by TJ Muir
Jedda blinked. In truth, he didn’t know what his heritage was. He was familiar with the magical Faenyr- but they rarely visited Tatak Rhe. It never occurred to him, what his parentage was. Was he part Faenyr? Was that what people meant when they called him half-breed? Being called a half-breed whore-son had always felt like a random insult- with no meaning behind it. Maybe that was what was wrong with him, and he had been cast out for that reason. If Karrahk was correct, he knew more about himself now, than he ever had. Jedda knew or remembered very little about where he came from. All he knew were these back streets of the city. Right now, it felt like Karrahk knew more about him than he knew about himself.
After their meeting, Jedda sought the safety of his own space. He headed toward the canals and ducked down into one of the tunnels. It was a narrow passage but soon opened up onto a broader corridor. This was further than anyone else ventured, being dark in the narrow ways. But Jedda had excellent night vision. He wondered- was this from his Faenyr blood?
And now, in the deeper corridor, the walls had their own lights. Channels of color glowed between the stones, making strange patterns, lining the routes to different areas. Jedda followed the amber lights, sigils, and lines that marked the passage until it crossed with a silvery blue light- the same soft lights of the two moons. He turned off into a side passage, feeling the flow of fresh air wafting toward him. That led to a small chamber, the breeze coming from a small window that looked out over lower plains. From the window, he could see where the outer canal passed through a series of locks, to raise boats up and down between the higher level of the city and the plains.
Safely in his own space, he perched up on the window ledge and pulled out a small piece of jewelry. The only thing he had, apart from his name, was a small trinket that fit in the palm of his hand. An intricate and delicate curved spiral, a bit like a shell. He thought it was from his mother. He carried a vague memory of a woman placing it into his hands. Perhaps it was a dream. He carried the bauble, treasured it as the only thing he possessed- the only thing that had been given to him, rather than stolen. The only thing that might connect him to another living being.
He stopped along the bridges the next morning to watch boats in the city's harbor. The builders of the city utilized the natural curve in the big river and designed it so that the river diverted, creating a large canal, wrapping along the northern side and stretching down along the eastern side of the city. Beyond that harbor, the diverted water fed into the locks that Jedda could see from his south-facing niche. But up here, on the north side, was where the splendor lay. Beautifully decorated barges and private ships used this side of the city. He hopped down, mindful of the passing time. He always preferred to be back on his own turf before dark. He scrambled off the stone railing, bumping into an older man.
“Hey,” the man said sharply, stepping wide around Jedda “Watch where you're going.”
Jedda looked the man in the eye- a strange sensation. He learned that eye contact was a quick way to assure someone remembered you. He decided invisibility suited him better.
Jedda strolled back towards the city’s center. From the north harbor, he knew it would take him half of a Nibbin to get back in time for his meeting with Karrahk. He bought a sausage roll and some cider from a dockside vendor and ate as he walked. He ducked under some scaffolding and turned south toward the market square. He considered ducking down into one of his secret tunnels, but decided he had enough time. And while the tunnels offered speed and safety, he might miss interesting people.
The market square was long packed up by the time Jedda crossed through. Some musicians were playing lively tunes, and people were dancing around the slightly raised platform. They were mostly locals, although Jedda spotted a few that seemed better dressed.
He arrived just a little bit before Karrahk did. Good. He preferred to be prompt and not keep his patron waiting.
“You look as though you’ve been running,” Karrahk noted when he slipped into the secluded garden niche.
Jedda nodded. “H’ant runnin, but a fair distance. Been up to the upper harbor areas, this week,” Jedda told Karrahk. “I sees a fancy carriage there. It were open, h'aint all closed up like yours. Had blue and gold, with scarlet.”
“Was there an emblem on the carriage?”
Jedda nodded. “A bird with long legs, was standin like this,” Jedda explained, demonstrating, standing one-legged with the other one bent, arms arching out like wings.
Karrahk nodded. “A crane,” Karrahk said when he saw Jedda's imitation of the bird. “That belongs to Da'har Yar'Fel of House Zayam. What did the man do?”
