Skillful Death

by Ike Hamill

  “May we ask your business in the market today?”

  Dom didn’t reply. He wondered if he should feign incomprehension. Perhaps these men would take him for a foreigner and leave him alone.

  “We know you speak,” the man on the left said. “We heard you order your coffee.”

  So much for looking foreign, Dom thought.

  “Your business in the market?”

  “I came to look for fabric, and purchase gifts. I found no fabric for my wife, so I bought her father some tobacco. She will not be pleased, but at least she won’t be angry.”

  “And your name?”

  What name could he give them? Not Dom. certainly not Torma. Denpa?

  “Constantine,” Dom said. He pronounced it slowly and carefully, stopping on the hard breaks. It sounded natural, he thought. Of course someone would pronounce such a difficult name with care. He would be accustomed to repeating it for untrained ears.

  “You’re from the east?”

  “Yes.”

  The men seemed to take turns with the questions. The next came from the man on the right. “And you came to purchase fabric and tobacco?”

  “Correct,” Dom said. He wondered—should he be concerned about something he’d done as Torma, or about some other secret life he couldn’t remember?

  “We have some official questions for you. Would you mind coming with us?” the man on the left asked. Both men shifted forward, as if to get up.

  “Yes, in fact I would. I have just enough time to finish my coffee and then I’m off to meet my wife.”

  “And where are you and your wife lodging?”

  “We’re not,” Dom said. “We’re leaving this afternoon to return east. I suspect we will seek lodging up river.”

  “Very good,” the man on the left said. The two men stood and walked slowly from the coffee shop. They stopped several times to confer on their way out. Dom watched them and held his cup with both hands until they disappeared around the corner.

  “Waiter!” Dom whispered towards the back. When the man arrived, Dom waved him in close. “Fetch me paper and pen and an envelope, and I’ll tip you again.”

  The waiter returned and hovered. Dom tipped him and shooed him away so he could compose a note to Diki. Dom left the pen on the table and fled with the note tucked into his robe. He ducked into the next business, a bakery, and hailed a young server.

  “Take this note to a girl named Diki,” Dom said, as he gave the man a description of Diki’s house, “and she’ll double this reward.” He pressed a large coin into the young man’s hand. The boy’s eyes grew wide as he closed his fingers around the treasure. “Don’t look at the note and don’t tell anyone where you’re going. Be quick. If you don’t beat the shadows there, you will get nothing.”

  The boy ran from the bakery so fast that he was out of sight before his apron hit the floor. Dom hunched and looked straight down at his feet as he left the shop. He turned downhill and strode towards the docks.

  He had no reservation for three days, but he had his secret pouch of money. Dom calculated what an emergency trip downriver might cost and hoped he would have enough to cover the voyage. As long as he removed himself from the city before someone connected him with Diki, he would be pleased.

  Dom found a boat scheduled to depart in the morning and arranged for a corner to sleep in for the night. He sat on the boat, rocking gently as the wind stirred the river, and watched as the lights came on in the city. The autumn fair carried on into the night. Long after the moon rose, the lights clustered around the fountains. Sounds of singing and laughing carried down to his ears.

  The owner of the boat loaned him a thin blanket. Dom let his eyes drift shut as he clutched it around his shoulders. The river’s damp air seeped into his clothes and then his bones.

  48 ALONE

  DOM LEFT HIS LAST coins to pay his passage and arrived back at his village with just his suit and the boxes of tobacco. He was famished, but he went straight to Pemba to seek his advice. Dom pulled Pemba from a conversation with several men.

  Pemba seemed frustrated until he saw the dismay written on Dom’s face.

  “What’s wrong, Dom? I thought you would still be with Diki.”

  “I had to flee. Some men tracked me down, and I don’t know why. I fear for Diki if they should find out she’s connected to me.”

  “Come sit down and tell me everything.”

  Dom told his story beginning with Tashi’s warning, and ending with the letter he sent to Diki.

