by TJ Muir
“I thought it was wine,” he gasped. “What is it?”
“It is a mix of… Things… Wine, brandy, fruit brandy, and eluru berries.”
He sniffed it again and took a more cautious sip. It was quite pleasant in small doses, with a warmth that spread through his body. It definitely had a bite to it though.
“Better now?” Kai asked.
Jedda nodded.
“Destryn says he and some friends are going back south again, to Treyu. There is a girl there he likes,” Kai said, nudging his cousin in the ribs.
Jedda only heard Treyu. All his senses perked up. He wanted to go, had to go, felt it down in his bones. And here the gods were giving him this opportunity. Maybe the gods wanted him to go, and this was the answer he had been hoping for.
“Would it be acceptable to join you when you go? Treyu is a city, mixed-race. Yes? It might be nice to visit, to see what it is like.” Jedda didn’t know how much was common knowledge within the village, and if everyone didn’t know about his troubles, he really didn’t want to open that up.
Kai looked up at Destryn, the hope clear in his face. “Please? To see the fliers would be something special. And Jedda here can fly!”
Jedda held up his hand, cutting Kai off. “Noooo….no. No. I said I have flown once or twice. That does not mean I know how to fly. That is like sitting on a horse and saying you know how to ride.” He turned to Destryn. “When are you leaving?”
“In a few days,” Destryn said. “After the herds are moved.”
Jedda thought the gods were showing him a path. Maybe this was the opportunity he had been looking for.
Jedda had no idea what the others might think of this. But he felt braver about standing his ground, now that someone else was actually going. He didn’t want to go alone. Now, that wasn’t a problem. All he could think about at this point was getting a message to Marrick. Marrick would get it to Diya, and then he would just have to wait to get a reply. He would be back in no time and everything would be fine.
His thoughts were interrupted as Trellyn ran up and grabbed him by the arm. A few of her friends hung back, grinning and giggling.
“Come, please? Dance. Jessen and Flix ask to dance,” she said, hugging his arm as she drew him away. Destryn and Kai laughed and shrugged. Clearly there was no arguing with a girl who was set on dancing.
Jedda was good for another few rounds. He danced with each of the girls, but Trellyn kept reclaiming him at the end of each dance. Jedda tried to catch sight of the others, hoping he might be able to devise an excuse to get away. But Kirrin and Tattia had not returned and Cham was nowhere to be seen. Then he remembered, Cham was gone. Still, he kept straining, scanning the crowd of people, hoping for some diversion.
“Oh, there’s Kai,” Jedda said, his speech slightly slurred from drink. “Perhaps I should go check with him and see if he has seen my friends.”
Trellyn laughed, the sound light, musical, and lilting. She gave him an odd look.
“What?”
Again with the look.
“Whaat??”
“Kai and Jessen over there?”
“Yes, I know. I was going to try to catch up with him,” Jedda said, watching as Kai was disappearing. Again. He swore to himself.
“Kai is going off to sanshay-wronka.”
“What? What does that mean? I don’t know that word.”
Trellyn laughed and blushed. “It means,” she paused, looking for the words, “to rattle the bushes.”
Jedda felt the giant question mark on his face. “What does that mean? Is it like relieving himself?”
It was Trellyn’s turn to look confused. “What is relieving mean?”
“Umm… well… like after drinking too much ale or wine. To make water?”
“Oh,” she said. “No. They are not making water. Come,” she added, drawing him away from the crowd.
“Where?”
“To rattle the bushes,” she said, smiling slyly, taking his arm. Jedda didn’t need to speak the language or know the term to figure out what was going on. He promised to behave himself as he followed her to a small grove.
Jedda took a sip from his ale as they walked, Trellyn holding onto his arm. She smelled good, like cinnamon and cloves. Or was that something in his ale? He wasn’t sure, but he liked it.
“Oh, look,” she said, pointing up toward the sky. “Ada’t and Ama’t and Acha look so happy!”
Jedda followed her gaze. Multi-colored lights flowed across the night sky. But he could not say precisely what colors they were. There were reds and blues and golds, but with tones and hues that made them indefinable.
“Who are they?”
