by TJ Muir
“Practicing,” he called down, standing on one leg and going through a series of arm exercises.
“You look silly, like a wading bird,” she called back up.
Kirrin continued his m'retsun, trying to stay focused, but when he turned into the next pose, he lost his balance and tumbled down the low roof, catching the edge for a moment before losing his grip and falling to the ground with a thud.
He heard the sound of footsteps running toward him. He tried to catch his breath as he lay there sprawled on his back. He opened his eyes to see Miral looking down at him.
“Are you hurt?” she asked.
Why did girls always seem to ask the most stupidly obvious questions? He grunted, moving first his legs and then his arms. He was past the worst of his injuries, but his body wasn’t going to thank him for that fall. He heaved himself up into a sitting position and then rose to his feet in a fluid motion, copying the way he had seen Ch’hikk move.
“I didn’t really think you looked silly up there,” Miral said. “It looked kind of pretty, against the sunset.”
Kirrin looked sideways at her as he started toward his room. He decided he needed a shower, and headed around to the back of the small building.
“We moved the sheep this afternoon,” she said. “Well, my dad did, managing the herds. But I helped. The ewes will be lambing soon. You should come see the babies. You’ve never seen anything so cute as a fluffy baby lamb.” She slipped her arm through his while they walked, rubbing her fingers against his forearm, her thumb sliding back and forth.
Kirrin shrugged. “Maybe.” He wasn’t going to let her off the hook that easily. He had been trying really hard, and he wouldn’t have fallen if she hadn’t come along prattling away.
“Are you mad at me?” she asked, tugging at his arm slightly as he headed around the back corner of the building. “Please don’t be mad at me.” She brought her other arm up around his neck and kissed him.
It had been a long day and he was tired, but her lips tasted so good. He couldn’t keep himself from kissing her back, as he stepped her against the wall. He slid his hand under her shirt, trailing kisses up the side of her neck. When he reached the spot below the ear, she squealed softly, gripping his arm tighter. He let his other hand wander down her back, feeling the curve of her hip. She pressed up against him and his body reacted with a sudden rush of immediacy. He kissed her again, hands against her back, drawing her closer still.
Her hands were on his shoulders, but she was pushing him away-- again. The advice Kirrin had heard from both Fin and Kip warred in his mind. . In the heat of the moment, hormones won out over good sense. He grabbed Miral by the wrist, pushing her up against the wall and pinning her there. He kissed her hard, driven by instinct, even though he had no experience. He was going to be a man and force her to stop playing these games with him. He rubbed up against her, fumbling as he tried to move her skirts out of the way.
Miral’s nails raked across Kirrin’s cheek as she cried out, “Stop! Stop it! Get off me!”
He tried to hold her as she struggled against him. “Stop fighting, you want this. Why else would you keep teasing me and trying to get me all worked up?” he hissed, angry now as well as frustrated.
He tried to kiss her again, then doubled over in pain as she rammed her knee into his groin. Both hands went to his crotch, and Miral shoved him away. She took advantage of his distress and ran off. Kirrin sank down to the ground, gasping in pain-- angry and embarrassed. He had wanted to be a man and take charge. After hearing all the advice from Kip and Duffy he imagined how it would play out, but in his mind it hadn’t ended this badly.
SOFT BREAK
Over three months had passed, working in the kitchen, training with the shadow dancer and making some time for studies. Just when Kirrin was sure that the So’har had forgotten all about him, he was summoned up to the main house. Hak’kar eyed him closely, laying aside the paperwork he had been reading.
“You are learning well, with Ch’hikk?”
Kirrin didn’t know what to make of his lessons with the shadow dancer. He also didn’t know why Hak’kar had gone to the trouble. He certainly did not require finesse in the fight ring. He also hoped, in the back corner of his mind, that Hak’kar would see his value for more than just some fighter.
“I think so, although much of it does not always make sense.”
“That is the nature of trust, of loyalty. To do, without question, without reservation.”
Kirrin thought for a moment. Was that it? Was Hak’kar testing his loyalty? “Some of it is fun, a challenge,” he said. “But more of a personal one, like testing my own limits.” Kirrin heard his own words, and smiled slightly as he began to understand. “I would do whatever the So’har asked of me.” It was true. He wanted to impress Hak’kar. Wanted the man to see his worth.
“Would you?” Hak’kar asked, swirling the wine in his cup, watching the dark red liquid flow along the inside of the glass.
Kirrin nodded. “Absolutely. Why would I not? You’ve done everything for me.”
Another nod. A sip of wine. Hak’kar leaned back in his chair, studying Kirrin. “There might be something…” he said, words spoken slowly, as though he was considering an idea.
Kirrin’s heart pounded with excitement. This was everything he had been hoping for. Hak’kar had been training him all this time, watching him, and now it would seem all his hard work had made an impression.
“I have found myself in a somewhat difficult situation,” Hak’kar said. Another sip of wine. “You know my fondness for books, especially historic books, and my reverence for them.”
