On Borrowed Luck (The Chanmyr Chronicles Book 1)

by TJ Muir

  “There you are, finally!” He turned without losing his balance as Miral ran up, wrapping her arms around his waist, hugging him, oblivious to the inappropriate placement of her head. “I’m so glad you’re back. I’ve missed you terribly. I walk by here every day, hoping you’ll be here. I began to think you were gone for good.”

  Kirrin peeled her arms off and climbed down from his practice stump. No sooner was he on the ground, then she flung her arms around his neck, hugging him again, clinging to him. Had she always been like this and he not notice?

  She grabbed him by the hand and led him under the tree into the shade, chattering about new baby lambs and goats, and the cows--all the tiny little details of her life and world. They seemed so far away and unimportant now. But when he looked at her, she seemed so earnest, describing how a baby lamb had gotten trapped in the fencing, and freeing it.

  “I’ve really missed having someone to talk to,” she said. Kirrin wondered if she had any friends among the house girls, or if Miral was a little bit of an odd duck--most of the farm hands were boys, but she wasn’t one of the house girls either.

  Despite having had a master plan to win Miral’s favor, he found now that he wasn’t all that interested. She seemed young now, much younger than she had seemed before Fern. She was cute, and sweet, but plain. He couldn’t see her racing through the city under the dark of night. He saw Miral taking care of a house and having babies.

  She nuzzled his neck as she spoke and in spite of his disinterest, Kirrin found himself responding to the attention. He leaned down and waited for her to look at him, and then he put a finger under her chin and kissed her. Slow, tender, he kept Fern’s advice in mind- treating Miral like a scared animal, like the lamb she had just described. Coaxing and teasing, until she was breathless. Then he pulled away, looked into her eyes, counted to ten, then glanced away, pretending to be shy or embarrassed.

  He turned back, hesitated, then kissed her again. As he did, this time, he ran his hands along her sides, down towards her hips, thumbs brushing the soft skin under her shirt. He played with her waist while he kissed her, easing his hands around her hips and along her thighs, letting her get comfortable with this change, and teasing the whole way, a light touch and then a retreat. Each time, he gained more ground, until he was finally able to slip a hand up between her legs. At first she stiffened, but coaxing and teasing, Kirrin used what he had learned and she gasped, but smiled at him as he continued to kiss her until her hands tightened against his arm, her teeth biting him harder.

  Instead of pressing, he eased back just a hair, and while she was distracted, took her hand and gently slid it to the front of his pants, opening her fingers and pressing her hand against his crotch so that she squeezed gently, feeling his reaction. He made sure not to press too hard too fast, and made sure not to rush towards his goal.

  “Maybe we should stop,” he said, pulling away, while his lower hand lingered, resting between her legs.

  “No. Don’t stop. This much is okay,” she said, her breath ragged.

  “Not here.” He glanced around and then looked toward a small tool shed nearby. “How about in there?” he asked, knowing better than to suggest going back to his room and not wanting to give her enough time to change her mind. Before she could say anything, he took her by the hand, pulling her to her feet. “Let’s go check it out,” he said, inviting her rather than forcing. She followed along, and a few moments later, he had her sprawled back against a pile of old grain sacks, and out of her clothes.

  He paid close attention to every reaction she made, making sure he never pushed her too far, to where she might panic or say no. Afterwards, he was glad that he had been her first, assuring that it was a pleasant and pleasurable experience for her. For his part, he had the satisfaction of the conquest following the long wait. Even after several rounds, he still thought he preferred Fern’s more experienced manner to Miral’s inexperience.

  “It’s getting late,” Kirrin said. “You’ll be late for barn chores and afternoon milking.”

  Miral stretched, blushing slightly as she looked at Kirrin’s naked body. He grabbed his clothes and pulled them back on, his mind beginning to think about other things.

  “Yeah, I don’t want to make my Dad suspicious. He watches over me pretty fiercely.”

