Skillful Death

by Ike Hamill

  Dom sat on the outskirts of the group and ate a simple lunch he’d brought in a cloth sack. He ate pieces of dried meat and listened to a group of older men discuss their children. The tall man had always been strong, ever since he was a boy. He didn’t understand his son who couldn’t even carry two bags of rice to the larder in one trip. How could this boy be the product of himself and his sturdy wife? One man made a joke. “Perhaps your neighbor’s husband is weak in the arms, but gifted in the hips?” All the men laughed, and Dom smiled at the joke. When the men saw Dom smiling, they found an excuse to move their conversation across the lunch yard.

  At the end of Dom’s lunch, he passed Pemba. The workers took their lunch in shifts, so the same platform could lift a group of men to lunch and take another group back down to the digging. Dom appreciated the shifts as an optimization of space and resources, but hated that it meant he and Pemba never got to socialize.

  Dom wondered if Pemba felt the same way. Pemba had a large group of friends, and was always talking, or laughing, or telling an outrageous joke whenever Dom passed him on the way to the lift. Perhaps if they shared a lunch, Pemba would be ostracized like Dom. Because of that concern, Dom never attempted to change his shift, even when an opening appeared in Pemba’s group.

  After work, Dom and Pemba walked back to their apartments together and talked about everything. Pemba told stories about the other miners, and Dom occasionally relayed some information he had overheard in the lunch yard. Whenever Dom had a story to tell, he never mentioned that it was something he’d overheard.

  Sometimes Dom went back to Pemba’s room, and talked with his friend while Pemba changed and readied himself to go out. Pemba spent almost every evening either eating out, gambling, or shopping. Dom saved his money. His apartment cost more than Pemba’s and he didn’t earn as much at the mine. Each evening, Dom ate a simple supper after going up to the lake to practice his swimming.

  When Pemba left to go spend money, and it was too dark or too cold to swim, and he’d eaten his simple dinner, Dom retired to his room. His muscles ached too much from the mine for him to find any solace in stretching. His mind raced too fast for him to enjoy meditation. Candles were too expensive to waste on reading. Dom sat on his bed and thought.

  He spent hours dreaming up different childhoods and imagining himself in them to see if they fit. He combined stories he’d heard of children raised by dogs, or lost in caves, or hit on the head until their memory was erased, and tried them on to see if they resonated. He spent even more hours plotting how he would escape the little village and find a part of the world where he could feel at home.

  The idea grew in his brain until it felt like something he could actually do. He could save up surplus money since he often had a little left over at the end of the week. He could stash some supplies, and then just leave. He set his goals and then fixed a date. He would leave on the last day of summer. By then, he would be able to swim across the river down in the valley if he couldn’t afford to charter a boat. By then, he would have enough money to purchase some extra food, pay to exit his apartment lease, and still have money left over for traveling. Dom made a special pouch for his savings, and sewed it into his bedding to keep it safe. That night, when he slept, he kicked his way almost back to the surface of the water, and his fingers touched the hem of Tara’s dress.

  25 WORK COMPLETED

  WHEN CONSTANTINE MADE HIS other suits, he’d worked alone, shutting out the world and wasting away until the garment was finished. His body would shed ten pounds, only pulling nutrients from the edges of skin that he’d chew to soften the material. This time, he remained well-fed and sedentary. His body grew in all directions as he worked. A layer of fat padded his midsection. Creases of skin appeared at his ankles, and sides, and neck. Only his fingers remained lean and boney as they fiddled with the furs, melding them together.

  Sasha’s father criticized his new shape. “Something about my house makes you boys go soft. When I brought you here, you were hard as a leather-covered stone. Now you look like a pastry puff. My Sasha looks tough compared to you.”

  Constantine looked down at his own body and couldn’t tell much of a difference, but he felt his extra mass when he did his chores. Wheeling the big cart around was easy on his first day. Now he gasped for air by the time the cart was overturned at the mushroom patch. His old suit barely fit. It tugged at his shoulders, waist, and thighs.

