by TJ Muir
“Yeah, but the other choice is doing nothin, and lettin some fancy man steal my girl, an’ that h’aint fair, is it?”
“H’ant right, for sure. But sometimes you just take the blow.”
“Not without a fight, at least, though, right?
“You’ve got spunk, that’s for sure,” he said nodding,
“Imagine the look on her face if I could show up at that party, all dressed up and fancy.”
Cullen nodded.
“But it’d never work. I can’t just walk up to a house like that.” Kirrin sighed for effect. “I was going to ask if I could rent your carriage, cuz that’s plenty fancy. But I wouldn’t want to risk it. It’s not worth three silver…” he let his voice trail off, but kept an eye on Cullen, watching him perk right up at the mention of three silver, licking his lips as though he could taste the coins.
“Mightn’t be that big a risk. That carriage just sittin there for the whole week anyways. Hesper be getting wined and dined with some merchants.”
Kirrin congratulated himself silently. He wasn’t sure he could pull it off, but he had learned how his brothers had connived and manipulated him over the years. Now it was his turn to be on the other end of that game. Victory left him feeling elated.
“When’s your fancy party, Red?”
Kirrin blinked, “Red?”
Cullen pointed to his own head of curly brown hair.
“It’s not red,” Kirrin insisted.
“Red enough. Sure h’ant dark.”
Kirrin sighed. His mother loved his hair, but to Kirrin it was just one more thing that made him stand out. He’d need to do something about it if he planned to sneak in to that party. He realized Cullen was staring at him.
“Oh, right. Tomorrow night.” Kirrin said. “And it’d be just a quick ride across the harbor bridge. No need to stay or come back, even”
“Hesper’ll be busy. We can work it.”
Kirrin knew he was really thinking about the three silver, and that it was quick easy money.
He bought Cullen a pitcher of ale, then got up. “I’m going to need to get something to wear, I can’t show up in these clothes. You stay here, and finish up though.”
Cullen winked and nodded, and Kirrin headed out, toward the market square. On his way, he spotted Aldon heading toward the canals. Strange. Kirrin followed him to a game of dice.
Interesting. Aldon liked to gamble. Kirrin watched for a while, amused. Aldon didn’t seem to be very good at it.
“You cheated,” Aldon cried out when his roll lost.
“How can I cheat? You shoulda stopped when you were winning,” the other man said.
Aldon opened his mouth, then looked at the man and closed it. Aldon wasn’t as stupid as he looked. The man holding the dice wasn’t someone to cross. Kirrin couldn’t tell if he had cheated. At one point it looked like he might have swapped dice but Kirrin couldn’t be sure.
“You gonna pay up now?”
Aldon looked nervous. “‘H’ant got it on me. I’ll cover it next week.”
The man shrugged. “Gonna be interest on that.”
Aldon nodded. “I know the deal.”
Kirrin ducked back and left before Aldon could see him. While he wasn’t afraid of Aldon anymore, he now held one of Aldon’s secrets and preferred to keep the knowledge to himself.
He realized it was getting late and he would have to hurry if he wanted to catch the shopkeeper before they closed up for the night.
Crossing the square, he almost bumped into a man who stepped in front of him.
“Do you pray to the Red God?” he asked, catching Kirrin by the arm.
Kirrin sighed. “Yeah, and to all the others too. Every day. Why don’t you go down to the docks and try to save some poor lost soul down there.”
“Be afeared of the Red God. He sees you. He’s watching.”
Kirrin shook his arm loose, annoyed now. “Stuff your words down someone else’s throat. Don’t waste my time.” He hurried off, worried now he might miss the tailor.
Two silver later, Kirrin had picked out a grey silk shirt, dark green jacket, and charcoal pants with matching boots. The tailor nodded his approval at Kirrin’s choices, telling him to come pick them up in the morning.
