“I see him,” said his mother, frowning. “He wants you to go to him.” She didn’t sound happy.
Savn, for his part, felt both excited and nervous to suddenly discover himself the center of attention of everyone gathered in the street, which seemed to be nearly everyone who lived nearby.
Master Wag did not, however, leave him time to feel much of anything. His deeply lined face was even more grim than usual, and his protruding jaw was clenching at regular intervals, which Savn had learned meant that he was concentrating. The Master said, “It is time you learned how to examine the remains of a dead man. Come along.”
Savn swallowed and followed him to the horse-cart, with a roan gelding still standing patiently nearby, as if unaware that anything was wrong. On the wagon’s bed was a body, on its back as if lying down to take a rest, head toward the back. The knees were bent quite naturally, both palms were open and facing up, the head—
“I know him!” said Savn. “It’s Reins!”
Master Wag grunted as if to say, “I know that already.” Then he said, “Among the sadder duties which befall us is the necessity to determine how someone came to die. We must discover this to learn, first, if he died by some disease that could be spread to others, and second, if he was killed by some person or animal against whom we must alert the people. Now, tell me what you see.”
Before Savn could answer, however, the Master turned to the crowd and said, “Stand back, all of you! We have work to do here. Either go about your business, or stay well back. We’ll tell you what we find.”
One of the more interesting things about Master Wag was how his grating manner would instantly transform when he was in the presence of a patient. The corpse evidently did not qualify as a patient, however, and the Master scowled at those assembled around the wagon until they had all backed off several feet. Savn took a deep breath, proud that Master Wag had said, “We,” and he had to fight down the urge to rub his hands together as if it were actually he who had “work to do.” He hoped Firi was watching.
“Now, Savn,” said the Master. ‘Tell me what you see.”
“Well, I see Reins. I mean, his body.”
“You aren’t looking at him. Try again.”
Savn became conscious once more that he was being watched, and he tried to ignore the feeling, with some success. He looked carefully at the way the hands lay, palms up, and the position of the feet and legs, sticking out at funny angles. No one would lie down like that on purpose. Both knees were slightly bent, and—
“You aren’t looking at his face,” said Master Wag. Savn gulped. He hadn’t wanted to look at the face. The Master continued, “Look at the face first, always. What do you see?”
Savn made himself look. The eyes were lightly closed, and the mouth was set in a straight line. He said, “It just looks like Reins, Master.”
“And what does that tell you?”
Savn tried to think, and at last he ventured, “That he died in his sleep?”
The Master grunted. “No, but that was a better guess than many you could have made. We don’t know yet that he died in his sleep, although that is possible, but we know two important things. One is that he was not surprised by death, or else that he was so surprised he had no time to register shock, and, two, that he did not die in pain.”
“Oh. Yes, I see.”
“Good. What else?”
Savn looked again, and said, hesitantly, “There is blood by the back of his head.”
“How much?”
“Very little.”
“And how much do head wounds bleed?”
“A lot.”
“So, what can you tell?”
“Uh, I don’t know.”
“Think! When will a head wound fail to bleed?”
“When ... oh. He was dead before he hurt his head?”
“Exactly. Very good. And do you see blood anywhere else?”
“Ummm ... no.”
“Therefore?”
“He died, then fell backward, cutting open his head on the bottom of the cart, so very little blood escaped.”
The Master grunted. “Not bad, but not quite right, either. Look at the bottom of the cart. Touch it.” Savn did so. “Well?”
“It’s wood.”
“What kind of wood?”
Savn studied it and felt stupid. “I can’t tell, Master. A fir tree of some kind.”
“Is it hard or soft?”
“Oh, it’s very soft.”
“Therefore he must have struck it quite hard in order to cut his head open, yes?”
“Oh, that’s true. But how?”
“How indeed? I have been informed that the horse came into town at a walk, with the body exactly as you see it. One explanation that would account for the facts would be if he were driving along, and he died suddenly, and, at the same time or shortly thereafter, the horse was startled, throwing the already dead body into the back, where it would fall just as you see it, and with enough force to break the skin over the skull, and perhaps the skull as well. If that were the case, what would you expect to see?”
Savn was actually beginning to enjoy this—to see it as a puzzle, rather than as the body of someone he had once known. He said, “A depression in the skull, and a matching one on the cart beneath his head.”
“He would have had to hit very hard indeed to make a depression in the wood. But, yes, there should be one on the back of his head. And what else?”
“What else?”
“Yes. Think. Picture the scene as it may have happened.”
Savn felt his eyes widen. “Oh!” He looked at the horse. “Yes,” he said. “He has run hard.”
“Excellent!” said the Master, smiling for the first time. “Now we can use our knowledge of Reins. What did he do?”
“Well, he used to be a driver, but since he left town I don’t know.”
“That is sufficient. Would Reins ever have driven a horse into a sweat?”
“Oh, no! Not unless he was desperate.”
“Correct. So either he was in some great trouble, or he was not driving the horse. You will note that this fits well with our theory that death came to him suddenly and also frightened the horse. Now, there is not enough evidence to conclude that we are correct, but it is worthwhile to make our version a tentative assumption while we look for more information.”
“I understand, Master.”
“I see that you do. Excellent. Now touch the body.”
“Touch it?”
“Yes.”
“Master ...”
“Do it!”
Savn swallowed, reached out and laid his hand lightly on the arm nearest him, then drew back. Master Wag snorted. “Touch the skin.”
He touched Reins’s hand with his forefinger, then pulled away as if burned. “It’s cold!” he said.
“Yes, bodies cool when dead. It would have been remarkable if it were not cold.”
“But then—”
“Touch it again.”
Savn did so. It was easier the second time. He said, “It is very hard.”
“Yes. This condition lasts several hours, then gradually fades away. In this heat we may say that he has been dead at least four or five hours, yet not more than half a day, unless he died from the Cold Fever, which would leave him in such a condition for much longer. If that had been the cause of death, however, his features would exhibit signs of the discomfort he felt before his death. Now, let us move him.”
“Move him? How?”
“Let’s see his back.”
“All right.” Savn found that bile rose in his throat as he took a grip on the body and turned it over.
“As we suspected,” said the Master. “There is the small bloodstain on the wood, and no depression, and you see the blood on the back of his head.”
“Yes, Master.”
“The next step is to bring him back home, where we may examine him thoroughly. We must look for marks and abrasions on his body; we must test for sorcery, we must look at the contents of his stomach, his bowels, his kidneys, and his bladder; and test for diseases and poisons; and—” He stopped, looking at Savn closely, then smiled. “Never mind,” he said. “I see that your Maener and Paener are still waiting for you. This will be sufficient for a lesson; we will give you some time to become used to the idea before it comes up again.”