"Where are we going?" Apprentice asked his new master as they hurried through the alleys.
"I am going to this evening's Z gathering," his master replied, "but before I do, I have to hide you somewhere."
"Hide me? Why?" asked Apprentice.
"Because you're not ready to confront the full swarm of local junkies," his master answered; "they'd tear you apart."
Apprentice blinked. "Thank you," he said; "for protecting me, I mean."
The necromerchant gave a scornful chuckle. "I'm not doing it for your sake," he told Apprentice coolly; "I'm doing it because you'd get in the way of business."
"Oh." Apprentice wasn't sure what to think of that.
They turned down a couple more back alleys, before Apprentice's master came to a stop beside a dumpster at the end of a dead end.
"In here," he told Apprentice, opening the lid.
Apprentice stared. "In a dumpster?" he asked incredulously.
"Only the most desperate of junkies dig through dumpsters," the necromerchant told Apprentice, "and none of them will be looking around while I'm gone - they'll all be at the Z gathering with me. You'll be alone here."
Apprentice balked; this was too much, too soon.
"Get in there, kid," the necromerchant commanded Apprentice, his tone dangerously low; "you're my apprentice now, which means you now have to do what I say, when I say, no matter what. I own you now." He tilted his head. "Unless, of course, you're having second thoughts?" he asked contemptuously.
"No, Master," Apprentice said quickly.
"Then get in there," the necromerchant ordered again.
Apprentice hesitated a moment, then nodded. "Yes, Master," he said, and he vaulted into the dumpster.
"For future reference, kid, you will have to do as I say, no matter what, from now until you complete your training," the necromerchant told him as he tried to settle among the garbage bags. "Sometimes, it may seem more like I'm making a suggestion than giving you an order, but if I tell you to do something, you do it. Understand?"
"Yes, Master," Apprentice replied.
"Good." The necromerchant glanced around, then sighed and put his hand on the open lid. "I'll be back in about an hour," he told Apprentice; "until then, I suggest you try to get some sleep."
"Sleep?" Apprentice repeated. "But it's barely sundown!"
"If you're going to be a necromerchant, you're going to have to learn to take the opportunity to sleep whenever you can," Apprentice's master told him; "being a necromerchant is a 24-hour job, and we need to steal whatever opportunity we can to rest, day or night."
"That's not healthy," Apprentice protested; "it's best to have a regular, nightly sleep schedule, and-"
He was cut off by his master's cold laughter. It echoed in the alley - a humorless, empty sound that sent shivers down Apprentice's spine.
"Healthy," his master repeated after a minute, still chuckling. "Kid, there is little to nothing about this job that's 'healthy'. Get used to it."
"…Yes, Master," Apprentice said resignedly.
The necromerchant nodded. "I'll be back before too long," he told Apprentice, and he moved to close the lid on the dumpster.
"Wait!" Apprentice exclaimed.
The necromerchant paused.
"Thank you, Master," Apprentice said. "You know…for agreeing to train me."
The necromerchant gave another evil laugh. "Don't thank me yet, kid," he said nastily; "before long, you'll be anything but grateful."
"I will always be grateful to you, no matter what," Apprentice vowed.
The necromerchant just chuckled wickedly again. "You'll eat those words," he said, and he slammed the lid on the dumpster shut.
I will, always, be grateful, Apprentice promised to himself; and if there was one thing he was good at, it was keeping promises.
He listened to his master's footsteps fade away. In seconds, there was total silence. In the quiet, the noise that had haunted him for years started echoing again in his head: the sound of hammers banging on coffin nails. He closed his eyes, though it made little difference in the dark; behind his eyelids, where the scene had been etched since he was nine, Apprentice saw his father's coffin being lowered into the ground and buried - gone forever. It's been eight years, but it still feels like yesterday… he thought.
The flame of searing anger and loathing that would forever burn in his heart flared as he remembered his vow: I will never forgive Rotti…or GeneCo.
He sighed. This is what I was meant to do.
~X~
The dumpster was far from comfortable, but Apprentice eventually managed to doze off…only to be awoken by his master five minutes later.
"Wake up, kid," the necromerchant snapped.
Apprentice groaned sleepily - forgetting, in his half-conscious state, that he was supposed to do whatever he was told.
