by TJ Muir
“By the nine hells!” Kirrin swore, jumping sideways and crashing into a tree. “Must you keep doing that?” He realized he was using a rude tone of voice to someone who tended to thrash him with harsh workouts for a bad attitude.
Ch’hikk just laughed. “Your ears are sloppy,” she said. “But tell me what brings you out onto the Da’har’s estate in the middle of the night?”
Kirrin considered using his front story- he was chasing a girl. He didn’t think Ch’hikk would believe that though. Plus, she had an uncanny and annoying knack for knowing when he was being anything less than completely truthful and honest.
“Explain while walking,” she said, turning him around and giving him a shove to get him moving.
“I work for the So’har. I am doing his bidding,” Kirrin explained, deciding that was the truth and about as much as she really needed to know. Fortunately, she didn’t press for details. Maybe whatever she did, as part of being a shadow dancer, gave her an understanding of delicate assignments and the need for secrecy. He glanced sideways while they walked, trying to read her expression. No luck there. The woman was the most inscrutable person he knew.
“Are you angry?” Kirrin asked, a straightforward question because he couldn’t think of anything else to say.
The tiniest tightening around her mouth. So she was displeased. He sighed, knowing he would probably get the workout of his life as punishment.
“Not angry,” she said. “But shadow dance training teaches balance and respect. That means balance and respect with all things. This---,” she waved her hand back toward the Da’har’s estate, her voice trailing off.
Kirrin nodded, knowing in his heart she was probably right. But he also knew he was fufilling his obligations. Wasn’t that honorable? “I am doing a good thing. I am trying to help restore something to its owner.” He regretted the words the minute he spoke. Perhaps he was giving away too much. He didn’t think the So’har would want anyone knowing his private business. Was this a test? Did Ch’hikk report back to Hak’kar?
“You work for the So’har,” Kirrin said. “Wouldn’t you do what he asked you to do?”
Ch’hikk shook her head. “No. I do not work for this man. I am paid to perform a task, to train you. That is the entirety of our relationship.”
Kirrin blinked. This was more than she had said in the entire time he had known her.
“This man you work for---” again, her voice trailed off.
Kirrin bristled. “Hak’kar is a great man, a So’har: powerful, educated, refined.”
“I have not trained you well if you are so blind as to not see the truth in people. Missing the truth can be dangerous-in others and in yourself.”
Kirrin wasn’t sure what she meant by that. How could you miss a truth about yourself? As for the truth about others: Hak’kar was those things, that wasn’t a lie or untrue. He could sense she didn’t approve of, or trust, the So’har-- even though he paid her to train him. He also sensed he wasn’t going to get much more out of her though.
“Where are you from?” he asked, suddenly, changing the subject.
“From? Everywhere, and nowhere.”
Kirrin sighed and rolled his eyes. Back to the mysterious crap again. “Where were you born?”
“Better,” she said. “In Kuhalo.”
“Where is that?”
“In the Iron Mountains, on the northern plateau.”
Kirrin’s eyes went wide. He had never met anyone from so far away. He didn’t really know anyone from outside Tatak Rhe. He didn’t count the Beddo. It also made him wonder about her accent. He would have sworn she was from the south when they had first met. But he didn’t hear traces of it any more. Ch’hikk was a mystery to him in many ways.
“Come,” she said, quickening her pace. “Practice your awareness while we walk. You will need it, if you insist on being foolish.”
SOFT BREAK
It had rained during the night, bringing relief from the scorching heat. Kirrin finished the morning chores and grabbed a quick breakfast over his mother’s protests.
“Kirrin, sit down,” she scolded as she diced potatoes and garlic. “You’ve been running all over the place these days. You never sit still anymore. What on earth is so important?”
Kirrin shrugged. “Just stuff. I still have things to do for the So’har, even though I’m not there.”
Tattia’s eyes narrowed. “Like what?”
Kirrin bit his lip, caught without a quick lie. “Researching some lineage things in the archives.”
