The Piano Tuner Read Free

Route Along the Upper Sutlej River.
December—Mapping Expedition of the Corps of Water Engineers in the
Punjab. February 1867—Report on Childbirth and Obstetric Diseases in
Eastern Afghanistan. May—Veterinary Infections of Herd Animals in the
Mountains of Kashmir and Their Risk to Humans. September—the Royal
Society’s Highland Survey of Flora in Sikkim. He seemed compelled to name
them all, and did so without taking a breath, so that the veins on his neck
swelled to resemble the very mountains of Kashmir—at least thought Edgar
Drake, who had never been there, or studied its geography, but who, by this
point, was growing impatient with the notable absence of any piano from the
story.
    “In late 1868,” continued the Colonel, “the
deputy director of our military hospital in Rangoon, then the only major
hospital in Burma, died suddenly of dysentery. To replace him, the medical
director in Calcutta recommended Carroll, who arrived in Rangoon in February
1869. He served there for three years, and since his work was mainly medical,
we have few reports on his activities. All evidence suggests he was occupied
with his responsibilities at the hospital.”
    The Colonel slid a
folder forward on the desk. “This is a photograph of Carroll, in
Bengal.” Edgar waited briefly, and then, realizing he should rise to
accept it, leaned forward, dropping his hat on the floor in the process.
“Sorry,” he muttered, grabbing the hat, then the folder, and
returning to his chair. He opened the folder in his lap. Inside was a photo,
upside down. He rotated it gingerly. It showed a tall, confident man with a
dark mustache and finely combed hair, dressed in khaki, standing over the bed
of a patient, a darker man, perhaps an Indian. In the background there were
other beds, other patients. A hospital, thought the tuner, and returned his
eyes to the face of the Doctor. He could read little from the man’s
expression. His face was blurred, although strangely all the patients were in
focus, as if the Doctor was in a state of constant animation. He stared, trying
to match the man to the story he was hearing, but the photo revealed little. He
rose and returned it to the Colonel’s desk.
    “In 1871
Carroll requested to be moved to a more remote station in central Burma. The
request was approved, as this was a period of intensifying Burmese activity in
the Irrawaddy River valley south of Mandalay. At his new post, as in India,
Carroll busied himself with frequent surveying expeditions, often into the
southern Shan Hills. Although it is not known exactly how—given his many
responsibilities—Carroll apparently found the time to acquire near
fluency in the Shan language. Some have suggested that he studied with a local
monk, others that he learned from a mistress.
    “Monks or
mistresses, in 1873 we received the disastrous news that the Burmese, after
decades of flirtation, had signed a commercial treaty with France. You may know
this history; it was covered quite extensively in the newspapers. Although
French troops were still in Indo-China and had not advanced past the Mekong,
this was obviously an extremely dangerous precedent for further Franco-Burmese
cooperation and an open threat to India. We immediately began rapid
preparations to occupy the states of Upper Burma. Many of the Shan princes had
shown long-standing antagonism to the Burmese throne, and …” The
Colonel trailed off, out of breath from the soliloquy, and saw the piano tuner
staring out the window. “Mr. Drake, are you listening?”
    Edgar turned back, embarrassed. “Yes … yes, of course.”
    “Well then, I will continue.” The Colonel looked back at
his papers.
    Across the desk, the tuner spoke tentatively.
“Actually, with due respect, Colonel, it is a most complex and
interesting story, but I must admit that I don’t yet understand exactly
why you need my expertise … I know that you are accustomed to give
briefings in this manner, but may I trouble you with