must attend the analysis of the battle particularly serious – there was absolutely no reason why I should, since I hadn't been there and would have nothing to contribute to the analysis – and I had been certain that it had been made in the enthusiasm of the moment, without any real intent. But either Lord Herucalmo had meant it even then, or he remembered it now and did not want to go back on it. Either way, it meant that I had to leave work alone even longer, and though I left detailed instructions for my apprentices, I had the unpleasant feeling that my absence would cause trouble.

Accordingly, I was not in the best mood even when I arrived at the palace, where I was led to Lord Herucalmo's suite of rooms. There they had set up a sort of miniature council circle of chairs around a low table, which held lists and two maps – one that looked fairly old and had been made by an expert scribe, and one that looked new and had evidently been made by less experienced hands under less than ideal circumstances, the lines on it irregular and sometimes crossed out or replaced in a different colour of ink, with geometrical figures and arrows and other scribbles added to the landscape that (I was told) represented plans of strategy and the movement of troups.

The purpose of this meeting apparently was to learn from the campaign – tactics that had been successful, and those that had been less successful but salvaged through the bravery of some or the sacrifice of the few or sheer luck, and those that had been downright disastrous – but above all to present a unified story about it to the council, which had to ratify the whole thing in order to justify the material cost as well as the deaths to the King and the Royal Council at home and also, presumably, to the bereaved families. Nearly everybody present had some sort of military function. The only exception I noticed right away was Lord Roitaheru's librarian – not the Umbarian servants who manned the library, but the actual scholar – who presumably had to record the events for posterity and for his lord, who had no time to attend. The librarian's presence made sense, but I did not see why I had to be there, until Captain Gohenor said that it was customary to have a couple of observers, to serve as a test audience. He pointed out the librarian, and a master craftsman named Sakalzîr whom I hadn't spotted earlier, who were also here to listen and ask about anything that might be obvious to the military men but puzzling to civilians. It was an honour to be among them, as a sort of representative of the full council.

It was an honour that I hadn't asked for. Nor had I asked for the gory details of battle. In front of the army and the Umbari, Lord Herucalmo had said that battle had been "gruesome and glorious", but from what I heard at that meeting, the gruesome part certainly predominated. At first, they had surprised the Tash-naga at the settlement they found, overwhelming them easily and taking many prisoners. But most of the tribe had actually been further inside the desert – hiding and biding their time, Lord Herucalmo said – and they had attacked fiercely and repeatedly once the army had set up camp. Despite their primitive weapons and weak armour, they had been able to kill several of our soldiers and, after the third or fourth strike, to release about half of the prisoners and disappear deeper into the desert. "They made perfect use of the shifting sands and treacherous climate," Lord Herucalmo said. An advance party that had been sent to follow the retreating Tash-naga and find their true hiding place had been found a couple days later – not even killed in battle, by the spears or the clay projectiles that the Tash-naga could lob from their slings with terrible accuracy, but simply because they had died of thirst. That explained why some of the bodies in my keeping had no visible injuries, I suppose.

At this point, I felt that I needed to ask a question, which was, "You say the Tash-naga had only primitive weapons and armour. So they didn't use the stolen mithril to buy better weapons?"
Lord Herucalmo's brow creased in displeasure. He had been brusque towards me all morning; he had insisted that I sit close to his place so I could see the maps properly, and then very deliberately turned away from me as if I had a bad smell about me. (I had not.) Now he was apparently annoyed that I had interrupted his tale. "I'll get to that later," he said, setting his lips in a thin line.
I nodded and tried to look contrite, although I wasn't even certain what I had done wrong.