  Kirrin grunted, remembering, and knowing Daddy had good reasons not to trust his daughter. He waited while she scrambled back into her clothes and then cracked the door to the shed and poked his head out.

  “It’s clear. Most of the crew are probably in the barns already so you should be okay.”

  She stopped just inside the door and kissed him, wrapping one arm around his neck. Kirrin peeled it away gently.

  “Go, you don’t want to get into trouble.” With that, he gave her a light push out the door and waited a moment, watching, before he ducked out and headed the other way.

  It was hot out, with the threat of rain that made the air feel thick. Kirrin swung over to the shower to rinse off his latest layer of sweat, and then went back to his room, where he found Ch’hikk waiting for him.

  “Do you ever just knock, like normal people?” he asked, dumping his damp towel on the bed.

  “Was it what you hoped for?” she asked.

  Kirrin opened his mouth, then closed it again. He shrugged. “It was what the So’har asked me to do.”

  Ch’hikk blinked. The first time Kirrin had ever seen her react. “The So’har wanted you to have sex with the barn girl?”

  “What?” Kirrin asked, confused. “What are you talking about?”

  “What are you talking about?” she countered, regaining her composure first.

  Kirrin’s mouth opened, closed--unsure what to tell her, but then he remembered she already had a pretty clear idea of what he had been up to. He shrugged to himself, needing someone he could confide in. He certainly wasn’t going to talk with Kip and Duffy, whom he had realized were not the brotherly friends he once mistook them for. That wasn’t to say they might not care about him in their own limited gruff ways, but that wasn’t what passed for friendship or trust to Kirrin. He didn’t even know where they were lately. Besides, they lacked finesse. He understood now what that meant. Neither of them dealt with complexity. They were blunt objects, not sharpened blades. And their minds likewise.

  “I thought you knew I had finished what the So’har had asked of me - and having done that, had returned. I know you disapproved of the use of my skills,” he said watching her for some sign or reaction.

  She nodded, a slight tightening around her mouth. “No one can walk your path for you. No one can say for you, what that path should be. With Shadow dancers, is always the desire to walk the path of honor. Is what you did honorable?”

  Kirrin shifted his gaze away. “I don’t know anymore. I thought doing as my employer bid me was the right thing to do.”

  “Perhaps then the question is, do you serve someone who keeps their honor?”

  Kirrin let out a half-laugh, rolling his eyes. “I don’t know if the word means the same thing to someone like that.”

  “Someone like what?” she asked.

  “Someone with that much power, wealth, authority.”

  “Honor always remains the same. Nothing can change it.”

  “What if someone acts wrongly, believing they are doing something for good reasons?”

  “A wrong act, for a good reason?”

  “Yes, something like that.”

  Ch’hikk shook her head. “Why would someone do a wrong act, thinking it was for a good reason?”

  Kirrin had to think about that one. “Does it matter if the person knows it is a wrong act?”

  “Explain.”

  Kirrin chewed his lip, trying to come up with a random example that fit his thoughts. “This might not be a good example, but suppose I tell you… oh, I don’t know, anything--an army is coming to attack the city… if you repeat it, and it isn’t true-- is that a lie?”

  It was Ch’hi
kk’s turn to be silent.

  “I know that wasn’t the best example, but it was the only one I could think of at the moment,” Kirrin said.

  “Or suppose a young man commits a crime, because it is what he is told to do?” she said, turning it right back on him. “Is the crime his, or does the crime belong to the one who requests it?”

  Was Hak’kar the guilty party? Kirrin wondered about that… yes, he could argue he was just following orders. But he would hang for the crime, regardless. He remembered his early discussions with the So’har about power and justice.

  “Does it matter, if I’m the one who will pay for it?”

  “That is the law. This is the morality. Two different things.”

  Kirrin nodded in miserable agreement. “Yeah. Morality.” He didn’t like that Ch’hikk was forcing him to look at things honestly.

  “Law. Integrity. Those things rarely in balance, here.”