“There, and there, and there,” Trellyn said, pointing to the three moons.
“Oh,” Jedda said. “In Chanem they are known as Breshan,” he said pointing to the larger blue moon, “Triappa, the yellow-amber one. And the Nibbin.”
Trellyn repeated the names, sounding them out.
“You said you call them Ama’t and Ada’t?” Jedda asked. “Acha means child or children, right? But Isn’t Ama and Ada the words for mother and father? What you call your parents and elders?”
Trellyn nodded. “Ada and Ama, yes. But Ada’t and Ama’t mean Mother over all, and Father over all.”
Jedda nodded. “So is Acha their child then?”
Trellyn paused, thinking. “Yes but no. Acha is child of Ama’t and Ada’t. But also all of us, too.”
Jedda thought about that. Children who ran at high speed in the opposite direction of their parents.
“Here, to sit,” Trellyn said, pulling at Jedda’s arm.
They found a large rock and sat on the ground with their backs to it. Trellyn leaned toward Jedda, hand on his leg, gently fiddling with a loose thread.
Jedda was a bit relieved to be away from the large crowd. Granted, it wasn’t as bad being around the Faenyr and Beddo as it was around the Chanem. When his magic had first awoken, his senses were on overload as they tried to read and make sense of every flow of color he had begun to see. The Faenyr muffled their colors instinctively, and Jedda was also getting much better at tuning it out. But the party was intense, and he had drunk a lot of wine. And cider. And ale. So it was nice to just sit back and enjoy a peaceful kind of moment.
Trellyn squealed as a shooting star, its long tail tinted with vibrant color, zipped across the sky.
The night was perfect. Life was perfect. Everything felt good, better than he could have imagined his life might be, especially when he had fled the city not that long ago.
Then he became aware that Trellyn’s hand had wandered. He had been drinking enough and felt happy enough he hadn’t been exactly aware of it until her hand found its way up his leg. He was now acutely aware of it now, as he gasped slightly in surprise and pleasure.
His mind was racing. He didn’t know if this was a breach of any rules. He was pretty sure that in most instances it was the girls who initiated liaisons. And he thought guiltily about Diya. But at this point Trellyn had begun exploring and using her fingers with a skill that made it hard for him to think clearly. She leaned in and nuzzled beneath his ear, her breath tickling his skin.
He wanted to say no and started to push her away, but it was a half-hearted attempt, as everything below his head over-rode his capacity to think. He told himself there was no promise between him and Diya as he turned toward Trellyn and began to open his senses, one hand caressing her side, sliding around behind and downwards, while the other hand moved up under her shirt as he leaned in to kiss her.
Several hours later, Jedda lay in his own bed, feeling horrible. The sex had been wild and incredible. But almost immediately after, guilt crashed down on his head. Trellyn was quite happy and kissed him as she scrambled back into her clothes. “You were a most enjoyable end to the evening’s events,” she'd said, and then taken her leave.
He had been glad. It felt strange not to snuggle up afterward, but Trellyn was not Diya, and he didn’t want to
be reminded of that. He had liked the way Diya felt close up next to him, the soft rise and fall of her breathing as she slept. He ached inside, finding himself remembering the Beddo’s song from months before about the young man crying for the girl who was leaving him behind. He was the one who had left, but the feeling was the same. He had left, and lost Diya. He realized he was crying. He rolled over and stared at the wall, tears wet on his face, until he finally fell asleep.
Several hours later he was half-roused from his post-wine nap, as he thought he heard a sound outside. He prayed Trellyn hadn’t come looking for him. After a moment of quiet, he fell asleep again.
Jedda woke up with a start, dim light just starting to creep into the room. It was too early. What had woken him?
A sharp smack hit the door. “Jedda! Are you awake?”
“Tattia?” He blinked at the door, head thick with sleep and hangover. “Is that you? What’s wrong?”
She threw the door open, storming into the room.
Jedda squealed, as he realized he had been sleeping on top of the blankets - naked. He scrambled to get upright as he snatched for his clothes. An undignified sound similar to a dying rabbit slipped past his lips as he clutched his pants in front of his unclothed areas. Tattia didn’t seem to notice.
