by TJ Muir
“Do what you always do then, I s’pose.” Cook shrugged. “As if they was here anyway.”
Kirrin scratched his neck, pushing his hair back. It was already slightly damp from the heat in the kitchen. “But I have something, my challenge, I mean, Hak’kar’s challenge-- that he sent me. Last time, I gave it to Kip and Duffy, and they took care of it. Without them here, I don’t know what I should do with it. Maybe I should just wait, leave it until they show up?”
“S’pose that’d be an option.” Cook nodded.
“But then the So’har wouldn’t know I had returned. That might be disrespectful, wouldn’t it?”
“It could, may be.”
“But it might be rude, to present myself at the House without an invitation,” Kirrin said, continuing his debate out loud.
Cook nodded. He looked up at Kirrin, waiting.
Kirrin looked back at Cook, hands up, frustrated. “Well? What should I do?”
Cook cocked his head, and blinked. “Was you lookin for an answer or just ranting?”
“What should I do?’
“Well,” Cook said, turning his attention back to his bread dough. “Seems as there’s two options. Wait, or go to the house. Choose one, but By the blood of Breshan do it in silence already!”
Kirrin slumped. “Sorry. Not your problem. I get it.” He headed back outside to think. He admitted to himself that he was actually stalling- hoping Kip or Duffy would show up, saving him from his dilemma. He wiped the damp sweat off his face as he headed over to a nearby tree and sat down, back against the cool bark. His mind continued to run in circles, trying to decide what to do.
“Hai!” Cook hollered, head popping out the window.
Kirrin looked up, startled. “What? You calling me?”
“I don’t see any other idiots skulking around, do you?”
“What do you need?”
“I figures long as you’re loafing around, you might as well be useful and take this up to the house kitchen.”
“The house kitchen?” Kirrin asked.
“Yeah, ya dummy. Are ya daft? The house kitchen. Where they takes all this nice food and puts it on pretty plates and platters and serves it up.”
“Oh,” Kirrin said. Somehow it had never occurred to him to think about where the food went after Cook had prepared it. But then he realized he now had a solution to his problem- or at least a partial solution. He jumped to his feet, and hurried back over to Cook.
“Here you go.” Cook handed him a large tray of sweet rolls and pastries. “Don’t drop em,” he said gruffly, but winked as he spoke.
“Thank you!” Kirrin could have hugged the grumpy old man -- if his hands weren’t full. He let out a half laugh, wondering how Cook would take it if he did.
The kitchens were actually fairly close to the main House. But everything Kirrin did was further away-- in the other direction. He hadn’t been in the main house, or even seen Hak’kar, since that first meeting. To think he might see the man today set butterflies to fluttering in his stomach.
He followed a path leading up to a side door, which stood open. Kirrin sighed with relief as he wandered in.
Partway down the stone corridor, he came to several doors. “Hello?” he called out, feeling foolish. He walked closer to the first door, hesitating. “Hello?” he called out again, a little louder. “I have some breads from the kitchens. Hello--”
A young woman came around from the far side of the door and nearly bumped into him. She jumped back, surprised. “By the nine hells, you gave me a fright!”
Kirrin was trying to make sure he didn’t drop the tray. “Sorry. I didn’t know where to bring these.”
She gave him a quick appraising look. He knew that look. It was the same as the ones he got from customers at the inn. That look that said he was someone to be easily dismissed. An inferior.
The woman turned sharply. “Right, follow me.” She strode down the hallway.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said to her retreating back. No reply. Maybe she hadn’t heard, but more likely she was just ignoring him.
She led him into a small but comfortable room filled with leafy plants. Large glass doors opened onto a stone veranda. “Put them over here,” the woman said, pointing to a table against the wall.
Kirrin did as she instructed. He stopped to look at an ornate fountain in the corner, the base of it a water garden with brightly colored fish swimming. Then he realized the woman had left the room, and he hurried to catch up with her.
“Excuse me,” he called out, hoping to catch her attention, half-running back down the hallway.
“What now?” she asked, turning around, exasperated.
Kirrin stopped short, almost running into her, and then jumped backward a step. “I have a letter for Hak-- for the So’har. It is a response to a letter he sent. He will be expecting it.” Maybe he was stretching the truth out of proportion a bit, but he thought it was the only way she would take him seriously .
The woman sniffed and looked annoyed, but she turned, pivoting on her heel. “House steward,” was all she said by way of explanation as she led Kirrin back the way they had just come.
She rapped her knuckles twice against a wooden door, and opened it without waiting for a response. She whisked her way into a small room containing a set of bookshelves, two chairs in front of a large window, and a carved wooden desk littered with papers against the far wall. An older man was seated at the desk, and looked up at their intrusion.
“What is it?” he asked.
“This one,” the woman said, with an emphasis on this that implied Kirrin was more of an object of inconvenience, than a person, “claims to have a letter for the So’har. You can tend to it.” She turned and stalked out of the room, leaving Kirrin standing there.