Kirrin took the long way back, wandering through the north terraces- the most exclusive and expensive places to live in the city. Students studying-- paid for out of deep pockets-- often lived on the edges of the area. And where there were students, there were parties. It didn’t take him long to find one. He wandered around the back of the cottage, to the closed area- studying the crowd. He picked up a glass of wine and tried to look bored, as though he were waiting for someone. But mostly, he watched and listened. Over the course of the night he began to put names with faces, and figure out some of the friendships and rivalries.
The next morning he struggled to wake up and get himself moving.
“I finished all the pots, brought in a crate of onions, and took fresh linens to the front suite,” Kirrin called out to his mother, who was in the kitchen.
“Schoolwork?” his mother called back to Kirrin, who was still in the back room.
Kirrin cringed, gripping the edge of the sink as he suppressed a howl of frustration. A moment later, he came into the main kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel, smile on his face. “I’ll do it now. I’ll take it out to the barn so I won’t be in the way, and there won’t be any distractions.”
His mother tilted her head, looking at him strangely, then nodded. “Fine. Just bring it back in for one of us to check later, okay?”
“Okay, mum.” He kissed her quickly on the cheek and then scooped up his books, ducking out the door before she could change her mind.
Up in his getaway nest, his books heaped to one side, he kept staring at Hak’kar’s letter as he grabbed his book and dragged it onto his lap.
‘The art of citizenship.’ None of it had any relevance to Kirrin. Who cared about who made the laws, what they were, or how they were enforced? He agreed with himself that he would read thirty pages. He made it through fifteen.
SOFT BREAK
Kirrin slipped a small jar of stove-blacking into his pack, and slipped out when his mother went into the pantry. The tailor had his clothes ready, and insisted Kirrin put them on for a final approval, before folding and wrapping them with greater care and efficiency than they would ever see again. From there, it was a short walk to one of the public bath houses. There were a few people inside, soaking in the large communal bath. They seemed to know each other and paid no attention to Kirrin as he made his way over to a bench in the corner.
After placing his wrapped bundle carefully to the side, he stripped down to his shorts and put on a pair of gloves to protect his hands. He went over to the shower and turned it on just enough to wet his head and then worked a little bit of the black paste in his hands, making sure it was diluted enough to spread evenly through his hair, adding a little soap and working it into a murky lather. He was careful to stay bent over the whole time to avoid staining his face and neck before rinsing it thoroughly.
Some of it came off as he toweled his head dry. Curiosity overcame his need to get ready and he went over to a mirror. He stopped abruptly, surprised. Without the red highlights, he didn’t recognize himself. He studied his reflection, trying to decide if he liked this new darker image. Then he realized it was more important to be sure his hair looked presentable. Wiping fresh steam off the mirror, he examined his handiwork, deciding it was passable.
It didn’t take long to get his clothes on. He glanced over at the men bathing, but they hadn’t been paying any attention to a kid like him. Once outside, he began to feel like everyone must be watching him. Was his hair okay? What if Cullen couldn’t make it? A thousand thoughts and doubts ran through Kirrin’s mind by the time Cullen pulled up with a highly polished carriage.
Cullen climbed down, stopping for a moment in front of Kirrin, staring at his hair. “For a moment, I wasn’t sure it wa
s you.”
“Does it look okay? I didn’t know if it would turn out right.”
Cullen’s eyes squinted for a moment, then looked at Kirrin top to bottom. “You’ll do. Good color choices, buttons on the cuffs, thin cuffs, nice choice. Boots with matching thin cuff, neatly folded down at the top…” Cullen appraised Kirrin’s choices, nodding. “Yes, you’ll do. And the hair-- no one should be looking too closely.”
By carriage, it was a short ride to the So’har’s house. When they pulled into the drive, Kirrin called up to Cullen. “Can you stop here for a moment?”
After the carriage stopped, Kirrin waited for a moment as another carriage went past them. He looked to see if he could see inside. He couldn’t. He peeked out, toward the house, second thoughts creeping in.
“Pull up closer,” Kirrin called out, “but just a bit off to the side.” The carriage jostled as the horses walked forward. “Just past the walk.”
