by TJ Muir
She didn't say anything as she stood upright, wiping her floured hands on her kitchen apron. They just looked at each other for a moment that stretched out.
“Are you okay?” she asked, breaking the silence.
“I'm fine.” He realized as he said it that he was more fine than he knew. “I'll be okay.”
She looked unconvinced. He knew she had patched him up too many times, and she looked wary now.
“Honest. I'll be okay,” he repeated. With that, he hugged her, before heading out toward Tatak Square, and the terraced gardens. He needed to clear his head, and to think. So many things were rattling around in his brain, it was like he had a bag of cats in his head.
A nice breeze came off the river, blowing up the hill to the center of the city. Kirrin headed toward the square, and wandered around looking at the merchants' goods. He only had a few pennies, which he didn't intend to spend. Mostly, he was just walking around, and feeling the freedom from worry. He didn't know if he would run into any of the boys, but for the first time in his life, it was a minor concern. He was able to walk around, look at things, and even have polite conversations with people. He felt like he was trying out his new self. The self he had been when he was outside the city, and filled with confidence.
It felt good. He stopped at one of the vendors, bought a penny’s worth of figs, and then wandered toward the terraced gardens.
Having satisfied himself that he wouldn't turn back into his former scared-little self, his thoughts began to wander to other things. He saw a large bald man unloading a cart in one of the side alleys. It reminded him of Kip. He wondered what the two of them were doing right now. He imagined they might be stacking hay, or shoeing horses-- or any of the other little things that always needed tending. He realized he didn't really know what their official capacities were. It seemed most people that worked for the So'har, or rather, belonged to the So'har's estate had specific jobs, like Cook, or the seamstress, and the laundry girl. Everyone's position, and responsibilities were defined. Not Kip, and Duffy, though. He hadn't even thought about it while he was there.
The only other person —whose purpose he had been unsure of was Miral. He had only seen her a few times, and his brain turned into his worst enemy whenever he was with her. He was pretty sure he didn't say anything truly stupid, but he always felt like she was out of his depth. He was completely fascinated by her. She knew so much more than he did. She read books, and stories about people he'd never heard of. When they were together, she usually did most of the talking, and he just listened.
Now, as he walked along the paved side lanes, he thought of all the clever things he might have said, and questions he should have asked her. He was walking along, lost in his thoughts and daydreams, when he heard the sounds of a scuffle. A flood of memories washed over him, knowing those sounds all too well. A boy about his age, he guessed, was having a go at a boy. Who was either a couple of years younger, or just a few sizes smaller. Kirrin's first instinct was to cringe, but he felt a rush of sympathy for the smaller boy.
So he then took a deep breath, and waded into the middle of the fight. He reached down, grabbed the larger boy, and then put him in a very firm headlock- just like he'd been taught. He turned his body, bringing the boy along with him, and spun him slowly onto the ground, releasing his head, and grabbing his arm in two places. One hand flexed the boy's wrist at a sharp angle, while the other hand gripped the back of his elbow, putting pressure on the joint. He was rewarded with a short yelp from beneath him.
He looked up at the second boy. “You okay?” he asked, watching him pick himself up and dust himself off.
The boy nodded. “Think so.” He glanced at the bully. “He took my coins.”
“That so?” Kirrin asked the bully, ratcheting up the pressure a notch.
“In my pocket,” he cried, distressed.
Kirrin nodded to the boy, “Go ahead, reach in, and get it.” Then the boy looked uncertain about approaching.
“He isn't going anywhere while I have his arm,” Kirrin assured the younger boy. Even so he just stood there. Kirrin shifted his grip, so he could reach into the pocket himself, where he felt a small coin purse.
“That's mine,” the bully complained. “Only some of them was his.”
“Not anymore,” Kirrin said, feeling smug and victorious. “And in the future, don't go beating on little kids, less you want another round. Understood?”
He nodded.
Satisfied, Kirrin eased up on the arm, and backed away, letting him stand up. He watched as the bully rubbed his shoulder, moving it back, and forth. Then he stood up, glaring at Kirrin. The two of them stared, eye to eye, for a moment that stretched on. Kirrin guessed the bully was trying to decide, whether he wanted to take a swing at him-- now that it was on even ground, with no surprise back-grab. Kirrin lifted his head slightly, leaning forward a hair- almost daring the boy to try something.
The bully backed down, grumbling. “Just a little pissant anyway. Not worth being late for dinner over.”
But Kirrin knew that was face-saving chatter, as the bully turned,and walked away, a little faster than most people moved.
“Here's your purse,” Kirrin said. “Watch out for yourself, okay?”
The boy nodded, eyes glued on his new hero.
“If you hurry you can probably get to the sweet shop before it closes,” Kirrin said.
The boy smiled. “Thank you. A whole bunch. I'll bring you some sweets. Where will I find you?”
Kirrin smiled, swelling up inside with a strange pride. No one had ever looked up to him before. He liked how it felt- almost as good as being around Miral. “I'm heading over to the terrace gardens, but I live over the far side of the merchant square, outside the city-- The Red Coach Inn.”
