Warning: This chapter contains some more violence, even death. But I did not raise the rating, because if a child is able to live through something like that - and they do, thousands of them, each and every day - I still think elder minors can cope with this. Nothing too explicit, nothing you can't see in the news in TV, but I wanted to warn you just in case. I hope you read it nevertheless for I put many research into this chapter.
HEART TO HEART CONVERSATION
Embracing Darkness
Good evening, my dear friend. Honestly, I am really trying to adjust. I know you had no hard day this week, so you surely can afford to listen to my demented rambling tonight. Not demented? Why, thank you. You flatter me. Sometimes I think I am going crazy. You were right, being alone all day is not really good for my mental health, you are absolutely right, I need someone to talk to, someone who objects and tells me I am behaving weird - otherwise I lose any anchor to sanity.
That is exactly why I am here and talk to you. Yes, I know. I am wallowing in self-pity and self-loathing again, but I can't help. I have to pity myself for I won't get any sympathy from anyone else, do I? Naturally I do not need to loathe myself - I get far too much loathing from anyone, but that... well, I know, I am being cynical. Sometimes I am just in such a dark mood. I was thinking... Thinking of Chang Lee and sometimes I miss him so much. I am in desperate need of his wisdom and guidance, but he is dead and I can't ask him.
Of course I could ask you. Such a silly comment. But you are not Chang Lee, are you? No, I cannot respect you like him. Never. I know you have my best interests at heart, but... It is hard to describe... You are a good friend, and if you die I will miss you terribly, but... He was my Sensei. You'll never understand the bond between teacher and pupil in that culture. It is something special.
I am here to tell you, don't worry. Apple? See, I did not forget apples, and I have apple tart as well, but no wine. If I am in such a dark mood like tonight, I better not drink or I'll never stop. You know that. Apple tart and water, this will have to do. Yes, I know, it looks horrible, but it tastes delicious. What do you think it will look like after we ate it?
Yes, that winter in Lahore... We would have loved to have such delicacy. We lived on nothing but roti, that's flat bread, almost without taste, but it fills the stomach. My days were always the same. I would get up, prepare my props for my show, my show would begin early afternoon and end in the evening. I did not show my face and my magic show was purely entertainment, as was my music. I liked to make people laugh and I loved to see how happy my music could make them. I know it sounds strange considering all I had been through at this time, but I had not given up hope to fit into some sort of society. I still loved to make people happy instead of sad or scare them. Making someone smile or laugh always gives me this warm feeling, this quiet, warm feeling, I really like that. Sometimes I wonder where I would be now if I was just bad looking and not like a monster from a horror novel. But these thoughts don't help, they just leave me bitter and even more depressed than I am now.
After the show we would go to the outskirts and exercise. No matter how tired I was after these shows in the bazar, I had to exercise. I had to bow to him and to follow his every command, "I can't" or "I'm tired" or "It hurts" were no options - saying "no" was no option. I had to obey and trust him that he would care for my well-being enough to stop me before I hurt myself. And he did. He told me if he ever allowed me to hurt myself, he would fail me - and that would be the worst a teacher could do to his pupil. I did trust him. I remember the night when I was very angry with myself for I did not master the technique he tried to teach me. I was exhausted, hungry and thirsty, I could barely stand upright, but my anger at my failure kept me going. I tried again and again, until Chang stopped me.
"Enough," he said, holding my arm.
"No it is not enough!" I yelled at him, "I know I can do it!" My frustration with my inability to do what I knew I should be able to do was all I cared about that moment. I was so angry, I shook off his hand and tried again, but this time I could not go through the exercise. My stomach heaved and I was down on hands and knees in the dust, retching. I had not eaten anything that day so all I brought up was a bit of water.
"O my stupid boy," Chang sighed and fetched the zahato, that is a leather bag in which you can carry water. He handed it to me and told me to drink. "When I say stop, you should stop, understood?" He wasn't angry, only worried.
"I know I can do it!" I gasped, feeling much better after a few gulps of water. I staggered to my feet and waited for him to put down the zahato. Water was far too valuable to spill it. Then I attacked him with the technique I should have mastered by now. I failed miserably, I was sluggish and imprecise. But he took care to let me win, of course I knew that he wanted me to win or he would have blocked my approach before I was close enough to do anything.
He was lying in the dust, me on top of him, my ninjato - that is a sword, a bit like a katana, but shorter - pressed to his neck, the chain of my kusarigama wrapped around his legs. What? I never told you what a kusarigama is? Well... it is a chain weapon, looks like a sickle attached to a chain and on the other end of the chain is a weight, be it iron or stone. It is not so easy to hide like my lasso, but I liked it nevertheless. He was unharmed, of course, and he was grinning proudly despite my miserable failure.
"You mastered a very difficult lecture," he said as he got up again. I retrieved my weapons and stared at him in confusion. "Yes, you did. You understood the importance of intensive training."
On our way back to where we lived he held my arm to steady me. I was close to fainting that night. We stopped at a small kiosk - well, what they call a kiosk in the slums of Lahore - and he bought two bowls of some indefinable puree made of rice and some sort of meat. It might have been lamb, but I guess it was a very old he-goat from the taste of it. "Meat? Did we make so much money today?" I asked surprised.
He winked at me, giving me a sly look. "Do you think you are the only one who learns new skills?" he asked, laughing, as we sat on the ground a bit away from the kiosk, eating our meal. "I observed you picking pockets - and once I understood how you do it, I practiced myself." I stared at him in surprise, then we both laughed out. I had never thought him to become a thief but obviously he took his "no name, no honor, no school" very seriously. If it is necessary to steal, do it. Questionably ethics? Awww, come on, that is the ethics of a survivor. Ethics is like honor - an instrument of the powerful to make it harder for the others to raise in status.
When we had returned the bowls to the owner and went to the caravansary, I was really glad that I could rest soon, he suddenly spoke in a soft voice: "We need to get you out of the gutter. You are such a gifted boy, you are worthy to serve a king. We will leave Lahore, here too many people know you as the humble street entertainer - they won't believe you if you are suddenly a real magician."
