by TJ Muir
“A fine night for an anonymous boat ride under shadows. Shall we speak of the night and shadows?” Oh so casual and offhand, and yet Jay maintained a tone that said he was speaking quite plainly. Beneath the pleasantry, his meaning was clearly saying, ‘you didn’t call me out in the middle of the night to admire the moonrise. So, let us speak plainly.'
Hak’kar blinked, taken aback for a split second, before recovering himself.
“The So’har has been so far pleased with the service that has been given. It would not be wise to tempt the displeasure into action.”
Hak’kar paused, allowing that truth to sink in. Jay nodded, a slight tip of his head. In fact, Jay was busier watching the colors swirl around his patron. As with Kirrin, there was far more swirling about than he could make sense of.
“You have served the house well, and you will continue to serve the house, in the manner and fashion the House sees most fitting.”
“Have I not served the house fully and absolutely?” Jay asked in return. “Is there some displeasure in that service?”
“There is no displeasure in your service to the house.” A quick swirl. Deception, misdirection.
“The House has need of a different requirement,” Hak’kar said, careful measure.
“I serve the So’har faithfully,” Jay replied. “That service will do what the So’har requires.” Oh, how much easier it was when he spoke plainly, all those years ago. Now, it was dancing and mincing words. Now, he felt a bit less like a protégé, and more like an unwilling ally being lured into a trap.
He watched Hak’kar playing this complex game of strategically engaging with words, using words to assure loyalty, testing the level to which he could use this tool that he had so painstakingly crafted over the years. Jay realized that Hak’kar was trying to decide something- but couldn’t tell what that might be. Whatever it was, it had to do with himself directly.
“The Da’har? He fares well?”
Jay nodded. “As well as can be expected, for one who has been thrust into a role he never anticipated.”
It was Hak’kar’s turn to nod, considering. “You have done well, cultivating that bond. This boy, this young man, now trusts you?”
Jay nodded. He didn’t want to tell Hak’kar that they were friends, that Jay liked Trey, felt for him, and felt guilty and duplicitous.
“There is an uncle, advising the boy?”
Jay nodded. “I believe so.”
“It would be better if the uncle had less influence with the boy.” The instruction was clear, beneath the words: uncle removed from the picture. That meant Jay was to create a rift between Trey and his uncle.
Fortunately, Trey was already distancing the uncle, at least for the moment. So, once again, Jay was off the hook in terms of compromising himself. He did remember though, Trey’s words about needing Uncle, which could pose a problem, given Hak’kar’s instructions. Jay nodded without saying anything. Hak’kar would take it to mean agreement. But Jay remained silent so that words might not betray him. He felt more and more conflicted, as his role in Hak’kars plans became more active. More so, now that he questioned the integrity of his patron.
“I will be calling my children back to Tatak Rhe,” Hak’kar commented.
Children? Jay asked himself. So there were children. Then he wondered what this had to do with the discussion.
“Yes, I have children,” Hak’kar said, as though reading Jay’s thoughts. “They have been raised outside of the city. A more wholesome environment.”
Jay read something underneath that. Protectiveness and danger? Jay took that to mean that Hak’kar preferred to keep his children out from underfoot, and away from where they might interfere with his activities. Or perhaps they were kept where they would be away from danger. Jay did read devotion in Hak’kar’s voice, something approximating paternal love or pride. But not quite.
“The two have been away, in the West. Education. Silly mindless courses of study,” he said, a combination of judgment and indulgence. “But now, their presence is required here, as adults, who will serve the So’har. My son, Hak’ket, is old enough to start learning what it means to serve this House.”
Jay wondered if his children had been raised to do their father’s bidding, the way Jay and others had been molded and coerced.
“Nothing dire or diabolical,” Hak’kar said, again, as though reading Jay’s thoughts. “They will serve the house through alliances. Marriage.”
Jay nodded, understanding. The simplicity and straightforward aspect of dynastic politics that took place through marriages.