A moment later, Kirrin felt the carriage come to a stop and a slight jostling. Then the door opened and Kirrin did his best to imitate Hak’kar’s mannerisms, stepping down to the ground, but placing himself so he could seem like he was giving instructions to his man while watching guests as they arrived. “Are you sure I look okay?” he whispered.
“You’re looking very fine. As well dressed as most of the lads here. An I’ve seen no few of em in my day.”
Kirrin nodded, but didn’t feel reassured. Then he saw a carriage pull up in the space right behind him, and four young men all but tumbled out, laughing and jostling each other. Two of them Kirrin recognized from the night before. He struggled to recall names. Jes? Jessun? And Toril?
With a deep breath, he squared his shoulders. “I can do this,” he said, watching as a man with dark blond hair stumbled. Jessun, Kirrin was pretty sure. Quick reflexes kicked in, and Kirrin dashed forward, catching him under the arm.
A round of laughter broke out but it wasn’t aimed at Kirrin. “Looks like you’ve got a savior.”
“Only because none of you would come to my rescue.”
“I tried to save you last night.” Toril said
“We’d only have made it worse,” a light haired man said, creating more laughter.
“Could it be worse than having to watch a cluster of young pups parading around like livestock prancing and preening?” Toril asked.
“Yes,” Jessun said. “There could be no wine.”
“Nine hells take you for even speaking that!”
Kirrin kept his grip on Jessun, making sure he was balanced and not likely to trip, praying the man wouldn’t suddenly realize he was a total stranger.
The original plan had been to mingle in with someone he recognized from the party and make small talk about the night before, but this might work even better. Kirrin walked along with the group and Jessun draped a friendly arm around Kirrin’s shoulders.
The men attending the door eyed the group. Kirrin’s heart was racing, fully expecting them to demand an explanation of what he was doing there- and then to throw him out. But the group formally bored, ambled right on past them without a second glance. Of course they would, Kirrin reminded himself. The four men belonged there, and behaved as though they were expected. A good thing to remember, Kirrin decided. Act like you belonged, or better yet, were expected.
But he was in! Success! The men at the door hadn’t targeted him and tossed him right back out. Part of him hoped Hak’kar would be waiting right inside the door to congratulate him, but he was so elated it didn’t bother him that the man was nowhere in sight as they made their way across a cavernous entry through small clusters of guests. Jessun was happily oblivious to Kirrin’s presence, arm remaining draped around Kirrin’s shoulder.
“Look, it’s that wretched gossip. Is that one Linna, or Minna? Why is she even here- she’s too young to attend a fete,” He snorted as he spoke. “Ferlon?” he asked, turning to the dark blond.
Ferlon looked at the pair, shrugged. “Host’s cousin, or something like.”
Another snort. “Oh look, there’s Waster,” he exclaimed, swiveling himself and Kirrin in a half circle to get a better view.
“You mean Haster?”
“Whichever.”
Despite the detours to turn and notice people, none of the four seemed interested in socializing, which relieved Kirrin. Getting in had taken a lot of his energy, having a cover story that no one would question hadn’t occurred to him.
“Quick, Linna-Minna-whoever has spotted us. No need to have the little tattling minx on our tails all night. Not even old enough for a cuddle.”
“Oh, but in a few years she’ll be a delightful piece of candy to nibble on. And she’ll love it. She’ll probably go looking for it.”
Were they actually talking about a girl that way? Girls on the docks maybe, Kirrin would have expected that, but a proper lady? And highborn, if he’d heard correctly.
“Thank all the gods,” The arm around Kirrin’s shoulder lifted. Kirrin turned his head as the four changed direction slightly and sped up. Their destination was a crystal fountain filled with amber colored liquid that Kirrin guessed was wine, or some kind of alcohol.