  “You’ve probably scared your daughter half to death, but she’ll be okay. She’s a strong girl.”

  “But what about the men? What if they followed the boy who carried the letter and now they’re going to kidnap her until I return?”

  “They were common criminals,” Pemba said. He smiled and patted Dom’s hand. “They’re neither particularly dangerous, nor very clever. I’m sure they didn’t follow anyone. Those types of men are too lazy for such things.”

  “I don’t understand,” Dom said.

  “You see this type of scam in cities all over. Men come in pairs and they try to look official. They find a tourist who is traveling alone and they mildly harass them. They don’t try to get money from you the first time they see you. If they pounce too quickly, they know you’ll suspect their ruse. The first time they see you, they just intimidate and get some basic information. You said you were heading east that evening, yes?”

  “Yes, that’s what I said.”

  “Then they probably waited on the east side of town that evening. There’s only one good road leading east. If they saw you again, they’d probably demand some sort of tax on the things you purchased. They would have some official-looking documents and they’d say you failed to pay the excise tax. You could pay a fine in cash, or they’d make up something about a date before the magistrate in a week. You would opt for the fine because you were trying to leave town. It’s a common scam.”

  “So they didn’t know that I was Torma?”

  “No, of course not. If they were working from one of the manufacturers, they would have never approached you in a public place. They would have waited and pulled you backwards into an alley. You wouldn’t be talking with me now,” Pemba said. He laughed.

  “So I’d be dead?”

  “Maybe not dead, but I think your legs would have a few extra bends in them.”

  “What about the old man at the tobacconist? He called me Osman. The old monk called me Osman as well.”

  “Do you know how many Osmans I’ve met? Travel five days east of here and you can’t throw a rock without some man named Osman claiming you stole his rock. They don’t choose names in the east. You get your name from your family. Where there’s one Osman, there are a hundred. I wouldn’t take any stock in that coincidence.”

  “You have an answer for everything.”

  “It’s because I’m so worldly,” Pemba said. “Now write a fresh letter to Diki and apologize for your panic. Worrying about a crazy father is not what a daughter should be doing when she’s about to start classes.”

  “Yes, I’m sure you’re right,” Dom said.

  ♣ ♢ ♡ ♠

  Dom relearned how to live. With no one to cook for, clean for, and wait for, his day seemed empty. He tried to fill it with business and pestered Pemba and Tashi with his ideas. They informed him with no uncertainty that they possessed a firm grip on running the business. His interference, they argued, could only hurt the relationships they worked so hard to maintain.

  Diki wrote him once a week, and Dom rationed the letters. He read them one sentence at a time, and made notes of all the things he wanted to tell her. He culled his thoughts until his response was approximately the same length as her most recent letter.

  Pemba suggested a visit at the beginning of the year. He had business in the city and could accompany Dom. Pemba made all the arrangements and Dom held off telling Diki until his final letter before his departure. He gave Diki no chance to call o
ff the trip.

  They left one evening, and Dom understood immediately what a seasoned traveler could bring to a trip. The boat was twice the size of the one Diki had arranged. Dom and Pemba were served an extravagant meal, under an awning on the deck, as they departed.

  On the trip with Diki, the boat didn’t even travel at night. On Pemba’s trip, they retired to a plush cabin and slept in beds that were more comfortable than the one at Denpa’s house. They didn’t need to huddle together for warmth on the deck. The world passed by at a brisk pace all day. Breakfast was served in their cabin, and they were invited to sit at the rear of the boat for their lunch. Dom hadn’t eaten so much in years, and he didn’t feel a single moment of nausea from the winter swells.

  “Didn’t you advise Diki on the trip she arranged? Why is it your trip is so much more comfortable?” Dom asked.

  “Diki didn’t want to spend any money,” Pemba said. “We discussed all the options, but she was rigid on her budget. She’s pinching every penny she spends on her schooling, so she can pay it back quickly.”

