Skillful Death (31 page)

“Your parents are dead?” Dom asked.

“Obviously,” she said. “Why do you think I’m living here with my aunt?”

Dom raised his eyebrows as Tara continued.

“The woman said, ‘No.’ She said that the vow could no longer hold my body because my body became my own when my parents passed away. Unfortunately, my father was the person in our village who would negotiate that type of arrangement. Whenever anyone would die, he would assess their wishes and determine if the normal inheritance should be overruled. In my case, I would have gone to him to ask if my vow remained, but of course he was dead.”

“Couldn’t the blind woman speak for your father?”

“Her word is only binding to the person who pays for her services. After my father passed on, the person who took over the duty of arbitration was none other than the father of my betrothed. He decided that I should go away for one year to stay with my closest relatives until I’m the proper age. When I return, I will marry his son.”

“Oh,” Dom said.

“But the blind woman came to me again. This time she came on her own and she said that my box holds a knife, and this knife is capable of cleaving my body from my soul. Only my soul is still promised to the boy because my body is now my own. Once my body and soul are cleaved, my soul will go to the boy back in my village and my body will be free to do whatever I wish.”

“But how can your body continue on without a soul?”

“I assume the body can grow a new soul? Or perhaps one will be reincarnated into my body? Whatever the case, at least my body won’t be promised anymore. The boy is fat and terrible. I can’t stand the thought of my body going to him.”

“But your soul?”

“My soul will go with the knife and the box. They will be returned if the cleaving is successful. When I first saw you, I thought, ‘Here’s the boy who will release me from my vow.’ But then I decided it wasn’t you, after all. The blind woman said my true love would be a boy unlike any other I’d seen before. She said he would be tall and strong. You’re definitely different than other boys, but you’re not all that tall. You look strong, but who knows? I’ve never seen you do anything that required all that much strength. Perhaps she meant strong-willed, or strong of character, but I’m not sure you’re either of those.”

“But have you seen any other man who fits the description better than I do?”

“Well, there is a boy who lives down near the creek. His family have a small herd of yak and his mother processes the wool. He wears the most amazing yak costumes I’ve ever seen. He’s definitely unlike any other boy I’ve seen, but I think it’s mostly because of the dye his mother uses for the yak wool. I wonder how she does it? He’s also not very tall, and his shoulders are not as broad as yours. But I can’t speak to which of you would be stronger. How could I know that?”

“I don’t know,” Dom said. He briefly imagined challenging this boy to a fight so they could prove which of them was stronger. But he didn’t want to fight this boy he’d never met. The yak boy might not even have interest in Tara. How would he like it if some strange boy came up to him and wanted to fight over some girl he didn’t even know? The thought depressed him.
 

“And there’s another boy I met who lives on the plains with his family. They have a horse and they hunt. He’s very tall, but he looks just like one of my cousins back on the mountain. The blind woman said he would be tall and strong, but also unlike any other boy. He was definitely not unlike my cousin, and come to think of it, he may have just seemed tall because he was riding the horse on the day I met him. Still, I wonder if maybe he was the boy. I’ve never seen anyone my age riding a horse before.”

“Oh,” Dom said. He understood her fascination. He’d seen people riding horses and had felt a deep envy. The bond between a man and a giant animal was something his soul seemed to covet.

“But I wanted to discuss this favor with you again,” Tara said.

“Why me?” Dom asked. For weeks, he felt like he was developing a special bond with beautiful Tara. Now, with one conversation, he felt like he was just one of many prospects in her busy love life.

“Because if you’re the one who is going to release my body from my soul, then you should be the one who will wed my body.”

“Oh?” Dom asked. He suddenly wished they were at the rock so he could sit down.

“Don’t you want to marry my body?”

“Without your soul?”

“Yes,” she said, “without this soul that you’ve grown to know.”

“Yes!” Dom grasped her by the shoulders. “I would be so happy to.”

“Then you’d better start discussing it with my aunt. There’s so much snow collecting in the passes. It would be foolish to try to reach my village this time of year, but my aunt and her husband can start to talk with you about such arrangements. Let’s go to our rock.”

With no performances scheduled for that evening, and a harsh wind blowing from the west, they found themselves alone in the circle. They took their customary seat on the sloping rock and Tara set her box down in her lap. She used her sturdy thumbnail to break the paper seal around the edge of the box and opened the lid on its wooden hinge.
 

“It is a knife, she was right!” Tara said.

The knife inside didn’t look capable of cutting anything more substantial than a soul. It had a curved red handle and a pounded copper blade that came to a rounded peak instead of a point.

Dom reached for the knife and Tara didn’t stop him. He lifted the small blade with his finger and thumb and turned it, letting the metal reflect the light from the setting sun.

“It’s beautiful,” Tara said.

Dom didn’t agree. If one of his workers had turned out such sloppy metalwork, Dom would have replaced him the next morning. The handle looked interesting though. Its enameled surface was shinier than the copper.

“I hope you have studied how to cleave my soul from my body, because I know nothing about it,” Tara said.

One of the most important things Tashi had taught Dom was this: a customer is most happy when they have confidence in the person they’ve hired. Their satisfaction invariably comes from the level of mastery demonstrated by the businessman. Dom used this lesson. He imagined what Tashi would say.

“Yes,” Dom said. “I’ve studied cleaving extensively since you last mentioned it.” He had not. “Our traditions down here are commensurate with the lower altitude, so they may seem slightly different than yours.”

“I’ve never seen the ceremony,” Tara said.