After the death of the advance party, the captains had grown more cautious. They had also figured that the Tash-naga were trying to cut them off from easy access to water and other provisions by luring them deeper into the desert, and had stopped their advance. Deciding to use the remaining prisoners as bait and copying the Tash-naga's practice of showing only part of their strength and keeping the rest back to attack in waves once the bait had been taken, they had succeeded in using their superior numbers to let the enemies exhaust themselves. I shuddered at the thought. I knew that the Tash-naga had been hostile and stolen – apparently – our mithril, for whatever purpose, but I couldn't help imagining the distress of the prisoners, tied to stakes in the desert, knowing that they would either die under the hot sun, if their people recognised the trap for what it was, or be responsible for the death of their rescuers, if they didn't.
After that, Lord Roitaheru and his generals had been able to use some of the prisoners, by then thoroughly beaten, to guide them to where the last of the tribe were hiding, where they had captured the chieftain and his family and eradicated the Tash-naga threat for good.

I had to open my mouth again. "And by eradicated you mean – "
"Rooted out," Captain Gohenor explained helpfully before Lord Herucalmo could become cross.
"What, all of them?" I heard myself ask.
"All who raised arms against us, and those who got in the way," Lord Herucalmo said with an impatient wave of his hand. "Except for some prisoners that we need to testify before the council, like their sorry chieftain. Some of the non-combatants escaped – women and children, mostly – and we let them go, since they posed no more threat."
"How did you know that this was their true hiding place, and that more warriors were not hiding elsewhere?" asked Master Sakalzîr.
"Aside from the word of the prisoners, you mean?" Lord Herucalmo asked, and when the master craftsman nodded, he explained, "Because it was where their cattle herds were. The Tash-naga put great stock in their cattle, you see. Where they keep their herds, they keep their greatest numbers."

The librarian was taking notes. "How many did the enemy number, would you say?"
"Hard to say, due to the repeated waves of attacks," Lord Herucalmo said matter-of-factly. "But I would estimate that they numbered around two thousand, all in all." He looked at his captains, who nodded their heads, except for one who suggested, "Two and a half, perhaps."
"Two and a half thousand warriors?" That was me.
Lord Herucalmo rolled his eyes, as though the question was particularly stupid. "Two and a half thousand people, all in all."
I tried to picture a crowd of two and a half thousand people, all in all, and came to the conclusion that the army that had passed by the morgue a few days ago had been larger.
"That doesn't sound like a very serious threat," I thought out loud, earning myself a lot of raised eyebrows and a warning huff from Lord Roitaheru.
"Tell that to the dead!" said Captain Gohenor.
And I couldn't keep my mouth shut. "Well, I'm sure there are more dead on the other side. And to be fair, you attacked first."
The room fell very silent, and I knew that I had made a mistake before I even felt the sting of Lord Herucalmo's hand on my face.
I shouldn't have been shocked; I certainly shouldn't have been surprised. But I was. Not because of the pain, which was negligible, but because I had felt – too safe, I suppose. To be shown otherwise was, literally and figuratively, a slap in the face.

I didn't have a lot of time to evaluate my feelings, however, because the strangest thing happened after that slap in the face. As one man, the entire room turned – not on me, but on Lord Herucalmo. "What on –" one of the officers said, and "I must protest!" said the librarian, and even Captain Gohenor spoke up, "My lord! That is wholly inappropriate!"
Lord Herucalmo defended himself, "Innappropriate? Did you not hear what he said? I will not be accused of having begun the hostilities as though there had been no danger!"
Captain Gohenor took a deep breath. "My lord, if this is to be a test of how the matter is to be taken before the council, then the embalmer's questions, though vexing, are useful. You cannot expect civilians to understand the necessities of war! And you cannot hit every man who says something that displeases you!"

I was certain Lord Herucalmo wouldn't have dreamt of hitting any man who said something that displeased him. I was an exception. It was funny that Captain Gohenor, or the librarian, or the other officers present, did not understand that. They seemed to think that what had happened to me could happen to anyone, even an upstanding craftsman like Master Sakalzîr, or a scholar, like the librarian. I nearly laughed at the thought.
"Do not trouble yourselves, sirs," I heard myself say, grimly. "I'm perfectly used to that sort of thing from my betters."
Captain Gohenor retorted, with unexpected fervour, "And what sort of better would that be, that strikes his fellow man over a mere difference of opinion?"
My mouth fell open. As far as I was concerned, betters did that all the time, and Captain Gohenor of all people had no reason to defend me.
"Shut your mouth, you look like an idiot," Lord Herucalmo snarled at me, and Captain Gohenor protested again, "My lord!"
"Do I have to let an idiot insult the great sacrifices we have made?" Lord Herucalmo huffed, as though it had been me and not Captain Gohenor who'd called his superiority into question.
The others looked away as though embarrassed, in the manner that you look away when parents try to placate a child upset by some trifle.