  Kirrin sat there, his spirits sinking. “The answer to this?” He looked up, hoping for some miracle that would save his hide and restore his conscience.

  “Train,” she said, reaching a hand out to pull him up.

  He let out a half-laugh, knowing he should have expected that kind of response from her.

  NEW CHAPTER

  Kirrin found himself in a familiar routine again, balancing his time between training with Ch’hikk, some work in the kitchens, and sex with Miral. She began creeping into his bed that first night, and almost every night afterwards. Kirrin had mixed feelings about it, and felt relieved when Ch’hikk would show up unexpectedly- even in the middle of the night. Miral usually pouted when that happened, and occasionally she sulked for a few days, but inevitably, she would come back. It was easier now that Kirrin didn’t feel as invested-- but she was still very good at winding him up-- and now she had a whole new level of game to play. At that, she was a quick learner.

  “This way,” Ch’hikk said over her shoulder, leading them around the estate. The moons were close to full, and Triappa hadn’t disappeared behind Breshan yet, so the estate was splashed in the soft light from both moons.

  They ran across the tops of the barns, bouncing down from the peak to the lower roofs, swinging from the hay lift and sliding down the heavy chain. In the back areas of the estate, Ch’hikk had set up ropes to climb and rope bridges to cross, and even a long rope with a pulley on it to ride down from the trees to the ground. New challenges that kept Kirrin’s mind focused. In that, Ch’hikk was right. Training was a good solution to most of life’s problems.

  They came to a stop on a low hill that looked out over the sheep meadow. Kirrin noticed she was also out of breath. He smiled to himself, satisfied, proud. He could match her stride for stride now, even if he might not have all of her skills and abilities.

  “Want a new challenge?” she asked, turning to look at him.

  This was different. She never asked before, just led.

  He nodded. Before long the two of them were scrambling along the roof of the main house. “Good practice for cat feet,” she said as she disappeared over the peaked roof of the east wing.

  “Because falling would be bad, or because we don’t want to get caught up here?” he called out.

  “Both!” the answer came faintly from further down the roof, before disappearing over the edge.

  By the time the Nibbin had passed on his final night circuit, Kirrin was exhausted, sprawled in the grass, but also invigorated.

  “So you are liking this young girl you are having sex with?”

  Kirrin shook his head, trying to figure out where the question came from. “Whaaat?”

  “Are you just having sex, or do you have feelings for her?”

  Kirrin had a feeling he was in for another painful session about honor. He shifted, trying to get comfortable and watch Ch’hikk from where he was laying. “I’m not sure. I wanted it for so long. But now that I actually have it,--” He shrugged. “She is a nice girl, I think, underneath all of her games. But I think it is just sex, for me.”

  “Is same for her?” Ch’hikk asked.

  Kirrin opened his mouth, started to answer, then stopped. “I don’t know. I never really thought about it.”

  “Is good, to think before acting. Saves pain and trouble, later.”

  “True. But this is just a little bit of fun. Harmless.”

  “For you? Or for her?”

  Kirrin mumbled, knowing he had walked into the trap.

  “Is this life you choose, a life someone like Miral belongs in?”

  Kirrin thought about that, thought about what he was becoming, the things he was doing.

  “Where do you see yourself being in five years?”

  “I don’t know,” Kirrin said. That was true. “Probably doing this.”

  “Ask - where does the girl see herself in five years?”

  “I get it, okay?” Miral likely saw herself settled down, either on the estate or some small farm, raising babies. Kirrin couldn’t see himself doing that.

  “Good,” was all Ch’hikk said to that.

  SOFT BREAK

  Kirrin woke up, relieved to find that Miral had slipped out, back to her own bed. He was grateful she had a father watching over her. Otherwise, she would be by his side non-stop. He’d explained to her that he wanted to keep their relationship a complete secret from everyone. She had nodded, understanding, making sure to slip in after everyone had settled down for the night. He began to understand Ch’hikk’s warning as he watched Miral become more and more clingy. Sometimes he just wanted space.