“But still, if you see them in the future, they may seem different because we’re at a different altitude than your village.” Dom waved the blade in an S pattern, catching the orange light and sparkling it in their eyes. “You must set the box on your chest and lie back on this rock.”

Tara bit her lower lip and followed his instruction. Then she decided that she was uncomfortable because her head was on the low side of the rock, so she spun around so her head was elevated. She put the box on her chest and then let her hands dangle to her sides.
 

“Now close your eyes,” Dom said. “When I cleave your soul from your body, it will find its way into your box. You can’t look at your own soul directly, or it won’t detach from your body. Once your soul is back in the box, I have to close it immediately, to trap it inside.”

“With the knife,” she said.
 

“Pardon?” Dom asked.

She opened her eyes and lifted her head. “You have to seal the knife in there as well because it will be attached to my soul.”

“Yes, of course,” Dom said. “Didn’t I say that?”

“And you know the incantation?” Tara asked.

“I do, but I dare not speak the words aloud. I’ll recite the incantation only in my head, so the words won’t lose their power. That’s how we have to do it down here where the air is moist.”

Tara nodded and rested her head back on the rock.

“You’ll feel my hand on your shoulder and then you won’t hear me speak again until your soul is in the box. Remember, you must keep your eyes completely shut.”

Dom put his hand firmly on her shoulder so she would feel his presence and know to keep her eyes shut. He also liked the soft feel of her flesh beneath her dress. He flipped the knife around so the pathetic blade was in his palm. He touched the handle of the knife to her forehead.

“Oh!” Tara exclaimed, when the knife touched her skin.
 

Dom traced the knife handle up the swoop of her beautiful nose and across her moist, full lips. When she moaned, a shiver ran down his spine and he struggled to not press too firmly on her shoulder. Dom summoned his courage and ran the knife handle down her chin and her silky smooth neck. He tried to maintain a consistent pace as his hand approached her undulating chest. She arched her back as he touched the handle between her breasts, past the box, and made a line down the center of her belly.
 

His hand clutched the blade of the knife and he felt the hammered copper bite into his palm. Dom’s head swam and his legs weakened as the knife handle approached her pelvis. Tara pulled her feet up onto the rock and pointed her knees towards the sky as the knife handle reached her privates. Far away from his reality, Dom heard Tara gasp. Time slowed, and might have stretched forever if not for the blood.
 

The blade cut a straight line across the middle of Dom’s hand, and his blood ran in a rivulet down the handle and dripped on Tara’s yellow dress. Dom returned to his senses with a crash, and suddenly saw the scene from over his own shoulder. Tara’s manic gasps and his own trembling, dripping hand were their own stupid tragedy. He could not detach himself from them. He moved his hand rapidly away from her crotch and up towards her breasts. With the handle, he dragged a smear of blood upwards.

Tara expelled a final gasp as he drew the knife back to the box and placed it inside. He closed the lid and removed his other hand from her shoulder. Tara’s eyes flew open as he used his good hand to pull the box from her chest.
 

He thrust his cut hand into his pocket and twirled it into his handkerchief.
 

“Did it work?” Tara asked, as she blinked against light from the setting sun.

The wind kicked up and nearly tore the question from her mouth. Tara shielded her eyes from the dust. Dom pushed the box towards her and she took it without looking down. Her eyes sought Dom’s, but between the dust and the setting sun over his shoulder, she couldn’t see his face.

“Did it work?” she asked again.

His answer was carried off by another gust of wind.

“I can’t hear you. Please tell me, did it work?” she asked. She looked down at the box and saw the streaks of blood on her dress.

“It was not without complications,” Dom said. “But yes, it worked.”

T
ARA
WRAPPED
HERSELF
IN
her orange cloak and tried to hide the blood as best she could. Dom dropped her off and hurried down the path away from her aunt’s house. He didn’t make it to the corner before a scream erupted from the house. Dom paused and turned, debating if he should go back to Tara’s aid.
 

He didn’t get the chance to decide for himself.
 

Jetsan ran from the house, waving his hands and screaming nonsense words. The man looked so horrified and angry, Dom looked around and wondered for a second where Jetsan was headed. The older man came straight for Dom and rained furious blows on Dom’s head and shoulders. Dom raised his arms and growled. Jetsan grabbed him by his new suit and dragged him towards the house.

Dom found himself in the front room, cast into a seat in the corner. In front of Dom, Jetsan paced and ranted.

“I asked you to do one thing. One thing!” Jetsan said.

Dom rewrapped his hand in his handkerchief. His wound still wept a little blood.

Behind Jetsan in the doorway, Tara briefly appeared.

“Uncle, it is not my body’s blood. It’s blood from my soul. Tell him, Dom, it’s blood from my soul,” she said. Her aunt’s hands pulled her back and she disappeared into the house.

“How can I send her back now?” Jetsan asked. “Her box is defiled, and her reputation destroyed.”

“Sir?”

“You’re supposed to show me gratitude. I showed you the same generosity I would show my own son. I lifted you from the mines, and gave you the opportunity to become a legitimate businessman.”

“Sir?”

“And now you’ve dragged my reputation into the gutter with hers? Washed away like the foul water from your dastardly metal pipes?”

“It’s my blood,” Dom said. “It is not from her body or her soul. It’s from my hand.” He held up his bandaged hand and displayed the blood-soaked cloth he gripped against his wound.

“Who cares where the blood is from? Is that all you children care about is the blood? You’ve broken the seal on her promise box. You could have done anything to her body and I would not have cared. Didn’t I tell you that I only cared about the box?”

“Yes,” Dom said. “But the blind woman told her that she should cleave her soul from her body.”