“Give Kirrin a message for me?” She didn’t wait for him to reply. “Tell him I’ve left. I’m going to find my grandson. At this point, he can just stay here and do whatever he pleases. Or he can rot!”
Jedda was trying to shake the fog from his brain. He was several beats behind in trying to keep up with this conversation, with most of his attention focused on the wad of clothes he was holding in front of himself. “UUmm… okay. Yeah. I can yes--” He was still trying to sort out whatever it was he had just agreed to. But Tattia seemed pretty angry, and he had a flash of memory from the night before, with each of them storming off in opposite directions. A horse whinnied outside, and his brain kicked into gear finally. “Are you in traveling clothes? Is that your horse outside? Are you leaving?”
“Yes. Leaving,” she said, sounding mildly frustrated by Jedda’s slow comprehension. “I’m leaving," she repeated, slower, a deliberate clip to her words. “With the beddo.”
She glanced out the door. “They will be heading out soon. I need to go. You will tell Kirrin?” She turned back to him and gave him a smile, but it looked wrong; it had none of the warmth she had shown him for months. “Goodbye, Jedda. Good luck. You’re a good lad and are becoming a good man."
Jedda followed her out onto the porch, wishing he had the time to put his clothes on. “Wait!" He called as she grabbed the reins of her horse. "Tattia, are you okay? Nobody is, well, forcing you to leave, are they?”
She laughed, a bitter sound. “You mean like my son has, so many times? No, Jedda. Not this time. For once, the choice to leave is my own.” She turned her horse and disappeared down the path.
Jedda backed into the cabin and closed his door, leaning against it for a second. For a minute he wondered if this was still a dream, but the chill draft on his nether region convinced him it was not, and that also he should dress.
Tell him I have gone to find my grandson, and Kirrin can rot!
The key word in Tattia’s sentence jumped out suddenly. Grandson. Jedda felt uneasy as his foggy brain began to replay events and piece things together. Kirrin was an only child, wasn’t he? Jedda remembered him referencing brothers, but he'd said that they weren’t his real brothers; they were more like foster brothers with no blood relationship. So how could Tattia be going to find her grandson?
Kirrin didn’t have a son. He would have told Jedda. Or would he? He again realized how little he knew about the person who was closest to him. And Tattia was angry, really angry, and hurt. Something had happened the night before between the two of them, and he had missed it. He realized he should have chased after one of them. Now he was caught in the middle of whatever this was. He threw on the rest of his clothes and bolted out the door.
Kirrin was fast asleep, so Jedda poked him. “Kirrin! Kirrin, wake up.”
Kirrin grunted and threw an arm up over his face. Jedda could smell remnants of the nights drinking on his breath. “By the nine hells, Kirrin, WAKE UP.”
Then Jedda did something he knew Hrulla would probably not approve of. He closed his eyes for a split second, weaving the threads around the flower in the belly. Then he grabbed Kirrin with both hands.
“Holy Monenjo by the Red God and nine hells!” Kirrin swore, sitting bolt upright, eyes wide. “What in the nine hells did you just do?”
“I needed to wake you up.”
“But what did you do?”
“I drew some of the moisture into my hands, and then I made it very cold.”
“Flipping ICE!” Kirrin said, picking off a piece that hadn’t melted right away.
"I needed you awake, and with a clear head.”
Kirrin looked annoyed, but no more than anyone with a hangover would be. He swung his legs over the side of his bed as he looked around for some clothes. Jedda spotted a pile of old-Kirrin, neatly-folded things on the chair, and tossed them to him.
“So what was so flipping-all important to do a trick like that?” Kirrin asked from halfway beneath his shirt. “I’m awake now, wishing maybe I wasn’t though,” he said, rubbing his face and closing his eyes tightly against the sunlight. “So what was that important?”
“It’s--well, it’s your mother.”
Kirrin became very still. “Yeah. She’s Red-God angry right about now. I got that last night. Did she send you here to give me a hard time?”
“Well, no,” Jedda said, chewing his lip. There was no delicate way to relay Tattia's message.
“Out with it already!” Kirrin snapped.