  Sasha’s father spread out the five new suits on the cedar chests and stood back to look at them. Each was beautiful in its own way. Each had a well-placed accent of snakeskin that caught the sun. Each was comprised of several different skins, yet each had a theme based on a predator of the forest: bear, fox, wolf, lion, and owl. The owl suit contained no feathers and yet still conjured the animal with its intricate pattern of grays.

  “This is good work. My Sasha will be proud to present them at Moon Dance,” Sasha’s father said. Constantine didn’t care about what happened to these five suits. He only cared about the final suit he’d created. The secret, perfect suit, which he’d hidden in Baron’s stall and ordered the horse to guard was what he cared about.

  “You’ll stay here with us, until the elephant appears, if you believe in that sort of thing,” Sasha’s father said.

  Constantine didn’t think anything about the elephant one way or the other. Sasha had bragged about the elephant many times and how he would chase off the enormous creature when it came to menace his sister. Sasha could never describe the elephant in a way that made sense to Constantine. Sasha had seen pictures in the books they had at school, but he lacked the descriptive powers to convey the images to Constantine. He’d gesture with his hands, waving them in big circular motions at the ceiling while Constantine worked on the suits.

  Constantine had grown to enjoy these one-sided discussions with Sasha. At some point, after Constantine had been working in the farrier’s room for a couple of weeks, Sasha either grew bored of bringing his friends over, or his father had prohibited it. Whichever the case, Constantine was pleased when the other boys stopped coming over. For one thing, he was forbidden to work on the suits when the other boys were around. They were not to know that he was the boy constructing them. He was supposed to merely be Sasha’s helper on the task as far as other boys were concerned. Also, they always expected Constantine to answer their questions, and Constantine never gathered the confidence to speak freely with those boys.

  But once the other boys had been banished, Sasha would just sit with Constantine and tell him about the elephant, or school, or the girl who lived over on the Shylan Road. Even better, sometimes Sasha would work on his math problems, talking them through while Constantine listened.

  Sasha wouldn’t have admitted it, and Constantine wouldn’t have understood the concept, but the two boys had become best friends.

  “I think I’ll start carrying around a big stick, so I can fight the elephant with that,” Sasha said. “Will you help me look for a big stick later?”

  “Maple makes sharp sticks,” Constantine said.

  “I think ash is harder.”

  “Hard to sharpen,” Constantine said.

  “I have my father’s steel blades though. Yes, it’s very hard to sharpen ash if you try to use a flint knife, but if you’ve got a steel blade it’s not that hard.”

  Constantine distrusted metal tools. He’d seen them bend and dent. His flint would never do that. Flint was either hard enough or it wasn’t. It would last, sharp as ever, right up until the moment he pushed it too far. Then it would break. But these metal tools that Sasha’s father was so fond of, they would become dull and useless, or they’d bend out of shape. They had a range of states which were difficult to track.

  “I have to carry it all the time. You never know when the elephant is going to come. At least my sister is always at home. I won’t have to follow her everywhere because she never leaves the house.”

  “She goes to the well, and the spring. She goes to the chickens,”
Constantine said. He knew all the acceptable errands that Sasha’s sister might run because he’d seen them out of his window.

  “It was different before. She used to be allowed to go to the marketplace, and to school. She used to be allowed to go almost anywhere. Sometimes she’d take me with her. That was when I was really little. The women at the marketplace would always joke, saying things like, ‘Your son is such a darling, you must have been an infant when you had him.’ This was when my sister was only ten. Everyone would laugh.”

  “Your mother wasn’t there?” Constantine asked.

  “She never leaves the house. Even then she didn’t. Sometimes she comes out to the barn, but never any farther than that. She doesn’t even go down to the spring. That’s why I go to the market with my father. He’s the only full-grown man who goes to shop down there. The women never make fun of him though. They’re always really nice to us. I have to do eighty-five times eighteen. What do you get?”