”The elder, a girl, will marry Da’har Zo’Trey Zayam.”
The first and most direct statement from Hak’kar. A chill shot down Jay’s spine.
“Trey?”
“That is the one,” Hak’kar confirmed.
Jay’s face wrinkled in confusion. He was still processing the news that Hak’kar had children.
“Have they ever met?” He asked. Foolish question, he realized even as he asked it. “And, besides, Trey is seeing someone.” More foolishness, but he couldn’t stop the words as they came out of his mouth.
“Whether the two have ever met, is inconsequential. As for the woman- you will see to that.”
“Me?” Jay almost squeaked in surprise, before catching himself and regaining his composure.
“Yes. She needs to be removed from this picture. This girl does not fit with our plans.”
“How?” Jay asked.
“However one sees fit so that the So’har's purposes are attained, and the So’har is not associated with that incident.”
Jay turned to refill his wine glass, his hand shaking slightly. What had he just heard? What was Hak’kar asking of him?
Hak’kar sighed, annoyed. “Disgrace her, discredit her. By the nine hells, sleep with her. Tell the boy she came to you.”
Hak’kar barely gave that information time to settle, before adding, “The boy is a feckless thing, but that is already settled. Easier to find a match for a wealthy son. Daughters are dispensable,” he said, too casually. He shrugged, adding “So’har Diya Shaifan's House owes me a large debt. He will be relieved to know I have a solution,” Hak’kar began glancing through papers as he spoke. He looked up, adding. “She need only bear an heir, anyway.”
Jay froze where he stood, feeling ice run through his skin. The idea of Diya being drawn into this game scared him. She did not manipulate easily. But when Hak’kar said the last bit, about only needing an heir- Jay realized that Hak’kar had no long term interest in manipulating someone who was strong-willed. That Diya was disposable, once Hak’kar had what he wanted of her.
“Do not forget who you serve. To whom you owe your loyalty,” Hak’kar said, focus tight on Jay now. The tone was casual, matter of fact. Hak’kar reached for a grape from a bowl of fruit, and in a deft move, skinned the grape, and tossed the skin aside. This had been somewhat of a test, Jay realized. Hak’kar wanted to know if Jay had a breaking point. Was this Hak'kar's way of telling Jay that he knew exactly what was going on between him and Diya?
Fortunately, Jay thought he had covered himself well. But Jay also realized that even in that most casual tone, there was a layer of calculation. And when Jay watched the colors swirling around Hak’kar, he read a callous indifference. Lives really had no deep meaning to him. Even his children, while he might be fond of them- they already served Hak’kars purposes, or they would soon. Jay wondered what the man would do if his children defied him.
He realized Hak’kar had been speaking. Jay didn’t know what he had said. He reached back into his memory, hoping he had caught the words on some deeper level.
“Don’t make the mistakes that others before you have made. And do not disappoint me, like Yaran.”
Jay bowed, demonstrating his loyalty. But his heart was racing. Hak’kar had just blatantly confirmed all of Jay’s suspicions.
Jay was relieved when Hak’kar departed, leaving him alone for the return journ
ey. The barge glided up to the dock, a dark shadow against the soft glow of the moons. He stepped out, trying to regain his bearings after the revelations of the night. The boat slid away without a sound. His heart pounded. He needed help. Advice. For a second he stood still, staring up at the moons. The smallest moon, Nibbin, racing against the path of all the other moons in the sky. Always moving faster- but in the wrong direction.
He entered his rooms silently. Kirrin had wine and whiskey out on the table, along with a plate of meats and cheeses; all foods that he knew Jay preferred, especially later at night. Kirrin himself was sitting propped on the couch, asleep. Evidently, he had attempted to wait for Jay’s return, but lost to his own exhaustion.