"I said, wake up!" his master snarled, and he grabbed Apprentice by the back of his shirt and dragged him out of the dumpster, dropping him mercilessly on the ground.
"Ouch! Ow! Hey!" Apprentice exclaimed as he was manhandled - his shirt ripped and his back was scraped harshly against the edge of the dumpster as he was dragged out, and when he hit the ground, his skull struck the pavement with a crack!
The necromerchant looked down at him unpityingly. "You can't afford to doze," he snapped. "What if one of GeneCo's guards had been looking for you? If you were a necromerchant, you'd be dead right now!"
"I've only been your apprentice for about an hour!" Apprentice protested angrily, scrambling to his feet and blinking stars from his eyes. "You haven't even taught me anything yet! Besides, you told me to sleep!"
"Yes, I did - I told you to sleep, not doze and dilly-dally when I woke you up!" the necromerchant snarled. "You have to learn to wake up fast!"
"I didn't know that!" Apprentice exclaimed.
"Too bad," his master spat; "you made your choice, you've already left your old life behind, and I'm not going to ease you into this. Kindness, compassion, pity, love - these are things of your old life, and like all the rest of your old life, those concepts need to be dead to you as of now! Now here," he said, pulling out some clothes and shoving them at Apprentice; "put these on. Ditch your old things; tonight, the death of your old life begins."
Apprentice took the new clothes in his arms. "I'll never forget who I am," he said, but he started changing.
"Oh, you will," the necromerchant said nastily as he watched Apprentice take off his torn shirt; "I guarantee it."
Apprentice's new clothes were plain and simple: gray boxers, a gray t-shirt, blue jeans, a black belt, black socks, and black hiking boots. When he came to changing out of his underwear, Apprentice hesitated and looked at his master, who met his eyes and coolly raised an eyebrow. Clearly, modesty was out the window, too.
When Apprentice was done and had his old clothes in his hands, his master said, "Now, throw those old things in there." He gestured at the dumpster.
"I have to throw them away?" Apprentice asked.
"Yes," his master replied, as though it were a stupid question.
"But can't I-?"
"No," the necromerchant said firmly.
"But-!"
"No," he repeated.
"But what if I just-?"
"What did I tell you about doing as I say, kid?" Apprentice's master demanded icily.
Apprentice fell silent.
"Throw those remnants of your old life away," his master ordered him; "it may be a fairly useless symbolic gesture, but it is traditional."
"Traditional?" Apprentice repeated. "Haven't there only been necromerchants for, like, fifteen years or something?"
"Eighteen," the necromerchant corrected, "but necromerchants' lifespans are typically very short, given the riskiness of the business, so there's been more than enough time for traditions to be established. Now throw those away."
Apprentice scowled. "Yes, Master," he grumbled, and he tossed his belongings in the dumpster.
"Welcome to your new life," the necromerchant said sarcastically as Apprentice's old clothes joined the trash. "It will be harder to do away with the rest of your old life than it was to be rid of those, but your old self will die in time."
"I told you once, I'll tell you again: I'll never forget who I am," Apprentice said firmly, turning back to glare at him.
"You'll have to, if you ever want to be a necromerchant," his master said.
They stared off for a minute.
"Did you think I was speaking idly when I warned you that your old self would have to die?" Apprentice's master finally asked mockingly. "I wasn't. I told you the exact truth of your future as it stands, with no embellishments. I meant everything I said."
Apprentice felt a chill; something about the way his master said it gave him a bad feeling. "What about when you said you'd kill me if I turned out not to be cut out for this job?" he asked faintly.
The necromerchant smiled a cruel, evil smile. "As with everything else I said, I spoke the truth," he replied wickedly. "If it turns out you can't be a necromerchant, I will have to murder you - for my own protection."
Apprentice gulped, his eyes wide, and he stumbled back a step.
"You see, Apprentice," his master went on, looking almost as though he was enjoying Apprentice's fear, "there are rules to this job, and the very first one…well, there are two parts to it: one, do not take risks; and two, do whatever it takes to not get caught…because 'caught' means 'killed'. Being a necromerchant is punishable by death, as decreed by Rotti - as you well know."