  Constantine rolled his eyes back and worked the problem in his head. He’d learned to read numbers watching over Sasha’s shoulder, and learned the algorithm for multiplying them by seeing Sasha struggle through his homework.

  “I get fifteen-thirty,” Constantine said.

  “I only have thirteen-sixty,” Sasha said. He checked his numbers again.

  “You forgot one-seventy for the nine,” Constantine said. He loved the way numbers made his thoughts so orderly. He tried to learn to read language over Sasha’s shoulder as well, but all those swirling characters made no sense.

  “Oh,” Sasha said. He started crossing out numbers and correcting them on his sheet.

  “Are you going to the Moon Dance with us on Sunday?” Sasha asked.

  “I don’t know,” Constantine said.

  “You should. Have you ever been before? I wouldn’t think so. Everyone dresses up in their finest clothes and we all go into the courtyard behind the town hall. Every ten years, they rebuild the tower so it will go higher than any of the trees. We can go up to the top and actually see beyond the town limits. My father took me up there last time when I was just a little kid, so I don’t remember. My sister said that she could see all the way past the bamboo to the south. She said she saw another town there. My dad says she’s making it up, but his eyesight isn’t very good, so maybe she did.”

  “Another town?” Constantine asked.

  “Yes. That girl who lives on the Shylan road, her mother comes from some other town. It’s not to the south though. She said her mother comes from somewhere west of here. Normally, you couldn’t go to the Moon Dance because you don’t have a father. My father could sponsor you though. Do you want me to ask him for you?”

  “What do you do?”

  “At the dance? You know, it’s a dance. You ask the girls to dance and the band plays soft music so everyone can still hear each other talk. You drink honey wine and eat biscuits with cheese. The parents stand over near the garden and talk about how lovely all the flowers look in the moonlight. My mom doesn’t go, but my dad will take us and he’ll stand with the widows. Up until last year, my sister always went. Dad said she has to go this year because he thinks that the elephant will likely turn up when everyone is gathered together. You know, like when the lion showed up to the Harvest Festival?”

  Constantine tried to imagine the Moon Dance and couldn’t come up with a good picture in his head. He kept thinking about what it would be like to see Sasha’s sister up close. He’d only ever seen her through the window. She was like a smaller version of Sasha’s mother, but softer and prettier, if that was possible. She always kept her hair tied into a scarf. Constantine wondered if she’d wear a scarf to the dance.

  “Snake. I was alone,” Constantine said.

  “That’s not the way you’re supposed to tell it,” Sasha said. “We were together, remember? Or else how could I have killed it? I’ll be wearing my new suit with the snakeskin, and Dad is going to offer the other suits we made to the council members who have young boys. He has other gifts for the other council members, but the talent of the Providential Boy is supposed to benefit the council. It seems to me they already have enough wealth to make them fat. That’s what my dad says.”

  Later that evening, Sasha’s father brought out the tray of food for Constantine and sat on the chest in the farrier’s room while the boy ate.

  “I heard you want to go to the Moon Dance with Sasha,” Sasha’s father said. “I’m inclined to let you go, even though it will be dangerous. If you believe in this elephant business, which I’m not saying that I do, it’s likely the elephant will show up at this dance. They say that when the elephant has come in the past, it’s always when the Providential is with his sister and the council is there to witness. I don’t know when that would be, unless it’s at this Moon Dance. Or, I suppose it could arrive next spring. Honestly, I don’t care. I’ll get the council’s permission regardless of what happens. Even if the elephant doesn’t show up, everyone believes that Sasha is the Providential now, so I have to strike while that iron is still hot.”

  Constantine nodded, although he still distrusted metal, especially when it was hot. That’s when it was most malleable and least dependable.

  “So you can come, and if the elephant shows up for you or for him, then we’ll still be in good standing, yes? I wonder though, if I left you home would the elephant still come? This is all so hard to figure.”

