The Pale Locksmith

CHAPTER 8: THE NEED TO WORK

"Have a good day at work, Dad. Love you."

Adiniah said the same thing today as she did each time her father was leaving to go to work, with little variation. Perhaps a gentle reminder to take his umbrella in the rain to stop his hair shrinking, or to wear a hat if it was cold to stop him getting ill. But she always finished with the same two words, and he always responded with a smile. Whenever he headed out the door in that long black coat, she could not help but feel pride. Her father, the Lawkeeper.

The other inhabitants of the market certainly found it comforting to have him living on the square, as if his mere presence could ward off crime. Occasionally, he was asked to mediate in a dispute between two neighbours, or to give his advice on the law. Each time he was asked such a thing, he would keep his answer modest. He would always say that he would not be much help, that a solution could be worked out without him. Adiniah was glad he was not the type of man who let power go to his head, like some Lawkeepers were known to do.

In fact, one would never guess her father was even a Lawkeeper at all if one had not been told. He said very little about his work and what he had been done, and never had. Whenever she asked how his day was, it turned out each time that the day was fine. He never went into detail about what he had done that day or said much about the Ministry itself, instead talking about what had been written in the news-sheets that day. It was like that part of his life he deliberately kept away from his family. Perhaps he was trying to protect them, for as a Lawkeeper, he would have seen many awful things.

Time to get back to work herself. She finished her kneading, then covered the dough up. Walking over to the oven, she continued preparing for the day ahead. There was no time to waste, there never was. A little part of her wished Lawkeepers were given more coins to take home to their families; it would be nice not to have to worry so much about how much the Bakery sold every day.

* * *

Jarud finished his examination, then covered the man up. Walking over to his desk, he picked up his pencil and wrote some words on the form before him.

SWELLING OF THE BONES

Truth be told, there was little else he could write about the man. He had been found on the streets, and there were no clues as to his identity. His name and address were left blank. He had been brought to the Department of Necropsy simply because he had been found in a neighbouring street. Jarud had begun the examination straight away, with Rance peering over his shoulder. They had found little wrong with the man, besides a lack of oral hygiene. But there had been these lumps under the skin on his legs, which felt as if they were growing from the bones. That, they had decided, was probably what brought this unfortunate soul to his demise.

"I don't think I will examine this one further Rance. No name, no pox, no foul play. The Ministry will be happy with Swelling of the Bones."

Jarud was exceptionally well educated in his field, having many times read both books on the topic of human dissection. Rance also had read them at some point, but he always found learning through doing much easier. On one occasion years ago he had been sent to Kessia to learn about newer techniques to help identify the cause of death. From what he could see, there was room after room of people experimenting with different coloured liquids on pieces of dead bodies. He struggled to see the point of all that action, but kept quiet. Besides that it had all been rather interesting, except for the way they spoke down to him.

"Of course - Mister Toh is it? – the first thing you most always do is to make sure the heart is not beating. Otherwise, it means the patient is still alive..."

As if he had learnt nothing at all in his years as a Deathnoter. When he had told Jarud the story, he had just laughed and told him not to worry. After all, that was what Mainlanders were like.

He watched his friend now, as he carefully brushed the hair of a little girl who had been brought in before the unknown guest. It seemed peculiar to focus on the appearance of someone who would soon be laid to rest, but that that was part of who Jarud was. It was just in case the devastated parents caught a glimpse of their daughter in this state, that was why he was willing to make the extra effort. At least her examination had been straightforward: found in a stream, water in lungs.

DROWNED

There had been so much compassion from Jarud, as there was for every guest. From the way he had gently lifted her out of the ashen-faced man's arms, to the way he had laid her down on the stone slab with tenderness. As if she was merely sleeping and should not be awoken. Rance had decided to go for some fresh air at that point, leaving Jarud to his work; he had always struggled not to get emotional when children had come through the door – that had always been his weakness, ever since the early days.

Besides the occasional moment of sadness, he had mostly enjoyed his time as a Deathnoter. Strangely, he found it satisfying to solve the puzzle of each death. Of course, it was not a career he would have chosen. Growing up, he had been decently educated, his parents had seen to that. He had been a reasonable student in his classes, and by the time he had finished he could both write and count, meaning he had a stronger foundation that many of his background.

However, it was one thing being smart enough for an occupation, it was quite another to actually be given the opportunity to work. He had ended up in Cilia Town quite by accident – his father had gotten him a job working on a merchant ship which travelled between the Islands and the mainland, using his reading skills to manage the stores and stock. It meant a few coins each journey, plus whatever he wanted from the galley. Rance had rather liked this arrangement, until he came to the harbour one morning and found no sign of the ship except the top of the mast poking out the waves. This meant no more coins and no more free food, but Rance was sure he would find another occupation soon, even without his father's help. But little did he know...

Time after time, he was turned away from potential employment. He realised that his face did not fit in at a lot of places, and desperation began to set in. When the opportunity to work in the Ministry in Cilia Town came up, he grabbed it with both hands. He had not paid attention to the lack of other people interested in this particular job, nor had he had time to learn what necropsy was. This made his first day rather an unusual experience – he was not expecting to walk into the room and find a rotting corpse lying there. He had survived though, even if he had regretted wearing his smartest clothes. The first thing he was asked to do was to read The Volume Of Deathly Ailments & Suspicious Deaths and work out what had killed the man. He was up reading by candlelight at home late into the night, but he found the truth. And with that, he had found an occupation.

The Volume Of Deathly Ailments & Suspicious Deaths was still on his old desk, gathering dust alongside his copy of How To Dissect Humans After Death. Jarud had the same pair of books, although his versions were far from dusty.

Now was time for Neriat and Clouter to make themselves useful. Except, of course, they were not in the building. Rance knew where they were. There were some people on the street out the back playing Threedice, and that was where the two of them could be found. They had gone out almost as soon as they had arrived, but not before Jarud had carefully explained to each of them when to place bets and when to hold back. Judging by the cursing in Clouter's gruff tones outside, this advice had been forgotten or ignored, and he was losing coins as a result.

As Jarud brought them back into the room, he told them to pick. Clouter reacted quickest, choosing the lighter of the two guests. As he scooped the child up, Jarud helped Neriat move the man. As they did this, Rance collected both death sheets and checked them, ready to take to The Old White tomorrow morning when he reported for duty. Here they would be filed away, undoubtedly to become as unread and dusty as the two books that sat upon his desk.

As he finished, Jarud returned to the room. Rance looked around the room, as if to make doubly sure he had not somehow missed another guest lying somewhere.

"Shall we go get some food?"

Jarud nodded, then headed straight to the soap and bucket of cold water left in the corner. Rance patted his pockets, but they felt empty.

"Have you seen my coinbag?"

"Rarely."

Rance was about to retort, but then Jarud pointed at the table, where Rance had absent-mindedly left his money earlier. And soon after that, the two friends were walking together in the cold sunshine.