Before the Luck Runs Out: Can Magic Save Jedda? (Chanmyr Chronicles Book 1)

by TJ Muir

  He knew in that moment, that this was precisely what Hak’kar had groomed him towards, all the years- to be slipped in between the cracks of Power. It felt like a lifetime ago that he had been that starving thief in the street. In truth, it had been barely five years, and less than two years since he had put on his first set of fancy clothes. But he knew deep in his bones, that Hak’kar had always been pointing Jay to this very place. Working Jay into a position, in a very long game, where Jay would be close to power, and his Faenyr charisma would be Hak'kar's most powerful tool.

  Watching his friends, these people who thought he was one of them, he felt completely and utterly alone. He felt like he was both betrayer and betrayed, at once. And he didn’t know what to do. He slipped out of the room, on well-practiced silent feet, and faded into the night.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jay walked in, dropping his jacket. Kirrin was in his rooms, sorting and laying out clothes for him. Jay stood there, watching Kirrin as the man sorted out his clothes, laying out fresh clothes on the chair. Jay nodded, he liked the dark blue and silver jacket.

  Jay realized that Kirrin had been looking after him for more than two years. He also realized that he knew nothing about the person who lived in this space with him. He wondered if Kirrin had family or life, outside of taking care of him. He didn’t think it was polite to ask. Not long ago, he wouldn’t have considered what was proper.

  Kirrin was clearly educated. The man knew far more than Jay could have imagined. and he was an excellent teacher. It was only Kirrin’s skills that had been made it possible for Jay to step into his role. Jay didn’t like what he saw in himself suddenly. Perhaps it had been the trip to the canals, reminding him of just who he was, who he had been.

  Who was he?

  “Are you comfortable here?” Jay asked as Kirrin ran a hot iron over Jay’s shirts. The clothes were sent out to be washed, but Kirrin was never completely satisfied with the tiny wrinkles they seemed to have when they came back.

  Kirrin looked at him, as though his head had fallen off.

  “I am quite comfortable here.”

  “Do I treat you well, Kirrin?”

  “I am quite content here,” he said by way of an answer.

  “But do I treat you well? I know we talk, and I appreciate the way you’ve taught me so much. I value you highly, as a safe place in storms,” he said, sounding odd, even in his own ears. “But I don’t think I’ve ever told you that. And I feel a bit shabby.”

  Kirrin stopped, hot iron in midair, and stared at Jay.

  “Tell me about yourself, Kirrin,” Jay asked, getting up to pour himself a glass of wine.

  Kirrin stopped, mid-fold. The first time Jay had ever seen him lose his perfect composure. It almost made Jay laugh, but he stifled it, masking it behind his wine cup. He didn’t want Kirrin to feel he was being insulted.

  “I have a headache. Please, come sit with me,” Jay invited. He got up and refilled his wine cup, pouring a second cup for Kirrin. He settled back in his chair, carving knife in hand, while they talked. He fidgeted with the knife for a while, but reached for his most recent carving project after a moment.

  “You have green eyes. Like mine. Where are you from?” he asked.”I don’t see many green eyes in Tatak Rhe.”

  “Green eyes are more common in the western regions,” Kirrin said. “I grew up just north of the city. Until my father died, that is. At least this is what my mother told me. I was young then and don't remember much.”

  Jay tried to follow Kirrin’s conversation. His thoughts seemed a bit tangled, but Jay considered it might just be the wine.

  ”They were both from the western region. But he went south, to fight. She doesn't talk about it much. But after, she took work at an inn, the Red Coach Inn. She schooled me at home, and the innkeeper tutored me along with his own sons. So, we did okay there. We were happy.”

  “Where is your mother now?” Jay felt lost. It had never even occurred to him that Kirrin was not an orphan like himself.

  Kirrin sipped his wine, swirling it in his glass as he stared into space.

  “She lives in a small cottage outside the city,” he said finally.

  “Do you see her often?”

  “I send her money every month. Help her out as I can. I visit occasionally, when I can. My work keeps me busy.”

  “Your work for the So'har? How did you come to be there?”