  Constantine slipped slices of fruit into a secret pocket in his suit, secreting them away for later.

  “Yes. You’ll come. It can only strengthen Sasha’s position. People see what they want to see, after all. And you don’t have a sister,” Sasha’s father said, laughing as a smile spread across his face. “Yes. No worries then.”

  He left Constantine alone with a stubby candle to keep him company. The boy had already finished his chores for the evening, so he snuffed the flame and crept into Baron’s stall for the night. The big horse was already laying down, but he stirred when Constantine slipped beside him, waiting for the treats Constantine pulled from his pocket.

  Now that he’d finished his suits and taken on even more chores, Constantine’s body was thinning out once more. He was glad that his new suit had generous sleeves and legs. He would need them since it seemed he was growing taller each day. He hadn’t felt able to wear his new suit yet. It was still hidden in Baron’s stall, guarded jealously by the giant horse. He would wear his suit on the day that he escaped this house forever, so nobody would be able to take his suit away from him. He just didn’t have a day picked out yet for his escape.

  Baron shifted his legs and gave Constantine a nice spot to curl up for the evening against the horse’s side. Of all the amenities he’d grown accustomed to at the farm—the meals, the shelter, the companionship—he thought he’d miss his sleeping partner most of all. The horse was warm, and his big heart beat so hard that it thumped against Constantine’s back as he drifted off. The clean straw smelled sweet, and when the horse would tuck his big head around, his gusting breath would tickle the top of Constantine’s head. Baron had even sharper ears than Constantine, so the boy never felt he had to be on alert during the night. In the morning, he would get his friend breakfast and clean his stall. They had a perfect relationship. He only had to worry about scrambling out of the way if the horse decided to take to his feet during the night. Being stepped on once was enough. Baron was thoughtful, but didn’t always know where his hooves would land.

  26 ESCAPING

  ON THE LAST DAY of summer, Dom collected his final pay and told the foreman that he wouldn’t be back. Despite his hard work and dependable attendance, the foreman wouldn’t look Dom in the eyes as he accepted his resignation.

  Dom walked home alone, since Pemba hadn’t bothered to show up for work that day. He felt the weight of his troubles beginning to lift from his shoulders. Since losing Denpa, he’d had no safe harbor and nowhere in the village where he belonged. Now that he’d decided to leave, he felt hope that he’d find his place
somewhere else in the world.

  He went directly to his landlady’s apartment, so he could pay his final fees and thank her for renting him the room. When he knocked on her door, she called for him to come in.

  For a second, Dom thought the woman sitting at the table was Tara, and he thought, “This is how we’ll meet again. I’ve traded my job for another chance to see this lovely girl.”

  She held the small box in her lap, the box with the cleaving knife.

  Dom stumbled backwards as he recognized the girl sitting at the table. It was indeed Tara. Dom’s landlady came from her kitchen, holding a tray of hot tea. She waved Dom over to the table as she served three settings.

  “I’ve looked for you,” Dom said as he sat down. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Tara. He was afraid that if he looked away or even blinked, she’d turn into someone else.

  “Not very hard, apparently,” Tara said. “Your friend found me straight away. He said that you wanted to see me?”

  “I’m leaving,” Dom said.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Away. I’m not sure. I just came to bid farewell and settle up my account. Where have you been?”

  “I’ve seen you several times, but you never seem to want to talk to me. I’ve seen you at the lake many times, but every time I wave to you, you submerge under the water and then don’t come up for the longest time.”

  “I was practicing.”

  “I thought you didn’t want to see me, until your friend Pemba found me and said you did.”

  “Of course I did,” Dom said.

  They sat in silence, and Tara sipped her tea.

  “Well you’ve come together now,” Dom’s landlady said. “Shouldn’t that be what matters?”

  “But I’m leaving,” Dom said.

  “Who says you’re leaving?” Tara asked.

  “I’ve already left my job, and I’ve come to settle up my account,” Dom said, looking to his landlady.