Skillful Death (21 page)

“You’re leaving, even though I just found the woman literally of your dreams and delivered her to you? What’s wrong with you, Dom? You’ve done nothing but pine over this woman for months, and then when you finally meet her again, you’re leaving?”

“I’ve been planning this for a while,” Dom said.

“So un-plan it,” Pemba said. “Did you kill someone? No. So there’s no need to flee.”

“Well, in a sense I did kill someone.”

“Don’t start with that Denpa nonsense again. He was an old man, who lived forever. You didn’t put a knife to his throat, so you weren’t responsible for his death. The man was there on his own free will, and he died a natural death after a long, full life.”

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Malcolm: Seriously.

Dom: We’ll see.

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“I have to leave,” Dom said.

“Did you tell Tara that you’re leaving?”

“No,” Dom said.

“Then you have to do that first. I went to her, sought her out, and told her that you’d been dreaming of her since you last talked. I made my guarantee that you wanted to see her, even though she said you’d been ignoring her for months. This is my word. You cannot break my word. You have to at least inform her that you’re leaving forever.”

“Okay,” Dom said.

“And don’t go to her in your traveler’s rags,” Pemba said. “Come in here.”

Dom was both taller and wider than Pemba, but Pemba still managed to find clothes in his wardrobe to fit Dom. When Dom left Pemba’s apartment, he felt like the fanciest man in the village. He still had his bag over his shoulder, but everything else he wore had been changed. Dom returned to his landlady’s apartment to find Tara still sitting at the table, drinking a fresh cup of tea.

“Don’t you look nice,” his landlady said, from the kitchen.

“You certainly took long enough,” Tara said, rising slowly. She still held her box with the cleaving knife close to her chest. “Come with me.”

“I’ve just returned to tell you...” Dom began. He couldn’t find the exact words he wanted to say. He felt like he was slipping underwater, like in his dream, and that to open his mouth would be to let in a draught of cold lake water.

“You can tell me on the way to my aunt’s house,” Tara said. She took his hand and led him outside. Dom looked around to see his landlady watching them from her door.

“But…” Dom didn’t finish the thought.

Tara talked non-stop as she walked, as if her mouth were connected directly to her legs. “I’m living with my aunt. I told you that, yes? It is my uncle’s house, of course, but I’m living with my aunt. I just call it my aunt’s house, since I really live with her. She’s not actually my mother’s sister. They share a great-grandmother. I guess, technically, she’s my cousin, but I always just called her my aunt. It seems funny to me that we have a few special designations for certain relatives, but everyone else is just a cousin. We’re all blood related, don’t you think? Well, perhaps not you. You probably don’t have any cousins anywhere near here.”

She still held her box close to her chest with one hand, but Dom noticed that her other hand had somehow dropped to her side and intertwined fingers with his hand. They swung their arms gently as they walked.

“I wonder if where you’re from there are a whole bunch of people who look like you? Or maybe you would look strange even to them. My aunt said that she once saw a whole group of people who looked like you, with your light skin and crazy eyes, but they rode tall horses and attacked everyone they saw with big knives. Nobody got that good a look at them. We have some horses up near my home, but they’re not very tall. Mostly, we just keep them around for hunting or milking. They don’t give as much milk as a yak, but you can get it earlier in the season, and it’s much sweeter.”

Dom waited for a pause to work in his question. When he finally heard his chance, he stumbled into it, but kept repeating until she understood. “Why that box?”

“This is the box with the knife,” she said. “I told you. Oh, do you mean why do I always carry it when I’m around you? I have to. Don’t you have that tradition here? I’ve made a promise, so I have to carry this box until that promise is kept. I don’t have to sleep next to it, or haul it around at work, but when I’m out socially, I have to carry my box.”

“Cleaving?” Dom asked, barely getting out the question before her next volley of conversation.

“Yes, aside from the promise, it carries the cleaving knife. Let’s not talk about that now.”

After hearing monologues on her aunt, her sister, horses, bread, onions, and moths, Dom found himself in front of a well-appointed, fairly large house. It didn’t appear to be the house of someone who had to go to work every day in someone else’s house. Dom wondered why Tara’s aunt and uncle allowed her to work.

Tara dropped Dom’s hand and pushed open the door before beckoning him inside. The house was even nicer than Dom suspected. It had all the trappings of wealth.
 

“Auntie, I’m home. I’ve brought a dinner guest with me,” Tara called.

A small woman appeared from a doorway wiping her hands on a red apron. Dom bowed to her as she approached and the little woman smiled. Tara elbowed him in the side and he straightened up to see her scowl.

“This is Chodren,” Tara said. “My auntie’s housemaid.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Dom said.
 

Chodren took Tara’s scarf and Dom’s bag and set them in another room. She then led the pair into the dining area, where several people already sat.

Dom forgot everyone’s name immediately as they were introduced, but understood that he met the aunt, uncle, and two other young people who may have been their children or other cousins.

“You work with your hands, Dom?” the aunt asked.

“I do... Did... I work in the mine,” Dom said.

“Bringing people water?” the aunt asked.

“No,” Dom said, shaking his head as a cup of soup appeared before him. “I dig.” He held up his hands and showed them to her. Across the table, Tara held her box to her chest with one hand and drank her soup with the other.

“I thought Tara said that you brought people water,” the aunt said.

“No,” Dom said. He finally figured out the reference. “Oh. I used to. That is to say, I was a plumber. Previously, I put pipes in people’s houses so they could have fresh water whenever they wanted it.”

“Do we not have fresh water now?” the aunt asked.

She seemed about to ask another question, but Dom’s answer awoke interest in the uncle.

“You said a plumber?” the uncle asked.

“Yes, sir,” Dom said.