  “Pay it back? What do you mean?”

  “Your agreement with her? About her loan for school?”

  “I have no idea what you mean,” Dom said. “My money is her money. She knows that.”

  Pemba smiled. “She is an independent girl.” He shook his head.

  “Please explain.”

  “She said that you arranged to loan her enough money to pay for school, and that she would have two years to pay it back after she finishes. She negotiated a job with me upon her graduation. She’ll apprentice for half a year, without pay, and then we’ll determine her salary based on her contribution to the margin.”

  “This is all news to me,” Dom said.

  “You’re so frugal. She must have inherited that trait from you.”

  “I’m only frugal so I can avoid scrutiny. She has no need for that. Oh my, I hope she’s not skimping on any necessities out of some misguided attempt to save money.”

  “I verified her lodgings. She’s staying at a very safe house, and Jetsan knows the owners.”

  “Knows them? I thought he was related to them.”

  “Perhaps he is.”

  “And her food? Her clothes?”

  “Board comes with her room. She could only be sparing on her lunch. A girl can get by without lunch. I’m sure she’s not starving.”

  “Oh, I wish I’d known. I could have talked her out of this silliness.”

  “It’s good for her. She wants to know hardship. This will help her build character. After all, I’m sure she is still living more luxuriously than she did with you. No offense, but most beggars I’ve met live more luxuriously than you.”

  “I have everything I need,” Dom said.

  “And some people need more. Speaking of which… isn’t that the same thing you were wearing yesterday?”

  “Yes,” Dom said. “It’s the suit that Diki had made for me. Why, what’s wrong with it?”

  “It’s lovely, but it’s going to be terribly wrinkled and dirty if you plan to wear it every day. What else did you pack?”

  “Just night clothes.”

  Pemba shook his head.

  ♣ ♢ ♡ ♠

  They arrived after only a day on the water. Dom couldn’t believe the speed. From the boat to the hotel, Dom’s feet never touched the street and his hands never touched a bag. Their luggage arrived and was unpacked for them before they were shown to their rooms.

  Pemba dressed Dom in one of his own dinner robes. It barely fit. Pemba sent Dom’s clothes out to be reproduced during the night. After a delicious dinner, and a quiet sleep in the heart of the city, Dom awoke to find three identical suits to choose from. Pemba smiled at Dom’s shock.

  They left early to find Diki and invite her to breakfast.

  Dom barely recognized the young woman who floated down the stairs. She was tall and lean, and had somehow transformed into an adult in the months since he’d seen her last.

  “Father, Pemba, I’m so glad you came. I only got your letter last night, or I would have been down to greet you as you arrived.”

  “Darling, how you’ve grown,” Dom said. He hugged her tight and dabbed his eyes with his sleeve so he wouldn’t embarrass her with his tears. Pemba gave Diki a one-armed hug and a peck on the cheek.

  “We came to escort you to breakfast.”

  “I wish I could,” Diki said. “I have early classes today. I was just getting ready to leave when the girls told me you’d arrived.”

  “Surely you can miss a class to spend a moment with...” Dom began.

  Pemba cut him off. “Nonsense. We don’t need to go to breakfast. We can have lunch, or dinner, if that’s inconvenient. You take care of your schoolwork and leave us to our duties. Shall we meet here at midday?”

  “That could work,” Diki said. “Honestly, I don’t have much time. Afternoon would be better. Can we gather for tea perhaps?”

  “Perfect,” Pemba said.

  Dom tried to maneuver his face into a smile, but felt like he must be failing.

  “We’ll see you then, dear. Have a wonderful day and good luck with your classes,” Pemba said.

  “Goodbye, darling,” Dom said, as Diki bounced back up the stairs. She turned and waved before disappearing.

  “She looks good,” Pemba said. “What a lovely young woman.”

  Dom didn’t reply. He stared up to where he’d last seen his daughter.

