Skillful Death (20 page)

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.

O
N
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.

“Instead of leaving, you could simply pay me for the next week,” his landlady said. “And I’m sure the mine would take you back. I know men who quit every payday, and are right back at their job when their money runs out.”

Dom looked at his feet. He knew she was right, but at the thought of staying, he felt the hope in his chest beginning to die. Tara was beautiful, but life was miserable in the small town.

“Come to dinner with me at my aunt’s house,” Tara said.

“Yes, go to dinner,” his landlady said.

“I’ll wait here while you go clean up,” Tara said.

Dom agreed and trudged up the stairs to his room. He went first to his bed, so he could heft the secret pouch filled with his escape money. After cleaning himself up, he donned his traveling clothes, packed his bag, and prepared his escape. He left a note for the landlady with his final payment, slung his bag over his shoulder, and jumped down from the back wall to the alley. He had only one farewell to make before he could leave.

Dom snuck around the back way to Pemba’s room. He knocked on Pemba’s shuttered window.

“What?” an angry voice asked.

“Open your window,” Dom whispered.

The setting sun cast a beautiful orange glow on the side street, but when Pemba opened his shutter, he blinked against the light as if it were a curse on his eyes.

“What are you doing here? Didn’t Tara come find you?” Pemba asked.

“Yes, she did. Thank you. I’ve decided to leave. I wanted say goodbye,” Dom said.

“You’re eloping with Tara?”

“No. I’m just leaving. It’s something I’ve been planning for a while,” Dom said.