by TJ Muir
He slouched, leaning against the wall, with the box nested on his lap. He sat there for a long time, just looking at it. Gran's words came back to him, making him realize he had been putting this off without knowing that was what he was doing. Now that it was just him, he wasn't so sure about what to do next. He wasn't sure he believed in gods and predictions, but her words, and Thavan's, had drilled their way deep inside his brain. They niggled at the part of him that wondered what a great and powerful So'har wanted with him, anyway. There was nothing remarkable about him- nothing at all. He felt proud, learning how to stand up for himself. He had made a good impression on the So'har, and hopefully on the other people there as well. Maybe they saw something in him that he didn't.
Kirrin began to wonder if maybe the answer to what the So'har wanted from him was inside the box. Maybe opening the box would solve the riddle. Or maybe the So'har knew something about him, and Kirrin would only find out if he was determined and persistent. Maybe his father was alive somewhere, or this was information about who his father was. Maybe his father's family was wealthy. His thoughts began to spin wildly out of control.
Kirrin fingered the pick-pins while his mind wandered. Curiosity and the challenge of figuring out if he could do it won out over the travelers' warnings. He spent several hours trying to get a feel for the tensioner arm and the pick-pins. It wasn't as easy as it had looked, and the lock on his box was a bit smaller than the one Thavan had used. But finally, he heard his first snick. The second one came a little easier. The third one was tricky, but after a while he felt and heard the little snick again. The fourth one was also fairly easy. The lock still didn't turn. Kirrin was sure he had done four. He sighed, chewed on his lip for a moment, then ducked his head and tried again. He was rewarded with a fifth little snick, and the lock turned.
He let out a whoop of excited victory. “I got you,” he exclaimed, staring at the box. He pulled open the lid. The inside was lined with exquisite, soft padded satin. On the bottom, held in place by fabric that made a sort of half pocket, was an elaborately carved key.
“The key?” He snorted in disbelief. “The bleeding key is inside! What kind of prize is that?” Part of him was furious, feeling like he'd been played for a fool. A powerful lord enjoying a practical joke on the poor city boy. He wanted to throw the box, to break it into pieces.
He picked the key up, and tried it in the lock, just to be sure. It fit perfectly, and turned the lock smoothly. As he was turning the lock though, he looked in the box and saw a pouch tucked into the side. He reached in and picked it up.
His eyes went wide when he heard the familiar jingle of coins. He gasped out loud as he poured a handful of silver ducats out. Silver ducats! That was more than his mother earned in two month-spans working at the inn. He thought of all the fancy things he could buy with that much silver.
Then he wondered if there was anything else hidden in the box. Maybe it had more secrets to yield up. He ran his fingers along the sides and felt something behind the satin. It didn't take long for him to pry open a seam at the end and pull out a piece of paper. He recognized the handwriting immediately. It was from the So'har. He opened it, feeling both nervous and excited.
Present this box to me, undamaged, and you will be rewarded. Regardless of what you decide, the box and the coins are yours to keep.
Kirrin didn't know what he might have gotten himself into, but he wanted to see Miral, and Kip, and Duffy, and Cook. In that moment, looking at the box and the pouch of coins, he hoped his life would be something besides ordinary- even if the shadow of something he couldn't quite name hovered just over his shoulder. He couldn't wait to find out what the So'har wanted him for.
CHAPTER THREE
Any grand vision Kirrin had of a private audience with the So’har vanished immediately upon his return. He didn’t know what to expect, so he had sent a brief note ahead. When he got there, he went to find Kip and Duffy, who were stacking wood behind one of the sheds.
“I didn’t know what I should do when I got here,” Kirrin said.
Duffy straightened up, wiping sweat away from his face.
“So Clever boy’s back, eh?”
Kirrin nodded, unsure if Duffy was mocking him.
“I didn’t know what I was supposed to do with the box and you’re the one I always rely on to explain things to me,” Kirrin shrugged, and chewed the corner of his lip, waiting for Duffy to soften. Duffy seemed distracted, so he just stood there, waiting.
“What?” Duffy asked sharply.
“What am I supposed to do now?”
“What you always do, I s’pose. Go peel onions.”
Clearly Duffy was not awed by Kirrin’s cleverness in solving the So’har’s challenge. Kirrin sighed, shoulders slumping. “Will I be expected to stay around?”
Duffy shrugged. “I ‘spect the So’har has sommin in mind, as he said to keep training you.”
“Did he say how long?”
“I din’ ask. I spose ‘til you make a botch of things an’ he loses interest in ye.”
He shouldered his pack and headed back to the room. he had no idea what his reward was supposed to be but at least he had a chance to make a good impression.
SOFT BREAK
“By the red god, I’ll kill you!” Kirrin hollered as he chased Kip across the roofs of the barns and work sheds. Kip was a lot quicker than he looked- scampering up and down roofs, drainpipes, and trellises.
Kip hollered back, “You’ve got to catch me, first.”
Kirrin was starting to pant and he felt a stitch in his side. But he was not about to let Kip get the better of him.