"But what does that have to do with…?" Apprentice couldn't bring himself to say it.
His master shrugged. "Turning you loose at, say, this moment in time may not be a terrible risk," he said, "but before long, you'll know too much about me. I'm going to teach you things I'd rather the general public not find out, not to mention things that could get me killed. Soon, letting you go back will be too great a risk for me to take. You'll have to either complete your training, or die…for my safety."
They were both silent for another minute.
I didn't know what I was getting into, Apprentice admitted to himself, but he didn't say it out loud; he knew that being a necromerchant was still the life for him, no matter the potential - or personal - cost.
"Now, kid, I'm a criminal," Apprentice's master finally said, "but as it stands right now, I'm not a killer, and I'd rather that not change. So don't fuck up. Got that?"
"Yes, Master," Apprentice said in a small voice.
"Then if there's nothing more, let's go," the necromerchant said, turning around and starting to walk away; "we're losing moonlight."
"Moonlight?" Apprentice asked, hurrying after his master.
"It's safer to raid graveyards at night," his master explained briefly, not slowing his pace.
"Does this mean you're going to teach me how to collect Zydrate now?" Apprentice asked excitedly.
The necromerchant chuckled. "Not yet, kid," he replied; "not even close."
~X~
It was a minute before Apprentice realized that he recognized the path they were taking; it was a path he had travelled that very day…as he did every day.
The graveyard looked different at night. Ironically, the only significant light sources were the searchlights that swept the ground, searching for Apprentice's master. Speaking of whom…
The necromerchant's head swiveled from side to side constantly, and he hunched down slightly to lessen his size as a potential target. His eyes were wide, his expression intense. He seemed…
"Are you…nervous?" Apprentice asked his master softly, unable to fully suppress a smile.
The necromerchant's head whipped around to face Apprentice briefly so that he could give him a furious glare. "Kid, if any of those guards sees one square inch of me, I'm dead," he hissed; "yes, I'm nervous! You should be, too!"
"They're looking for you, not me," Apprentice pointed out.
"They're looking for anyone!" Apprentice's master snapped, still speaking under his breath.
"They…know me," Apprentice said reluctantly; his master might as well know.
The necromerchant stopped in his tracks, then slowly turned back to face Apprentice. "What?" he asked icily.
Apprentice swallowed nervously, then lifted his head, stood up straight, and walked through the graveyard. He didn't even need to watch where he was going; he knew the path by heart. His feet took him there, almost without him willing it. In seconds, he was on his knees in front of the tombstone.
It was barely a minute before Apprentice heard his master walk up beside him.
"Is that your father, kid?" the necromerchant asked softly.
Apprentice nodded once.
There was silence for a minute.
"…Are you the one who kept putting a fresh flower on this grave every day?" Apprentice's master asked at last.
"I spent most of every day of the past eight years here," Apprentice replied. "Giving him a new flower every day was the least I could do." He turned his head to face his new master. "You noticed?" he asked.
The necromerchant nodded. "I checked every day, to see if this corpse was clear to dig up," he said; "it's common courtesy not to dig up a body that someone among the living is still close to. Had you skipped leaving a fresh flower for even one day, this corpse would be in my stock right now…but you didn't, so he isn't."
"Thank you," Apprentice said. "I mean, I think."
The necromerchant chuckled coldly. "I…admit that I did wonder who could possibly be so devoted to a dead man," he said. "I never thought I'd actually find out, though."
Apprentice nodded, unsure how to respond, then turned back to stare at his father's gravestone, and again, there was silence for a minute.
"Stand back, kid," Apprentice's master said suddenly.
"What?" Apprentice asked, looking back up at him.
"I said, stand back," the necromerchant repeated. Apprentice opened his mouth to ask why, but his master added, "Remember what I said about doing as I say."
"Oh! Yes, Master," Apprentice said quickly, and he hurriedly stood and took a step back.
The necromerchant took a step forward, so that he was standing where Apprentice had just been kneeling, and raised something he was holding in his hands. Apprentice had to look hard to realize what it was: a shovel. Where'd that come from? Apprentice wondered.
Suddenly, Apprentice's master quickly swung the blade of the shovel hard against the same place on the edge of the tombstone twice, once from one direction, once from the other.