"You sound like Ivan," I grumbled, "I do not like to be a scary magician."
He sighed. "My stupid boy, you still think that teacher of yours was a sadistic person who just wanted to hurt you? What you told me of his teachings tells me that he cared for you and wanted to give you the knowledge that helps you to make your life. He was right about your style of magic. Your shows are excellent, but you appear on the scene as a shy and humble boy, always ducking down, always being overly polite, making a fool of yourself to make people laugh. That might be the right behaviour for a beggar, but not a magician. People here are very superstitious, you really ought to take advantage of that. As a real magician, what would you do? Do you think you would be happy to earn a few coins? Or would you try for something better?"
"I am no real magician," I replied sadly, "If I was, I would change my face."
"Your face could be to your advantage," he reminded me.
"O yes, Ivan kept saying that," I laughed bitterly, "But I do not want my horrible appearance to determine my fate."
He sighed and gave me that what-a-stupid-boy-look. "O Erik, there are things in the world no one can change. My fate was determined by where and to whom I was born. Everyone's fate is determined by certain things he can never change. If someone is born blind, he will never be able to see, no matter what he does. He can only embrace the darkness because no matter how desperately he wants to be a painter, he will never be. You run with your head against the mountains, but I do not think the mountains would even notice - you'll only succeed in getting a terrible headache or maybe even breaking your skull."
I hated what I heard, I knew he was right, but I really hated it. "I'll try. But I still don't like it," I replied, looking down on him. He was such a small man.
"Good boy," he clapped my shoulder and smiled at me.
So our scheming began. First we made a list what we would need to leave Lahore. Travelling on foot was no option, I already had acquired too many things, mainly props, we would be very slow if we carried everything on our backs. And what would everyone think of us if we carried heavy loads on our backs? Would they believe I was a real magician? Certainly not. We needed new clothing, I wanted a black caftan, a black scarf - yes, even men wore a certain headscarf - a black mask and black Turkish trousers.
No, this is not funny! Men wore these things in India and I wanted them. And I wanted a black coat made of goat wool, the same canvas as the black tents. To get that we needed money and now we were burglars of a whole new level. Chang was positive that I had learned enough to work with me. So together we sneaked into the houses of the rich English merchants and took everything we thought valuable - that was mostly pocket watches, rings, jewelry and money. I have to admit that first I was really nervous, like an actor with stage fright, and overly cautious, but after a few nights Chang had to hold me back because I wanted to try my skills, wanted to take a higher risk, but he would have none of it. "Never take a risk if you can avoid it," he instructed me. A wise counsel, but I was a fifteen year old boy and not very eager to learn wisdom.
So I went to an English merchant's stable one night, I did not want to buy horses, I wanted to steal them. Stealing something small is easy, stealing horses is a challenge, horses are really big, noisy and they do not obey if they do not know you. But my mind was set, I wanted to steal them. I chose a mare and two geldlings, all of them not real horses, rather ponies. Ponies are easier to keep than the large English warmblooded horse.
That moment a guard - alarmed by the noise the horses made - came into the stable. I tried if my new black clothes helped vanishing into the shadows, waiting for him to overlook me and pass my hidingplace. To make absolutely sure he would pass me I used what little ventriloquism I knew then to make a whisper a few meters away. He did as I had expected him to do, trying to see who was hiding in a certain box. I just had to get up and throw my lasso. I caught his neck, the weight hit the back of his head hard and I pulled with all my strength, causing him to stumble backwards - towards me. I kicked one of his legs and he fell to the ground, turning over in his fall, so he came to lie on his stomach. I pressed both knees onto his back, pulling on the rope with all my strength. I had not snapped his neck and he was not unconscious, I would have to choke him into unconsciousness. He was much heavier than I was, so I feared he might be able to get up, but his struggles were not very coordinated, he was more or less just trashing around.
It is frightening how long it takes to strangle someone. Minutes, it takes several minutes and he was fighting with all he had. I was suddenly scared myself, no longer sure if I could do this. But here I was - there was no going back now. If I let go, he would get up and kill me. I had to strangle him. His movements became more frantic, I was breathing heavily, my muscles aching and my heart beating so hard, I was sure all of Lahore must have heard it.
Dying of strangulation is a horrible death. I saw his head turn blue, the skin on his lips broke, the sweat in his black hair and the stench of it. Yes, dying from strangulation is a horribly painful and dirty death, it strips the victim of every dignity. He pissed himself. They all do, I do not know why, but all strangulation victims piss themselves at a certain point of the fight. But he still kept trashing so I could not let him go, I did not dare. Yes, I panicked myself, I was terrified. I felt like a small child fighting a bloodthirsty beast.
When that man finally lay still I did not dare loosen my grasp on the rope for fear he might draw another breath. It took some time until I cautiously let go - holding my breath, waiting for his chest to rise. He did not. I looked down on my hands, covered in my own blood where the rope had cut my palms and fingers. I sat back and heaved a sigh of relief as I understood that he was dead and would not come back. I had been told by someone that a murderer always remembers the face of his victim so I thought I should avoid seeing his face - but my curiosity won and I moved to see it. His face was distorted, blackened, the eyes bulging and bloodshot, it was disgusting. I got up and looked around and saw my teacher standing there, watching me.
I flinched as if I had been struck by lightning. I had tried my best to make sure he would not follow me, I wanted to do this on my own, and now I had failed miserably.
"Why did you kill him?" he asked softly.
"I had to," was my answer, my voice shaking, "He did not stop fighting."
"Stupid boy!" he hissed, "He was already unconscious! You mistook death throes for fighting!" He slapped me in the face hard. My head jerked back, I tasted blood where my lip had hit my teeth, but I lifted my head again and faced him, bracing myself for more pain. "You stupid boy! I had wished for your first time to be something worth remembering - not such a sloppy job that will leave you bright red with shame whenever you think of it." I lowered my head and bit my tongue so I would not say anything that would anger him further.