“She’s leaving. Well, she’s left. She. . . Told me to give you a message. . .” Jedda said, watching Kirrin for some reaction. There was none. He didn’t know if Kirrin hadn’t really heard him, or if he just didn’t get emotionally upset.
Jedda peeked into Kirrin’s colors and saw a lot of things churning around his friend's heart, but couldn’t piece together what they were. At least Kirrin was feeling something, Jedda thought to himself.
Kirrin moved, as though to stand up, but then sat back on the bed, rubbing his face with rough hands. “What’s the message?”
Tell him I have gone to find my grandson, and he can stay here and rot!
“Um. That she is going to look for her grandson, and that, um, she is fine and you should stay here and keep. . . Learning, and stay safe. She doesn’t need you to come after her, or anything, you could stay here. . .”
“My mother absolutely did not wish me well or any such thing,” Kirrin said looking squarely at Jedda.
Jedda stopped, caught in a stare-off. He blinked, and looked away, caught in his little lie. “Ok, no. Not quite like that. Well, she. . . Seemed in a bit of a rush, I may have gotten it mixed up. . .”
Kirrin was staring at his hands. “I’ve never known my mother to mix her words or be anything other than painfully clear.”
Jedda waited. Kirrin looked up. “Was there more, or are you done?”
Jedda was confused. Shouldn’t Kirrin be more upset than this? “Well... I don’t know. Don't you want to go after her? Try to talk to her, say goodbye? Or at least ask where she is going, or, well, something.“
“No.”
One word. No explanation. Jedda blinked at the finality of it. “Oh.”
Kirrin looked towards the door, clearly eager for Jedda to leave.
Jedda straightened up. “Well, I guess I will go back to my own cabin now.”
“Yeah,” Kirrin said, running his hands through his hair and cracking his neck.
“Yes, I thought I . . . “Jedda paused, hand on the door. “Kirrin?”
“What?” he asked, sounding patient and yet inconvenienced by Jedda’s continued presence.
“Do you have a son?”
Kirrin sighed, a sound that indicated he was aw
are he wasn’t going to get off the hook. He stretched his hand out, indicating the empty chair-- a grudging invitation for Jedda to sit down. Jedda stood by the door a minute, then went over to the chair, glad it was out of the direct sunlight as he was feeling no better than Kirrin looked.
Kirrin was staring at his hands again. “Marken. That is his name. He should be about six, now. His mother was the farm manager’s daughter on Hak’kar’s estate. Miral.” He paused, gazing out the window even though he had to squint against the incoming light. “We. . . well, we got along. Everything was fine until she found out she was pregnant. This was right after Hak’kar moved my mother. The last thing I wanted was for her to become another hostage. Hak’kar- for all of his vile ways- likes to use leverage as his best weapon. Her family didn’t approve, of me-- of us-- and moved her out of the city. That was okay, for a while. It wasn’t too hard to find her. I stayed in touch and went out there when I could. But then--” Kirrin paused, and changed his tone. “I knew I needed her to be far away, where no one would connect us. Mother has family, a cousin near West Birch. I sent her there, to my cousin Padrin. The family thinks she is a secret because I was already married, so they keep her safe and never mention her. . . Not even,” he sucked his breath in, “to my mother.”
“Oh.” Jedda thought about that for a minute. “Was that what the fuss was last night?”
Kirrin took a deep breath and sighed as he let it out. "Yeah."
“So. She just found out. Last night?” Jedda didn’t know much about families, the bond between parents and children. But this struck him as a kind of big thing. “You didn’t tell her about your son for six years?”
Kirrin grunted. “It wasn’t safe!” he snapped. “I couldn’t keep them safe. And I didn’t trust Hak’kar not to keep them ‘safe’ the way he kept my mother safe. Would you?"
Jedda didn’t know what to say in response.
“My mother was already kept in a house by him, ‘looked after’ by Hak’kar’s staff. We both knew what that meant. No matter how I tried to put a good face on it for my mother: less work, early retirement, could do whatever she wanted now...we both knew it for the lie it was. It wasn’t safe. Not for Miral, and certainly not for a little kid!” He paused, and Jedda peeked into his colors.