Tattia didn’t look entirely convinced. “And why does he have you doing this? doesn’t he have an entire household?”
“Maybe because it isn’t that important, and because I’m good at looking things up and finding things. Probably because of the way you taught me,” he added, patting himself on the back.
Tattia looked like she wanted to object, but couldn’t think of a valid reason.
“I have to go. I want to get over to the archives before it gets really hot,” he said, a half-truth.
“Bring your water bottle,” she called after him.
“Got it,” he called over his shoulder as he headed out the door.
Now that Kirrin was grown up and pursuing his own interests, he found the archives fascinating. He had been enthralled when he was very young, by all of the models and living likenesses of things. But for many years the archives had meant piles of books and schoolwork. Now, at least, he knew his way around the vast web of buildings.
It didn’t take long for Kirrin to find the section on ancient history. Near that was a section of mythology and folklore that related to history. Ancient tales of Tatak Rhe, the myth of Takkara, History and Houses of Tatak Rhe. He grabbed those titles and dropped them onto a table in a far corner. Then he headed up to a section on engineering, architecture, and design. This took him a while longer, but he managed to find a book that referenced the Da’har’s estate and had some floor plans laid out. Jackpot! He carried that back to his pile of books and poured through it for several hours, trying to imprint the details into his memory. Granted, the book was quite old, but he was betting much of it would not have changed. What he saw in the book confirmed what he had viewed through the windows. Between the information Hak’kar had given him, the maps he was studying, and his own scouting, he had a fairly good feel for the layout now. All he had to do was figure out the coming and going rhythm of the estate now.
When he went outside, he saw the sun was well past mid-day, but the heat was still lingering. He stretched, rolling his neck to work out the stiffness from sitting hunched over books for so long. He was also hungry, having had nothing to eat since a quick and early breakfast. He cut through a few alleys and came out near the central square markets, led by the smells of food and cooking.
Kirrin got a plate of grape leaves stuffed with lamb, rice and herbs, with a chunk of goat cheese and bread, and a hard cider to wash it down. He found a spot in the shade, sitting on the ground with his back against the cool stones of the wall surrounding the square. He wolfed down the entire meal. Afterwards he felt stuffed, realizing he had eaten way too fast, so he sat there in the cool shade, relaxing and watching: practicing his awareness. He closed his eyes and began to open his senses, but before long he began to nod off.
Loud voices jolted him awake. Someone was talking, or trying to talk, over the voices in the crowd. “The Red God is coming. When he returns, he will restore the world. The righteous, who follow him will be saved--”
“Somebody get him out of here!”
“So where is your Red God now?”
“The shells have failed,” the voice cried out over the rest. “That is a sign! His sign to all of you!”
Voices dimmed slightly, hearing that. No one wanted the shells to fail.
The rest of the day crawled by. Kirrin spent a while going through all of the accessible routes Ch’hikk had taught him. It was harder during the day, but it was also a challenge that distracted him-- d
odging and weaving through people who were just going about their daily business. Exhausted and sweaty, he headed back home and stood for a long time under the shower. He hurried through chores and made an excuse that he wasn’t feeling well and was going straight to bed.
Tattia looked at him, head tilted, lips pursed - her worried-mom look. But she didn’t question him as he disappeared up the stairs.
He laid down on the bed, realizing he was more tired than he thought. He sat up after a little while, worried he would fall asleep. Once he was sure he wouldn’t be too comfortable, he let himself doze off.
When he woke, he listened for a moment, assuring himself everyone had settled in for the evening. Then he threw on clean clothes and ducked out the window, glancing up to make sure Ch’hikk wasn’t waiting there for him.
It didn’t take him long to get to Fern’s building, a quick climb onto the wall and a whistle. He was fairly certain she never had guests this late, but he always checked first.
“Come on in,” she said, poking her head out the window. “You aren’t all sweaty tonight. Didn’t you go for your run?”