CLANG! CLANG!
The sound of metal striking stone rang out in the graveyard, almost deafening. A small, wedge-shaped chunk broke off from the tombstone where it had been struck and flew through the air, away from Apprentice and his master.
Without a second's hesitation, the necromerchant put one arm around Apprentice, pinning the shovel against Apprentice's back, and covered Apprentice's mouth with his free hand; then, he lifted Apprentice up and dashed away into a patch of woods that stood bordering the graveyard - he was strong!
In seconds, the necromerchant was deep in the shadows, his back pressed to a tree. He peered around at the clearing in which the graveyard stood, his grip on Apprentice still uncomfortably tight, and watched as guards started swarming the area. He let out a deep breath when it was clear that no one had seen him dash off, and he released Apprentice…who turned on him immediately.
"What the fuck was that?" Apprentice demanded of his master, his voice hushed.
The necromerchant raised an eyebrow at his apprentice. "So you can talk like an adult," he commented dryly; "I was beginning to wonder."
"Tell me what that was about!" Apprentice hissed. "You just damaged my father's tombstone-!"
"What I did," the necromerchant corrected, cutting Apprentice off, "was mark his tombstone."
Apprentice blinked.
"That grave has now been marked as the grave of a necromerchant's family member," Apprentice's master told him, "and no necromerchant will desecrate it, ever. Your father will rest in peace for eternity."
"I…" Apprentice was shocked by the gesture; until that moment, his master had seemed so cold as to be inhuman. "Thank you," he finally managed.
The necromerchant rolled his eyes. "Don't get sentimental on me, kid," he said, cold and aloof once more; "it's custom to mark graves of necromerchants' family members, if they haven't already been desecrated. Sometimes, some necromerchants even go so far as to return the bodies of their apprentices' family members to their graves. Don't read too much into it."
Apprentice wasn't sure how to take that. "Does this mean I'm a necromerchant?" he asked instead.
His master chuckled coldly. "No," he replied; "not even close. You are, however, close enough for that."
Apprentice looked past his master at the commotion the marking had caused. "You took a risk to do that," he said. "I thought the first part of the first rule of the business was to not take risks?"
"The five rules may be bent on occasion, if the reason is strong and valid enough," the necromerchant said with a shrug. "Ideally, it should be avoided, but sometimes it's okay."
"There are five rules?" Apprentice asked.
"Five rules and one Absolute Law," the necromerchant replied, nodding.
"What are they?" Apprentice asked.
His master tilted his head, as though considering the question. "If I told you now, you might not remember," he finally answered; "I'll tell you as you see them demonstrated - they should be memorable, then."
Something about the way his master said it gave Apprentice a bad feeling, but he didn't comment on it.
They were both silent for a minute, watching the swarm of guards disperse as they gave up, finding no trace of the two criminals.
"Come on, kid," the necromerchant finally said; "we'll have to raid a different graveyard, and we really are losing moonlight."
"Yes, Master," Apprentice said; "lead the way."
The necromerchant walked through the woods, still carrying the shovel he had gotten somewhere, and Apprentice followed.
~X~
They arrived in another graveyard a few minutes later; Apprentice's master apparently had the exact locations of all the local graveyards memorized and permanently oriented around him in his mind. Ironically, this new graveyard was less guarded.
"Why didn't we just come here the first time?" Apprentice asked his master, confused.
"I came here last night," his master replied; "I need to rotate graveyards each night, to give people time to bury more bodies for me to dig up. There should still be a couple untouched ones here, though."
"Why does dealing Zydrate involve digging up graves, anyway?" Apprentice asked in a whisper as they crept through the graveyard.
"You'll learn that later in your training," the necromerchant replied. "For now, let's just say that the true identity of Zydrate isn't exactly charming."
Apprentice accepted this without a word; there was something about creeping through a graveyard at night that almost felt like it demanded silence.
The necromerchant held out his arm, halting Apprentice in front of a grave that, to Apprentice, didn't appear to be particularly different from any of the ones they had already passed.
The necromerchant glanced around quickly, then turned to his apprentice. "This one's untouched," he said.
"How can you tell?" Apprentice asked.