Jay looked at Kirrin, wondering how much the man knew. For a moment, he wavered, came close to waking Kirrin and begging for his wisdom and steely calm. Jay deeply felt a need for advice. He felt torn, and as though he had been swimming in a river. He had been having fun, without realizing that the current had been getting stronger and stronger. And only now, when he began to feel the pull of a current, did he worry about being pulled into danger and crashing over cliffs. But Kirrin was Hak’kar’s man, and Jay couldn’t confide in him. He turned, leaving the room as softly as he had come.
Chapter Sixteen
“I’m in trouble,” Jay said, pacing relentlessly. Every one of his brain cells was on overload at the moment, too much pent up energy, every inch of his fight or flight instinct was telling him to run. He felt a need to put distance between himself and Hak’kar. He was a dangerous man, using dangerous men to do his bidding.
And so he had run, almost literally, with no idea where he was going. He had run to the only place he could. Cham waited, patient as mountains, for Jay to sort through his panic. Jay felt the enormity of his predicament, pacing around Yaran’s apartments. Cham had been an informal houseguest, and had remained in the space while Yaran’s family sorted through the details.
“This is completely disturbing,” Jay said. This space was usually filled with people coming and going. Now it was just Cham. He looked into the shadows, expecting to see Yaran’s ghost hovering.
Cham shrugged, undisturbed. “The lease is still covered, and Yaran’s parents had no issues with someone staying in the space to tend and look after things for a while.”
“It feels wrong. Like the dead are watching, judging. Or warning,” Jay said, pacing around.
Cham just looked at him and tried to make sense of what he was saying.
“I feel like Yaran would be trying to warn me, not to make the same mistake he did. Trying to warn me that I might end up just like he did. How did I know what I was getting into? And now it’s too late. I was just a kid, and hungry. Nobody. People are dead. Dead! Powerful people,” he said, knowing he sounded crazy.
“Everything about me is a lie. Even my name is a lie. That’s one thing he doesn’t know. My name.”
Cham looked at Jay, watching him, studying him. Jay felt like the tangled ball of string was unrolling, and he was telling Cham things that he shouldn’t.
“My real name? It’s Jedda. And I have no family, there are no wealthy merchants, that is all a lie. Just my patron, who pays for everything. And he kills people.”
“That is a dangerous accusation to make lightly,” Cham said.
“He killed Trey’s father and brother, and Yaran, too. Who knows how many people he has killed, or will kill. He’ll kill me, too, when he finds out--when he finds out I can’t do this. I can’t ruin Findal, I can’t let Diya marry his son or Trey his daughter, I just can’t.”
Cham sat back, considering, ever slow and unrushed. “If that is true. If. Where does that leave you?” Cham asked the obvious question. The one he didn’t have an answer for.
“I don’t know,” Jedda said, looking and feeling truly wretched. He was standing there, realizing that in one moment, his entire fantasy world had crashed down around him and that behind the illusion, lay real danger. He realized with a very cold clarity that his life came far more cheaply than that of a powerful So’har! Hadn’t he learned, those years ago, the truth about Hak’kar? The So’Har who wielded more power than the Da’Har?
Back then, and even until that very morning, Jedda hadn’t grasped what that might truly mean. And his greater fear now was that he did not know, and knew he did not know- the man he served, and what he had been serving all this time. And now, now that he began to ask the question it was far too late to change direction, or back out.
“Do you think anyone else is in danger?” Cham asked, ever practical, level-headed, even in a crisis. Granted, Jedda thought to himself, this was not Cham’s crisis, after all.
Jedda slowed his pacing, stopped, considering the question. “I don’t think so. Not immediate danger, anyway. No one knows, so there would be no reason to either take revenge or cover his tracks. Only I know, about Trey, and about Yaran. And he doesn’t even know that I know about Trey’s father. I doubt Kirrin remembers talking about anything, but I couldn’t exactly ask him.” Jedda paused for a moment. “I suppose if Hak’kar knew, then Kirrin might also then be in danger. But no. I don’t think so. Not immediate danger.”
Cham nodded. He was watching Jedda, trying to help Jedda tap into a calm clear place.
“What do you want?” Cham asked.