“No, not tonight. I needed to catch up on some sleep,” he said, a half-lie.
“Thirsty?” she asked, pouring some wine and handing it to him.
“Thanks.” Kirrin fidgeted with the glass, drinking it in small sips. He couldn’t figure it out, but something felt awkward between them. He didn’t know what to say or what to talk about.
“Do you want to go for a run?” he asked, surprising himself.
“What, just the two of us?”
He shrugged. “Why not?”
“Sure,” she said. “Just give me a second to get dressed.”
It was different when it was just the two of them. Kirrin took the lead and guided Fern the way Ch’hikk guided him, and the way he guided Eben. He liked spending time with her like this. They laughed and climbed and swung and jumped. Fern really did have a natural athletic balance.
“My Dad used to say I was part mountain goat,” she said, when they stretched out in the grass. “I didn’t realize how much I missed running around.”
“Your dad? Where was that, anyway?”
Fern talked over her shoulder as she practiced scaling a wall. “Yeah, it was just my Da and us kids. He’s part Beddo, said that must be where I got my itchy feet. Mum always tried to get me to -- I don’t know.. be like everyone else, I guess. We always ended up fighting…”
Fern chatted on for a while, but Kirrin’s mind was on other things.
“Are you okay? You didn’t hear a word I said.”
“What? Sorry.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, really.”
“Something’s going on. You aren’t yourself.”
“It’s just that--” he began, then stopped. “Well, you know I work out on one of the estates. I’ll have to go back out there, so I may not be around for a bit.”
“Going to see your girl?”
“Huh?” Kirrin asked, confused for a moment. “Oh, yeah. Maybe, I guess. I don’t know, really.” He was surprised to find he had barely thought about Miral at all.
“Well, you won’t have to worry about your woman problem anymore. Just remember how I treated you the first time. Like a scared stray animal that just needs some coaxing and a gentle hand guiding her.”
Kirrin nodded, remembering how she had taken him by the hand, guiding and gently inviting him to explore her body. “I’ll remember,” he said, but he felt strange talking about another girl with Fern. Did it bother her to be giving him advice about girls? He tried to read her voice and posture, but couldn’t be sure.
“I’ll be back, though.” Suddenly Kirrin wasn’t sure what to say. Were they friends, or was this just business for Fern? The sex was great. At least he thought it was great. He had nothing to compare it to. She seemed satisfied-- more than satisfied-- but then maybe she just saw it as part of a job…? “I mean… when I come back, would you want to see me?”
Kirrin looked over at her, trying to figure out what was going on in her mind. He watched as she chewed the corner of her lip gently, face scrunched.
“Well, yeah, so long as it’s after hours,” she said. “And I’ll keep practicing running and climbing while you’re gone,” she added, sounding brighter.
Kirrin sighed, relieved. Safe ground. “Okay then. That sounds good.”
SOFT BREAK
As soon as Triappa and Breshan dipped behind the trees, Kirrin stuffed his shoes into his jacket and dropped down from the tree, landing softly on the roof. He scampered easily to the top and made his way to the far end of the north wing, confident the lower roofline would hide his profile against the night sky. Careful of his footing, he continued until he was above the third peak (window below him). He paused, listening. Only night sounds. He edged down toward the lower roof, all the way to the edge. He poked his head over quickly, ducking back even though no one was there. The doors onto the balcony were slightly ajar, curtain wafting in the night breeze. The view out over the gardens must be a sight, he thought to himself, as he slid around the eaves and swung down, landing lightly on the cool stones.
He crouched low, staying below the railing, counting to a thousand. While he did that, he slowed his breathing and absorbed the night sounds, feeling the rhythm of the calm around him. Only when he felt completely alert and relaxed, did he move. He smiled slightly, imagining Ch’hikk’s approval, and then pushed that thought away.
