by TJ Muir
I’ve gotten my hands on some valuable property. I’ve removed the gemstones, and burned the item. I was told you could put me in touch with a buyer. I’ll contact you with further information.
Kirrin looked down at his handiwork. Maybe this note could get Aldon out of the worst of the trouble, making it look like someone else had stolen the book, only contacting Aldon as someone to fence it. If he played this right, he might be able to get Aldon out of trouble and tie up any loose threads that would draw attention. His stomach knotted, dreading the whole situation, and knowing the gods were not looking on him kindly at this point. He heard a noise coming from the hallway. He shoved the notepad and pen into his pack, grabbed a hunk of ham, and ducked out the back door before anyone spotted him. He didn’t need his mother or Perrin raising a lot of questions he couldn’t answer. Also, he didn’t think he could look his mother in the eye.
The Da’har’s dogs greeted Kirrin happily and with tails wagging as he edged across the yard of the estate. From his earlier study of the property, he had a pretty good idea where they would hold Aldon and he made his way behind the houses, towards a cluster of outbuildings. He found Aldon on his fourth guess, locked in a small shed that doubled as a holding cell.
“Psst,” Kirrin called out, softly, trying to alert Aldon.
“Who’s there?” Aldon whispered back.
“It’s me. Kirrin, Hang on a second.” A moment later, Kirrin had the lock picked and slipped inside the room, closing the door behind him. It was a small room, crowded with a sleeping pallet against one wall and a slop bucket in the corner. A single, barred window allowed a shaft of moonlight to spread across the walls.
Aldon flung his arms around Kirrin, sobbing in relief. “I didn’t do what they said. I told them. I was just chasing the girl. I don’t think they believe me, can you tell them for me?”
Was this the terrifying bully that had tormented Kirrin for years? Aldon was terrified and on the verge of crying. Kirrin almost felt bad for the fool. Seeing Aldon like this almost made up for all the years of beatings and bruises. Almost.
He felt a twinge of guilt, as Aldon looked at Kirrin as friend and saviour but he pushed it aside. It was Aldon’s fault that both of them were in this horrid mess. Years of beatings, and even that day-- it had been Aldon chasing him that sent him into Hak’kar’s carriage. The irony hit Kirrin, finding it amusing that Aldon’s sins had finally come full circle. Maybe the gods had been listening all along.
‘So, what happened? What did they want? Why did they bring you here?”
“I don’t fully know all’s as goin on. I was down on the docks, just having a beer. A group of guards storms up and asks which one is Aldon? Next thing I know, I’m getting dragged over to the city watch’s main offices. They throws me in a room, and just left me there. No questions or anything. Then a coupla guys in blue shows up. The Da’har’s men. I figured Netta musta made some kind of accusation-- like I done somethin to her. Which I did, by the way,” Aldon said, diverting from the subject and leering as he changed subjects. “But she twarn’t complainin none. But maybe she got in trouble, so then said she was forced-- you know how them teasin bitches can be, ya know?”
Kirrin nodded, noncommittal. A while ago he might have agreed. But his friendship with Fern had taught him that women only became teasing bitches when men didn’t know how to treat them.
“Sometimes those tasty pieces of candy are more trouble than they’re worth trying to get a nibble, you know? But they didn’t ask nothing ‘bout the girl,” Aldon said. “So I thought I was all good, like.”
“So what did they want? What did they accuse you of?”
Aldon shrugged, began to look worried again. “They think I snuck onto the estate and stole something from the Da’har. They asked if I was planning to sell the gems. One guy even offered me a deal. If I just returned the book- even without the gems, they’d just send me south, to the border. What’s all that ‘bout gems and books?”
Good, Kirrin nodded to himself. They suspected that the book had been stolen for the gems, which must be worth more than he or Aldon would make in their entire lives.
“I don’t really know,” Kirrin lied, patting Aldon on the shoulder. “I’ve been out of the city for a while and only just got back. Seems the whole place is in an uproar.”
“Yeah, guards and soldiers were all over the place. Been a long time since that’s happened.”
“Did they hurt you?” Kirrin asked.
“No, not yet anyways. They put me here to think about my options-- they said.”
Kirrin nodded, knowing they were letting Aldon sit there and start to panic. From the look of him, it was starting to work. What would Aldon do or say? He was beginning to suspect that Aldon wasn’t as tough as he let everyone believe. Aldon was a bit of a bully but that was only when he had the odds in his own favor. What was he likely to do, knowing he was facing the Da’har’s men-- a law unto themselves. Kirrin began to feel anxious, and held the pack on his lap a little tighter.
“It was just the girl, that Netta. I thought she were all fancy and such and it’d be a laugh to have that notch in my belt. I even got up with the other girls too. Seems those uppities’ servants like a bit o real man between their legs.”
Any sympathy Kirrin had for Aldon began to disappear whenever Aldon began talking. He seemed to have two threads of thought and shifted back and forth between them at random. Sex and fear of his current predicament.
