by TJ Muir
“Kirrin, is that you?” his mother called from inside.
“Yeah, mom. It’s just me. Barn’s all done. Eggs on the porch. And I’m clean,” he said, coming into the kitchen.
He looked around quickly as he put the towel aside, to see if Perrin was still there. It was just the two of them. She stood there, watching him. He hated when she made that sad-concerned mother face.
“I love you. Mum. You know that, right?” He felt the truth of his words. He didn’t want her to be hurt or sad or worried about him.
She smiled and nodded, arms out, inviting him in for a hug. He held her tight, realizing his head came up above her shoulders now-- not nice and neat under her chin anymore.
SOFT BREAK
“Here, put these over there, like this,” Fin explained, stacking a pile of bricks. “So what is it you do for the So’har, anyway?”
“Lots of stuff. I help the cook, mostly. Sometimes I help the barn crews, move the herds or bring in hay, milking cows-- that kind of stuff.”
“Milking cows didn’t give you those muscles,” Fin said as he watched his brother work.
“Oh, that?” Kirrin said, looking at his arms. He shrugged. “Splitting wood, I guess.” He wasn’t going to tell Fin about the training Kip and Duffy kept up with.
“You’re lookin’ good. Must be the fresh air,” Fin said, tousling Kirrin’s hair. “So what does the So’har want with a Tat-rat, anyway?”
Kirrin shrugged. He had never figured that puzzle out, himself. “Dunno. He thinks I’m smart. Likes to talk to me, sometimes.”
“About what?” Fin asked. “What could a So’har want with a kid?”
“A Tat-rat, you mean?”
“It’s not an insult. Just, you’re a city kid. Like me, like everyone.”
“Not like everyone else, or why would he be interested in me, huh? Mum hopes he will see how smart I am and send me to school or something.”
“To do what? Milk cows?”
Kirrin clenched the brick in his hand. Fin was just jealous. “Better than making bricks for the rest of my life.”
“Making bricks is only part of what I do. I’m learning how to build with bricks. Buildings.”
Kirrin grunted. If Fin hadn’t just insulted him, he might have been impressed. But he wasn’t going to give his step-brother the satisfaction now.
“Here. I’ll show you. It’s kind of cool. A lot of math goes into building.” Fin walked over to a workbench that was strewn with tools and papers. He pulled down a rolled paper, and opened it up. “See. This is an old factory, been standing empty since the canal failed.”
“Why did the outer canal fail, anyway?” Kirrin asked, interrupting.
Fin shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe the Warani that keep the shells-- but I don’t think they know how they work. Those priests are just there to maintain em. I think they know less than they pretend, like all priests. And if the Faenyr know anything, they sure as the nine hells don’t seem interested in helping out any.” Fin stopped his tirade long enough to reach for an ale and took a long swig. He looked over at Kirrin, then back to his bottle. After a slight pause, he handed Kirrin the ale. “Don’t tell mom,” he added.
Kirrin bristled slightly. She wasn’t Fin’s mom. Not really, and it always bothered him slightly. He never called Perrin Dad.
“Go ahead. You’re practically a man now. Just don’t drink it all,” he said, reaching for a second bottle.
Kirrin shrugged, tipping the bottle back and tasting the slightly bitter ale wash the heat and dust out of his mouth. Fin clapped him on the back and turned his attention back to the sheet of paper. Kirrin watched as he pointed to the lines on the paper. “We are going to be building -- starting next month. Going to turn it into a private villa. That’s what all these bricks are for,” Fin said, waving his hand back at the stacks of bricks everywhere. “Working with bricks, is kind of like doing a puzzle. You can’t just stack them all lined up. The wall would break and collapse, see.” As he talked, he led Kirrin over to the wall. “See, look how they are staggered, especially at the corners.
Kirrin was a little curious, as he looked at the patterns of brick and then down at the patterns in the paving stones. Using slightly different shapes and sizes had created a repeating pattern of geometric designs. He began to think about how to create different shapes and patterns, how the bricks and paving stones fit together. By trimming the corner off of one edge, the darker stones arced, creating a semi-circle, and then the stones flipped the other way, and it curved back again. Such a tiny piece chipped off, but it made a straight line into a circle.
He looked up to see Fin watching him, smiling.
“So. Mum and my dad are worried about you, eh?”
Kirrin mumbled and shrugged. Another sip of beer. He hoped Fin wasn’t going to go off on how Perrin thought of him like his own son and all that junk.
“So what’s going on?”
“They’re just on my back all the time. It was easier when you were there. But now it’s just me, and they never let up. I mean, I’m not some little kid anymore. Kirrin do this, Kirrin do that. Kirrin did you do your schoolwork? Kirrin Kirrin Kirrin… just shut up already, you know?”
Kirrin looked up at Fin. His brother, but not really. Both Fin and Chad had looked after him when he was young, but he wasn’t sure either of them really understood him. They weren’t real brothers, and he felt like sometimes they resented him being around.
“I don’t know what to tell you there. Chad was off to school by the time he was your age. And I didn’t have too much trouble. Just do what they tell you. It’s easier that way, you know? What about school? Thought about that?”