Glasses were set out along the rim of the fountain, a clear and open invitation. Getting drunk wouldn’t be a good idea, but Kirrin noticed most of the guests held glasses in their hands and he did want to fit in. Picking up a glass, he dipped it under the free flowing stream of liquid and took a tentative sip. Slightly sweet, but tempered by an aftertaste of alcohol, with a hint of honey and vanilla and butternut. Intoxicating. Kirrin took another sip, needing to taste more as he tried to figure out what it was.
“Best Ambrulla anywhere,” dark-blond said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Will make the rest of the night bearable.”
Tagging along with the four had several benefits. First, they were so caught up in the drinking and the gossip and scandal, they didn’t really notice Kirrin wasn’t speaking, giving him the benefit of learning a lot of details about these elites: affairs, broken hearts, struggles within families over politics. After a while, he began to realize the topics weren’t that different from anywhere else. And being attached to a tiny cluster kept anyone from challenging his presence. Kirrin made a point of smiling and nodding at people as they passed even though he cringed in terror with each polite acknowledgement. Eventually, someone was going to ask him a question he couldn’t answer.
“I’ve got to piss,” Jessun said.
The stomach-knot tightened. Every change, every encounter, risked discovery. Jessun glanced down at Kirrin. “Come, my faithful hound,” he laughed, using Kirrin’s grip to pull the two of them in a new direction. “Let us find the facilities before the pretty ponies come prancing out and about.”
Pretty ponies? Kirrin blinked, confused.
“He means the girls,” Toril said, rolling his eyes at both Kirrin and Jessun.
“Silly event. We know most of them already anyway- most since they were toddling around and wetting themselves.”
Toril shrugged. “Wine. Dancing. More wine. A cuddle in the bushes if I’m lucky.”
Jessun weaved his way down the long central gallery towards the back of the house. About halfway down, he swung sharply to the right, into a hallway and out onto a wide stone veranda. Fresh air. Kirrin took a deep breath, feeling freedom and safety for a moment.
Kirrin tagged along as the four were joined by three others Kirrin recognized from the previous party.
“Doren! You look like the nine hells.”
“And I enjoyed each level thoroughly!” the newcomer laughed.
“Looks like the twins didn’t fare as well,” Toril, nodding towards the other two.
Kirrin looked at the other two again. Yes, there was a definite similarity there. Not quite identical, but very close. It was less obvious because hair and dress were different styles.
“We’ll have our revenge.”
“And it will be epic.”
Jessun hugged Doren, clapping him on the back,
flinging an arm around Doren’s shoulder now.
“Congratulations! A fellow survivor.”
Then they turned toward the balustrade and proceeded to relieve themselves, making a contest over who could piss the furthest. Kirrin was shocked, not expecting that these well-born people would behave like this but he also found it funny, listening to their banter.
In any other circumstances, Kirrin might actually enjoy himself. Had he been treated like this at the earlier party he would have reveled in the acceptance into the group.
Kirrin took his time relieving himself. The others wandered off, leaving him behind. That left a mixed emotion in Kirrin. He let out his breath, felt the tension drop from his shoulders, but part of him wished they had turned and called out to him, claiming him as their friend and part of the group.
After a few moments passed, Kirrin wandered back along the veranda that went the full length of the north wing and wrapped around the end. A few others were also outside, bunched in small clusters. Mostly older men, either whispering tightly or bragging loudly. None of it seemed very interesting.
Picking up a stray glass, Kirrin wandered all the way to the end, trying to remain invisible. He walked just fast enough to look like he was going somewhere, but when he reached a cluster of giant plants at the end, he was at a loss. Should he turn around and walk back again?
“I don’t much care for these things either.”
Kirrin jumped, his nerves going into overdrive, dropping the glass as he looked around frantically.
“Over here,” the voice came from behind him. “Step under the large fern.”
Kirrin ducked under the hanging fronds into a small alcove garden, with stone benches and a statue of the Lady similar to the one at Hak’kar’s estate. There he found a young man about his own age.
“Would you like a drink?” he asked, holding up a bottle.