The boy nodded. “I don' know that place, but I could find it. My name is Eben”, he introduced himself, before he extended his hand, very formally to Kirrin.
Kirrin smiled. “Kirrin,” and shook his hand.
“I'll find you,” Eben called out over his shoulder as he dashed off.
Kirrin watched the boats in the harbor from the Harbor Terrace, chewing on figs while he chewed on his thoughts. He considered how ironic that the worst thing that had ever happened to him had turned out to be the best thing. He sucked on a fig, and it reminded him of kissing Miral, or rather her kissing him. It had been her, completely. Kirrin would never have thought to kiss a girl. They kind of scared him, because he never knew what they meant when they talked,or what they were thinking. It had been easier with her, so long as he just kept his mouth shut, and listened. He decided that when he got home, he had to write a letter to Fin, and Chad. He was glad they weren't home, because he would never hear the end of it. He wanted to share it all with someone-- and he wasn't about to tell his mom that a girl had stuck her tongue in his mouth.
Watching the boats gliding almost silently in, and out of the north harbor had a calming effect on him. Either that, or his thoughts had chased themselves into exhaustion. Finally, he was left with just the box. By the time the Nibbin had crossed the sky on its second pass, he had decided there was no way to figure out, the why of it all. So the only thing he could do was figure out how to get the box to open. While he was sitting there, munching on the last of his figs, he remembered a big bowl of old keys buried in one of the storage attics. He jumped down from the stone railing, and ran the whole way home.
By the time he got back to the inn, he was dripping with sweat, but his body felt better for getting a workout. He didn't get two feet into the kitchen, before his mother looked up.
“Shower. Now.”
“Whaaaat?” he said as he grabbed a towel to wipe the sweat off his face.
“You're all sweaty, and you stink worse than swamp cabbage.”
“I do?” He lifted his arm and sniffed, then looked up at his mother, grinning evilly. “Splendid!”
His mother rolled her eyes, and pointed outside to the shower stalls.
Ki
rrin came back in a little while later wearing only the towel, wrapped around his waist.
“Where are your clothes? You’re half naked,” his mother said.
“They're up in my room. How was I supposed to get them? You sent me straight to the showers.”
She rolled her eyes, throwing her towel at him, but they both smiled, knowing he was right. “Next time, grab something to put on afterwards.”
“Or, you could bring fresh clothes out to me,” he quipped, as he grabbed a sweet roll, and a chunk of cooked ham, narrowly missing the wooden spoon as it mock-swiped at his hand.
He dashed to his room, feeling excited, and wanting to try out his idea. He carefully wrapped the box, just to be safe, and put it in his pack. Then he hustled down the upstairs hall to the common room at the far end of the building. At this time of day, there were seldom guests in the upstairs, as most of them preferred the terraces down below, with the light evening breezes, and the servants bringing wine, and ale.
Against the far wall was a tapestry depicting the city, with a large image of Giliad, and Chayan standing in the background. The protector hero,and the god. Kirrin couldn't remember what Chayan was the god of. His mother said he was a southern god, and Kirrin never showed much interest, being from the west. But he wasn't interested in folk stories at the moment, and pushed the tapestry aside so he could get behind it, to the door that was rarely used, leading up to a storage attic.
He liked the attic. It was his second favorite place, next to his hayloft spot. It was filled with all sorts of things from off-season room fittings:from sheets and blankets, to bugs-netting, to even lost items like the big, glass jug full of keys. He grabbed a blue- quilted blanket, and spread it on the floor. (or ; ?) Under the far window- a cozy nest with good light to work under. Out came the box, and the set of keys next to it. He looked at the collection of bras, and iron keys- all shapes sizes, and styles. Most of them were way too big to fit. That would make his work go faster. He hoped.
He turned the jar upside down, spilling all the keys into a tangled pile. He started by sorting out the ones that were positively too big, and dropped them into the jar. When he was done, he still had a small pile of keys to try. He went through them, one by one, adding the absolute-fails to the quickly filling jar. With the rest he made two piles. The first pile was keys that fit into the lock. The second pile was the keys that he could actually wiggle a little bit when they were in the lock.
Some of the keys were fascinating. There was one with a circle with three spirals in gold, and tiny stones in it. Another one, silver, with an ornate dragon curved around the key itself, guarding it. A key that needed a key. He laughed, thinking about that. Maybe it was magically protected. Thinking that, he put it aside as though it might explode, or burn his fingers, but it made him very curious.
He picked up one made of black metal inlaid with scroll-work painted dark red, and silver. It ended in a circle with three spiraled circles like curlicues, each touching the other two. It had a silk ribbon tied in a loop to its end. He caught the whiff of something. He sniffed at it: a faint scent of something both sweet,and spicy. It made him think of a breeze blowing through a far land across a desert. Strange. It was actually a very pretty key, and it made him wonder what it might have opened, once upon a time. A woman's jewelry box, perhaps? Something delightful, precious and expensive.