“He were meetin with 'nother man, like. Plain carriage. Then the two of em talkin 'bout trees!” Jedda had found that conversation funny. “Why do grown men talk about trees?”
“They are not talking of trees, so much as they were talking about trees becoming lumber, for building ships, and houses.”
“So's why the other guy be askin about bamboo?”
Karrahk frowned, looking thoughtful. “Bamboo is also used for building, especially among the Faenyr. It grows quickly and is quite strong. But it doesn't grow as well where there are hard winters.” Jedda listened, taking it in. Karrahk seemed distracted about the bamboo.
While Karrahk was silent, Jedda recalled the man's children: two boys a little older than himself: Taj and Trey. They had been dressed in the same blue as the wagon; the older boy's clothes carrying the bird sigil, as well. But Jedda was interested in watching the two of them as they kicked a ball around between the carriages. No one yelled at them to stop, or get out of there even when they bumped into the people around them. For a moment, Jedda wondered what it might be like, to have a family, and to be able to play, all carefree.
But Karrahk interrupted his wandering thoughts. “Was there any talk about White Coast?”
“Not that I heard. Maybe before I got there, but all the talk was bamboo and wood stuff.”
“Did they speak of anyone else? Were any names mentioned?”
Jedda tried to think back over what he had heard: names, places, types of wood. Sometimes he wasn’t sure what names or information mattered. Karrahk waited, but Jedda could feel the man’s growing impatience. “Not as seemed important. I can find him again and see what else he does,” Jedda added, hoping to make up for any lapse in information.
But Jedda’s mind was still focused on the boys who had been playing by the carriage. He wondered who they were. “What's the crane thing? Does it mean somethin?”
“The Crane is the family's emblem,” Karrahk explained, emphasizing the last word.
“Emblem,” Jedda repeated, to secure this new word into his growing vocabulary.
“It means symbol.”
Jedda wanted to ask why he didn't just say that, but held his tongue and listened, instead, nodding.
“Each So'har has its own emblem. A fish jumping out of water, for House Hoster, sailing ship for House Matra, A hawk in flight, carrying a scroll, for House Charam. A silver fox for House Shaifan. The sun and three moons above the crane is the emblem for the Da'har, House Zayam. A stone tower and stars for Da’har Pavan.”
“How many So'har are there?” Jedda asked, trying to keep track of all this new information.
“Throughout all of Chanmyr?” Karrahk shrugged. “Many. Within Tatak Rhe, though, there are twenty So'Har houses. And there are three Da’har.”
Jedda nodded. He understood by now that there were many wealthy people in Tatak Rhe. And, he understood that of those wealthy, some also had inherent power: the So'har and Da'har. Families that were ancient, and long-ago blessed by the gods.
“Oh, and whiles I was ettin lunch, there was a coupla fellows talking bouts this other So’har. So’har Hak’kar. They was sayin how that be a crazy bastard. Other fellow said that he did crazy stuff, like burning a whole village. And the other guy said he threw a festival for his fish.” Jedda explained, trying to remember some of the outlandish comments that had been
made.
Karrahk laughed. “Yes, the So’har and Da’har are very peculiar. But never forget that they are the law. This one? a reputation for being powerful and getting his way. But the man is of no special interest, unless you hear something specific. Tales and wild fancies do not interest me.”
Karrahk handed Jedda a small purse. handed. Not tossed. All business-like and professional, rather than a beggar or street vendor. Jedda lifted his hand slightly to test the weight. There was a little bit extra in the purse, as usual. Jedda wondered if Karrahk gave him extra on purpose. Maybe his patron had no idea how much Jedda needed in order to keep himself fed. He decided not to ask. He had no intention of losing the precious few coins that came into his pocket every week. Those coins were cherished, against future need, future hunger.
Jedda took his coins over to Turner’s market. That small place that wasn’t as fancy or large as others, but he always bought his food there. It was loyalty. When Jedda was younger, he scavenged for food scraps in many places and was often chased away or had things thrown at him. But never Turner. In fact, Jedda knew that Turner tried to leave leftovers in the alley behind the market for Jedda to find.
