by Clare Smith
Tobrin hesitated. He’d rehearsed this bit on his way up the hill but he hadn’t envisaged the conversation taking place quite like this. “My name’s Tobrin Danvers and my father owns a small holding nearby. He wanted to know if you would like to buy some eggs from him.”
The man, who wore a tee-shirt, joggers and trainers raised his eyebrows and looked down at the tatty cartons. “I’m sorry, I can’t help you. I’m allergic to eggs you see.”
“Then perhaps your family would like them. They’re really fresh, the hens only laid them this morning.”
Mr Carter smiled and Tobrin thought he knew him from somewhere but couldn’t remember where. “I don’t have a family; I’m living here by myself.”
“Oh.” His Dad wasn’t going to be pleased about that, and for that matter, neither was he. He would have to carry the wretched things back home again.
Someone called Mr Carter’s name from the top of the stairs and he turned to check whether it was the builders or the cleaners. “Look, I’m really busy at the moment, so it would be best if you took your eggs and left.”
Tobrin shifted his feet uncomfortably. He too thought it would be best if he left, but he had something else he needed to say, although he guessed that he’d blown his chances by now. “I hear you are looking for a gardener and I would like to apply for the job.”
The voice from upstairs called to Mr Carter again only more urgently this time. “I’ve got builders working on my practice room and electricians installing my equipment, but if you don’t mind following me upstairs we can talk about it there.”
Mr Carter turned away without waiting for an answer, so Tobrin followed him up the stairs. It was the first real chance he’d had to study the man and was intrigued by what he saw. Mr Carter was of middle height with an athletic build, and moved with grace and ease that comes with hard physical training. He looked to be in his late twenties, but when he smiled he looked younger. Tobrin wondered what he did for a living and how he’d come to own such a big house, not to mention a Porsche.
When he reached the top of the stairs he glanced back at the view in the entrance hall. Mr Carter certainly had lots of boxes and crates, but it was nothing compared to what was piled up in the bedrooms and along the landing. There must have been hundreds of them. The house’s owner didn’t wait for him but moved quickly into one of the rooms at the front of the house and Tobrin hurried after him.
He’d expected this room to be full of boxes too, but it wasn’t, it was empty except for three or four men installing cameras and other electrical equipment. One wall was completely covered in a mirror which ran from floor to ceiling, and there was a long, black mat which stretched the length of the room. He waited whilst Mr Carter talked to the electrician who was working on a grey metal box at one end of the mat, rehearsing what he was going to say.
“Do you do fencing?” asked Mr Carter suddenly.
That took him by surprise but he supposed it had something vaguely to do with gardening. “No, but my Dad might be able to help, he’s been putting together the hen houses.”
For a moment the man scowled and then laughed. “No, I don’t mean that sort of fencing, I mean fencing with foils or swords.”
“No, a javelin is my weapon.”
“Is it now? That would explain why you were so interested in the collection downstairs. It’s a pity though, I’m in need of a sparring partner.” He looked thoughtfully around the room as if he was seeing them fighting together. “So what experience do you have of gardening?”
“Not a lot really, but I know what needs to be mowed or pruned and I’m a fast learner.”
“Do you have any references?”
Tobrin shook his head, this wasn’t going at all well. “No, you see I’ve only just left school and I’m looking for my first job.”
That was a pity he really needed someone to start on the garden straight away and the boy had shown some initiative. “Perhaps the school would give you a reference. Don’t they have report cards or something?”
“I doubt it. I was only there for a few weeks and I think they were glad to see the back of me.”
“What about your previous school?”
Tobrin looked up, he hadn’t thought about that. “Yeh, Chelsea Academy would do that, but I don’t think they’ll say much about my gardening skills, it wasn’t on the curriculum.”
“I guess not. I’m sorry, Tobrin, I don’t think you’re what I’m looking for in a gardener, you’ve seen the state the place is in. I need someone with experience and some heavy equipment.”
“Yeh, you’re right, it’s a jungle out there. Anyway, thanks for thinking about it. I hope you find someone suitable.”
Tobrin turned away feeling much more disappointed than he thought he would. Charnel House interested him, but he’d been naive thinking that someone would take him on with no experience. The problem was how did you get some experience of doing practical things like gardening or fencing? All he was good at were useless things like hitting a ball, throwing a stick and talking in a language that no one had spoken for a hundred miles around.
Despondently he let himself out of the house and the driveway gates, dug his hands into the pockets of his jeans and started to trudge downhill. He’d walked for about twenty minutes when he remembered he’d left the eggs behind. He turned around and glanced back up the hill just as the first spots of rain spattered into his face. For a moment he thought of going back and retrieving the eggs, but he didn’t think Mr Carter would be pleased to see him.
That was just his luck wasn’t it? He was going to get it in the neck from his father and soaking wet at the same time. With a sigh he bent his head against the rain, which was coming down much harder now, and continued walking. Despite the rain and the wind in the trees he heard the car coming up behind him and stepped onto the grass verge to let it pass, only it stopped next to him.