  Mornings had become one of the few times he had to himself. He liked to help Cook do prep work, mostly because Cook cooked. Simple. So he headed over to the kitchens, intending to see if he could spend the morning doing something.

  Cook looked up when Kirrin walked in the door, and nodded silently towards the pile of vegetables. Kirrin went over, grateful for the quiet, and began chopping and dicing.

  The two of them spent the morning in relative quiet, discussing spices and dishes briefly. With the ovens going, the heat of the day began to hit hard. Kirrin stopped to grab a towel and wipe the sweat off his face. When he pulled the towel down, he saw one of the kitchen girls standing in the doorway.

  She looked at Kirrin, sniffed, and said “The So’har expects you.” And then she turned and left, as though she found his presence distasteful. Kirrin scoffed briefly, before realizing Hak’kar had just summoned him.

  “You just going to stand there?” Cook asked.

  “What? No.” He wiped his face again, putting the towel down and hurriedly putting the vegetables away.

  “Don’t go like that. Go shower and get clean.”

  Kirrin stopped what he was doing. “What? Oh, right. He probably would not want to talk to me all sweaty and dirty.”

  With that, he rushed off for a shower and a change of clothes.

  Hak’kar was in his front room, his usual place for meetings-- at least with the house staff and informal matters.

  Kirrin looked around the room, with a casual glance. He didn’t see the book. Maybe Hak’kar had it locked up already- safe. Would he maintain the pretense it was his own book? Kirrin pushed the thought away, deciding to stay out of it.

  Hak’kar looked up, eyeing Kirrin. He nodded, gesturing for Kirrin to approach. He reached for his glass, filled it with wine, and took a sip. Then he leaned back, studying Kirrin. “Your task went well?”

  The moment Kirrin had been dreading and chasing around in his head had arrived. What should he tell Hak’kar? The truth, or a lie?

  “I spent considerable time working out the details and preparing. My intent was to make sure all went smoothly and was successful.” Kirrin decided to remain vague, at least for the moment. Let Hak’kar ask for details and he would decide how much to answer.

  Hak’kar nodded, sipping his wine, but he looked guarded. “And there were no difficulties?”

  “The book was retrieved with more ease than was anticipated.”

&nbs
p; “And you encountered no difficulties?” Hak’kar repeated.

  “Nothing that could not be managed.”

  Hak’kar’s jaw tightened as he twirled the wineglass where it sat on the desk. He placed his hands flat on the desk and leaned forward slightly, eyes tightly focused on Kirrin now. “And you don’t consider killing the Da’har as encountering a difficulty?”

  The bottom dropped out of Kirrin’s stomach. His mouth opened, but no words would come. He stood there, frozen, feeling as if he was about to be ill. There was some mistake. There must be. The man he had seen was a guest. And he had only rendered him unconscious. Not killed him. Surely not that.

  He realized Hak’kar was waiting for a response. Should he play it out now? If the man he had seen was the Da’har, and he was truly dead, well, no one had seen Kirrin’s face. No one could identify him, or say that he was ever there. Did Hak’kar need to know the truth? Could he pull off the lie? Would Hak’kar believe the two events were not connected?

  “The Da’har is dead?” Kirrin asked, still processing the information.

  “Very dead. Found with one of his whores-- that he thought were so secret.”

  So it had been the Da’har. Kirrin felt his stomach heave, fought down a wave of nausea as his head began to swim. “Ho- How?”

  “That was something I had hoped you would explain.”

  If there was a moment when the So’har might have believed Kirrin innocent of the deed, that moment had passed. Kirrin felt the walls closing in around him. “I was making my way out through the guest wing. I encountered a man. He couldn’t see my face, but I didn’t want to chance any alarms being raised so I rendered him unconscious and laid him back in the bed where he had been with a girl sleeping next to him. Then I left, quickly and quietly, and no one knew I had been there.” The words tumbled out, the truth. There was no lie Kirrin could think of in the moment. Hearing the news had robbed him of any pretenses he might have had.