  Kirrin shrugged “Wrong place at the wrong time, I suppose,” he said, with a dry laugh. “Or perhaps it was the gods looking out for me,” He explained. “I ran into Hak’kar as I was running away from bullies. I suppose he saw something he liked. I was a messenger for him here in the city, for several years. As I grew up, he would ask my opinion on things. He was still young then, for a So’har. Hak’kar liked having advice from someone who had no profit as a motive.”

  Jay nodded, understanding that role in a way he might not have before Trey had called for him. He also realized that Kirrin was far more qualified to do this than Jay ever was.

  Having shared that much, Kirrin changed the subject and Jay had the sense that there was more that Kirrin wasn't saying. He watched the colors swirling around Kirrin, that told him evasion and secrets.

  “So Hak’kar rescued you, as well,” Jay said.

  Kirrin shrugged, half lifting one shoulder. The comment seemed to bother him. Jay chose to let it go, offering him more wine, instead, and then picked up his small carving knife again.

  It occurred to Jay that there was something unequal about it. He wondered if Kirrin resented the differences in their positions. But perhaps not.

  While Kirrin had been talking Jay had been carving. He looked down into his hands at his finished piece. It was a hummingbird, wings outstretched, hovering, in perfect stillness. The wood he had used was a deep red rosewood, with strong black highlights. The grains gave the bird a striking appearance. He took a cloth to it, polishing it up to a low lustre. When he looked at it, it had an iridescent sheen, just like the real thing. He noticed Kirrin watching him, admiring Jay’s skill.

  “Do you like it?” Jay asked.

  “It is very impressive,” Kirrin said, leaning in to look closer.

  Jay handed it across the space to Kirrin, and watched as he examined the piece. Kirrin nodded, approving of Jay’s accomplishment.

  “Very nice,” he said, extending his hand out, returning the bird. “It would look very nice, hanging by the flowers.”

  Jay hadn’t thought of that. When he carved, he only saw the piece, never where the piece might fit into the larger landscape.

  “I’d like you to have it. Keep it,” he said. “A gift from me, for everything you do for me, taking care of me and teaching me.”

  Kirrin looked down at the delicate bird in his hand. He smiled at it, seemed touched by the gesture. But it also seemed to put him a little off balance, as though this had not been in his job training: receiving gifts and praise. “Thank you,” he said. “But it is not necessary. This is the job I am paid for.”

  Jay noticed that Kirrin held onto the bird, though, stroking its head. Jay thought he looked sad, or troubled by something.

  “You said you had brothers,” Jay said, changing the subject. “What was that like?”

  Kirrin shrugged again, that tiny lifting of one shoulder. “It was good. And they were not my real brothers. But they treated me well, taught me a lot, until they left. They were older than I was.”

  Jay didn’t know what it might be like, to have brothers, or family. Kirrin and Trey were the closest thing to family.

  “Is that why you work for Hak’kar? To help your mother?” Jay asked.

  The question seemed to startle Kirrin. He got an odd look on his face and reached for the wine. Whatever was on Kirrin’s mind, Jay decided not to press it. Was there something more between Kirrin and Hak’kar?

  Watching Kirrin, he began to wonder.

  What Hak’kar asked in return wasn’t much. Not truly. Jay regularly convinced hi
mself that he never revealed personal details about his friends and that he never revealed things given to him in confidence.

  But would he be able to continue that way, when his friends became the people who were in power? What might Hak’kar expect of him, then? What might happen to him if he ever decided he no longer wanted to serve Hak'kar? The old stories and rumors about his patron flickered in his memory, and he brought his attention back to their conversation.

  Somehow Jay’s thoughts had circled back to his starting point, and he asked again, “So, are you happy, here? In this household, and in your role as my servant?”

  Kirrin blinked, well into his third cup of wine; both Trey and Jay had gotten used to very strong wine. Neither of them had a lot of other obligations to maintain, which left a lot of time for drinking, which built up their tolerance. Kirrin was a bit less fortunate. He was still functional, but he was clearly under the influence, chatting away, more and more- his usual cautionary filters napping.