The librarian eventually broke the awkward silence. "Perhaps we can come back to the matter at hand…? I expect that we do not have all the facts yet?"
"Indeed not," Lord Herucalmo said, glaring daggers at me. "The desert people were in league with Mordor."
There was a shudder from some of the officers, although they must already have known, and a gasp from the librarian and a cry of surprise from Master Sakalzîr. Me, I felt a cold shiver run down my spine. Mordor, that wasn't a place that you expected to come up in conversation about the present. It was a place that belonged safely in the past, in plays or stories.
I also felt somewhat resentful. If I had known from the beginning that the desert people were allied with Mordor, I wouldn't have made a fool of myself.
"Why didn't you say so from the start?" I said, rubbing my cheek in embarrassment. "Then I certainly wouldn't have questioned the need for battle."
"A wiser man would have waited until he knew," he snapped.
"How could I know what I didn't know?"
Captain Gohenor held up his hand, a weary expression on his face. "Tomorrow, we will begin with this crucial bit of information." He gave me a look that bordered on pity, and raised his brow in Lord Herucalmo's direction.

"Do we know what form that alliance took?" The Librarian was speaking cautiously, without looking up from his wax tablet, as though afraid that his own question would also be taken amiss. Ridiculous.
"We do," Lord Herucalmo said, in a perfectly civil tone. "The desert people have been stealing goods and precious mithril from us and sending it to the Dark Tower, increasing its strength."
My embarrassment was turning into annoyance. If he had simply answered my question about the stolen mithril earlier, he could've spared me the humiliation. I'm sure he would have answered it if the librarian had asked, because – whatever Captain Gohenor said – he didn't find my questions useful. Other people's questions were perfectly fine.

I know I should have continued to listen (even if I had no intention of speaking again), but as Lord Herucalmo began to recount how the whole plot had been uncovered by that one visit to the mines, my thoughts drifted off. Or rather, they revolved around my hurt, which wasn't assuaged by the fact that the physical pain as such was very little. It shouldn't even have bothered me, but it did. I knew that it was my own fault; I should have heeded the warnings and kept my thoughts to myself. But I had made the mistake of putting Lord Herucalmo on the list of people – well, not exactly people whom I trusted, but at any rate people whom I didn't expect to mean me harm. Now I understood that he had played with me, but evidently he had tired of the game, and I was steaming in frustration. I also thought of how much work I could have gotten done today if I hadn't been forced to attend this stupid meeting, and to what purpose?

"That should be all for today," Captain Gohenor said, "unless there are further questions. Master Azruhâr?"
I flinched. "No, thank you," I said, hoping that he hadn't noticed that I'd stopped paying attention a while back.
"Master Sakalzîr?" he went on. Perhaps he hadn't noticed and was just being polite.
The craftsman shook his head. Unless I had missed any major contributions of his in the past hour or so, he had pretty much just listened. Probably the thought of civilian observer that Lord Herucalmo wanted, I thought.
"Master Librarian?"
The librarian thought, and then asked, "Do you intend to make battle on the other desert tribes, or Mordor itself?"
Horrified looks all around, but Lord Herucalmo remained calm. "That is for the council to decide, and the King to command. I am ready to do my duty, of course, should it be necessary."
His curiosity (or concern) satisfied, the librarian bowed. "No further questions."
Captain Gohenor nodded towards Lord Herucalmo. "In that case, my lord…?"
"Yes. In that case, we have finished for today. Thank you for your attendance; you may go."
I heaved a sigh of relief, but it was short-lived. "Not you," Lord Herucalmo said when I got up along with the others, his eyes narrowed. "You stay. I haven't finished with you."