"I haven't dug here," his master replied, his tone and expression not leaving room for questions. He held out the shovel he was carrying to Apprentice. "Here," he said.
Apprentice took it.
"Now, make yourself useful, and dig," his master ordered him. "You haven't trained your eyes and ears yet, so I don't trust you to watch out for guards, so I'll be on lookout while you dig."
"Yes, Master," Apprentice said.
His master nodded, then turned to look around.
Apprentice faced the dirt, shovel in hand. It felt so wrong - grave desecration was a terrible sin. Still, he had known that this was part of the job - it was the very reason why he'd taken the job, since Rotti had outlawed it. But still…
Apprentice took a breath, closed his eyes, and quickly started crossing himself, reciting a prayer in his head. Halfway to his left shoulder, however, a hand caught his wrist.
"What do you think you're doing?" Apprentice's master demanded in a low voice.
Apprentice opened his eyes to face him. "I was just…" He trailed off, seeing the anger and disgust in his master's eyes.
"Just what?" the necromerchant growled.
Apprentice gulped. "Well, you see, I…I'm a Christian," he said.
His master blinked. "You're a what?" he exclaimed, clearly struggling now to keep his voice low.
"I'm a Christian," Apprentice repeated. "You know, Christianity - it's a religion."
"Religion is a dead concept!" his master spat.
Apprentice shook his head. "Not to me," he said firmly.
The necromerchant blinked a few more times, apparently stunned. "I knew there was something different about you," he finally muttered. He sighed. "Look, kid, whatever religion you may have belonged to in your old life, you have to let it go now. Your old life is over, as is everything in it."
"But-!"
"But nothing!" Apprentice's master snapped. "Whatever you may have been in your old life is dead - end of story! Now quit fucking around and dig, Apprentice! We're losing moonlight!"
Apprentice met his master's eyes for a few seconds, then conceded. "Yes, Master," he said, and he drove the shovel into the ground. As he dug, his master shook his head and chuckled.
"Christianity," he muttered under his breath, turning back to watch out for guards. "Of all the religions to come into this business claiming to belong to…"
Apprentice said nothing; digging took all his strength. In his mind, however, he had to concede the point; it was an ironic religion for a necromerchant to follow. There was a reason he'd chosen it, though…
It was a good ten minutes before Apprentice was done digging up the coffin.
"Finally," his master muttered when he told him he was done. "Have you ever done a day's work before in your life?"
"No," Apprentice admitted; his arms were very sore, he was sweating heavily, and his breath was coming hard.
The necromerchant shook his head, took the shovel, and jammed it into the lid of the wooden coffin. "I guess it's just as well we started here," he said; "anywhere else, and we'd have been caught before you made much more than a dent in the ground." He pressed down on the handle, and the nails in the coffin popped as the lid opened; he barely even gave a slight grunt of effort.
"If I…work with you…long enough," Apprentice panted, "will I…become…as strong…as you?"
"Kid, if you can't even dig up a single grave without looking like you're about to fall over when you're done, I honestly don't know if you can ever be as strong as me," his master replied; "it may turn out that your genes simply won't allow it."
"I'll work hard," Apprentice promised breathlessly, sitting down and closing his eyes. "I've just…never worked before…is all. I can get strong."
"We'll see," his master muttered.
"How do you do this on your own, anyway?" Apprentice asked, too tired to watch as his master harvested Zydrate from the body he'd just dug up.
"My senses are keen enough to keep me safe," the necromerchant replied; "I had to train them for two full years before my master was satisfied - and you'll have to train yours, too - but I can sense a guard creeping up on me long before he even sees me, even if I'm in the middle of digging up a grave."
"If you didn't need me…to do any of the work…then why did you make me?" Apprentice asked, still catching his breath.
"Two reasons," his master replied: "One, you need the practice - as is obvious by your clear lack of physical strength."
"And two?" Apprentice asked, still too exhausted to open his eyes, never mind take offense to the slight.
"Two," his master said, "if I didn't make you do anything, you would have just been dead weight…though since you're so weak, you basically are either way."
"It won't stay that way," Apprentice promised. "I'll get stronger, Master, you have my word."
"It would be hard for you to get much weaker," his master grumbled. "Come on, kid, I'm done with this one."