Kirrin shrugged one shoulder. He knew his mother didn’t have that kind of money. And as much as everyone thought he was so smart, he had never really worked very hard at his studies. Sometimes something would interest him and he would dive into it. But most of the time, it was drudgery.
“It’d be easier if you knew what you wanted to do, you know. Have a plan. They’ll respect that. You like to cook, right? That’s a good thing.”
“Yeah. I guess.” He could tell Fin was trying to help.
“You’ll be able to impress the girls by being able to cook,” Fin said, nudging Kirrin in the side.
Kirrin felt the heat in his face, raised a hand to his cheek, embarrassed at how easily he blushed, making Fin laugh.
“So, does that mean there’s a girl somewhere? You got a girl?” he asked slyly.
Kirrin ducked his head. He really didn’t want to talk about girls. But he didn’t know very much. He realized he did want to ask someone. He just didn’t want to sound like a fool.
“Kinda,” he admitted. “I don’t know.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know. Do you like her?”
“I think so. She’s nice. She likes to read. And… well, she lets me kiss her… And stuff..”
Fin looked at Kirrin, head tilted. “And stuff... eh? Sounds serious.”
“Naahhh. No. I mean-- I don’t know. She makes me crazy.”
“Girls can do that.” Fin said, watching Kirrin. He must have noticed Kirrin’s distress. “What does she do, exactly?”
Kirrin blushed even more, he could feel his face burning. He looked to the side, focusing on the paving stones. “Well, she lets me kiss her, like. And sometimes she lets me-- well, put my hand inside her shirt. And when we kiss, she rubs up against me, like-- right up against me. I can’t tell if it’s on purpose like, or not. And it feels reaaallly good. But then, all of a sudden she’ll have to go and she just runs off. Or her father calls her.”
“Sounds like she’s winding you up. Goes so far, and then leaves, or stops, or something stops you?”
Kirrin nodded. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“We call that a teaser.”
“A teaser?”
“Yeah…,” Fin said, walking over to the workbench and taking down a tin. He opened it up and took out spiced chocolates. The kind he and E
ben always liked. Kirrin could smell the rich cocoa, and licked his lips. “You want one?”
“Yes!”
Fin held it out, wafted it under Kirrin’s nose. Then held one in his open palm. He nodded to Kirrin. But when Kirrin reached for the candy, he pulled his hand back a bit. Then he stretched his hand open, inviting Kirrin to take it. Again, he pulled his hand back.
Third time. Kirrin swore at Fin, as his brother popped the chocolate into his mouth.
“That, is a teaser,” Fin said. “You keep thinking you’re about to get something really good. But at the last minute they pull it away.”
“Doucha!” Kirrin mumbled.
“My what a dirty mouth you have.” Fin laughed. “Don’t let Ma hear you talking like that,” he added, holding his hand out again. This time he didn’t move it as Kirrin took the chocolate.
“So what do I do?”
“Best advice with a girl like that? Forget her. She’s a game-player, for whatever reason. They’ll always try to spin your head around. Sound about right?”
Kirrin shrugged. “Yeah, maybe.”
SOFT BREAK
A soft breeze blew, tussling Kirrin’s hair as he sat under a tree, staring at So’har Hoster’s estate. A gravel drive led up to the house and formed a circle around a fountain and hedges. Beyond that, two sets of stairs mirrored each other, curving up towards a massive stone house. A large set of double doors that intimidated Kirrin even at this distance. How was he supposed to gain entrance through those doors into a formal party?
He had thought about trying to sneak in through the kitchens, hiding among the staff. He could pretend to be the servant of one of the guests. That might serve to meet the challenge, but he didn’t think that was what the So’har had in mind. Besides, Kirrin liked the idea of strolling right through the front door. He’d show everyone he wasn’t just a Tat-rat.
One of the benefits of the challenge was that it kept him focused on what he was doing, and not on his mother and Perrin, or Miral-- or anything else. But when he hit these dead ends and ran out of ideas, then the outside problems crept back in. He fidgeted with the key in his pocket, as his thoughts began to wander.
He thought about what Fin had said and decided he was spot-on about the Miral. All she ever did was wind him up, teasing of the worst and most frustrating kind. Maybe Fin was right about his mother, also. Fin was basically telling him to suck it up and do everything his mother expected, school, studies, some boring apprenticeship. That might be good for Fin who was always eager to please and easy-going. Or Chad, who was smart and really liked studying. But Kirrin didn’t love studying. He wanted something more. He just didn’t know what that was-- yet. He did like cooking, but when he thought about it, the part he really liked was being able to impress and surprise his mom. Would it be as much fun if he were cooking for total strangers?
What he really hoped-- deep in his heart-- was that Hak’kar would see how clever he was and offer him an exciting position working on the estate. Most of what he did now was just manual labor, but he put his whole heart into everything, hoping to make a good impression. A few times, Hak’kar had him run errands, delivering letters or packages. Kirrin had liked doing that a lot. It was exciting to carry around something mysterious and important. The houses and estates, also, were grand. Mostly, he liked the feeling of importance and the way people treated him when he made his deliveries.