“What if you tells em? You could go to the guards and tell em, it twere just ‘bout the girls. I h’aint stole nothin-- least not from the Da’har.”
Aldon turned to Kirrin, imploring. By now, though, Kirin was disgusted with the man and wanted to be out of it. Helping Aldon escape was his only option. “What if we could get you out of Tatak Rhe?” Kirrin asked.
Aldon blinked. “Whaa?”
“Maybe we could get you out of the city, you could go anywhere. Go out west, or to White Coast?”
Kirrin glanced sideways, saw Aldon considering, slowly begin to nod.
“Yeah. I could lay low for a little whiles, then come back later, after everything’s quieted back down. No one be interested in a Tat-rat… right? Them uppities has better things to worry about. and after a while, they’re sure to find the real thief anyway, right?
Kirrin felt his plan crumble. He knew in Aldon’s mind and with the scenario as Aldon knew it-- the man was correct. And he also knew that Aldon, being a wharf-rat, would gravitate back to his familiar territory. He wouldn’t be able to stay away and start over in some strange place. Aldon needed the familiarity of the docks. Kirrin also knew that at some point, he just knew down in his gut that Aldon would talk. If not to the guards, then some night, somewhere, in a drunken spree. That’s just who Aldon was. How long would it be before someone put the pieces together? Despite what Aldon believed, the Da’har’s men were not going to lose interest in the theft of the book. And worse--what if they were actually looking for a murderer? Had the girl stirred when Kirrin dumped the body back into the bed? He thought back but now his memory was muddled. In his imagination he had seen the girl wake up too many times. He had seen guards charge down the halls after him. Was he sure he had left no traces? Dropped nothing? Maybe the guards had some evidence and were just waiting.
Kirrin felt sweat beading and his heart racing in a panic. He fought down a wave of nausea. He sat there, fidgeting with the straps, felt the solid glass bottle. A shot of brandy would be good. He needed something to make his heart stop racing. Aldon was a problem. One that wasn’t going to go away, he realized. The So’har would be furious. He could hear Ch’hikk--sloppy. Very sloppy. He needed to think. Tried to get his thoughts clear. He needed a solution-- something to make all this go away. His hand gripped the pack, holding the bottle of brandy. Suddenly, he knew what he had to do.
“Here, I brought you something to drink,” Kirrin said, fishing in his pack. “Hang on.” He hunched over as he poured some of the poppy juice into
the brandy.
Aldon grabbed the bottle as though it would save him, and took a long swig.
“You’re an okay kind of guy,” Aldon said, nodding. “Getting roughed up a bit… turned ya inta a reg’lar kinna guy.”
Kirin listened, disbelieving. Was Aldon actually claiming credit for making a man out of Kirrin? Then Kirin paused. Ironically, it was kind of true. He just wasn’t sure this was the kind of man that he’d have chosen to become.
“When you get me outta here..” Aldon began, rolling his head toward Kirrin, struggling to focus on him. “Oh-- there you are. When we get out of here, we should go somewhere, find us some tasty women to nibble on… yumm yumm yuummmy given em a little somethin summ summm--”
Kirrin watched Aldon’s head wobble, then jerk back upright. “Here--” Aldon held the bottle out.
“No, that’s ok.”
“Shhuurre?” Aldon asked, slurring again.
A few deep breaths to slow his racing heart while he watched Aldon. Stomach knotted, he wondered if he had put enough poppy juice into the brandy.
Kirrin waited. A few moments later, Aldon was out. Kirrin tried shaking him, but got no response. He had taken the poppy juice in case he needed to drug one of the guards or any of the dogs. But it worked just as well on Aldon.
Kirrin sat back on a crate, head in hands, trying to think. There was no easy way out of this. He had to change his original plan, felt guilty but resigned as he scribbled out a new note.
He looked closely at his former tormentor, so much less formidable now that he could almost feel sorry for the man. But the years of abuse lingered like a shadow. He remembered all the years when he swore he would get his revenge on the bully. Now his moment had arrived, it didn’t taste as sweet as he had imagined. Part of him despised Aldon and everything he stood for. Yet another part of him knew he wouldn’t be where he was, otherwise. Right now, it all sucked. But he grudgingly forgave Aldon because he had some things in his life that would never have happened had Aldon not chased him that day.
Kirrin looked at the note again, reading what he had written.
I confess that I stole the book. I took the gems to pay off a gambling debt, but I burned the book so I wouldn’t get caught. The gems wouldn’t come close to paying the debt I had, so I know that I am a dead man. I’m sorry for what I dun.
Kirrin crumpled it slightly, and tucked it under Aldon’s leg. Then he went over to the window and hit it with his elbow, breaking it. He looked at Aldon, lying propped against the wall and felt another momentary pang of pity. But that didn’t stop him from taking the piece of glass and running it up the veins on Aldon’s arm.
Part of Kirrin’s mind was shocked, while another part of him was morbidly fascinated at just how easy it was to do. Like carving meat. He felt the slight resistance to the shard, felt the flesh give, yielding to the sharp edge, slicing up the veins on Aldon’s arms.
