Skillful Death (43 page)

Diki wrote letters to several factories, arranging for tours to amuse Dom during his stay in the city. Dom arranged a trust for his assets in Diki’s name. She would control everything if something happened to him. Too often, female children were denied their inheritance in their patriarchal village. Dom refused to trust Diki’s future to chance.

They traveled well. The river voyage was calm, and their boat arrived at the city docks in just two days. Dom marveled at the architecture while Diki tugged at his arm. She barely glanced around her, as if she was thoroughly accustomed to these new surroundings. Dom wrapped his shaved head in a scarf as Diki walked him up the street.

She found their way to the house based on Jetsan’s instructions, and the little map drawn on the back of the invitation letter. In the foyer, Dom set down Diki’s bags and waited while Diki ventured off to the kitchen to find her new landlords.

“They’re down at the fountains for the autumn fair. I’m going to up to my room. Would you like to sit in the parlor, or take a walk while I go upstairs?” Diki asked.

“I’ll come with you,” Dom said. “How do you know which room is yours?”

“They told me,” Diki said, laughing.

“But why is nobody here to greet you? This is not how family welcomes a newcomer to town.”

“How would they know when our boat would arrive? Do you expect them to stay tethered to their house on the chance that we may arrive this morning? Don’t be silly, Daddy,” she said.

Diki led them down a long hall and stopped at the second to last door on the left. The door was locked.

“Oh,” Diki said, smiling to herself as she dug through one of her bags. She withdrew a key and held her hair out of her eyes as she leaned forward to maneuver it into the slot.

“Let me try,” Dom said, putting down the bags.

“No need,” Diki said. She pushed open the door.

“Why do you need locks? Do they fear intruders? And why locks on doors inside the house? Couldn’t they just lock the outside door? I don’t understand.”

“Lots of people live here. Everyone would want their own privacy, I’m sure. Can you help me with my bags?”

Dom carried the bags into the room. It was furnished with a bed, desk, and several baskets. Diki went immediately to the window.

“Look, I can see a courtyard from my window. I can push my desk over here so I can look out on it.”

Dom dropped the bags on the bed and examined the door.
 

“This may lock, but it won’t hold up to much of an attack. Someone could just kick it and it would collapse. Don’t think you’re safe just because you’ve locked the door.”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Diki said.

“And I’m sure there’s a reason they put a lock here,” he said.

“I’ll get some blankets and pillows to cover this bed, so I’ll have another place to sit. I’ll need something for this window, something to blow in the breeze while I’m working.”

“That breeze will be cold soon. You’ll need to keep that window shuttered. I’ve heard the city is infested with monkeys. They come in your window and can bite you or steal your food.”

“Monkeys,” Diki said.

“Yes. It’s a real thing,” Dom said.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take a walk. Perhaps you can survey the neighborhood and catalogue any local threats for me?”

He knew she was joking, but Dom wanted to do just that. Unfortunately, he feared that if the wrong person spotted him, he might elevate the threat to his daughter. Tashi had infected him with this sliver of paranoia, and now it grew.

Dom sat on the bed, surrounded by Diki’s bags. She busied herself arranging her things in the room.

“Shall we go shopping this afternoon, or perhaps just see the sights?” she asked. “I suppose I can go shopping in the morning. Everything might be picked over in the afternoon. I might have more luck in the morning. You’re taking the tour of the cloth factory tomorrow, yes?”

“You know I only worry about you because you mean so much to me,” Dom said.

“I know. Of course I know.”

“Your mother left when you were so young. You were so fragile. You hated me so much. I could barely walk in the room at first. It took me weeks to win your affection.”

“I’m not leaving you, Daddy. I’ll be home all the time, and you can visit me. Once I graduate, I’m sure I’ll move right back home. Pemba said I could work with him. Perhaps I’ll do the accounting for the conferences until I can build up my qualifications.”