He checked the pouch inside his jacket, opening it and taking out a handful of smoked beef nuggets. As he ducked inside, he tossed one across the room so it rolled just behind the far door. If any of Pavan’s house-dogs came wandering, they would know it was him-- hopefully.
The north wing of the estate was the easiest way into the house. Kirrin could have chosen something closer, but decided to use patience over speed. He had just enough light to navigate by- both moons being tiny slivers, with occasional clouds dimming them further.
Kirrin slipped down the hallway and then downstairs, towards the private audience chamber. This was far easier than he had expected. He knew it was because he had done such careful and thorough preparation. Always as he moved, he kept an eye for easy hiding places and moved careful of making noises.
Several times, he thought he heard something, and ducked behind a statue, or a curtain only to realize it was the wind, a cat, or his overstressed imagination. Walking down the main hallway, it hit him-- what he was doing and the consequences of getting caught. He froze, panicked. He was breaking into the Da’har’s home, with the intention of stealing something that clearly had value. If he was caught there would be no one to protect him. In this wing of the house, he had no lie that could account for his presence.
He stood there, feeling his heart pounding, sweat beading and stomach knotted. He thought he was going to be ill. He couldn’t force himself to move, not even to go back and leave. Then he heard a noise, an actual noise this time.
Instincts kicked in and he ducked behind a statue, shaking. A moment later, he felt something nuzzling his leg.
He sighed, relieved. It was one of the dogs. He bent low to pet the dog, he thought it was red collar from the markings on its fur. It hadn’t barked, raising the household.
He fed the dog a couple treats. That simple ordinary action seemed to get Kirrin’s body out of its frozen state. After the dog had licked his fingers, he stood up, listened for a moment, and then headed down the hall to the private chamber.
The door was locked. Not unexpected. Kirrin drew out his lock picks and within a few moments was inside, closing the door behind him. He looked down, and saw the tiny shadow of red-collar right next to him. He thought about putting the dog outside but if it started scratching at the door it might wake someone up. Having the dog with him gave him some comfort- in part because he wasn’t alone, but also because the dog would alert him to anyone approaching. He laughed to himself at the thought: the guard dog inadvertently helping the in
truder.
From what Hak’kar and Esh’ral had explained, the book would be in one of a few places. It didn’t take Kirrin long to find and check them. The first was the desk itself, the second being an ornate cabinet behind the desk. That was where they said it would likely be. Kirrin pulled out his picks and within a few moments he had the cabinet open.
Inside was a shelf lined with books and scrolls. All of them extremely ornate, with hand tooled leather covers. Some were encrusted with gems and chased with silver and gold. But none of them looked like the book he was after. He glanced down, and noticed a drawer. He slid his fingers underneath, felt a catch, and the drawer slid open. There, nested on a velvet stand, was the book he was after. He pulled off his pack and slid the book inside, all the while with the guard dog wagging its tail by his feet. Kirrin tossed the dog another treat, then closed the drawer, making sure if latched. Then he closed and relocked the cabinet.
Kirrin sighed, glad to have the deed done. He stopped by the door, cracked it open a hair, and listened. He also glanced down at red-collar who showed no signs of anyone moving around-- not the flick of an ear or alert stare, nothing. A moment later, the door was locked again and Kirrin headed down a side hallway. There was no need to go back the way he had come. He could slip out through the guest wing, especially with the dog to give any warnings.
He turned a corner and headed down the narrower hall. He stopped for a moment to get his bearings. He turned left, fairly sure that would lead to the last room, where a full window opened onto the veranda. He turned another corner and walked right into an older man, dressed in silk robes over his night clothes. Kirrin hadn’t considered that there might be guests lodged in the empty wing.
The man’s eyes went wide. The two of them stared at each other for what seemed an eternity. Then the man opened his mouth.
Kirrin didn’t know if it was instinct or panic that forced him into action, as he grabbed the man, putting his hand over his mouth before he could call out. Then he pushed him backwards into an empty room. The man stumbled, twisting around and falling against a small couch.