He instructed me to take the three horses I had chosen, saddle and brindle them, then we mounted and left. I knew I would get a lecture as soon as we were safe. We did not head to the caravansary but to our little training place in the outskirts. There he had left our bags - plus long sticks and a small black tent. He had already gotten a tent for us! How had he done that?
In utter silence we packed everything we had and tied it to the back of the smallest gelding, a brown one, then he decided he would take the other gelding, which was also bay, but a lighter shade of brown, and I would get the mare for she was the largest horse. She was a dun horse. He lead the way, I followed, leading the packhorse, waiting for a guilty conscience to kick in. After all, I had murdered a man who was just doing his duty protecting his master's horses, I should have felt guilty, shouldn't I? But I did not. Nothing. I was ashamed because I had failed in my plan. I knew I should have killed the guard in a more elegant way - snap his neck, painless, fast, safe. Strangling was unnecessary cruelty, I knew that, and an unnecessary risk. But I did not feel guilty and no, the face or the eyes of the dead man were already forgotten.
Does this make me a bad man? Some might think so. But I could not bring myself to feel guilty, to feel any remorse at all. Only the fear of what might happen to me should anyone ever catch me.
We headed north, allowing us and our horses only the absolute necessary minimum of rest, we had no food but the horses found grass and leaves they could eat. India is not a desert north of Lahore, there are rivers and there is enough green. Chang and I could not eat grass and we were hungry. He did not complain and so I did not dare, after all, it was my fault that we had left the city in such a rush.
One night we were lying in our tent, on our bedroll. We had only one bedroll and one blanket, we shared it because the only warmth we would get was each other's body heat. My stomach was growling and I could not sleep.
"Erik?" he asked softly.
"Yes?"
"You awake?" I just nodded. He must have sensed my movement. "What you did was absolutely foolish, you know that?"
"Yes, I know."
"You know what you should have done?" he asked.
"Yes. I should have killed him quick and painless. Strangling is unnecessary cruelty and an unnecessary risk," I answered like a schoolboy repeating a lecture.
"No! You are really hard of understanding, stupid boy!" He slapped the back of my head in annoyance. "You should not have taken that risk at all! I decide when you are ready for a fight to the death and not you. You are in no way ready, don't you see that? You are not ready to kill and you are not ready to risk your life. You panicked and survived just because you were lucky. But luck is nothing you can rely on. Understood?"
"Yes, sir," I answered, ashamed of my failure - and still not feeling guilty for the murder.
"Try to sleep, tomorrow we risk going to a village and buy food," he decided.
As always, he was right. I should not have done that, I should have at least asked his opinion. He even told me that we already had enough to buy horses, so there was no need to take that risk - or at least I should have found a less guarded stable. We worked out a new performance. Now I was to be the mysterious figure in the background, the magician, and he was my servant.
"No, sir, I can't do that!" I objected, "If you are my servant, you might really have to serve me - we can't do that!"
"Erik, it is better to be the servant than the master. You take the risk in this. Remember, being the overlooked servant is much better than the front line soldier. If you have a choice, better be the grey eminence than the king. Better be the secretary than the merchant. Understood?" I nodded. I have to admit that in my vanity I did not want to be the servant if I could have been the king, but now I know he was right. I just wish I had listened to him sooner in my life.
God, I am glad I did not bring wine or cognac for right now I feel that... that... need do get drunk. Yes, I know, but I can't help it. Maybe that's why I came to you, to prevent myself from doing something utterly stupid. I know it is a terrible weakness of mine, but sometimes I just want to knock myself out, I do not want to think or feel for a while, then I tend to take whatever I get - drugs, alcohol, medicine, I do not care, I think I might take poison if I can get nothing else.
What? Drugs and alcohol are poison? Yes, right, I know this - I know. If I did not know I would be lying in my flat by now, too drunk to get up from the floor. Eat your apple tart and shut up. If I want to hear your opinion, I ask. What? I came to you and not you to me? Yes, but I want you to listen, not to tell me what I already know. Shut up.
Strange, I remember that we had goat milk cheese and goat milk. I still remember the taste of the delicious goat milk cheese but I do not remember what that first murder victim of mine looked like.
We headed north, towards the border to Afghanistan. I do not know why he chose that road, maybe because we would not have to cross the mountains, well, at least not the most difficult ones. Mountain climbing was never one of my skills, as was sailing. I hated ships for I always got seasick.
And then we started with the new show I had come up. He - acting as my servant - would introduce me to the audience and my part was to be the most scary magician. So, much smoke, much fire, fireworks, every trick had to be frightening and scary. The first three times it did not went well. It was not the tricks, the music or the show, no, it was me. I was too nervous. I was a fifteen year old boy and I had a terrible low self-confidence.
Chang did analyse why I was doing bad. And he figured out my nervousness showed, the audience noticed and suddenly did not believe in my magic. They could feel if I was not sure the trick would work. They could smell my fear. "We need to work on that before you do the next show!" he decided.
And we did. He forced me to approach people, no matter I did not understand their language and they did not understand any of mine. He understood better than I did that it was social interaction that really frightened me, so he forced me to endure it, again and again, with my mask and even without. "What is the worst you can imagine?" he asked, and then he would make me do exactly that, just to show me that it was not half as bad as my fear of it. If I did not want to do it, he threatened to force me to go naked or even to tie me up and leave me naked for the people to find me. I doubt he would really have done it, but I understood the meaning - there is always something worse.
One evening we sat in our small tent, eating some sort of stale bread and goat milk. He asked: "Erik, what was that feeling?" When I did not understand, he asked again: "Today before you entered the village, what did you think, what did you feel?" I shrugged. I did not want to tell him for I was ashamed. "Erik, you did very well. You were absolutely calm, determined, and the way you looked down on everyone gave me the creeps. That was the perfect attitude, keep that."
"That was the perfect attitude? But sir, I was scared to death, I was panicking, I had trouble not to vomit then and there," I confessed.