“What houses did you do?”
 

Dom listed where he’d worked. Since most of the houses he’d done were new construction, he could only describe them by their locations. Most of the time he didn’t know who would be living in the house, only who was building it.

“So you did the house up on the hill?”

“Yes, the one near where Tara worked,” Dom said.

“I’ve been in that house. My friends live in that house. Don’t you remember? I told you about that house,” the uncle said to his wife.

“You say so little,” the aunt said. “But somehow I missed that.”

“Yes, it’s like magic. There’s a pipe that comes directly from the wall and that pipe dispenses cool, clean water. Whatever you don’t catch in a bucket goes directly into a drain and that water disappears into the floor. How do you get all that water into the wall?”

“It flows from pipes down from the lake,” Dom said.

“All the way down from the lake?”

“Yes, sir,” Dom said.

“That’s remarkable. How do I get these magic pipes into my house?”

Dom glanced around and confirmed what he’d thought earlier. He’d done retrofits into some decent houses, but this house would be a significant challenge. The stone walls would be nearly impossible to drill, which would mean fitting pipes through mortar, or running them along corners to get to their destinations.

“Do you know Chogyal? Your house could have pipes like his.”

“I’ve not been in his house for many years, but I will go there to inspect,” the uncle said.

Dom was about to suggest particular features for the uncle to review, when he found that a feast had arrived in front of them. He waited for the family to serve themselves, but found everyone politely glancing towards him. An awkward silence developed and festered for several minutes.

Dom cleared his throat and found the courage to speak. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I don’t know the custom.”

“You’re our guest. Please serve yourself,” the aunt said.

“Oh,” Dom said. He reached tentatively for the food at the center of the table and jerked his hand back when the uncle spoke.

“Have you never been a guest to dinner before?” the uncle asked.

“No, I guess I haven’t,” Dom said.

Dom’s hand, still hovering over his plate, began to shake.

When a new silence formed, the uncle shattered it with his laugh.

“Dom, you must take some food or we’ll all starve and be discovered by Chodren in the morning,” the uncle said, between big bellowing laughs.

Dom reached forward and served himself. He nearly spilled the food twice, but managed to get enough to eat into his bowl. As soon as he was finished, the family erupted in small talk about how good the food looked and they all began to serve themselves. Dom sat on his hands and waited, wondering if he would be required to eat first as well.
 

He was relieved when everyone began eating as soon as they’d served themselves.

Dom joined them. Everything tasted delicious to his untrained palate.
 

As he ate, Dom took the opportunity to glance at Tara every chance he could. She was beautiful as she ate. Her delicate fingers brought food to her lips and her tight smile was delightful. He liked her best when she wasn’t looking back at him, warning him off with her eyes.

He finished quickly, emptying his bowl, and found Chodren over his shoulder serving him more food. He finished that quickly as well, and found the small woman back at his side, giving him even more. He was accustomed to small, simple meals, and he looked down at the food with despair. He wasn’t sure how much more he would be able to eat, but it seemed rude to let the food go to waste.

Tara’s cousin, sitting on Dom’s right, rescued Dom from another mistake.

“She’ll keep giving you more if you keep emptying your bowl,” the cousin said.

Dom looked at the young man and wondered if he was being pranked. Surely it would be rude to turn down food which had been served to him.

“Yes,” the cousin whispered. “Look around.”

Dom glanced at everyone’s bowl. They’d all left a tiny amount of food, and weren’t being served more. He nodded thanks to Tara’s cousin.

Between courses, Tara’s aunt spoke about her visit to the market. She’d bought several rugs: one that could go in the entry, and one for her bedroom. The rugs would come in a few days, when they could be packaged and delivered. At first, Dom wondered why she described some items for her room, and others for her husband’s room. Eventually, Dom decided that the couple must have different rooms so the uncle could find time to sleep without listening to his wife talk.

Tara was silent during her aunt’s speech, and Dom admired her graceful form. When a fruit salad arrived, Tara’s cousin had to elbow Dom to get his attention. As before, Dom was expected to serve himself before the family would partake.
 

After dinner, Dom was led to the front room with Tara’s uncle. The men sat and were brought cups of very hot, very strong tea. Dom pursed his lips at the bitterness of the blend.

“You understand that my wife’s niece is spoken for?” the uncle asked.

“Yes?”

“There’s a boy back in the mountains who’s expecting her to return to him as soon as the snow becomes manageable next spring.”

“Yes?”

“We don’t mind if she develops friendships while she’s here living with us. She came here to learn skills and expand socially. They’re very backwards up in the mountains. Don’t tell my wife I said that.”

“No.”

“But when her niece leaves here, it will be unattached. She’s not here to break any promises. Would you like some cream for your tea?”

“No, thank you.”

“Good. That’s a terrible habit to get in to. As soon as you start drinking cream in your tea, you can’t ever stop. You ruin your mouth.”

Dom nodded.

“When that young man, Pemba, came to talk to my wife’s niece...” the uncle began and then trailed off. “You’ll do me a favor, won’t you?”

“Yes.”

“That box my wife’s niece carries. It’s mostly symbolic, but it’s also very important to my wife. Do you know the box I’m talking about?”

“Yes,” Dom said. How could he not know the box? Tara held it to her chest all through dinner. She ate with one hand the whole evening. How precious that box must be to her to hold it up the entire evening.

“You’ll keep an eye on that box for me when you see Tara again?”

“Yes.”

“Please ensure me that she holds it always, every time you see her.”

“Yes,” Dom said. Tara said the box contained a knife which would cleave her soul from her body. For the first time, Dom doubted her.

“The box is the one thing I care about. As long as that box remains in her hands, and the seal is kept secure, we shall remain friends,” the man said.