Apprentice opened his eyes to see him holding up a little glass vial of glowing blue liquid.
"Is that it?" he asked, standing up and walking over to his master to get a closer look.
"This is Zydrate," his master confirmed as Apprentice jumped down into the shallow hole.
"It's pretty," Apprentice said, staring at it, transfixed; it really was a pretty substance…
His master chuckled wickedly. "If you knew what it was, you wouldn't think so," he commented, and he stuck the vial in a loop in his belt.
"What's it feel like?" Apprentice asked. "To be injected with it, I mean? I mean, I know it's addictive…"
"Keep wondering, kid," the necromerchant told him sternly; "or better yet, don't even do that. You'll never know."
"Why not?" asked Apprentice.
"Because the Absolute Law of being a necromerchant is, 'A necromerchant may never, ever, inject him- or herself with Zydrate,'" the necromerchant replied; "and unlike the five rules, the Absolute Law is inflexible."
Apprentice blinked. "That seems like an odd rule to make more rigid than all the others," he commented.
"Does it?" his master asked, raising an eyebrow. "Since we can get all we want, and since it's so addictive, if we took it, we'd probably overdose in no time - if that's possible, though no one knows for sure if it is. Even if it's not, we'd use up all of our own stock on ourselves."
"Oh," Apprentice said; "that makes sense."
"I'm glad you think so," the necromerchant said shortly. "Now come on, fill this hole back in; I'm not going to lug two loads of dead weight around tonight, so whoever this is gets a little reprieve."
"Two loads?" Apprentice asked as his master climbed out of the hole.
The necromerchant gave him a nastily meaningful look.
Apprentice felt himself blush. "Oh," he said.
"Hurry up, kid," Apprentice's master spat; "we've been in one place a lot too long for my liking as it is."
"Any guards there might be around here will be looking for you, not me," Apprentice grumbled, picking up the shovel again, even though he'd only just managed to catch his breath; "since you're not doing any work, there's no reason for you to stay here. Isn't the first part of the first rule, 'Do not take risks'?"
"You're my apprentice, and that makes you my responsibility, sadly," the necromerchant said. "I would happily leave you behind if I could, but I can't."
"Gee, thanks," Apprentice muttered, shoveling dirt back over the violated coffin.
"Don't expect any more from me," his master stated icily.
Apprentice didn't bother wasting his breath with a reply.
The necromerchant sighed angrily. "You've cost me most of the night," he told Apprentice; "I won't be able to draw any more Zydrate. Good thing I have a backup stock, or I'd go out of business before sunset tomorrow."
Apprentice still said nothing; already, his meager muscles were burning again with the unaccustomed exertion of physical labor, and he didn't have the breath or the energy to waste. Besides, he got the feeling his master was deliberately trying to goad him, and he had no intention of failing any sort of test.
"…Christianity, huh?" his master went on after a minute, his tone softening ever-so-slightly. "Does that mean you have a moral compass?"
Apprentice nodded once, not caring if his master noticed the slight movement or not.
"That's a rare thing to have in this world," the necromerchant commented. "A dangerous thing, even. It's a shame you're going to have to throw it away for this."
"No I won't," Apprentice said softly, still working.
"Strange, really, that you seem so determined to become a necromerchant," his master continued. "As a moral Christian, it's just…odd, that you'd choose a life of sin."
"This life chose me, the day GeneCo murdered my father," Apprentice said. "Rotti is the devil incarnate, and I live to spite him. Anything to that end can't truly be called a sin."
"I think you'll be surprised," Apprentice's master said darkly.
Apprentice ignored him; thinking about GeneCo, Rotti, and his father filled him with rage, and he found that that rage was a good substitute for physical strength - at the very least, it kept him going. He filled in the hole in less than half the time it had taken him to dig it.
"Come on, kid," his master said when he was done; "let's get out of here already." He took the shovel out of Apprentice's hands and dashed off before Apprentice could even say another word.
Apprentice ran after him as fast as he could, but he was exhausted as it was. He didn't dare call for his master to wait, though; security in that particular graveyard may have been low, but the occasional searchlight served to remind him that making any loud noise would still probably get him killed.