Mr Carter opened the window and looked across at him. “Can I give you a lift?”
He supposed he shouldn’t because he didn’t know Mr Carter, but he wasn’t going to give up the chance of having a ride in a Porsche. “Thanks, that would be great.”
Shaking the water from his hair he opened the door and saw the four egg cartons on the seat which he picked up and placed on his knees as he fastened his seat belt and made himself comfortable. “Thanks for these, my dad would have gone bananas.”
“That’s all right. You said you lived in the smallholding at the bottom of the hill, didn’t you?”
Tobrin nodded and tried not to drip water onto the black leather seats. Now would have been the time to say something smart, but he couldn’t think of anything so he just sat back and enjoyed the ride, which was far too short for his liking. When they reached the pull-in by the gate he went to get out, but couldn’t because the door was locked. For a moment he felt a pang of alarm and wondered how he could use two dozen eggs to defend himself if the man turned nasty.
“I phoned up your old school,” said Mr Carter suddenly. “They said some good things about you and your work ethic. The Head Teacher said that you spoke a number of languages as well as reading Latin, Chinese and Greek and you were highly trustworthy, so I’ve got a proposition for you. You’ve seen all those packing cases in my house?” Tobrin nodded.
“Well they all belonged to my Great Grandfather who died recently. The deal was that I would inherit the house as long as I took care of the curios and antiques that he’d gathered over the years. That included cataloguing them and displaying them for the public, otherwise he was going to leave everything to the Ashmolean museum in Oxford.”
“Did you know how much stuff there was before you agreed to the deal?” asked Tobrin curiously.
“No, but there was no way that I was going to let some old museum have my inheritance, but the truth of the matter is that the task is beyond me, and that’s where you come in. If you’re interested, I would like you to unpack, catalogue and sort the collection.”
“That’s a job for
an expert, not someone like me, I’ve never done anything like that before.”
“I know, but I can’t afford an expert, in fact I can’t afford anyone really, this place is going to cost me every penny I’ve saved just to get it liveable. You, however, are the answer to my problem. Most of the things are labelled, or at least that’s what I’ve been told, but it’s not all in English. You are interested in weapons and a lot of the collection is to do with ancient kingdoms and their wars. Most of all, you’ve got initiative and intelligence. What do you say? I couldn’t pay much, but I’d top it up with free fencing lessons when I’m at home.”
It didn’t take much thinking about. “Yes, Mr Carter, I would really like to do that for you. When do you want me to start?”
“How about dropping the eggs off and I’ll drive you back so we can do some paperwork and come up with a plan of how to tackle this. Oh, and by the way, my name is Jim.”
“Thanks, I won’t be a tick.”
Tobrin opened the car door and stepped out into the rain whilst he precariously balanced the egg boxes in one hand and then stopped whilst he ran the man’s name through his mind. Jim Carter? Of course he knew where he’d seen him, it was on TV. His new employer was the Olympic fencing champion and sports presenter. Boy! Was his father going to be impressed by this or what?
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
CHAPTER FOUR
Twistirian the Chin
Chang’an
His name was Twistirian. It wasn’t his real name of course but he didn’t mind that. The name his mother had given him was Wang, which was short and jerky and could be heard a thousand times on the streets of Chang’an. For someone in his profession having a name which everyone knew was a disadvantage, so his master had given him a new one. It was an odd name that didn’t sound a bit like the names the Chin gave to their sons, but he supposed that was because his master had travelled across the Great Mountains and had heard the names other men called their sons.
One day he too would like to travel across the Great Mountains and see the lands where the Lord Buddha had been born, but that would have to be after his master released him. Of course he could just leave as Sawyer had done but then he would have to spend the rest of his life running and hiding, knowing that eventually his brothers would find him and bring him back. Being brought back to pay for his betrayal was one thing he wouldn’t want to happen.
He’d been too early into his training to have been part of the hunt for Sawyer, but he’d taken part in his punishment. The master had said it would be good for the brothers to hone their skills on one who had been trained to fight, instead of the usual slaves and criminals which were provided each day, so that is what they had done. It had taken Sawyer a long time to die.
No, he would wait until he’d repaid his master tenfold for his care and training, and then he would ask to be released. It would be unusual for his master to agree, but by then he would be a legend, and his master would be so pleased with the honour he’d brought him that he would set him free. That was something to strive for and was a far better way to go than being handed the silver knife to end his own existence, which was the fate of those who lived long enough to retire from their profession.
Their profession! Now that thought made him laugh. Here he was thinking about retiring when he hadn’t yet been accepted into the Brotherhood. Hopefully that would happen today when he took his final test, but if he failed then the thoughts of what he might do when he retired would be pointless; the brothers would retire him before he began!
The test didn’t bother him though. He’d been well trained and had been out with his brothers to see them work on a dozen or more occasions. What’s more he’d already used his skills to deal with an armed guard who had accidently stumbled on his brother’s activities and had been too slow to raise the alarm. That had been his one and only kill outside of the practice yard, but it would stand him in good stead.