Captain Gohenor, who had begun to gather his maps and lists, paused. Some of the other officers, too, stopped on their way towards the door, turning back. I spotted the occasional frown.
"In that case, I will also wait," Captain Gohenor said.
Lord Herucalmo didn't like that. "That will not be necessary," he said. "Enjoy the rest of the afternoon; I've kept you from home long enough."
"If you wish to apologise, you may as well do it in front of us," Captain Gohenor said firmly, raising his chin a little, "and if you don't, I believe it would be better if the embalmer leaves with the rest of us."
His concern was touching, I suppose, useless though it was. I wondered whether perhaps I should simply disobey Lord Herucalmo and go with the military men, as Captain Gohenor had suggested. But then Lord Herucalmo said, "No. Leave us alone." After a short pause, he added, "That's an order."
 

Captain Gohenor pursed his lips. "Very well, my lord," he said, "but I will inform the governor of this."
The threat didn't impress Lord Herucalmo at all. "Do what you must," he said dismissively, "as long as you go." He made sure that all stragglers were safely on their way down the corridor before he pulled the door shut, very decisively, behind him.
I had stayed where I had risen. Frustration and resignation were struggling inside of me. Both urged me to attack – one because I had put up with enough, and the other because nothing mattered anyway – and I just barely managed to compromise by giving Lord Herucalmo the coldest, weariest look that I dared.
As soon as our eyes met, he started cursing. "Shit. Shit shit shit." He strode over, and I drew my shoulders up and braced myself. He stopped, did an awkward half-turn, paused and gave me another look. "Shit. Damn it all. I'm such an idiot."

I felt my eyes widen at that. Courtesy demanded that I disagree, but I could not in all honesty bring myself to do that. So I said nothing, watching him pace instead. After some indecisive circling, he marched over to the washstand. He took a cloth, soaked it in some water from the silver pitcher, wrung it out, then came back towards me. I took a step back on instinct, but I was waylaid by the armchair behind me, so all I achieved was to sit down heavily and involuntarily in the cushioned chair. In the event, this turned out not to be a problem, because all Lord Herucalmo did was press the wet washcloth to my face with strange urgency, still cursing. "Damn. I'm so sorry."

I probably should have been gratified that at long last someone felt bad for hitting me. But the thing was, I knew that it was ridiculous to raise such a fuss over such a minor hurt. I could see the reasoning behind it, even, and from his father or most of the other lords it would not have stung so badly. What hurt was the shame of being the only man in a room full of people who was treated like that, by somebody I hadn't quite, but very nearly, come to consider trustworthy.
"I've had worse," I said, angry against better wisdom, and Lord Herucalmo clenched his eyes shut in a fairly believable display of dismay. "I know, but I shouldn't have added to it."
"No," I couldn't help agreeing. "You shouldn't have."
There was an awkward pause. He was squatting in front of me, balanced on the balls of his feet, pressing the cold towel against my cheek. I tried to release the tension from my muscles, which were still clenched tight, ready for a fight. He withdrew his hand. The towel slipped down into my lap, because I hadn't moved in to hold it. It served no purpose, anyway. The whole situation was absurd.

"Hit me back," Lord Herucalmo said, making it even more absurd.
I stared at him. "And what good would that do?" I said, brushing the wet cloth off my thigh.
His brows drew a little closer together. "Satisfaction?" he said, and when I continued to stare, he suggested, "A sense of justice?"
I gave a snort. "Right. Because hitting you back in secret is absolutely the same thing as hitting me in front of all those people."
There was the tiniest twitch of his lip. "You want to hit me in public?" The thought seemed to amuse him, but I didn't find it funny.
"I don't want to hit you at all. I don't want anyone to get hit. I don't want to get hit in the first place, that's the point."
A heavy sigh. "I know. I know." His head lowered as if in shame. "I didn't mean to. I just – it makes me so angry when you talk like I'm a monster. So my hand slipped."
"Well, I can tell you that you won't change my mind by hitting me," I said, because I was at the end of my patience.