“It’s so much to think about,” Dom said. “Why do you always cast your mind so far into the future. Can’t you stay here, in this moment?”

“I’m only planning,” she said. “You always taught me to be prepared. And what is preparation, but casting your mind into the future and imagining what you’ll need? I’m going to finish putting my things away. You’re right in my way. Please, Daddy, why don’t you take a walk? Maybe you can locate a good place for supper.”

Dom withdrew from Diki’s room. He took his time finding his way back down to the foyer. First, he inspected their water closet. The plumbing was recent, but poorly installed. Surely, they would have leaks within a year, and likely have a flood before Diki was finished with her schooling.
 

He found the parlor and sat. With three days to kill before his departure, Dom needed to find a way to occupy his time. Diki would go shopping, explore her part of the city, and hopefully make some friends. Dom just hoped to stay out of her way while still ensuring that she was safe to stay in the city. He needed to find peace with her decision so he could return home without a ball of worry gnawing at his stomach. Other girls weren’t so strong-willed and ambitious. Why must his daughter possess these traits?

A pair of young women came in from the street, walked by the entry of the parlor, and headed up the stairs. They shot him a passing glance. They were so young and pretty when they smiled, but when they looked at Dom, derision passed over their features. Dom shifted on his couch. He thought to wrap his head in scarves again, but changed his mind. He would probably just look more dangerous if he were disguised, he figured.

Another woman, this one a few years older than Diki and not nearly as beautiful, entered. She strode with purpose, but when she saw Dom, she gathered her robe and hurried to the stairs. She disappeared up the staircase with a clatter of hard shoes on the stones.

Dom rose and decided to venture out. He wrapped his head and gathered the scarf under his chin. With his head tilted down, as if in deep thought, only his eyes would show. Dom found his way to the street.

Dom liked the location of Diki’s house. The street was wide and the houses well-kept. He saw no alleys with beggars, or dark doorways that might shelter miscreants. Her street was quiet, but connected on either end to thoroughfares. She would always have two good ways to escape, or find her way home. Dom followed a small group towards a public fountain. Children sat on the edge of the water and dangled their feet. An old woman filled a jug from a spout. Dom wondered about the source of the water and how it was conveyed. The marketplace began a few dozen paces up the hill. That’s where the concentration of people rose sharply. Dom walked up the hill and tried to blend in. At first, the diversity of the crowd made Dom nervous. A woman with huge, blue eyes waved her arms emphatically as she argued with a tall man who had light skin and yellow hair. Dom kept his eyes moving, not wanting to expose his own shock. A short man with red hair pushed an armload of fancy fabric past Dom and trudged down the hill. Their strangeness bothered Dom until, with a burst of intuition, he realized that for once, he wasn’t the most unusual person around. In fact, who would even notice him with all these odd people about?

Most of the merchants here sold lengths of fabric for clothes and upholstery. The customers didn’t stop to browse or inspect. They glanced and moved on, or they haggled vigorously. Dom drew suspicious eyes when he paused and ran his thumb over a bolt of cloth. He moved on.

After a different circle with a different fountain, Dom took a right. The market continued, but with food vendors. People browsed, and touched, and sometimes tasted. Delicious smoke wafted from under awnings, and samples were occasionally pressed into his hand as he tried to pass. Dom made two passes down this strip of vendors. He imagined where Diki would find her lunch and which would become her favorite place to eat. Dom smiled at an ancient woman who sold noodles in small clay cups.
 

Dom took another right and began to head back down the hill towards the river. The street vendors thinned. They sold clothing, and furnishings, and were interspersed with storefronts. A pack of children ran up to Dom, begging for coins. Dom turned up his empty hands and claimed poverty. All his money was together, in a pouch around his waist. He didn’t want to expose his whole fortune out on the street, so the kids got nothing. The next time he had his pouch open, Dom decided he would take a few small coins and move them to a more convenient place. The children ran off and one turned to spit at Dom’s feet. Dom thought about the way Pemba would spit on the soles of his feet before he’d cross cursed ground. The thought made him wish for his friend. He’d asked Pemba not to come so he could spend time with Diki, but here he was, pushed out of Diki’s room anyway. Pemba could have showed Dom the sights, and eased his fear about some rival spotting him on the street.