Kirrin looked over his shoulder, watching her leave.
“Don’t waste our time,” the man said.
Kirrin turned back to him. “The So’har wrote to me, and told me I should let him know--”
“Enough,” the man said, cutting Kirrin off. “Show me the letter.” He held out his hand, waving it impatiently.
Kirrin removed his pack from his shoulder, glad he had hung onto the original letter. He also pulled out his response, handing them both to the imposing figure across from him.
The man dipped his chin as he looked over the letter, as well as Kirrin’s brief response. Then he laid the letter aside, piled in among the heap of clutter on his desk, and picked up another letter and began reading.
Kirrin twisted the cord on his pack between his fingers.
“Are you still here?” the steward asked, crossly.
“Umm… Uhh--”
“Did you think the So’har is waiting upon your pleasure? Did you expect the man to drop everything for a boy with a letter?”
Kirrin blinked, and then found his voice. “No, sir. I didn’t. But I didn’t know what to expect or if I should ask.” He felt himself shaking, and tried to suppress it. He felt ill.
“The letter will be delivered. Go back to -- whatever it is you do.”
Kirrin turned and bolted out the door as fast as he could without being rude. He looked around quickly, found the hall he had come up, and dashed back outside. He stopped outside the side door, bent over and gasping as though he had run across Tatak Rhe. He used to think Perrin could be intimidating, and he had seen customers at the inn who had a similar manner. That was nothing to what the steward was like. He took a breath, and tried to stop the tremors he felt all over.
After a moment, he stood up and headed back towards the laundry for clean linens. As he walked away, he looked over his shoulder at the manor house. He envied the steward, who could instill that kind of fear and respect.
SOFT BREAK
Left to himself, Kirrin spent the evening doing the promised homework. In the morning, he washed up and headed to the kitchens to work with Cook.
“It’s onions and shelling peas this morning,” cook said. That was his way o
f saying good morning, Kirrin decided as he headed toward the basket of onions. By mid-morning the kitchen was getting warm, and Kirrin was glad to be done with the cleanup.
He headed for the showers behind his bunk, going the longer route so he didn’t have to pass by the barns. He decided Fin might have been right and he should just forget about Miral. He spent a while splitting wood after lunch but after that he was at loose ends. This was when he would usually spend the rest of the day with Kip and Duffy-- who were still nowhere around.
He thought about seeing if they needed any help in the barns, but that ran the risk of running into Miral. She may not even know he was back and he hoped to keep it that way as long as possible. So he slunk back to his room, careful to keep the window shut, even though the room felt warm. He pulled out his books and began reading.
He woke up the next morning, grabbed a towel and headed toward the showers. It was pretty early, so he was pretty sure Miral wouldn’t be around. He got soap in his eyes as he washed his hair, and was trying to rinse it out.
“Well, lookie who’s back. And growin some hair, too,” Kip said, tossing his towel over the shower wall next to Kirrin’s.
Kirrin blushed, not sure what to say. He wasn’t used to having the guys around when he was showering. He grabbed his towel and wrapped and rubbed himself down quickly, then jumped into his clothes.
Kip laughed.“You’ve got nothin to be embarrassed or shy about, that’s for sure.”
“I’ve got to go, I’ll be late, and Cook’ll be mad,” Kirrin said, dashing off as fast as he could.
Cook was roasting lamb and baking bread in the kitchens, so by the time Kirrin was done with the morning scrubbing he was damp and soggy. Once he was done, he rummaged around and put together a plate for himself, potato slices with herbs and cheese, two eggs, a sausage roll, and a wedge of cheese. He poured a cider for himself and put his plate down on the counter. He took two bites, and then wiped his forehead. He was done being hot and decided to take his breakfast out to the side of the kitchen.
He sat down on a stone bench against the outside wall. He felt the cool stone against his back, closed his eyes for a moment, and sighed in momentary pleasure.
“Here you are!”
Kirrin jumped, banging his head against the wall. “Miral,” he said, feeling guilty and cornered.
“I wondered where you might be hiding.”
“I wasn’t hiding. I’ve just been busy. And I haven’t been on the estate that long.”
She sniffed, reaching over to help herself to his breakfast. She picked up a potato slice, licking the cheese and watching Kirrin.
“I don’t have much time now, either,” he said, starting in on his breakfast to show his hurry. “I’ve got to go meet Kip and Duffy.”
Another sniff. “I think you just don’t like me anymore.” She ran her fingers down his arm. ‘Like my mom,” she added.
“Your mom?”
Miral nodded. “Yea. She left us. Said she didn’t like living in the country, working in the main house.”
Kirrin looked at her, tried to decide if she was telling the truth, or just trying to make him feel guilty-- or both. That was the worst, when the truth was used like a guilt bomb.