Kirrin nodded. “A magnificent library collection attests to that.”
Hak’kar gave a half laugh, glancing at his small bookshelf before turning back to Kirrin. “Through an unfortunate circumstance, I have found that a most treasured book belonging to my family for many generations, is missing.”
Kirrin’s eyes went wide. “I haven’t touched any book that wasn’t right here, or that you put into my hands. I swear by the gods.”
Hak’kar shook his head, laughing. “There was no suspicion you had taken the book.”
Kirrin sighed. For a moment there he was worried he was about to be punished for something he didn’t do. Or worse, be sent away for good. “What happened to the book?”
“It has ended up in someone else’s keeping. Someone to whom it does not belong.” The So’har’s expression darkened.
“Can’t you just ask for it back?” Kirrin asked, hearing how foolish, childish even, the question sounded.
“Then that person would know he had been discovered. That might raise questions, and draw attention to matters that should remain private.”
Kirrin wasn’t sure he understood where the So’har was going with this, but he nodded anyway.
“You might have enjoyed the book. It contained histories and legends from the founding of Tatak Rhe, the very oldest Houses. Stories that had been long forgotten. Even mention of the gods walking among us.”
“The gods, here? In Tatak Rhe?” he asked, enthralled by the idea.
Hak’kar shrugged. “It is written in an ancient dialect, and was never fully translated, so it is hard to be sure-- since we no longer possess the book.” He refilled his wine glass. “Perhaps if we had it, you might like to try reading it, being as clever as you are. But it is lost now. Too late.” Hak’kar drank his wine, staring at the bookshelf, as though the book might materialize there.
Kirrin chewed his lip, thinking. Hak’kar seemed sad that his family’s book was gone. And curiosity was burning away at him, inside. He wanted to read that book, to show Hak’kar just how clever he was. He wanted that more than he wanted to read about the gods coming to Tatak Rhe.
“You know where it is, sir? Who has it?”
Hak’kar looked up at Kirrin’s words, as though he had been distracted. “Yes, we have a good idea where the book is. But it may not be there for long. I fear it is lost to us
. Such a loss to my family.”
“Maybe I can get it back for you,” Kirrin offered.
Hak’kar tilted his head, considering Kirrin’s offer. “You? You could succeed where a So’har could not?” he asked, almost challenging Kirrin.
“If you know where it is, So’har. I’ll find a way to get it back for you. I could slip in. No one would notice me. I’m good at being invisible.”
Hak’kar looked at Kirrin levelly, appraising him in some way. “You believe you could do this?”
Kirrin shrugged. “I’m clever, and I’m good at getting in and out of places. I can do it."
Hak’kar studied Kirrin, as though considering his offer. Kirrin hoped he hadn’t offended the So’har with the suggestion.
A certain glint lit the So’har’s eye as his expression shifted just a bit. “You cannot get caught. If you do, I will not be able to protect you. You will be at the mercy of this person. And this House will disavow any knowledge. There will be no way back if that happens.” Hak’kar words were firm.
Kirrin thought about it for a moment, but in the end, it was no choice at all. He owed the So’har so much, and did feel that absolute loyalty to him. This would be sure to impress him in a way nothing else could. He would do what no one else could manage.
“I understand. But I won’t get caught.” He had no idea how he would manage it--yet. But he was confident that he could. “I’ll need to know as much as I can, about the book, and about whoever has it, where it is.”
Hak’kar nodded. “All of that information will be provided. Come back in the morning. Esh’ral, the steward, will provide the information you will need.” He smiled slightly. “So, you have discovered your own next challenge.”
“I won’t let you down.”
“See that you don’t.” Hak’kar turned his attention to the papers on his desk.
Kirrin stepped back out of the room. He had been dismissed, and if he understood correctly, he would continue to be dismissed until he had recovered the book.
NEW CHAPTER
SCOUTING THE HOUSE- ONE
Kirrin woke before the sun came up and went out to the hayloft, climbing up onto the cross beam. He headed most of the way down to a place where the beam was flat and smooth to go through the exercises Ch’hikk had taught him. He began with a series of stretches, before going through the animal poses. He liked bear holding the sun, pivoting on the beam in one fluid motion as he shifted into hummingbird drinks from the flower.
He made sure to go through the entire routine before swinging down to the ground. Then it was morning chores. He wanted to get done before anyone could pile more chores on him, but he took a breath, determined to be mindful. He had discovered it didn’t take much longer to do his chores if he slowed himself down a little and concentrated on doing each task correctly. And he caught less grief from his mother. He thought she’d be happy enough that she didn’t have to ask the other staff to do the chores, but clearly just having him there to pick up the extra work wasn’t enough.
Chickens let out, eggs collected, patrons’ horses fed and watered and stalls cleaned. Satisfied, Kirrin ducked into the showers to rinse off the layer of sweat and grime. Then he grabbed his pack and headed off on his mission. The Da’har’s residence was closer to the city than Hak’kar’s estates, an easy walk.