He caught up with his master just as they re-entered the city limits. Actually, to be more precise, he found his master waiting for him just inside the city, the shovel apparently having been ditched somewhere along the way. Apprentice stopped in front of him and doubled over, bracing his hands on his knees, and gasped for breath.
The necromerchant shook his head. "Pathetic," he spat. "Can't you even keep up?"
"I'm not…used to this," Apprentice gasped. "Just give me…some time…"
"Time is everything in this business, kid," his master retorted, "and any necromerchant considers him- or herself lucky if he or she finds even a few minutes of it to waste on a good day. You don't have time."
Apprentice struggled hard to catch his breath for a minute.
"Thanks for waiting for me," he finally managed.
"Sarcasm, kid?" his master asked, raising an eyebrow.
Apprentice shook his head. "No, Master," he replied; "you stopped here to wait for me. Thank you."
The necromerchant chuckled and shook his head slightly. "You're something else, I'll give you that," he said, his tone indecipherable. "Come on." He turned and started walking away.
Apprentice followed.
They walked in silence for a minute.
"Do you really believe in God, kid?" Apprentice's master asked him suddenly.
Apprentice blinked. "Yes," he replied.
His master glanced back at him. "Why?" he asked coldly.
"What do you mean?" asked Apprentice, confused.
The necromerchant paused and spread his arms in an all-encompassing gesture. "Well, look around you," he said.
Apprentice knew it was a rhetorical statement, but he did so anyway - and he didn't like what he saw. He saw dirty buildings, a dirty alley, and dirty walls, all papered with advertisements promoting GeneCo and the concept of surgery as a fashion statement, and painted with graffiti about sex, surgery, and organ repossession.
"You have a moral compass," Apprentice's master said; "you see the world's fucked up beyond repair, surely? Tell me: What 'god' drove us to this?"
"God didn't do this," Apprentice said; "Rotti did."
"If God exists, He let this happen," the necromerchant pointed out.
"God gave people the free will to believe and follow who and what they want," Apprentice said defensively.
"Free will?" the necromerchant repeated mockingly. "You mean that thing Rotti's been trying to do away with ever since GeneCo rose to power?" He laughed cruelly. "Come on, kid," he said; "what 'god' would let things go to shit like this?"
Apprentice didn't answer. It was strange - and surely, it was a coincidence - but the truth was, he'd had this exact same argument with himself, many times.
"There's a specific reason I chose to become a Christian," he finally told his master. "You see-"
"I don't care what your reason was, kid," the necromerchant said bluntly, cutting him off; "your religion is illogical, pointless, and most importantly, over. You need to leave it behind now. It doesn't matter why you joined it in the first place."
"Yes, Master," Apprentice sighed as they resumed walking - unaware that, in the case of that last point, his master would turn out to be very, very wrong.
~X~
A few minutes later, the necromerchant stopped in front of another dumpster in a blind alley and opened it.
"In you go, kid," he said, turning back to face Apprentice.
"Again with this?" Apprentice asked, exasperated.
"Aren't you tired?" his master asked sarcastically.
Apprentice blinked; he was, but what did that have to do with anything?
"Oh, I'm sorry," the necromerchant sneered after a moment, cruel sarcasm dripping from his voice; "are you used to sleeping in a nice comfy bed?"
"Um…sort of, yes," Apprentice replied slowly.
His master's expression hardened. "Too fucking bad," he spat. "The only beds you'll ever have again are dumpsters, until you get your coffin. That's part of this job."
"Why?" Apprentice asked.
"Like I told you, the only people who look through dumpsters are the most desperate of Zydrate junkies," his master explained, his tone still mocking and cold. "In other words, if we sleep in dumpsters, the only people who'll find us and interrupt our sleep are people looking to do business with us - and that's always a welcome interruption. Other than that, we'll be left alone; and, more importantly, we'll be safe. That's what matters. Now get in there." he commanded.
Apprentice sighed. "Yes, Master," he grumbled, and he vaulted into the dumpster.
"By the way, you now officially know me too well for me to risk letting you go," his master said. "Congratulations, you now have only two choices: finish your training, or die."
"Thought I had to die anyway," Apprentice muttered.
His master chuckled coldly. "You know what I mean," he said.