Jedda began to tense up, tightening up again, twisted in knots, inside. “What?” The question startled Jedda. “I don’t know!” he cried, anguished. “I don't want to die. I don't want Trey, or Diya or anyone else to die.” Jedda vented his fears and pent up emotions. “How do I know what I want? I don’t really know anything else. When Hak’kar found me? I was a filthy homeless kid living on the streets.” Jedda confessed- the first time he had spoken the words, felt the shame of his history. And in spite of everything that had been going on, he still looked around, instinctively, to assure himself that there were no listeners about- even at the late hour.
“How will you feel, going back, knowing what you know? Can you tell your friends the truth?”
Jedda shrugged, shoulders hunched, and only slowly lowering. “I don’t want to leave my friends. I wouldn’t want to leave Trey, now, when he needs someone near him. Wouldn’t want to leave Diya,” he paused, heard his voice catch when he said her name. He looked at Cham nervously, but Cham only smiled.
“It’s okay,” Cham assured him. “You’re as easy to read as a newborn babe. The two of you, are no secret. And no need to worry. We have had some extremely pleasurable moments. But I do not possess you, any more than you possess me. There is no bonding between us. I would not resent you having other lovers. It is good for you right now, as you learn who you are, as a man.” Cham said, with a fond detached air. “How do you feel about Diya? Do you know what your feelings are?”
Again, the overlong shrug, as though he was stalling for time, and an answer might come to him before he dropped his shoulders back down to their normal position.
“I’m really confused about how I feel for her, for you, for everyone and anything. But I don’t want any harm to come to her. I can’t bear the thought of her being forced into a marriage arrangement. And worse, her, or anyone, living under the threat that Hak’kar poses to those around him.”
Cham just nodded, understanding. Jedda realized Cham had been reading it all in his colors. Any skill he had learned at muffling was lost amidst all his turmoil.
Out of the blue, Cham changed the subject, in that random way he had. It made Jedda angry, Cham’s seeming indifference to the danger Jedda was in.
“The northern regions are stunningly beautiful in the Spring. The snows wash down from the mountains, and after the snowmelt, the plains and plateau come alive with the widest range of wildflowers, a scent unmatched by anything in the world. And in the West, the bamboo forests, blues and greens and yellows, and reds- more colorful than the parrots you find in the city parks. You can follow the southern canals westward, all the way through the bamboo forests, and listen to the wind as it keens thr
ough the giant stalks.”
“And the forests to the west of that, where the Shendahal have built a kingdom among the trees, from below the ground, spanning up into the highest branches of the most ancient of trees. And the outer islands, where some say the Red God originated, continuing to watch over his lost kingdom,” Cham continued in his lilting tone, casually describing different places he had visited over the years.
It had a calming effect on Jedda, as he guessed Cham intended. Jedda wasn’t sure if it was the words, or the tone, or something else, weaving into the invisible spaces inside his thoughts. As he thought this, he looked at Cham, who had a distracted look on his face as though his attention was divided.
“Why are you telling me this? What does any or all of this have to do with what is going on, here? Now? I tell you my life is in danger, my friends are in danger, and you want to talk about the world? Have you heard anything I have been saying?!”
“What I am trying to show you, is how very vast the world is,” Cham said, in a sharper tone than Jedda had ever heard him use. “You’re seeing such a small window, you are picking up a pebble, and without looking up, don’t realize that pebble is tiny, compared the mountain towering over you. This man? Whoever he is, is just one man. And he holds power over you, or anyone else, only as long as anyone chooses to allow it. He only has a hold over you until you see through that illusion. All you need do to be free of him is to turn your back-- and walk away.”
Jedda took that in. Just walk away. Could he do that? Where would he go? And he realized that turning his back and walking also meant walking away from his friends. There was no way to hold onto that. He couldn’t see any option where he could stay here, alive, and save his friends also. He thought about who else he might turn to. Could any of the other So’har or Da’har protect him? He doubted it. Not for the long term.