That feral relationship went on for a long time, until one day Jedda noticed Turner trying to clear something out of the gutters. Jedda scrambled up a drainpipe onto the roof, easily removing the leaves that clogged it. Turner looked up, his expression impressed and grateful. “There’s a good lad,” he had said. “Thank you.”
No one had ever said thank you to Jedda. He had blushed, ducking his head. Kind words were unknown, a treasure that he cherished. After that day, Jedda began looking out for opportunities to help Turner, especially things that Turner could no longer do-- such as climbing up to fix the roof or lifting heavy boxes. Whenever Jedda helped Turner, the older man would always bring out something like a meat pie. “There’s too much for just myself,” he would say, dividing the meal in two. Turner had looked out for Jedda, and Jedda returned that care and consideration. He had liked being “a good lad.”
He continued to help Turner now, while still purchasing his food with his earned coins. The first time Jedda showed up with money, Turner had been suspicious.
“You didn’t steal this, did you?”
Jedda shook his head and looked solemn. “No, sir. Fair earned like. I han’t no thief,” he said, a small lie.
Turner had looked at Jedda, clearly trying to decide what to believe, knowing the ways in which the poor and homeless might earn their money. Finally, Turner nodded, patting Jedda on the shoulder, “at's a good lad,” the older man said. “Now, fetch some eggs from the shelves, and bring them to the back. And some beets. Beets as good for ye. I'll cook ye up a supper you can take with you.” Jedda was relieved when Turner didn’t ask too many questions. He didn’t know what he was allowed to tell about his new ‘job.’
Jedda was early for his meeting with Karrahk. He poked around the square for a while but wasn’t interested in anything going on. It was just the usual vendors, and the usual customers doing ordinary things. He left the square and headed up to the terraced gardens, hoping to catch something noteworthy. After a while, he sighed and just headed through the gardens towards the statue. He pretended to be admiring the sunset- dark purple creeping across the horizon. When he was sure no one was paying attention, he slipped backwards behind the statue and through the hidden gap in the hedge.
He stepped into the secret garden that Karrahk had made him find years earlier. Kambarr, the thief, stood poised with his hand stretched up to the sky. This was the moment when Kambarr stole magic from the gods. Jedda looked up into the stone face. It looked alive, young and mischievous. It looked like he knew what he was about to do, like a child about to steal a cookie. Except this was a very big cookie.
Jedda noticed the hand reaching for the sky as he tried to recover the last bit of magic from the Nibbin. He wondered if there was anything in it. If there was, was it something the artist had put there? He chewed on his lip as he wondered until the suspense ate away his good sense. He climbed up on Kambarr’s back and was about to shimmy up to peek at the hand.
“I see you’re making good use of your time.”
The sudden sound startled him and he fell off of Kambarr, hitting the ground with a thud.
Jedda had been so intent on his own thoughts that he almost forgot why he was there.
Karrahk looked amused, but remained all-business as usual and got right down to questions and updates.
“I saw that Da’har fellow again, up in the north harbor. He’s talkin at that same fella agin’. An this time I listened real close, to find out ‘bout White Coast, and they did talk ‘bout some other guy, Pavan.”
Jedda had no idea why, but Karrahk looked very pleased at that.
He smiled, “Good lad, a worthwhile investment.”
“I’ll finds you all the secrets as are lurkin out there, han’t no secret I canst find, you’ll see!” Jedda offered, proudly, wanting to assure Karrahk of his ongoing value.
“'I’ll discover many interesting and useful things',” Karrahk corrected.
“You will, han’t no doubt there,” Jedda agreed, nodding.
The man smiled, “No doubt you will. However, in this instance, I was demonstrating a more proper way to express that.”
Jedda suppressed a grimace of annoyance. He understood that Karrahk didn’t like the way he spoke and that his patron was becoming intent on polishing Jedda’s manners. Jedda nodded again. “You will, I promise, learn many valuable secrets.” This time, speaking a bit slower, taking his time to choose his words and phrasing, even with a simple sentence.