"Really? I did not see that," he answered, "And that smile? That arrogant smile?" Shrugging I explained that smiling suppressed the vomiting reflex. He laughed. "That's good! From the look in your face I would have thought you were going to wipe out the entire village - and you were just trying not to vomit!"
Blushing I explained: "I did not look down on anyone - I checked if I had pissed myself in my panic." I had not known he could roar out in laughter like that. He laughed until I was worried he might suffocate from his laughing fit. But it was the truth, simple as that. I appeared to be calm, when in reality I was close to... I do not know. It felt as if I would go mad with fear.
This little talk had a deep impact on my self-confidence. Even if I was panicked, no one would notice. I could hide my feelings very well, obviously I had been taught well in the past. And my teacher gave me an advise that helped me a lot - observe people. Instead of being afraid of them, analyse their movements, try to figure out if they were fighters or if they would just run away. Try to figure out which weapon they carried, if they knew how to use it properly and how to defeat them. I have to admit that it helped me a lot to find out that if I did not just fear everyone as if he or she was a bloodthirsty predator but just observed and planned how I could defeat them, I came to the conclusion that I would be able to kill 95% of the people I met without much danger. And the last 5%... well, I don't know, I think I might best them but that would involve some risk. Of course I did not grow so arrogant as to assume my guess would be correct in every single case - Chang Lee posed as dull and clumsy servant and he would easily defeat me any time, others might pretend too. But most people feel too secure in their life to even think of putting up a pretense like that.
Travelling was dangerous. It was not just the road - it didn't deserve that name at all - the weather, coldness, rain, burning sun, the lack of water, the rocks, the cliffs, the small paths, the other travellers, animals, the need to find enough food for the horses - did you know how much food a horse needs and how hard good food is to be found? We had enough money, thanks to our little burglary project, but it still was difficult and demanding. Of course I was the one to do most of the work, but that was fine with me, I was used to working hard.
One day, I have no idea where we were, it was just somewhere between those brown rocks with sparse vegetation on a hillside, we were approached by a group of five men. Usually people just wanted to pass us and we usually avoided a fight by letting them pass, even bowing humbly to them. But they did not want to pass, they wanted to rob us. I got down from my mare and handed the reins to Chang how just nodded to me encouragingly.
I gave a small bow and asked what I could do for them. The largest of the men said something, but it was no language I understood. I tried what little Arabic, Farsi and Russian I knew - I had not used that languages before, just learned a little bit - but he did not understand me. He pointed to our horses and it was quite easy to understand he wanted them.
"Mine," I said, "Let us pass." He drew out a dagger. I watched him carefully. He was not taller than me, but much broader. I guess he was stronger than me, much stronger, but his strength would be his disadvantage for clenched muscles slow you down. He did not know how to relax to gather speed and tense up just for the right split-second. I raised my hands behind my neck. This is usually a gesture of defeat - but not with me, I was reaching for my sword. When he gave some command to his men I attacked, just one high jump and a swift movement with the sword and his head came off. I landed on my feet, surprised by how easily I had killed him. When I tried an attack like that on my teacher he always avoided me and countered my stroke. When I practiced cutting something with my sword - usually it was a broomstick wrapped in rags - it was much harder to cut than that man's neck. I do not know how long I stood there, staring at the body.
I am not really sure what happened then, for when I looked up I only saw the other four men run like the devil himself was chasing them. I felt Chang's arm around my shoulders, his other hand holding mine. "It is okay, Erik, it is over," he said gently. Only then I noticed I was shaking from head to foot and wondered where my sword was. "It was impressive," he told me, "You were perfectly calm and concentrated on nothing but the challenge. When he fell you shook off the blood of your blade and let it glide back into its sheath in perfect zanshin."
Zanshin is a moment of perfect concentration just on the one moment. Chang described it as the moment after a Samurai had made his sword stroke and didn't know yet if his opponent was dead or not, that one moment of perfect concentration, ready to see him die or block the counter. I had not concentrated on anything, I had stopped thinking at all, I could not even remember putting the sword away.
"His head came off..." I whispered like a small child, I do not know why but this time it shocked me how easily a man could be killed.
"You did very well," he answered, "Hush, it is okay, it is over. Erik, you won, and this is a victory worth remembering." I pressed my masked face at his shoulder and wept.
Yes, I know it sounds funny that I was devastated when I had killed in self-defense and gave it not a second thought when I had done it out of... whatever. I do not even know. But that was what my live was like at the age of 15. One day I was a man and one day I was a small child and then sometimes everything at once and nothing at all.
And this was not the last time someone tried to rob us, but the next time it was night. We were sleeping in our tent when a soft noise woke me and Chang. We crawled to the opening in the canvas to see what was happening. We saw three men, two were trying to untie our horses and one was standing there, keeping an eye on the tent. Chang and I crept out of the tent on the backside. I used the darkness, my black clothing and black mask to keep myself almost invisible. He still watched the tent so it was easy to move in a circle around him and sneak up on him from behind. When I was close enough, I used my lasso. This time I did it properly and I heard the crack when his neck snapped. I let him fall at my feet and stood there, taking his position, assuming it was too dark for his comrades to see us. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Chang sneaking up on the other two. He used his favorite weapon, the bo-shuriken, to incapacitate them. Bo-shuriken look like small arrows and are used like throwing knifes. He had his poisoned with some quite powerful poison, it killed quickly. Utterly silent, quick and clean. That is how he liked it and I have to admit that was how I liked a job to be done - and it was nothing else to me at that time. A job to be done.
I am sorry if I give you the impression that the people in India are more violent than elsewhere - they are not. Robbers are everywhere, only at that time we had three horses and would be considered rich men among those really poor people. Maybe they had reasons for trying to rob us, maybe if we had had any chance to talk I would even be moved with pity - I do not know. As long as I was just another beggar, no robber would ever have wasted his time with me - but now I looked like a rich man, having three horses and a servant. Plus, we were obviously no natives. We were outsiders, we spoke English so they might have guessed we were from the same country as their oppressors. Of course we were very high on their list of possible victims. But to be true - only two attempted robberies on a route of about 600 kilometers is not that much, especially if you consider that there was no police, no magistrate, no courts, no jails. It was more or less archaic society with tribal chiefs as their leaders. Actually the so called uncivilized people were much more honest that the so-called civilized ones. No, I felt rather save there.