After, He dropped the glass shard, taking a step back as the blood began to pool- a rich deep red seeping out. He stood there, watching it, watching Aldon, not even knowing the life was seeping out of him. He knew he should feel something-- but he didn’t. Not what he should feel. He knew he should be horrified. But he wasn’t. He wondered why-- briefly. The most he could find was a little bit of pity, that Aldon had ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time. He knew that was a lie though- just what he told himself to feel better.
Finally, he shrugged, letting it go. “Sorry. It’s nothing personal.” He picked up the bottle and notepad, then slipped out the door before the house began stirring, careful to lock it again behind him.
NEW CHAPTER
Kirrin felt strangely calm as he headed back across the harbor bridge into the city, as though he were detached from himself. He should be screaming in horror or running in terror. He was tired, it had been a long day on top of several long and exhausting days. He needed sleep.
He tried to slip into the house quietly, but his mother was already up, opening the kitchen, pans out, eggs on the counter, and the smell of fresh bread thick in the air.
“Kirrin, is that you? Where have you--” she didn’t finish her sentence. She stood there, mouth open, staring at him. She dropped the knife on the table and rushed around, holding him by the shoulders. She took his face in her hand, turning it to the side, looking for bruises or bleeding.
Then she grabbed his hands, checking his arms. Why was she looking at him like that? Then he looked down, saw the blood smeared on his hands and arms. Aldon’s blood.
“I’m okay, mum,” he said, voice shaking, now that he was home.
She wrapped her arms around him, no questions asked, relieved her boy was safe. Kirrin held her back, and for a brief moment the world felt safe and warm.
“Do you want to talk about it?” his mother asked, no judgment or anger in her voice.
Kirrin bit back a bitter laugh. He wished for nothing more than to pour his heart out and for her to make everything okay-- the way she used to fix his cuts and bruises. She couldn’t fix this. No one could. He didn’t know if there was any way out for him at this point.
“I just need some sleep,” he said. “Sleep.” He repeated the word, as though he might wake up and things would be different.
He felt her nod, her chin against his shoulder, before she drew back and looked at him closely. “Go on up, then.”
No argument, no recriminations. He thanked the gods for that tiny gift.
The next day he wasn’t that lucky, as she brought it up again, determined to change his mind.
“I have to go back to the estate,” Kirrin said
His mother stiffened. “No. Stay here. Please. Don’t… just don’t go.”
“I can’t not go,” Kirrin tried to explain.
“Yes, you can. You are a free man, to do as you choose,” she said, sounding insistent, trying to win Kirrin over to her way of thinking.
He liked that she had called him a man, savored that for a moment. “I have to go. It really isn’t a choice.”
“Why? Why must you go?” she persisted.
“I work for him. I am his man now.”
“You can just choose not to.”
If only it were that easy.
She watched him, eyes narrowing.
Kirrin rubbed his temples, his head beginning to pound. “Please, mum. Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t push it.”
“Why not? I’m worried for you, and I don’t like what I see. You look horrible, and unhappy.”
A bitter laugh escaped from his mouth. “The So’har does not much care if I am happy. He certainly isn’t concerned with my well-being.”
“Someone should be,” she said, pushing him now, her voice rising. “Go stay with your brother for a while. You had a good time when you were there.”
“I can’t” he insisted.
“Why? Why can’t you? You keep saying you can’t, but you don’t give any reasons.”
“Because it’s too late for me now!” he snapped. “I can’t get out of this. Okay? He owns me completely, regardless of whether I like it or not!”
“Do you owe him money? Is it a debt? We can find a way to pay it.”
Kirrin thought his heart was going to break. He shook his head, pushing down tears. “It isn’t that simple. I don’t owe him money. I can’t talk about it. I can’t tell you. There are things you don’t want to know.”
“Whatever it is, we can find a way.”
Kirrin shook his head. “It doesn’t work like that. He is a So’har.” He hated the look in her eyes. Wished he could wipe away her pain. Take back all that had been done. But he couldn’t. It was much too late for that.
He came around the table and hugged her. “I have to go. I’ll be back. I will still need to come into the city regularly. Just like it’s been all along.”
She nodded. But they both knew everything was changed, even if his mother didn’t know why.
He hugged her again, and left before he
could change his mind, or worse - tell her everything the way he did when he was little.
SOFT BREak
Kirrin dropped his pack behind the door in his room, daring Kip or Duffy to try messing with his things. Then he wrote a note to Hak’kar.
The loose ends have been cleaned up with sufficient finesse. Your servant, Kirrin
That small task complete, Kirrin sprawled across his bed. Something hard lay beneath his pillow. He reached a hand underneath and felt a book there. Strange, he didn’t remember leaving anything out when he left. He sat up, twisting around to get a look at it. It was his book on the art of citizenship. He choked a laugh back, seeing it now. But he was sure he hadn’t left it there, he hadn’t even been reading it. He sat up, opening the book. A piece of neatly folded paper slipped out.. He opened it.