Dom wandered into a tobacconist. Behind the counter, the wall was lined with stout shelves handling hundreds of boxes and jars. Dom leaned forward over the counter and marveled at the variety of textures and colors. The aroma of the shop was both soothing and invigorating. Dom closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“May I help you find something?” the clerk asked. He was older than Dom. His white hair formed a broken ring around his head.

“Pardon me,” Dom said. He pulled the scarves from his neck. “I was just enjoying the smells. Do you have anything light?”

“Of course,” the clerk said. “This is from the south. It’s a very pleasant blend; very soothing on the throat. It’s especially good in the early mornings, or late at night. Would you like to try a bit?”

“No, thank you. It smells wonderful,” Dom said. “Could I have three small boxes of that?”

“Certainly, sir. Let me fetch those from the back. Will these be a gift?”

“Two of them, yes.”

“I’ll wrap two then.”

“Perfect.”

Dom turned to regard the rest of the shop when the clerk disappeared. Behind another short counter, the man sold spices and coffee. A rack with pipes sat in the center of the store. A couple of small tables were tucked into the corner. He didn’t notice the old man sitting in the corner until his smoke wafted up into a beam of sunlight.

The old man’s voice grated and buzzed when he spoke—“How is it that you look the same?”

“Pardon?” Dom asked.

“You, Osman, you look precisely the same. Maybe it’s not you. Maybe you’re the son of Osman? No, it must be you. My eyes have never lied before.”

“I’m afraid you’ve confused me,” Dom said. The name was familiar, but he didn’t know what it meant. Where had he heard that before?

“I saw you last on the desert peninsula, where you left us all without food or water. You sailed off in your ship and left us to bake in the sun.”

“I’ve never been to a desert,” Dom said.

The old man’s voice changed. It quickened and pitched even lower as he spoke a string of words that Dom couldn’t understand. He ended with two syllables that Dom could pick out—“Osman.”

“I don’t understand you, and I’m not the person you’re looking for.” Dom thought back to his carefully recovered memories of his childhood, when he had grown up named Constantine. He searched that sylvan narrative for the name Osman, but came up blank. Then it hit him—the monk in the cave had called him Osman. He’d said that Dom had first come to the cave as an old man, calling himself Osman. Could it be true? There was no room in his timeline for another name.
 

Dom turned back to the clerk who appeared with the parcels. Dom fished out his money pouch and paid the clerk, but forgot to save aside some favors for the beggars.

“Thank you,” Dom said, as he fled the shop. He kept one eye on the shop as he trotted away. The old man didn’t follow.

Dom took a series of random turns, careful to move away from Diki’s house, and careful to glance back over his shoulder frequently. He re-wrapped his scarves and stowed his presents in his bag. Dom followed his nose back to a food market and found a coffee shop where he could sit in the corner and watch the door. While the waiter fetched his order, Dom sorted through his money and moved a little to his bag for small purchases and for the beggars.
 

The waiter brought a tray with a carafe of steaming water, a press, and a porcelain cup. He executed elaborate steps to prepare the coffee at the table and presented Dom with the result. Dom smiled and tipped handsomely. When the waiter withdrew, Dom found him replaced with two men, each with a spotless white robe and bright red sash. They took seats on either side of Dom.

Dom remained silent and studied his cup of coffee.
 

“Good afternoon, sir,” the man on the right said.

Dom saw himself as a little boy, flanked by two men who would drag him off to the Constable. He wondered if this evening would end with a dunk in the river. At least now he knew how to swim, he thought.

Dom looked the man in the eye.

“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?