Karrahk nodded, smiling, “a very good lad, indeed.” And he handed Jedda a small purse of coins- enough to keep him fed for the week. He felt the weight in his hand, lifting it gently, as he felt it. This purse was heavier than usual. There must be something extra in there. What had he done to earn 'extra,' he wondered.
Who Karrahk was and what he wanted with Jedda was still a mystery. While Jedda felt relief from knowing he was able to feed himself, he was still curious. Why was this man paying him to roam the streets of Tatak Rhe?
The next day, Jedda headed back towards the north harbor. He liked to watch the boats and barges, and the north harbor carried sweet scents of spices and fresh foods- unlike the areas south of the city that smelled more like dockworkers, wet rope, tar and fish.
He saw no sign of the crane carriage, which disappointed him slightly. He made a mental note to find out where the man lived, as he headed over to the sausage-vendor to get some lunch. Then he headed back to the spot where he had seen the two men talking about the So’har Hak’kar. His patron may not be interested, but Jedda’s young imagination was fascinated by the wild tales.
He was in luck, the two men seemed to be regular in the harbor, and they were arguing about the So’har Hak’kar again. or still.
Grey-shirted man said, “Heard he burned a whole village, for wool that scratched his skin.”
Dreadlock man answered him, “I hears he filled a ship with anyone that displeased him. burned em all.”
“I heard he sent em away.”
Dreadlocks shrugged. “Either way, they’s never seen again. I heard he has hundreds of bastards runnin around.”
Grey shirt countered, “I hear he han’t able of getting kids. Heard his kids were sired by some kind of demons.”
The more he learned about the powerful people in the city, the more curious he became about his patron. He knew nothing about the man. So he watched. He began to follow Karrahk, just like he would track any of the other people. After Karrahk left their meeting place, Jedda ducked into the shadows, and then he clambered up a drainpipe, taking to the roofs- better to watch and see, without being seen. He knew that the roofs were the best place to watch from. Very few people ever thought to look up. Just as they rarely looked down, below the street levels. It occurred to Jedda how small the thin sliver of the world people saw on a daily basis. And
he used this now, to ferret out what he could about Karrahk.
The first week, Jedda tracked Karrahk up around the canals, past where Jedda made his nest. These canals weren’t functional anymore. Some were filled with stagnating water that flowed too slowly to remain clean, while other canals were completely dry channels chiseled through the ground. This section of canals used to feed the locks that circled the city. But a newer canal had been built when the shells that fed this section had failed. And the surrounding area had fallen into disuse. They no longer served any practical function, and they didn't lead to the lush estates outside the city. Now the displaced and undesirables clustered there, clinging to the dingy edge of the city-- as they clung to hope, and survival
The first time out, Jedda tracked Karrahk around past the edge of the canals but chose to stop there. Jedda didn’t pursue him further. Instead, he climbed up to the roof of an old abandoned granary, and watched, carefully- to see where Karrahk went.
Jedda watched several times, to be sure of Karrahk’s route. After repeating this several times, Jedda pushed further. Instead of trailing behind Karrahk, he raced ahead, taking a short cut, ducking through a tunnel. He came out close to the granary where he intercepted his patron further along his traveled route. And so the pattern continued for almost two spans, all the way out to the ‘residential canals.’
He lost Karrahk here when the man boarded a boat that took him away from the city. This had been Jedda's game. Up until this point, he felt like he was winning. He watched the boat glide away, silent, into the night, “Nibbin take you,” he swore, stubbing his foot into the dirt, frustrated. But he only became more determined.
Next time, he made sure to get a good look at the boat- a low riding barge, with no markings. It could be any boat. Just like the carriage he saw Karrahk ride in could be any carriage. Everyone he watched that had money seemed to show it off, in their clothes, their carriages, and boats. Jedda recognized a dozen different So'har just by their clothes and carriages. And even the wealthy merchants often had clearly identifying marks. But not Karrahk.