One of his hands passed over his face and brushed the hair back from his forehead. "I know," he said again.
"Besides," I pointed out, because perhaps he needed the reminder, "it doesn't even matter what I think of you."
Now he looked up again. "Of course it matters!"
"Well, it shouldn't. I'm not going to brook rebellion or anything of the sort. Good grief, I even defended you when your cousin spoke ill of you, idiot that I am."
Unexpectedly, he broke into a surprised smile that looked far too delighted for such a trifle. "You did?"
"Yes." Belatedly, I realised that I might be getting Lord Laurilyo into trouble, so I amended, "For what it's worth. He was just joking, of course. The point is, why does it matter so much?"
"Because I love you, of course," he said, and now I could not stop myself from laughing.
"No, you don't."

The expression on his face was almost one of loss. "You – don't you remember the day before I left, in the baths?"
Immediately, my face grew burning hot. "I am trying very hard not to remember. Some things are better forgotten, Lord."
The frown deepened. "But I don't want you to forget," he said in a plaintive tone. "If you recall nothing else, at least remember that."
I folded my arms across my chest, both to reassure myself and to create a barrier between him and myself. "You must be joking. You cannot kiss me one day and hit me another, and then expect me to look back fondly on the kisses."
That seemed to amuse him again; his brow evened, and his lips twitched. "I would infinitely prefer to kiss you every day, I assure you."
"But I rejected you, so you strike me instead," I finished for him.
"No! That's not what it's about!" He heaved himself out of his awkward crouching position and sat down next to me, touching my cheek ever so tenderly. I turned away.
"Look," Lord Herucalmo said pleadingly, "It's – it's complicated. But please, don't think I meant to hurt you."
The evidence was rather against him, I felt, but I managed not to point that out. "Very well, my lord. You did not mean to hurt me. Your hand slipped. May I go now?"
Once more, he clenched his eyes shut as if overwhelmed by distress. "Please, let me explain."
I shrugged. It wasn't as though I would have dared to walk out on him without permission, or I would have done that much sooner. But I couldn't say that I cared for an explanation.

"The thing is," he said, "I really shouldn't be seen being too – friendly with you…" he trailed off, as if uncertain how to continue.
"Then perhaps it would have been better not to embrace me in full view of your army as though we were lovers," I said flatly.
"Yes, that was foolish," he agreed, "but the way you looked up at me, so joyful, as though you were happy to see me – I could not hold back." The mere memory made his face soften. "You unman me, Azruhâr."
This was getting more and more ridiculous. "I'm doing nothing of the sort," I said.
"I'm not saying that you're doing it on purpose! But it happens. I see you and I cannot resist you. Even now, I see your sweet face and I want to cover it in kisses, although I know that you're angry – and you have every right to be! But I wish it were otherwise." He sighed. "I wish we could at least be friends – openly, I mean. But the King would hear about it, and -"
"That would put an end to your prospects of marrying the princess," I finished the sentence for him. "Assuming you still intend to marry her, since you're so very unmanned by me and all."
I was skirting on the edge of another slap, but I couldn't keep myself in check; all this nonsense was wearing down what little self-control I had left.

"Of course I intend to marry her," he said, frowning. "I love her, too, and besides, we couldn't marry even if you'd have me, could we? But I still cannot disregard my feelings. This isn't about me or my prospects. This is about you. I'm trying to protect you."
"That's a new one," I said. "I thought you weren't here to babysit me."
His lips thinned, briefly. "I did not say babysit. I said protect."
"You said babysit, or rather, not babysit, back on the ship," I said, wearily, "but never mind. There must be a better way of protecting me than – than humiliating me in front of all these people, and then telling me that it's out of love, of all things." Once more, heat was blossoming on my cheeks.
"If only you would let me explain! I do love you, in my heart. I wish you would see that." He took a deep breath. "At the same time, I must appear to be your enemy. If Uncle Alcarmaitë hears that you are well-respected here – and don't you doubt that he's getting reports on how you are doing – how do you think he'll react? He won't just be satisfied with having sent you into exile anymore. He wants to know you're miserable, or he'll come up with ways to make you so. You are doing well here, and that is good, but we must make sure that the reports don't show it so much."
We, I thought. As if there was an us.
"I messed up the other day," he went on. "You were looking so lovely, for a second I really thought there could be something. I think we could bring each other greart joy, you know, while we are here. But – anyway, it was a mistake, and I had to cover it up somehow." He clasped my hands in his. "So I did invite you here today just to treat you coldly, so people would see it and dismiss what they'd seen then. But truly, I did not plan to hurt you."