“Where is she now?”
Miral shrugged. “Dunno.”
He began to soften, feeling something kindred suddenly-- growing up with just one parent. Then she batted her eyes, and brushed against him as she reached for another potato slice.
Kirrin swallowed a bite of sausage roll, distracted. He remembered Fin’s words, and focused on shoveling breakfast into his mouth as fast as possible, washing it down with mouthfuls of cider. He stood up even before his plate was empty, half of the sausage roll in his hand.
“I gotta go,” he said, then he smiled, to show her he wasn’t angry at her. “I can’t keep the guys waiting, or they’ll-- well, you know.” He shrugged.
He looked back over his shoulder as he walked away, half expecting her to jump up and chase along, but she just sat there, watching him, and looking a little sad. Now he did feel guilty.
He found Kip and Duffy in the smithy. Kip bent over a grinding wheel and Duffy sitting on the tailgate of a wagon filled with coal. Regardless of what he had told Miral, they weren’t exactly waiting for him. Kip looked up briefly and nodded, then went back to edging the knife in his hands. Duffy looked at him, and then leaned to the side, looking around Kirrin.
“I see you’ve been busy,” he chuckled, winking at Kirrin.
Kirrin turned his head, looking back over his shoulder. Miral was standing under a tree, watching him. He sighed. No doubt she’d followed him just to see if he was lying.
“No, I haven’t been busy. Definitely not,” Kirrin said, hoping this was not going to be the chosen topic of the day.
“A right tasty little morsel, that one,”
“I wouldn’t know,” Kirrin said, wishing for some distraction to get them off the subject.
“You mean you haven’t dipped your hand into that honey pot yet? What are ya waitin for? She’s hot after ya.”
Kirrin shook his head. “She’s not worth the trouble. A teaser.”
Kip looked up, hearing that. “Ahh… one o’ them, eh?” He spit on the ground. “Only one thing to do with them sorts.”
“Yeah, I know. Just walk away,” Kirrin said.
Kip barked a half-laugh. “Ha! You let a girl like that walk all over you? I didn’t think we’d been teaching some pussy.”
Kirrin looked over at Duffy, who had started to shovel coal into the bin. Duffy looked up at Kirrin, watching him for a moment, waiting. “What?” Duffy said finally. “Man up about it. Next time she puts that kind o tease on you, just grab her and show her you’re a man. Take charge.”
Kip glanced down at Kirrin’s crotch and looked back up, adding, “She’ll thank you after. Thank you real good.” He winked.
Kirrin looked away, heat flushing his cheeks. Part of him wished he could crawl into a hole and hide. But another part him felt a touch of pride. Were they right after all? Kirrin looked back and forth, considering their advice, and remembering Fin’s advice also.
“While you’re working yourself up into a sweat anyway, come on over here and shovel the rest of this coal. Then Kip’ll show ya how to put an edge onto a knife.”
Kirrin took the shovel, grateful for any task that would end the conversation, and Duffy made himself comfortable on a sack of sand. He emptied the wagon, and went over to the trough to rinse off the soot and coal dust, dunking his head under the spigot. Then Kip taught him how to put an edge on a blade, using a broken knife for practice.
“Pump the wheel with your foot,” Kip said. “Steady pace is best. Not too fast, just steady like. Good. Before you start, take a look at the edge. See how it bevels, but closer to the edge there’s the second angle that brings it to a sharp edge? That’s what you’re looking for. You want to line up that angle. Go ahead. Now gentle, a light angle,” he said, as Kirrin lowered the blade to the grinding wheel.
Kip nodded. “That’s right. Nice slow pass from one end to the other. Least at first. Now Check your edge.”
Kirrin turned the aged blade over, and could see the clean edge he had just made. He looked up at Kip, smiling. Kip nodded back towards the grinding wheel. “Finish er up. Go ahead.”
Kip stood by for a while, as Kirrin got a feel for using the grinding wheel. Kirrin’s back felt tight and his arms were knotting from holding his position for so long. But Kip nodded his approval when Kirrin showed him the sharpened edge, running his fingers along it. “Wouldn’t shave with it, but not a bad job.”
The praise made the cramps worth it. Kip slapped him on the back. “Good work. Now practice.” He nodded toward the back wall of the smithy.
Kirrin looked at the clutter of scythes, sickles, hedge shears and knives. He sighed, and glanced up at Kip. Kip slapped him on the back again, and said, “Have fun,” as he headed out. Duffy got up from the sack he had been sitting
on and went with Kip.
SOFT BREAK
Kirrin woke up early, and took a few minutes to write a letter to his mother.
Hi Mum,
I just wanted you to know, I am keeping up with my studies. I have finished the book on citizenship and am working on an essay. And this week, they started me helping in the smithy. It’s a good skill to have, even though I know you want me to go to university. I promise I’ll keep working hard though, and I’ll send you the essay when I finish it.