Apprentice settled among the trash bags; he really was tired. For some reason, though, his master didn't slam the lid on him. After a minute, he opened his eyes to see his master still staring down at him.
"What do you think you're doing, kid?" his master finally asked him, raising an eyebrow. "Move over. I'm tired, too."
"What?" Apprentice asked, sitting up. "No! Get your own dumpster!"
His master's eyes narrowed dangerously, and a lethal glint appeared in his eyes. "What did you say to me?" he snarled softly.
Apprentice gulped; the necromerchant looked very capable of murder at that moment. "Nothing, Master, I'm sorry!" he said quickly, and he scrambled to the other side of the dumpster to make room.
"You'd better be," his master muttered under his breath before climbing into the dumpster and closing the lid behind him, leaving the two of them in total darkness.
Quickly, Apprentice scrambled to get a trash bag or two between him and his master, not turning his head even slightly. He couldn't see a thing, but he still stared intently at the last spot he had seen the necromerchant, his eyes wide.
"Get some sleep, Apprentice," said his master's voice; "you have a very unpleasant day ahead of you, I can guarantee you that."
Apprentice didn't relax even slightly.
His master's cold chuckle echoed in the metal bin. "What do you think I'm going to do to you, kid?" he asked sarcastically. "Rape you? Please. What kind of man do you think I am?"
"Why do we have to sleep in the same dumpster?" Apprentice countered, his voice - to his eternal shame - shaking slightly.
His master laughed. "Oh, you poor, naive kid," he chuckled; "and here I thought you trusted me."
"No offense, Master, but why should I trust you?" Apprentice asked.
"Because I'm all you've got," his master replied matter-of-factly. "I'm your master, you're my responsibility, and you need to trust me, because I can guarantee you that I will be the last person you will ever be able to safely trust. You have my word that I mean you no harm, nor do I have any intention of violating you in any way," he added, sounding unusually honest.
"That still doesn't explain why we have to sleep in the same dumpster," Apprentice pointed out, still not letting his guard down.
His master sighed. "It's for your own safety," he explained. "As I said, desperate junkies look through dumpsters for me - if they found you…well, there's no telling for sure what they'd do, but when they get to be that desperate, they become…shall we say, unpredictable?" He laughed evilly. "As I said, you're my responsibility," he went on; "if any junkies find us, I'll give them what they're after and send them on their way, and you won't be in any danger."
Apprentice said nothing. He was very tired, but he also had his doubts about his master's sanity, never mind trustworthiness…
His master sighed again. "Look, kid, I'm tired too," he said again; "I haven't slept in about twenty hours, and the last time I slept was only for about forty-five minutes. I couldn't do anything to you right now even if I wanted to. I'm going to sleep; I suggest you do the same."
Apprentice held his ground for a moment, then sighed and gave in. "Yes, Master," he said, and he allowed himself to relax.
"Oh, kid, one more thing," the necromerchant said suddenly.
Apprentice jolted himself back into a defensive position.
He heard his master move. "How many fingers am I holding up?" he asked.
"Huh?" Apprentice asked, confused.
"How many fingers am I holding up?" his master repeated.
"How should I know?" Apprentice asked. "It's pitch black in here."
"I can see you just fine," his master said. "Remember how I told you you'd have to train your eyes and ears? This is part of your training."
"There's a fine line between 'train' and 'strain' in cases like this," Apprentice commented.
"Well, tread it carefully," his master said.
Apprentice tried to see his master in the nonexistent light, then gave up. "I can't tell," he said.
"Obviously," his master said; "I put my hand down five seconds ago."
Apprentice blushed, and prayed that the darkness was at least enough to hide that much from his master.
Based on his master's chuckle, he guessed it wasn't.
"Get some sleep, Apprentice," the necromerchant said.
"Yes, Master," Apprentice said; "good night."
His master laughed coldly. "Kid, I haven't had a good night - of any kind - in years," he said, "and if you're expecting to ever have a good night again, you've got something else coming."
"Yes, Master," Apprentice said, unsure how else to respond. He relaxed, and as he drifted off to sleep, he once again heard the sound of hammers pounding on coffin nails. Tonight, however, the echoed sound was mixed with another one: that of a shovel chipping off a piece of a tombstone.