  ♣ ♢ ♡ ♠

  Pemba walked Dom back to the hotel, where a maid directed them to a buffet of yogurt, bread, and fruit. The two men had a quiet breakfast while Pemba scanned a newspaper and tore out names that interested him.

  “Who are you meeting today?”

  “I have two prospects who deal in bath supplies. It’s a new pavilion we’re trying to populate for next summer. It’s the latest thing with consumers, and the distributors are dying for a way to meet up with the retailers.”

  “So they wouldn’t know me? I could come along?”

  “I have my pitch already honed. It’s a solo thing. If I brought along someone who didn’t speak, they would assume that he was the real boss and they would direct all of their negotiations at you.”

  “That’s perfect then,” Dom said. “I couldn’t cave in because I wouldn’t know the details of the deal. You can use me as a prop.”

  “I really can’t,” Pemba said. “Why don’t you go find a housewarming gift for your daughter. You said you didn’t give her one last time. Now we know how tight she is with her money, I’m sure she could use something nice. Why not find her some perfumes or incense?”

  “I suppose,” Dom said. “I wish you and Tashi would let me help out more with the business. I still have insight, you know.”

  “And you’re very helpful with those insights every time we come to you. But you know how business works—you have to give us enough room to operate. There are some things that I must do by myself because I’m the only person who deals with this every day. Can’t you just enjoy your enormous wealth and your early retirement? So many men would kill to be in your position. I would love to not need to travel all the time.”

  “I think you enjoy your travel just fine,” Dom said. He raised his arms and gestured to the opulent dining area where they had taken their breakfast.

  “Being good at something and enjoying it are two different things. Just because I’m particularly good at traveling doesn’t mean it’s my ambition.” Pemba dabbed his face with his napkin and rose. “I’ll leave you to your travels.”

  Dom sat in the dining room for a few moments and sipped coffee. Perhaps if he moved away from his small village, he could find a place to spend his money and live a life on par with his income. These people didn’t judge him. They didn’t resent his rise from Denpa’s small shack to a mansion. Maybe all he needed to reinvent himself was a change of venue. Is this why Tashi had tried to convince him to stay away from the city? Was even Tashi invested in keeping Dom in his place
?

  Dom finished his coffee and walked through the big doors to the street. The sun reflected off the marble statue in the hotel’s courtyard. It was a leaping fish, rising from a little pool of blue water. Dom crossed the courtyard and headed up the street towards the markets.

  He walked several blocks before he oriented himself. Once he did, he retraced his path to the tobacconist. The shopkeeper was just opening his doors to the morning sun.

  “May I help you?”

  “I was here a few months ago. There was an older gentleman sitting in the corner.”

  “Yes?”

  “I was hoping to continue a conversation we started.”

  “You could be referring to one of several men. They sometimes meet here, but never this early. You might find them at the cafe at the corner.”

  “Thank you.”

  Dom followed the shopkeeper’s directions and found a bright, bustling cafe. He squeezed down the narrow aisle between tables crowded with loud patrons. At the counter, he waited for someone to address him, wondering what he would ask. He couldn’t really describe the old man, and most of the people in the busy cafe were old men. Dom felt eyes on him, and glanced towards the back of the cafe. A pair of narrowed eyes were locked on Dom.

  It was the old man from the tobacconist.

  Dom wound around several tables. He bumped a man and apologized. Soon he stood before a table with four withered old men. The one Dom recognized gestured for him to sit down. Dom borrowed a chair from another table and dragged it forward.

  “Osman,” the man said. His voice seemed to vibrate out from his neck, but Dom understood him over the din of the cafe. The back corner where these men gathered seemed separated from the rest of the cafe.

  “Why do you call me that?” Dom asked.

  “Why did you stop calling yourself that?” another man asked. “And how are you so young when the rest of us have aged so much?”

  “I’ve come to reassure you—you have me confused with someone else.”