To cut a long story short, I kept the skull of one of them to use it for a trick. This spooked even Chang, who told me that he had been an assassin in his youth, but never seen anyone with that much disrespect for the dead ones. Maybe it was Ivan's bad influence or whatever, but I did not think much about this. I needed a skull and here was a dead body - I wouldn't get a better skull. I wanted to do the "defeat death" trick again, or at least a variation of that trick. That beginning spring my attitude was "You want scary - I'll show you scary!" Maybe not for the best, but that is what it was. No, I will not tell you how I prepared that skull - after all I do not want you to throw up that apple tart I had so much trouble making. Do you know how much time it takes just to cut the apples?
We reached a city at the border to Afghanistan in spring and then I felt self-confident enough to act the part of the real magician. Chang, acting as the perfect cliche servant, did the announcement. I had to hold onto the reins of my mare to prevent myself from applauding. My fictional biography now was that I was a magician from the icy North - to the people in India North Europe is as exotic as the Orient is for Europeans - who was such a fierce fighter, one day no enemy dared to challenge me so I challenged the Angel of Death himself, fighting him to a stalemate - we agreed that winning would be a bit too much - which had left me disfigured but alive, and now was travelling to gain knowledge and wisdom, for this was the only thing I could not simply conjure up.
In reality it was about money and earning my livelihood, plain and simple, but people want to be lied to, they are not interested in the truth. Yes, it is that simple, they like fairy tales.
After that we just had to wait for someone to challenge me. Of course they did, they always do. Usually it is the younger men, but in this case it was a middle-aged man and he was really fat. He said I was no magician at all, only a trickster. That was my clue. I dismounted my mare and took the small cotton balls from my sleeves. Very small black balls made of black cotton, drenched in a very high distilled alcohol.
Yes, it is a country where alcohol is strictly prohibited, but this does not mean you can't buy the stuff in every smaller or larger village. I might have used another stuff called "benzine" that is a by-product when you work with mineral oil. But this is not a lecture in chemistry, benzine was not easy to get, alcohol was, so I used alcohol. The fire from alcohol is not so hot I could not juggle with the three little burning cotton balls with bare hands - I would not be able to hold them for long, but juggle and play with them was easy. It looked like I was juggling with pure fire for they did not see the tiny cotton balls.
This was nothing to surprise him. What surprised him more was that I handed him a stick and asked him to hit my head with it. He did - and the skull I had worn like a hat fell off and rolled over the ground. I pulled the cloak down over my shoulders so it looked like I was growing a new head, as ugly as the mummified skull. I grinned and shook my hair. That time I wore my hair tied back with a ribbon and I even had some sort of beard.
Okay, okay, I get it. I can't really call it a beard, it was just a bit of hair here and there and it was grey and not brown despite my young age. What happened then was something really funny. People were scared of me, but I seemed to fascinate them. Once I had verified my fictional biography as an ancient magician, I did not even need to do anything else. I was invited by one of the honorable men, treated with great respect - and yes, fear - and so I got a very good meal, refreshing juice - you have no idea how I enjoyed that juice after the long journey in the dusty and dry mountains. Of course I asked them to care for my horses and my faithful old servant, feeling absolutely ridiculous calling Chang a servant. But this earned us a healthy meal and a nice room to sleep in without having to pay for it.
Once I had established a certain reputation as real magician - which was far too easy with these superstitious people - I could present easier tricks to entertain them to act my part as the distinguished guest. The funny thing was, they all thought I was very old. In that country people got married very young, at the age of 13 to 15, were grandfathers at about 30 and not many of them lived more than 40 years. If you meet a very old man with a white beard and no teeth who looks like he's 70 or 80 - he might be just half that age. The hard life makes people age much before their natural age.
We did not stay long for being a magician I was required to know everything and have an answer to every question, which is impossible. I was quite good in improvising from my knowledge and what they told me to come up with an answer. It was a bit like fortune-telling. Make something up and if they do not understand it, they think it is a wise saying and they would understand in time.
You are right, we were more or less very very impertinent parasites, enjoying their hospitality, living like the bee in the clover - or, as the German proverb says "wie die Maden im Speck - like maggots in bacon" - and taking without giving. I rather liked that. It was not that easy everywhere. Sometimes it worked, sometimes people made me out to be an impostor, in which case we needed to be on our horses in full gallop in a matter of moments. Yes, that too did happen, and at first it was really frightening, but in the end it became a wonderful thrill, like eating something really spicy and sweet at the same time, like pepper in honey or chili in chocolate. I embraced it and even the flight could be fun, to outrun them, to fool them, I started to love our life as rogues.
Even Chang seemed to re-live his youth, he acted like he was as young as I was, we behaved like two teenagers having fun creating nothing but mischief. Even if we were on the run again, it was fun. We knew how to escape and people on foot never caught up with our horses. A yes, these were really funny weeks we spend in India and, yes, Afghanistan.
I do not really know why Chang wanted us to head north, but I did not care. As long as I was not hungry, thirsty or cold I did not care much about anything else.
Afghanistan was a strange land. There were so many tribes and their tribal chiefs hated each other. This was what the local people knew. And then there was what one might learn from caravans - the greater politics. England had tried to annex that land to their colony India. But Russia wanted to make it a colony as well, so many seemingly local conflicts between tribes were just about which European Nation had bribed the tribal chief to use him as their pawn. Yes, I never let anyone know I was European, it would have cost my head if I had and as ugly as my head is, I prefer it to be on my shoulders and stay there.