I didn't know what to say. Frankly, I wasn't sure that I believed him. The only thing that suggested that there was any truth to his convoluted story was the simple fact that he didn't need to tell me convoluted stories about love and protection. He didn't have to justify himself to me. Whatever Captain Gohenor and the others thought right now, it was not all that shocking that he hadn't reacted well to my questions and struck me like a wayward servant. Ultimately that was what I was. If it had been any other lord, or one of the captains, I wouldn't have thought twice about it. At home, nobody would have thought twice about it. And Lord Herucalmo knew that. He could just have dismissed me and let me stew in useless frustration. So I suppose he was telling the truth, or at any rate believed what he was saying.

That didn't make it any less infuriating, though. "You know, there must be some kind of middle ground between love and enmity. Polite indifference, or something like that."
A pained little smile. "I tried. I tried for the longest time. But strong feelings are much easier turned into other strong feelings. I can't feign indifference, not anymore."
I withdrew my hands. I should've done that much earlier, as soon as he had grasped them, really. "So this will happen again and again," I said flatly. "You'll hurt me, with your words or with your hands, and then expect me not to mind because it's all out of love. That's not how it works, though. I'm a simple man. When I am hurt, I am hurt. I will mind."
"That is your right."
"How generous."
This time he clasped my shoulders. Not to shake me, just to hold me, although I flinched anyway.
He gave a pained grimace at that. "Don't think I don't hate it."

"Right. That'll be a great consolation." I struggled with myself, because I didn't want to confide in him of all people, but then I went ahead anyway because I simply couldn't hold it in. "You know, I'm not doing well at all. I feel like I'm walking on the edge of a cliff at all times, and just because I haven't fallen down yet doesn't mean I'm not stumbling. I have no idea how to convince my apprentices that I'm not going to murder them in their sleep. And the more I learn about this place, the more I understand why they feel that way, and I hate it, and I can't do anything to make it better. And I have no idea how to get my work done, because I'm the only proper embalmer here. Not even that! I'm just an apprentice, for crying out loud, and I'm expected to teach my own apprentices and do the work of a master and a whole team of trained apprentices, and instead it's just me and a couple of raw beginners, and we had too much to do before you came and dropped all those dead soldiers on us, and even if they hadn't started rotting from the journey, we wouldn't be able to do them justice. And time was already running away from me, and now I've lost an entire day, and for what? So the King, who you tell me still hasn't tired of persecuting me, will be satisfied? So you can shame me and waste my time, but this time it's out of love? I don't need any more hurt, no matter what for. Just leave me alone." I felt my eyes well up and couldn't even feel ashamed of it. "I'm so tired. Every morning I get up and push through and hope that it doesn't all collapse around me. I just want to sleep and not wake up. You can tell the King that. I'm sure he'll like that."

Lord Herucalmo's eyes were soft and warm. His thumbs were moving in little circles on my collarbone, in an attempt at reassurance, probably. "Azruhâr," he said, "my dear, sweet Azruhâr, I don't know what to say."
"Don't mock me. And don't say anything. Just let me go. I have work enough – too much. I didn't need to be here today, and I don't need to be at the council tomorrow."
"Ah, but you do; we need to –"

I didn't learn what we needed to do, because without knocking or warning, the door was thrown open, and Lord Roitaheru came marching in.
I hadn't taken Captain Gohenor's threat seriously, because I thought Lord Roitaheru had more troublesome things to think about than the mistreatment (if it even was that) of a simple commoner, but apparently, it was troublesome enough. "Let go off him," he commanded, apparently thinking that Lord Herucalmo's hands on my shoulders were less than friendly. "Herucalmo, you cannot go on treating people like that, no matter what you privately think of them! It casts a poor light on your leadership and character, and ultimately on mine, too."