The sun was coming up, the heat already drying his hair as he headed toward the harbor bridge. By the time Kirrin had crossed the north terraces he could feel sweat beginning to bead on the back of his neck and the breeze coming off the harbor was a nice relief. The air was damp. He hoped it would rain and lift the thick heat that came with the summer months.
His stomach rumbled, reminding him he had rushed off without breakfast. He stopped briefly and bought a sausage roll and stuffed grape leaves, and drank water from the bottle in his pack. While he ate, he watched the boats make their way into the harbor, passenger boats docking and barges heading for the locks that would bring them down to the lower docks toward the south of the city.
Breakfast finished, Kirrin wiped the grease off his fingers, tucked his water bottle away, and headed over the bridge. On the other side, the brick paving stones turned into packed gravel that followed one of the canals eastward.
This canal was nothing like the ones in the city, which were lined with shops and factories. Here, was a more natural atmosphere. Kirrin walked along under a row of shade trees. He tried to look like he belonged there, out in this wealthy residential area, but still he kept expecting someone to stop him, demanding to know what he was doing out here.
Houses were spaced further and further apart. Kirrin began to doubt the map and his directions. Up ahead the road forked. He sighed, relieved. He hadn’t lost his way after all. He followed the road that turned north, tucking his map back into his pocket.
He walked along a long stretch where there were no houses, and no driveways. It almost felt like the estates where Hak’kar lived, but instead of cows, sheep, and plowed fields there were huge fields with several herds of horses grazing lazily. After a while he came to a place where the shrubbery thinned. Manicured lawns and gardens spread out, and beyond that, he caught a glimpse of the house. Not a house, he corrected himself. It was easily twice the size of Hak’kar’s estate, and that was bigger than anything he had ever seen before.
Between the shrubbery and the distance to the house, Kirrin couldn’t make out very much. Kirrin stooped over, pretending to remove a stone from his shoe, glancing carefully in both directions. No one was on the road. He ducked into the overgrowth and climbed up a tree for a better view.
He stayed in the tree until he saw the Nibbin rise in the west and the sun was directly overhead. He noticed a few messengers coming and going, and a carriage left, carrying a well dressed young woman, passing below Kirrin’s perch.
“”Taj! Are you listening to me?”
“What?”
Kirrin smiled, hearing the annoyed tone of an adolescent.
“You’ll be on your best manners today? No matter what Trey does?”
“Yes, Mama. I will behave, no matter what. Will Poppy be there?”
Kirrin couldn’t hear her answer, as the carriage continued down the lane. Once they had passed, Kirrin turned his attention back to the grounds. He studied the grounds for a while, sketching a map of key points. His main goal was to find a better vantage point to study the house itself. After watching for a while, he noticed numerous hiding spots but none of them had easy access. A thick stand of carefully manicured bushes gave a good view of the front of the house, but getting into or out of it would be impossible to manage because the space around it was open. Kirrin went through several other spots, and ruled them out for the same reason. He had hoped this would be quick and easy, but as he watched and studied the house and grounds he realized this was going to take time, and he was going to need to improve his stealth skills quite a bit.
He sighed, resigning himself to a longer process than he had hoped for. Even watching the house to decide on his best course of action was going to need to be a night-job. That suited him fine. He liked prowling around at night, especially with the summer heat. Nights were cooler and he felt more alive when he prowled around the city.
SOFT BREAK
It was time for evening chores by the time he got home. He felt his mother watching him, frowning, as he carried crates of onions and turnips into the store room. Kirrin’s jaw tightened. He was doing everything that was expected of him, including his studies. No arguing, no fuss. And she still wasn’t satisfied. He came back into the kitchen and stopped. She wasn’t angry. She was wearing her worried look, the one that said, I know something is going on but I don’t know what. Kirrin felt guilty. Part of him knew she had every right to be suspicious. She had always had an uncanny intuition.
“How was dinner?” he asked, making small talk in the hopes of distracting her. “Did the choofa sauce impress the silk merchant?” He grabbed a plate of lightly sautéed vegetables and heaped choofa
sauce over them. Choofa and vegetables vanished quickly.
Tattia nodded, wiping her hands on a towel. “He was very impressed by the authentic recipe. And he said he would be staying here on his future trips.” The man was extravagant, but also demanding, having exacting standards for how he liked things to be done. If he stated his intention to return, he must have been impressed.
Kirrin picked up his plate, watching his mother. She half opened her mouth, stopped, furrowed her brow, then closed it, chewing her lip. He spoke up before she could say whatever was on her mind. “Well, I think I should shower, and then I want to finish some reading.” He realized he was still holding his plate. “Could you wash this up for me?” he asked, tilting his head to the side, grinning.
Tattia growled at him, but it was a relieved sound rather than angry. She swatted him with her towel, but was smirking as she did. “Go on, you.”