  “Happy here?” Kirrin said, mulling the words, as though tasting them in his mouth. Jay supposed no one had ever considered whether their servants were happy or not. And that maybe, as a result, Kirrin hadn’t considered the question.

  “Very satisfied,” he nodded. “Enough work went into events, making it all happen. and yes, Trey was an excellent choice. Hak’kar chose well, yet again.”

  Jay fiddled with the carving knife, considering Kirin. The man was always so composed, so sure. Nothing seemed to bother him or upset him. Kirrin had expected to hear resentment or something, but Kirrin was completely content with their positions. Watching Kirrin, he began to wonder, about Hak’kar. What did Hak’kar intend, now that Jay was where Hak’kar wanted him? If it was intended for Jay to be close to Trey, why? Jay was feeling torn between dividing loyalties.

  He liked Trey, had grown to feel as a brother, much to his own surprise. He had trusted Trey enough that he had taken the great risk of bringing Trey down to the canals. Jay had the hope that Trey could become a truly great Da’Har, and not just another Pavan. He wanted Trey to be something exceptional, to change the world somehow. But his own desires might end up proving secondary and powerless. How was he supposed to help Trey, be a friend, and serve Hak'kar at the same time?

  “Wait a minute,” Jay said. Kirrin’s words had finally caught up with him. “What was that you said before? A lot of work went into...what? What do you mean, Trey was the best choice?”

  Kirrin closed one eye, raising his glass at Jay and nodding approvingly. “Trey--He was your friend, so carefree, so easy--Much better choice for Da’har, not that stiff prick of a brother, never listening to a word outside his stuffy family --damn that uncle to the nine hells--, and certainly not to Yaran.” He snorted in disgust, then smiled and leaned forward, clinking his glass against Jay’s. “Buuuuut. . . One happy accident later. Here we are.” He sat back with a thud, sloshing wine onto his hands, winking again.

  Jay watched the wine dripping down Kirrins fingers, very still, trying to give no sign to Kirrin that he may have betrayed something. But inside, a very cold chill gripped Jay. And a very deep fear bubbled up from that cold pit.

  Hak’kar had maneuvered events to put Jay close to very powerful people. What lengths had Hak’kar taken to accomplish that? What role had Kirrin played? He gripped the knife, knuckles white. He got up and grabbed the decanter of brandy. He needed something stronger than wine to calm his nerves and his racing thoughts.

  “Have some brandy,” he said, pouring a glass for Kirrin. “It is very fine. Trey keeps only the finest.”

  Kirrin took the glass, raising it in a friendly salute before tipping it back, draining it.

  “I wonder if Trey will have any social events, now that he is Da’har?”

  Kirrin didn’t answer him, just nodded. Jay nodded back without saying anything.

  He waited for Kirrin to start fading.

  “Come. Let’s get you to bed,” he said, and he led the man into his sleeping chambers, helping him onto the bed. Kirrin promptly clunked down, head near the pillow. Jay propped Kirrin up and shoved the pillow under his head. Jay pulled the folded blanket from the foot of the bed, and tossed it over Kirrin, tucking him in, the way Kirrin had tucked him in many times, being the worse for wine. In an afterthought, he placed the bin next to the bed.

  He was sure that Kirrin was out and would sleep through the night, and likely well into the morning. He went back into the common area and downed another shot of brandy. He needed to think, to figure something out. Mostly, he needed to be able to breathe. There were too many missing pieces, and he felt like the walls were closing in around him. Old survival instincts kicked in-- instincts that had long kept him alive. Now, those instincts said “run.”

  But there was nowhere to go.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Jay avoided Kirrin as much as possible. Even during his mundane daily routines, he couldn’t look at him now. Whenever he looked at Kirrin, he thought about Trey and Trey’s father. Maybe Hak’kar was simply claiming victory for a random accident. But Jay had seen the colors in Kirrin’s field when he spoke. The colors never lie. What else might Kirrin know? Who was Kirrin, really? What else might Hak’kar have done? Jay wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Once again, he felt like his world and life had changed in an instant. His skin went cold, thinking about it. What was Hak’kar capable of?