My show one night was really great. I made a horse disappear before the very eyes of my audience. I liked that trick for it was so easy. I would cover my mare with the canvas of our tent. But my mare wore something that looked like a cage made of small wire that fitted her neck and back perfectly - sometimes I wonder why no one ever noticed, but then, it was a trick that only worked in the night with two torches as the only light - and the torches were between me and the audience. That particular trick works only at night and only if you have an exceptional obliging horse. I went around the mare, doing some sort of magical dance, singing some nonsense in a chant-like voice, in truth tying the wire to small sticks in the ground. In the darkness no one ever saw. Then my mare could just walk out from the horse-shaped-tent. If she she went directly away from the audience, the black tent would cover her and Chang could lead her away, lead her in a large circle and bring her back. The tent would stand until I pulled down the canvas, at the same time pull the rope that held the wire together. It fell down and the canvas covered the wire, people were astonished how I could make a horse disappear without any trapdoors or any other visible props. This works with horses, with elephants and I guess it might even work with a train - I always wanted to do it with a train, but never had the chance to.
Finally Chang brought my mare back, telling them he had found her a mile away. No one ever doubted him then and everyone was afraid I might make one of his animals disappear.
After that I had a nice little fire show, making the dust burn when I spilled water. It was easy and turned out to frighten them. The audience never knows if a trick is easy or hard to prepare and to perform. As long as they do not understand that particular trick, it seems to be real magic to them. Plus I knew what the light from the flames at my feet did to my deformed features and how it made my eyes glow. You see, I have light brown eyes. In sunlight they appear to be a little bit green, but in the light from fire they appear some odd light brown, almost like amber. O really? You think my eyes are rather large for a face such as mine? Maybe. But to these superstitious men I really seemed to be a real magician, a magician they would not want to cross, of course I always refused payment - no real magician needs the money from poor men - but I graciously accepted their presents. And they all wanted to appease me so I got plenty of them.
I cannot even recall where exactly but we met that merchant from Samarkand. He was with his workers and his caravan in Afghanistan to buy lapis lazuli, that blue stone. They dig for that stone in the mountains of Afghanistan. Have you ever seen raw lapis lazuli? It looks like nothing, grey, uninteresting. But when you put it in water it reveals its really beautiful colour and when it is cut and set right it is very nice. Well, that merchant was there to buy lapis lazuli and bring it back to Samarkand. He liked my performance very much, so much indeed, he believed me to be a real magician and asked me to accompany his caravan, to protect them. I told him I needed to think about that offer to ask Chang for advise. It was a risk after all, one mistake and I would be exposed as the treacherous impostor I really was.
My teacher thought it was a good practice for a long-term job and if something went wrong we could always run. So I agreed to his generous offer. It was really generous, for I would get food and water and even payment. Of course I first told him I was not interested in money, but I would accept jewelry and gems for gemstones were a source of great magical power and if he owned such a precious stone - which might be dangerous to him, because he did not know how to channel that power - I would accept it as a gift if he gave it freely. Haha. Yes, I was a sick little bastard. Rrrright.
It turned out that the merchant and his workers - as well as the men he had hired as some sort of guards - all feared me. With my face and my tricks they thought me to be a real magician, although I know especially the merchant doubted me. He acted as if he believed me to be a real magician, treating me with great respect and keeping much distance, but sometimes I saw how closely he watched me and I was sure he fully suspected me to make a mistake and reveal one of my many tricks. He spoke many languages, among them Russian, but not English. Never mind, we could talk in Russian, which Chang did not understand, so I had much translation work to do. The workmen all spoke Russian, an odd dialect, but we could understand each other. But mostly they spoke their own language, which I did not understand.
After some time Chang told me to be careful. He was not sure, because he did not understand them, but he suspected one of them to be a spy.
"A spy? Who would spy on a travelling merchant?" I asked.
"I do not know, but I assume there are people who will try to rob him on his way to Samarkand. They will wait until he got his goods and then rob him," he answered, "And as a magician you are to prevent this."
"Okay, lets take the horses and run," I answered, "I am not up to that job. I will fail miserably." I was about to get up and pack our belongings for I was absolutely frightened and sure I would fail.
He held me back. "Wait, Erik, if you run now, you will always run. Do not give in to your fear. You are much better than you give yourself credit for. Think and try to find a solution. Who said you aren't a real magician? What you do is magic, as real as it can be. Only because you know how it works it is no less magical. Every real magician knows how his magic works, doesn't he? And everyone else does not know how it works, right? Now, as a magician, what would you do to expose him?"
"Sir, with all due respect, I do not think I can do this," I answered, still spooked by the mere thought of having that much responsibility.
His eyes softened and he smiled at me as he answered: "My dear Erik, this is what I trained you to be. You are a Shinobi. Do you remember what I told you Shinobi are?"
"Spies, assassins and whatever they need to be to achieve their goals," I answered, repeating his lecture like a schoolboy.
"Try to see this as a lecture. You are a counter-spy now, trying to find the spy and prevent the robbery. If you fail, it is of no consequence, we will just move on. And I am always here to back you up, you know that, do you? Do you trust me?"
Now I learned a new way of his teaching. I am so glad he was not the one to teach me swimming, he would have thrown me into the sea and watched if I would be able to make my way back to the shore. I guess his idea was that the best learned lectures are the learning-by-doing lectures. But I have to admit that I was nervous and felt overchallenged, so his first issue was to calm me down. "How do you eat an elephant?" he asked and I shrugged helplessly. I would never be able to eat something as big as an elephant. He chuckled as he answered: "In little slices." I grinned at that, for he was right. I had to concentrate on the next steps I had to take and not on some goal that was far away. I had made my way through Europe and India - if I had only concentrated how far away my goal was, I would have despaired and given up long ago, but here I was, having traveled more kilometers than most people could even imagine. In my mind I heard Karl's voice: "Never say die."