I was dumbfounded.
More astonishing than Lord Roitaheru's intervention was the change that had come over Lord Herucalmo's face. It would have been fascinating, if I had been a spectator rather than a part of the drama. There was no softness now, and no sign that it had ever been there. He had set his jaw firmly, and his eyebrows had risen in disdain, and his eyes were hard, looking down on me full of scorn. It was hard to imagine that this man had ever wasted kisses or tender words on me.
"He insulted my honour and the sacrifice of the Fallen," he said tersely, taking his hands off my shoulders in a very deliberate manner, as if disgusted ever to have touched me. "Mother has had men whipped bloody for less."

"Gohenor told me what happened," Lord Roitaheru said, "and it does not justify resorting to petty violence. He isn't some Umbarian servant that can be slapped around, and you mustn't make it look like he is! Manwë's patience, you're an adult. You have to resolve such things in a rational manner."
Lord Herucalmo's eyes fell on me for a short moment, in the way a man glances at a dead insect before discarding it. Then he returned his gaze to his father. "I cannot share your assessment. But you will be glad to hear that I have already apologised."

I cleared my throat. Even though Lord Roitaheru's anger wasn't directed at me (yet), it was unsettling. "He has, your Grace," I said. I hadn't exactly accepted it (in truth, I didn't care for it, although I knew I should have been grateful for it), but there had been an apology.
Lord Roitaheru made a dismissive gesture. "That won't do. He struck you in front of witnesses, he'll have to apologise in front of witnesses." He pointed an accusing finger at Lord Herucalmo. "You will swallow your damned pride, and you will make a public apology at the feast tomorrow, so that Captain Gohenor and the rest of them will see that you can take criticism, whatever you think of it, and that you can admit your mistakes."
I protested, "As a matter of fact, my lord, I was hoping that you would excuse me from both council and feast tomorrow. I will be of no use there, and I have much to do at the morgue – too much, really."
"I empathise," Lord Roitaheru said, "but it's a matter of principle now. If you don't attend tomorrow, they'll think Calmo scared you away, and I'd never hear the end of it."

Lord Herucalmo guffawed. "Yes, do attend, Master Embalmer," he told me. "Ask your stupid questions in front of the whole council. I bet by the end of it they'll all want to slap you."
"They will not, because that is not how we treat our fellow men here! Stop being irrational, Herucalmo. If somebody asks stupid questions, try to educate them. And you –" now it was my turn to be chided – "stop rolling over for people who are stronger than you. Some of them will take it as an invitation to walk over you. Including my son, apparently." He gave Lord Herucalmo a scathing look. On my behalf. Good grief.
"I wasn't rolling over," I protested.
"Well, good. I understand that you've been brought up in a mindset of obedience, but I have told you a dozen times now that this is not the place for it. You are one of us, and you are to be treated like that."

I opened my mouth to protest, and then stopped myself. Lord Herucalmo used the chance to mimic me, opening and shutting his mouth like a fish.
"Enough!" Lord Roitaheru snapped at him. "Behave yourself. You don't have to like him, but you will be civil! I expect a decent apology tomorrow, and rational behaviour after that."
"We will see about that," Lord Herucalmo said in the coldest voice. Even with the memory of his endearments fresh in my mind, I was certain that he must hate me. And I couldn't help fearing that he would be right about tomorrow's council session. Lord Roitaheru's thoughts were all very nice in theory, but it was far more likely that by tomorrow evening, he and the councillors would decide that Lord Herucalmo's reaction had been entirely reasonable after all.