  He remembered the stories; rumors and gossip. Exaggerations, Jay had decided at the time. Now, as he wandered around the unpopulated areas of the city he revisited those stories. Every rumor, every scrap, raced through his mind. His brain played a frenzied game: match the rumor to a possible truth. Some things were easy to dismiss. He was fairly certain that there were no demon spawn waiting to take over the world, or even the city.

  The problem was, he realized, that he didn’t truly know the extent of Hak’kar’s holdings. He realized he knew far less about his patron than he did about most of the other So’har and Da’har in Tatak Rhe. His job had been to collect secrets for Hak’kar, not secrets about him. Now Jay wondered if he had maintained a blind spot where he ought to have been the most informed. Right on the heels of that thought, Jay wondered if the only reason he had stayed safe, was because he had kept himself ignorant.

  Now, he felt that his lack of information was worse. Hak’kar had plucked him out of the gutter, given him a place, and provided for him. No one else had given a dirty beggar boy a second look. That truth had fostered a profound gratitude: a blind spot. And while Jay didn’t love Hak’kar, he still felt something. In fact, Jay didn’t know the man to even like or not like him. But respect? Regard? Most definitely. Jay had looked upon Hak’kar as a model. Now that model was crumbling out from under Jay’s feet.

  And Kirrin? Kirrin was a casualty of that struggle. Jay had no idea where Kirrin fit into Hak’kar’s world and schemes. There was no polite way to ask that kind of question. Kirrin, he had grown to like, and to love, as mentor advisor and friend. What would he do if he learned that Kirrin was a part of Hak’kar’s darker dealings? Those few words uttered in a moment's slip cast doubt on everything Jay thought he knew. He didn't know what to do with that information and had no way to find out the truth, so he avoided it.

  Trey was truly devastated by what had happened to his family. That much was certain; he wasn't faking anything. Jay knew that Trey was trying to figure out his new role as Da'har and its inherent responsibilities. In doing that, he was working to build a network of advisors and relatives that he could trust. Trust? Unlikely. Rely on. That was a better, more accurate description. Was real trust even possible among these people? There was a definite loyalty within the House, and even within each network of Da'har to its individual So'har. But beyond that, everyone seemed to be clambering for more. Did that make them reliable? Or just predictable?

  He wished things were simpler. He sought refuge in Trey's libraries, and at the archives. He spent time with Diya. They flew again. The sky was a cherished refuge at this point.


  This second time, the pilot gave them a bit more instruction about flying. Learning how to fly required only his skill and resources and reading the wind. Jay nodded, understanding what the man described about the wind.

  “I wonder if we could convince Trey to get fliers,” he said as the carriage headed back toward the city.

  Diya just shrugged. Jay looked across the carriage at her. The edges of her mouth looked tight, like she was bothered by something. He decided he was imagining things, and let it go.

  Diya was acting strangely, though. Or maybe she was reacting to Jay’s change. They slept together a few times, quiet stolen moments. Jay was being careful to keep their relationship from becoming public- even keeping it from Trey, who probably guessed, and Kirrin who seemed uninterested.

  One night, he heard something outside his window. A light plink as something hit the glass. He rolled back over, but then he heard it again. He pulled the curtain back and opened the window, expecting to find a bird caught.

  “Diya?” he said, seeing a shape coming out of the shadows. He was right, and she came up to the window. She looked a little uncertain, and Jay had no idea what was going on. He opened the patio door. “Here, come inside, don’t stand out there in the dark.”

  “What’s going on?” he asked, once she was inside.

  “I just wanted to see you,” she said, but she sounded annoyed.

  “Ssshhhhh,” he said, placing his hand on her mouth. “I don’t want to wake up my servant.”

  She looked even more put out when he said that. But she took hold of his hand and bit it playfully. That quickly landed them on the bed, and busy for a long while, interrupted only by Jay’s shushing her, and her laughing every time.

  He really liked sex. He was feeling less insecure and becoming a better lover. This time, Diya seemed much more aggressive, almost forceful.

  Afterward, she lay against his side, propped up on her arm. The moonlight gave a nice soft glow to the room.