Duffy was watching, perched on the back end of an empty hay wagon, drinking beer. He called out to Kirrin as he passed by. “You run like an old man.”
Did the man never tire? Kirrin had been chasing him for a while, but Kip looked like he could run all afternoon, skipping lightly over the fence between the paddock and the stableyard. Kirrin lost his grip as he cleared the top of the fence, and fell hard on the other side. He didn’t bother to get up. Exhaustion had killed his anger.
Kip stopped a little ways ahead of him, laughing. Kirrin had the small satisfaction of seeing Kip catching his breath, bent at the waist, hands on knees. “You’re getting better,” he teased. “I could actually hear you behind me this time.”
“Doucha!” Out of any other insults to toss, Kirrin fell back on a Beddo curse he had learned from Kip.
“Next time, don’t leave your love letters lying around,” Kip said, laughing. “And put more emphasis on the first part, dow-sha.”
Kirrin glared at him. He knew he had not left his letter lying around. Kip must have gone snooping in his room. Fine. He would find a better hiding place for his personal things. And he was already thinking about turning the tables on Kip and Duffy-- not knowing which of the two had actually nicked his things. He would sneak into their rooms. See how they liked it.
Duffy came over and put out his hand, helping Kirrin to his feet. By now, he had stopped wheezing, and was ready to get up. Duffy handed him a jug of cider, which Kirrin grabbed, taking greedy gulps against the thirst and fatigue.
Kip came over now that this round of friendly rivalry had come to an end. He clapped Kirrin on the back, and Kirrin passed the jug to him.
“Go wash up. Cook’ll pull your ears off if you’re late,” Duffy said, taking the jug back from Kip. “Chopping wood after lunch. And if you’ve got anything left, you can try to best Kip wrestling.”
Kirrin nodded, knowing he was nowhere near good enough to outwrestle Kip. But he wiped the sweat off his face with his shirt, and headed towards the bunkhouse shower.
Cook had him prep vegetables and then make the choofa sauce, checking in on Kirrin’s progress to make sure he was getting everything just right. Cook grunted his satisfaction, and worked on dressing a lamb for roasting.
Kirrin liked his time working in the kitchen. He especially liked that he learned things he could take back to the in
n, and impress his mother. But it was getting hot, even with the windows open. So Kirrin was relieved when Cook told him to do the cleanup. He knew that was the cue-- once the dishes were done and floors swept, he was free to leave.
On his way out, he stopped by the trough outside, and dunked his head under the spigot, washing off the sweaty grime he felt on his face and neck. He considered taking a shower, but since he was going to chop wood it was a waste of time. He tried to keep his showers to less than three a day. He thought that was funny, because back at home he rarely needed to shower more than once. Here he was on this fancy estate and all he did was get dirty and sweaty.
He split wood until his shoulders started to ache. He sank the axe into the stump, picked up the shirt he had stripped off almost immediately, and headed over to the showers. After a quick dowsing, he found Kip and Duffy by the smithy hut, repairing a scythe blade, sharpening it on a giant grindstone.
“Ready for another round?” Duffy asked.
Kip looked up from the scythe. “We’re good here,” he said. “Let’s go. See what you’ve got.”
As expected, Kirrin was no match for either Kip or Duffy. But he managed to hold his own. He was learning how to read each of them, and could usually get in a few grips, and occasionally knock one of them to the ground.
They had taught him that while he was small, he was quick. And he was learning how to use that-- even against their superior skills. He rarely went for the flashy moves. Instead, he waited, biding his time, for the opening-- when they underestimated his speed or agility by just a hair. And Kirrin mixed in some of his own unorthodox style as well.
Kip had him by the arm, and tried to pin him to the ground. But Kirrin spun all the way around, into the pressure instead of against it, and managed to unbalance Kip. He got loose, dropped to the ground, and rolled-- crashing into the back of Kip’s legs, dropping him like a stone. He was feeling really proud of that, and twisted around to take advantage of his position.
Then he saw Miral standing off to the side, watching. She smiled and waved at him.
Something crashed against the side of Kirrin’s head, and he heard laughing-- just before he hit the ground.
“That’ll learn ya.”
Kirrin tried to focus on the voice. Duffy. He blinked hard, trying to bring the world back into focus.
“Never let a pretty girl turn yer head. Else yer like to get it knocked clean off yer shoulders.”
Kip reached a hand down, and helped him back up. Kirrin shook his head, trying to clear it. He looked around. Miral was nowhere in sight. That was probably better, he thought to himself. How embarrassing. He thought he was having a golden moment, showing off his skills-- only for her to watch him get knocked flat.
“Let’s call it a day,” Kip said. “Before ye lose what you got left of yer wits.”
Duffy tossed a towel, hitting Kirrin in the face with it. But this was brotherly ribbing. He was used to it. It was rougher than he had with Chad and Fin, but it felt the same. He figured it was just that he was older now than when his step-brothers used to roughhouse.