I have to admit that I did not remember much of the landscape or the cities we came through - I was too busy staying close to the caravan and watching them. My problem was that eavesdropping is not very helpful if one does not understand the language. The whole time I had to stay in-character in my role as a real magician who didn't fear death and possessed such a great wisdom. This was really hard, I was a boy of 15 and very often I just wanted to be childish, to run around or to have some fun. Without Chang I would never have lasted those weeks in spring and would have had to endure the humiliating experience of being revealed to be nothing but a liar.
The buying of the lapis lazuli was not easy. We would venture into some remote villages - although they did not deserve that name - in the mountains. Everything was... dry. Dusty. A brownish grey. People were poor and their houses were not much better than our tent was. Skinny goats and starving children, dirty men with long, matted beards, that was what I remember mostly. No women. One might think people there reproduced asexually for it seemed to be a land without females. If you ever go there and see a very small tent that is moving around - that is a female. They really look like they are carrying their tents with them so they never really leave their homes. They claim this to be for their women's protection but I doubt these tiny tents protect from anything, on the contrary, they hinder the view and make it impossible to run or to fight. Yes, I know, I digress again. Sorry.
The merchant exchanged the stone for much needed goods in these mountain villages. Now I understood why he hadn't been robbed before - he didn't have that much money, he had dry store goods - which were very valuable in the remote villages but certainly not one-tenth as valuable in any city were you could buy them in the bazar and many salesmen offered them and had to compete for customers. In Samarkand he would sell the blue stones for a nice profit, then he would decide what goods he would buy and where he would sell them to make the most of it. Now that we had the stones I was sure we would be lead to an ambush.
I asked Chang for help, for I still did not know anything. Everyone of the men working in this caravan could be the spy to inform the robbers or lead us into an ambush - and in the desert-like mountains of the Hindu Kush with nearly no inhabitants or streets and certainly no police or any other authority than the local tribal chiefs, a robbery would be far too easy. "They will surely wait for us somewhere," Chang said, "And they won't be many men. If they were, they would already have attacked for we are being followed since the day before yesterday."
Now I knew just how much I had failed. I had not noticed anyone calling his comrades and I had not noticed being followed. I lowered my head in shame and tried not to let anyone but my teacher see my embarrassment. He gently nodded and let something fall to the ground to stay in-character as the clumsy servant. I knew I deserved a beating for my carelessness and inattentiveness, but that would have to wait until we were alone. "What am I to do now?" I asked, feeling utterly helpless.
He shrugged. "You are the magician. Use magic."
I was about to scream at him, maybe even slap him - posing as my servant he would not fight back. But I swallowed my anger and asked what a magic trick could do to scare hardened robbers away. Now he became really angry. "What do you have your ugly head for? Use your mentality! You are such a clever boy, but you refuse to think! It is again your extremely low self-esteem, isn't it? You think you can do nothing, you are so afraid of doing anything wrong that you refuse to do anything at all. Sit down and think, this is going to be the first real performance of your live, and better make it a good one."
As usually I went through the horror of every level of stage-fright any artist ever suffered. Panic, sickness, diarrhoea, even some sort of fever, cold sweat and the terrible urge to run away and hide in some dark hole. The things I could not hide were diarrhoea and sickness. I did not dare ride my mare for I knew I would not be able to dismount in time, so I just walked and if necessary and do what I had to do just a few steps beside the narrow beaten path they called road. It was horribly degrading, but I could not help myself.
Of course this did nothing to dispel their doubts - I clearly was weakened and could not pretend to be such a mighty magician now. A mighty magician does not get summer cholera. I did not explain anything, I didn't even bother to try, I was too sick by far. The dry climate and the heat in spring, the burning sun, it did nothing to help me. When we stopped for the night I was relieved to be allowed to collapse.
What? No, this is the truth. I rarely broke down if I did not allow myself to do so. I can - somehow - delay any sort of breakdown for a certain time, of course not forever, but sometimes I can even delay falling ill for weeks. Please do not ask me how I do this, I have no clue. Maybe it is just willpower, maybe everyone could do it with certain exercise, I do not know.
But I started to use my brain and came up with a solution. The solution was quite easy, I was counting on everyone thinking I was a harmless impostor by now. So if the robbers would reveal themselves - and I knew we were being followed so of course whoever would try to rob us would know that I was just a sick man. Use your weakness to your advantage, that was a teaching I should have remembered earlier. So even when I felt much better the next day I pretended to be very sick, sitting on my horse as if I could barely stay in the saddle, sipping from the leather bags with water every so often as if I was dehydrated - which I was not any more. My idea was to have much water with me. And my fire-powder.
Can you already guess what I had in mind? I think so. But I tell you nevertheless. They waited for us at a curve of the road where the rock face shielded them from our view. I made sure I was the first one in the caravan, as if I was leading them, with Chang directly behind me to help me if I failed. I can guess that the men who were the traitors were at the rear end of the caravan, to make sure we would not escape. So, the face of the rock to our right, the steep hillside to our left, the robbers before us and behind us - we were trapped. Or so it seemed. I have to admit that now I was no longer afraid or nervous, no, I admired the great landscape in sunset and thought - no magician has ever had such a great scenery.
The robbers stopped us and told us to dismount and climb down the hillside, if we left them our horses, the pack-horses and the goods nothing would happen to us. If we fought them, they would kill us. I looked at their weapons - rusty and ill-kept guns and daggers - and decided they were no great risk. The risk was just how many men they were - we were outnumbered one to five. I reached into my bag and took out a handful of my special fire powder, which I threw at the leader of the robbers. He looked like any of their tribal chiefs.
He laughed and mocked me that a bit of dust would never work against him, but I was young and slender, if I behaved he would make me his male whore. The brigands laughed and made obscene gestures to mock me - I have to admit that I shuddered at the thought what they might do to me if they ever caught me. I grabbed my leather bag with the water, cut off the upper end and threw it at him - he immediately burst into flames he could not extinguish. Now nobody laughed. They stared at the flames and as I took my second leather bag, drank from it and then poured even more water on the man who was by now rolling in the dust to extinguish the flames, they stood as if they were petrified with fear.