As if the very thought nagged at him, he stood up, frustrated. He was determined to find a way through the front door, and headed back across the harbor bridge to the inn. An idea began to take shape, if he could manage to pull it off. He headed back to the inn and snuck in through the back and tiptoed up the stairs, avoiding the few steps that creaked.
He pulled up his secret floorboard and took out the small leather pouch he kept hidden. His coin stash. He only wanted to take a few coins, to test his idea.
“Kirrin,” his mother called out, “is that you?”
“Damn,” he swore under his breath, clenching the pouch in his hand. One breath, another. Then he heard the sounds of her in the kitchen. “Damn,” he swore again. He looked toward the hallway that led back downstairs, and then toward the window that opened above the porch roof.
He put the floorboard back, careful not to make any noise that would carry downstairs. He stood for a moment, in the middle of the room. He heard the faint sound of the knife against the chopping block. She wasn’t going anywhere any time soon, so he crept to the window and slid it open.
A few minutes later, he was out on the street beyond sight of the inn. He let out a breath, triumphant. He headed up the road, turning the corner down a smaller lane. Halfway down there was a small pub. He scanned the crowd and saw Cullen. He ducked inside long enough to grab a pitcher of ale and then headed over to join him.
“You look bored,” Kirrin said, walking up, holding out a mug for him.
“Oh right, you’re the chef’s kid, at the inn, right?” he said, taking a minute to place Kirrin.
Kirrin held back a sharp comment. Alienating Cullen would ruin his plan. “Kirrin,” he said, reminding him. “Here,” he added, putting the ale down in front of him. “Mind if I join you? I managed to get away for a few.”
A noncommittal nod and shrug, which Kirrin took to mean the man had nothing better to do. “You been driving for Hesper long?”
Another shrug.
“You get to travel a lot and see a lot of places?”
One shoulder lifted slightly. “Sometimes, yeah. Mostly around here though. A few trips down White Coast way. Been over ‘tward Treyu. Good wine, them halfbreeds make, that’s for sure.” He reached for the mug Kirrin had brought, taking a long drink, then wiping foam from his mouth.
Halfbreeds? Kirrin realized he meant the half Faenyr people, rather than the half-Beddo he was more familiar with.
“Are there many halfbreeds?” Kirrin asked, the word feeling funny as he spoke it.
“Over there? They’re everywhere, like flies.”
“Worse than the Beddo?” Kirrin asked, goading the man.
A short, sharp burst of laughter told Kirrin he had hit his target. “Least they’s clean, and not thievin’ bastards.”
After that, he talked more freely, treating Kirrin like a confidante. Stories about his boss flowed, while Kirrin kept the man’s mug filled with ale. For all the bowing and scraping, Cullen didn’t seem to have much love for Hesper - or even much like, for that matter.
Good, Kirrin thought to himself. That should make his plan much easier.
“How’d you like to make a few silver?” Kirrin asked. “Aaaaand… stick it to your boss while you’re at it?”
Bushy eyebrows lowered slightly as the man appraised Kirrin. Kirrin reminded himself the man had no idea what his real purpose was.
“What did you have in mind?”
“Well, there’s this girl, see--”
Cullen laughed, deep in his belly, ale sloshing in his mug. “H’ant there always.” He raised his mug in a mock salute, then leaned over and spit on the ground, showing his disgust.
Kirrin nodded, beginning to understand all of the men’s grumbling about women.
“So what’s your problem?”
“Well, she used to kind of be nice to me. But then she made friends with some of the uppity-ups… you know the type…?”
“Knows ‘em all too well,” he snorted. “Lemme guess. Now she’s all uppity up an’ don’ give ye the time of day?”
“Yeah. that’s it,” Kirrin said, letting Cullen fill in the gaps in the story. “I just thought if I could impress her-- show her I’m just as good as them uppity-ups...you know..?”
Cullen nodded, chugging down his ale. Kirrin sipped lightly at his own, wanting to keep his wits about him.
“What’s it you’re askin’ of me, then” Cullen asked, with an inkling of curiosity.
Kirrin paused, bit his lip. He looked down, but watched Cullen out of the corner of his eye. “No-- it’s way too risky. I wouldn�
��t want to get you into any trouble and you wouldn’t want to do it anyway.” He made sure to sound like all hope was lost as his voice trailed off.
Kirrin knew the man spent most of his time doing nothing and that boredom was working in his favor now. “Maybe I should just try to forget about Miral,” Kirrin said, deciding to keep his lies closer to the truth. “Such beautiful hair, the color of honey. She wears it in a braid, and the end curls around in the cutest little twist.”
“Aw, lad, you’ve got it bad, h’aint ye?”
Kirrin just shrugged, glancing up.
“What did you have in mind?”
“She got invited to a party, with the uppity-ups. I just thought if I could show up, all nice and fancy - she’d see that I’m just as good as they are.”
Cullen sucked on his teeth, head cocked, as he listened to Kirrin pour his heart out. “Hard ta say, if that’ll work. Girls be funny things.”