The key fit into the lock, neat and snug- no forcing, or wiggling required. Kirrin held his breath, tensed with excited anticipation. He closed his eyes,and twisted his wrist gently, feeling the key begin to turn. But it stopped before it opened anything. He let out his breath with a disappointed sigh. He opened his eyes, and looked at the key sitting in the lock. He tried to wiggle it around, turning it back, and forth, but it stopped at the same point each time. Reluctantly, he drew the key out of the lock, but placed it next to him so he wouldn't lose track of it. Then he worked his way through the rest of the pile.
A few were close fits. He placed those near the ribbon key. He dumped the rest back into the container, except for the dragon key, which fascinated him. He dug up a washing cloth, and wrapped his pile of keeper-keys into it, and tucked it into the pouch, along with the box. He looked up to see the sky was turning from bright blue to the lemon yellow preceding sunset. He scrambled up, gathering his things, and dashed down for kitchen chores. His mystery box would have to wait until tomorrow. Hopefully he would come up with another idea before then.
CHAPTER BREAK
The next day was rainy, and Kirrin’s mother made him spend all of it on his studies. He could tell from the tone of her voice it was one of those 'no arguing' discussions. She came over several times, pointing out mistakes he had made in his numbers. By mid-afternoon she wore her worried frown every time she looked over at him. That only made it worse, and he made more mistakes that needed correcting.
Perrin came back, probably summoned by his mother. He sat at the table next to Kirrin and looked over his work.
“Here, you see? You've got to divide this angle here by the length of the opposite side. If you do this first, you're going to have the wrong measurement over here.” he explained.
Kirrin nodded, seeing his mistake. And he got angry with himself, knowing he should know this. He was also angry with himself, because he knew if he could get this finished, he could go and do what he wanted to do. Perrin sat with him and they walked through a few of the problems together, working them out on large pieces of scrap paper, so Kirrin could see it as an image, rather than words and numbers on paper. That made it easier.
“I've gone through this twice now-- with both Fin and Chad. Third time, I actually understand it. Almost,” he smiled, ruffling Kirrin's hair. “Hey, what's this?” he asked, tilting Kirrin's head back. “Is that the first bit of fuzz growing on your face? We'll have to teach you how to use a razor soon, too,” he added, clapping Kirrin on the back.
Kirrin blushed furiously. Truth, he had noticed the very tiny bit of hair growing on his chin and above his lip. But like kissing a girl, it was something he didn't want to talk about- especially not in front of his mother. That would be complete humiliation.
He was saved by a knock at the back door. “Hellooo?” A voice called in. “The man at the desk said to come round back. I'm looking for Kirrin?”
“Another visitor for you?” Perrin asked, eyebrows arching upward. “Aren't you the popular one these days.”
Kirrin just shrugged. He had no idea what to make of it. But this wasn't another messenger from the So'har. Just inside the doorway, Eben was taking off his jacket, shaking off the rain, before he hung it on a peg, next to the other coats and aprons.
“Eben,” Kirrin said, surprised to see the boy show up.
“You said I might find you here,” he said, sounding uncertain.
“No. Yeah, I mean, it's fine.”
“Who is your young friend?” his mother asked, putting aside the knife and carrots.
“Come on in,” Kirrin said, getting up from his dreaded studies with relief he took no pains to hide. He pulled out a stool from under the main prep table, inviting Eben to sit. His mother was already putting together the obligatory cup of tea and biscuits.
“This is Eben. I met him yesterday when I was walking towards the terraces.” Kirrin sent Eben a look that needed no words to be understood between the two of them.
Eben nodded in silent agreement. “Yeah, he helped me retrieve my lost coin purse. And I told him I would bring him some candies.” As he said it, he placed a bag onto the table, pouring out a pile of tiny dark lumps onto the plate next to the biscuits. He nudged the plate over to Kirrin.
“What's that?” Kirrin asked.
“They're currants, I got ‘em from the candy maker across the bridge. He is from White coast. He says down there they make a cocoa paste, with spices and sugar, and dip fruit into them.” To demonstrate their safety and not being a trick, Eben took two and popped them into his mouth.
Kirrin wasn't quite so brave, taking
one and sniffing it first. It reminded him of cloves and nutmeg and something orangey. Satisfied it didn't smell like poison, he took a little nibble, and then popped the candied treat into his mouth. A slow, warm, creamy rich taste melted across his mouth, a bit of spicy, but it was offset with the sweetness of the currant. He smiled. “Wow, that is incredible.” He grabbed a handful. He thought about saving some, but they were just so good. He shared them with his mother and Perrin, both of whom had a similar reaction.
“We might need to offer these to our guests. Maybe as a dessert dish?” Perrin suggested. “Where did you say this shop was?”
“Across the north bridge, past the Beddo square, has a bright yellow sign over the window.”
“You think you could find it?” he asked, looking at Kirrin. Perrin was aware of Kirrin's past trouble, and also aware of his recent victory fight- for which he had secretly congratulated the boy.
“I could show you,” Eben offered, sounding eager to help.
Kirrin nodded. “Can we go now? The rain's stopped. And I've done most of my work. Please?”
His mother stiffened for a moment, considering. She exchanged a look with Perrin, and then nodded. “Go, run off, you two. Have fun. But be home in time for dinner chores,” she added, reminding him of what he already knew. “And take a jacket,” she called after him as they disappeared through the door.