Kirrin stepped out of the showers, toweling his hair dry. He climbed into his clothes and headed back toward his loft, where he slept now and kept his things. Since Kip had come snooping around, he figured he needed to find a better place to keep his personal things. Somewhere nobody would find them. As he came round a storage shed he was intercepted by Miral.
“You looked good today, wrestling,” she said, twirling her hair. “Sorry I distracted you.” She stepped closer.
Kirrin backed into the side of the shed, heart thumping. “I-it’s fine. R-really. Fine.” He was hardly aware of what he was even saying. She had a way of doing that, of sending his senses reeling just by looking at him.
Miral pressed in until hardly a space was left between them. She looked up at him through her dark lashes. “You can kiss me, if you like.”
Kirrin swallowed, heat rushing to his face. His brain wasn’t working all that well, but it was easy to respond to her invitation-- no thought required. Miral drove him wild that way, pushing forward and then pulling back. She let him put his hand up under her shirt. Then she leaned against him, the full length of her body pressed to his. He gripped her back, pressing her harder against him- his senses on overload.
“Miral,” a voice called from the main barns.
The magic was broken as Miral pulled away. “My father,” she whispered, her breath tickling Kirrin’s neck. “He watches everything I do. I have to go.” She kissed him quickly before dashing off-- leaving Kirrin feeling both elated and frustrated.
Back in his room, Kirrin went over to his desk to make sure nothing had been touched. He looked at his small bundle of personal papers, including the letters he had written to Miral-- never intending to send them. The last thing he wanted was for Kip and Duffy to humiliate him again. He needed a safe place to keep his things. No, not safe-- hidden. He searched the space from top to bottom until he found a loose floorboard between his bed and the desk. A few minutes later, hammer in hand, he pried it up. There wasn’t much space underneath, but it would serve for a handful of personal papers-- things he didn’t want anyone prying into. He kept searching, and found a spot in the wall where he could hide things. Then he stood up on his desk, and found a spot in the ceiling, as well. The searching gave him a focus that helped keep his thoughts off Miral. He wondered if Kip or Duffy had anything personal. Maybe he would try to get his hands on something of theirs. He smiled to himself as he thought about turning the tables on them.
SOFT BREAK
The next day, Kirrin showed up after lunch for the usual wrestling practice. But Kip and Duffy were dressed in street clothes. Nothing remarkable, but they were definitely presentable.
Kirrin looked back and forth between the two. “What’s going on?”
“A day off,” Kip said.
“Not precisely,” Duffy added. “A road trip.”
Kirrin scratched his head, pushing his hair back. “Where to?”
Kip slapped him on the back. “Surprise for you.”
Kirrin shrugged. “Sure. Okay, I guess. Should I change?” he asked, looking at his own workday clothes.
Duffy shook his head. “No, you’ll do fine as you are.” He extended his arm, turning toward the barn. “Wagon’s already hitched and waiting.”
They headed back towards the city, but not to the areas Kirrin knew. Instead, they skirted to the south, below the canal and locks towards the outskirts, where the wharves and lower docks were. Kirrin cast looks back and forth between the two men, but couldn’t tell anything from their expressions.
It was late afternoon when the carriage pulled to a stop on the outskirts of the city outside of an old mill that didn’t look like it was used anymore. That made sense, Kirrin thought, as most of the mills had moved years ago when the outer canal failed. But there were a handful of wagons outside and even a carriage.
Kip put a hand on Kirrin’s shoulder and guided him toward the door. Inside, he could hear voices, a bit of commotion. He had a feeling the two men got involved in secret things, and felt a sense of importance at being included now. Whatever was going on was grown-up stuff, man-stuff, and Kirrin felt like they were treating him as an adult.
They led him towards the back of the building, towards the noise. As he got closer, he saw that the commotion was a group of people cheering and yelling as two men fought and wrestled in the center of a circle.
Kirrin puffed up inside. They had brought him to a fight. He had heard vague references to these kinds of events that took place in a kind of secret underground world. But he had never been a part of that world-- his mother made sure of that.
“Watch,” Kip said.
“And learn,” Duffy added.
Several hours went by as a half dozen pairs of fighters faced off. Some were wrestling matches, while others were called free-fights. At the first free fight, he heard a man call out clearly over the crowd, “No weapons.”
/> Kirrin swallowed, hearing that made him uncomfortable. Clearly there must be fights with weapons, then.
“Watch this one,” Kip said, catching his attention. Kip nodded toward the man on the far side of the ring. “That guy? He’s small, like you. Watch what he does.”
Kirrin looked at the man, and looked at his opponent. The smaller man didn’t look scared-- just slightly wary-- as they sized each other up. “I think he’ll do it,” he said.
Kip snorted. “No way. Other guy’s been at this a while.”
Kirrin watched the smaller fellow- wiry, cagey, eyes darting around, taking in everything, but not afraid. “The little guy,” he said, nodding.
“Put money on it?”
Kirrin sucked on his teeth, thinking. What would his mother say if she knew he was betting on a fight? She’d box his ears just for being there. But she wasn’t here. Kirrin straightened, shoulders back, nodded.