It was my turn to laugh now, to take off the cloth that hid my face, to show them my horrible, ugly, twisted and broken excuse for a face, snarl at them, laugh and threaten them. I did not think I was scary then, no, I was far too scared myself. But the man had stopped fighting and the stench of burning flesh spooked the horses - theirs and ours - and so I just needed to run my horse and all other horses followed. I had to make sure we were not too fast for if a horse would fall it would have to be put down. We lost two pack-horses before I found the horses were calm enough to stop. We were on a slope but is was not bold, it might be a nice resting place. When I stopped the other horses did too. I looked around and saw nothing but scared men, the merchant, his workers and the brigands alike.
"Who wants to test my power next?" I asked in Russian for lack of better idea. I could only hope they understood. Then I ordered them to dismount and lie down, face to the ground, hands behind their backs. When they did not obey I used my lasso to bring down the one next to me - hoping this was one of the robbers and not an innocent worker. But he was dead anyway, so why bother? It was dark enough that the rope was not seen by these men who did not know what they had to look for. They just saw me making strange gestures and then one man fell from his horse and was dead.
I had killed two men and they could not explain how I had done this - now they dismounted and did as I had told them. Chang and I could sort out robbers and workers without any haste. One tried to use his sabre on me. I nearly laughed as I saw the blade, I used my blade to block his attack and my blade went right through his. He stared at his broken sabre and threw himself at my feet, begging for mercy. I looked at Chang a bit helpless. A fight was what he had prepared me for, but a man begging for mercy? What was I to do?
The merchant was in no condition to decide anything as were his workers and with all these men I had beaten single-handedly I could not very well ask my clumsy servant what to do. So I decided to use their customs and their law and told the workers to cut off the right hand of every robber, then send them away. But I would keep their horses to compensate for the lost two pack-horses and the goods we had lost with them.
We did not rest that night. No one was calm enough to rest, we all were eager to leave the mountains and reach more civilised areas. Only now I learned that some of the tribal chiefs counted trespassing their borders as a crime punishable by death and one could only save oneself if one offered a high enough blood money or weregild. So to them we were the criminals. It just depends which side you are on to say this are the good guys and this are the bad guys. It was purely coincidence that had put me in the place at the merchants side.
Can you imagine why the robbers were so frightened? Yes? Really? Thank you. Because I still wonder. I did not think my performance was good, I rather think it was bad, I was far too nervous and did not use my voice or any grand gestures, I just went through the absolutely necessary movements like an automaton. I would not have been scared and I am not proud of that performance. It was not a good one, but then, it was my first rather clumsy attempt to act the part of the magician in real life rather than in a circus ring.
Yes, yes, I heard you. Curious, it is the same question my teacher asked me. I had killed without hesitation. To be true, I had not even thought about it. It was a job to be done, like killing a chicken if you want chicken soup. Killing a human is in no way more difficult than killing an animal, no. And I did not have a bad conscience, no. You see, men have really curious ideas about good and bad and I do not share them.
Murder is bad. Everyone agrees to that. But they worship heroes who killed many people - if they were on their side. You want an example? Ivan Groznij, or Ivan the Terrible, did you know he was a great poet and even composer? He was talented, that much I can say. Was he bad? He ruled with an iron fist, killed many and started many wars. Yes, but was he that bad for his people? There are Russians who would tell he was a hero. Vlad Tsepes, he was a very clever politician and strategist, yes, the Turkish men hated him for he was their most terrible nightmare - but ask Romanians, they love him. He protected them. Did you know that Napoleon Bonaparte, who is considered a national hero by most Frenchmen, is hated by Austrians and Germans? It depends which side you are on. Even the Holy Bible is most confusing - Samson killed 1000 Philistines with the jawbone of a donkey. A great hero. But what would the Philistines say if you asked them? Every Muslim agrees that Mohammed is good, but do you really think the tribes he conquered would agree? When he had all men beheaded and women and children enslaved?
No, I do not compare myself with anyone of these men, that would be despicable haughtiness, I just tried to explain why I do not consider killing a bad thing and why I do not regret those killings. I did not feel anything different from a tiger which takes the life of a water buffalo. A worthy adversary and he has his chance to escape or even kill the tiger, but the tiger needs meat to survive and therefor has no choice. A tiger can't live on grass and vegetables, he would die from that diet, so a tiger does not feel guilty or pity towards his prey.
I know my reasoning is most uncommon, but you see the logic in it, don't you? By the way, we are here to have a nice little chat and not a philosophical seminar, do we?
More apple tart? We are both going to put on some weight, my friend, if we keep eating so much over our conversations. In my case that might be an improvement, in yours... O, come on, I was just teasing you. No, I think you would still be dashing, at least compared to me. But you'll need a new belt.
But I guess we had more than enough, that goes at least for me. I better go home now, I am a bit tired. No, I do not know why I told you this in all detail instead of just reporting it... well... maybe because I remember it as if it had been yesterday. I matured strongly that winter and spring, really. I was 15, but my mind outgrew my body, in my mind I was a child no longer. I was a man, and not just any normal man, I was a dark magician, a real dark magician who was ready to conquer the world that rejected him.
I must go now, but rest assured, I will come back to tell you more. I do look forward to tell you about Samarkand. God, I loved Samarkand. It was... No, I won't start now or we'll be sitting here together for another hour at least. Next time, I promise.
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Unfortunately I never had a chance to see that area of the world myself - and due to the political instability the risk is too high for my tastes. So I had to rely on books, internet and personal interviews with people who had been there.
All magic tricks I describe do work. And the vanishing horse - that trick has been performed by many magicians with various pieces to "disappear", one of the most famous might be David Copperfield who made a railway car of the Orient Express disappear through the very same trick I describe. Some might point out that David Copperfield had the audience form a circle around the railway car, but who said it was real audience and not just his hired assistants? Of course you can always trust a magician ;-)
My knowledge about crimes come from my studies of criminology, not personal experience (for which I am absolutely grateful).
I know this is a rather dark chapter, but I hope you liked it nevertheless.
Please review.