Of course the test was different, as he would be on his own and his target would be someone important, but he was confident that he could complete his task and then return to take his place amongst his brothers. Then he would receive his robes and be given coin to purchase his own weapons. He would have his own cell too instead of sleeping with the other trainees in the boy’s hall.
What’s more he could take a woman to prove that he was a man. It was a pity that the brothers were only allowed that one taste of the pleasures of the flesh, but he understood that such indulgencies made a man weak and slowed his reactions. A moment’s hesitation could lead to discovery, and the possibility of that happening couldn’t be allowed for a man in his profession.
The Master of the Silent Hand had taught him that. He’d also taught him that overconfidence led to failure, and he knew he was right although it had taken a near disaster to learn the lesson. It had been during the test of the Strong Hand in the Night where he was meant to enter a pitch black room and despatch the occupant with his bare hands. The test should have been easy, as his senses were as finely tuned as any of the masters and his hands hardened by years of practice.
Unfortunately the man, a wild Mongol from the northern plains, was cunning and had laid a trap for him. When he’d entered the dark room, the stench of rancid fat and faeces was overpowering, leaving him to rely on his sense of hearing. That wasn’t a problem though, as he could hear something moving in the far corner and had run swiftly towards it already thinking about how quickly he could make his kill and get out of the stinking room.
It was then that he slipped on the man’s shit which the Mongol had smeared across the floor, and before he knew what was happening the man was on top of him. The Mongol was big and strong despite being kept in captivity for several weeks, and it was only due to the fact that he was naked and therefore vulnerable that he’d been able to subdue the man and eventually end his life. It had been a close run thing though.
That one moment of overconfidence had earned him a beating which he’d never forget, and set him back a year. At the time he’d railed against his punishment like a child, but in the end it had been a blessing. As it had no longer been possible for him to stay in Chang’an because of his anger and his shame, his master had taken him travelling.
They moved east and took a boat through the towering cliffs of the Yangtze Gorges to Ichang, and then north along the Tai Hang Shan to the teeming cities of the coast where he saw the vast ocean for the first time. From there they followed the Great Wall that was being built to keep out the Mongolian invaders, until it reached its end and they turned south again. Then they crossed rivers and deserts and returned home almost a year to the day from the time when they had left.
The journey had changed him both physically and mentally. Not only had he put on muscle from carrying his master’s possessions and, on occasions his master as well, he’d learned to be independent and to think for himself. His master had taught him other things like how to live off the land and how to speak the language of the Steppes, and most of all, his master had taught him the joy of discovering new places. By the time he’d returned to Chang’an he was ready to retake the test of the Strong Hand and didn’t make the same mistake twice.
He was making a mistake now though. Instead of clearing his mind for the test which was to come, he was sitting in the silent room thinking about past failures and future plans. That definitely wasn’t what the Master of the Still Mind had taught him. The old man would be appalled if he found out that instead of meditating and emptying his mind, he was filling it with all sorts of distractions.
On the other hand he might have just shrugged and walked away muttering to himself and complaining that he was wasting his time on Twistirian, who would never come to any good. There were others who would have agreed with him, but they were all fools. The thought would have made him smile except at that moment the door opened and his master walked into the small cell where he’d been waiting.
Immediately he leaned forward from his knees and bowed low until his forehead touched t
he floor. It was an uncomfortable position, but he could hold it for hours if needs be. He stayed where he was and listened to his master’s trailing robes as the old man walked around him and then came to a stop in front of where he knelt.
If his master thought he wasn’t prepared for what was to come, he would walk away and take the two men who carried his black attire and weapons with him. The only thing which would be left behind would be the silver knife with which he would take his own life. After the expense of his training that was unlikely to happen, but it was still a time of anxiety and tension.
“Twistirian, my son, are you ready for what is to come?”
“Yes, Master.” He lifted his head from the floor and resumed his kneeling position being careful not to sigh with relief.
“Twistirian, my son, are you ready for the final test, knowing that failure will result in dishonour and death?”
“Yes, Master.” That was true, although the thought of being hung naked by the ankles and used for target practice if he failed was enough to make any man think twice and perhaps choose the easier way out.
“Twistirian, my son, are you ready to join your brothers and give yourself to a life of service and obedience to those who have master over you?”
“Yes, Master.” For a moment he’d almost hesitated knowing that was going to be the hardest part of his vow to fulfil. His master must have known it too, as the pause before he spoke again was longer than necessary.
“Then rise, my son and honour those who would judge you.”
He stood and bowed to the brother on his master’s left who placed the black clothes he would wear during his trial on the floor in front of him. His master had done him a great honour by choosing Kingquin, the most senior of the brothers to be his judge. The man was an expert with a knife and would undoubtedly be the next Master of the Blade in the Dark. He was also a man of strict discipline, who was likely to fail him for the slightest infringement of the rules.
