The First Life of Tanan (4 page)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Kirkik returned to Port Billen, arriving late in the evening.  He went straight to the Constable’s station, which was unlocked.  That would change when he took over.  He dropped his backpack on the chair in front of the Constable’s desk and walked into the empty jail cell.

There was a shelf at the foot of the cot stacked with neatly folded bedding.  He pulled down a thick wool blanket and threw it on the bed, then kicked off his boots and the thick leather belt that his sword was attached to. 

Kirkik laid the sword on the bed next to the wall and stretched out next to it, pulling the blanket over himself. He was asleep almost instantly.

•        •        •

The next morning, he awoke to the sound of Jelak sweeping the floor. “Good Morning,” said the old Constable, cheerfully.

Kirkik sat up and rubbed his face. He slipped his feet into his boots and laced them up while Jelak went around the room dusting and polishing everything in the office.

When Jelak had finished his morning cleaning ritual he sat behind the desk and looked back at Kirkik.  “What brings you back to Port Billen?” he asked.

“I’ve come to relieve you, Jelak.”

Jelak nodded once. “I suppose I’ve been at it long enough,” he said.

“You should have retired twenty years ago,” said Kirkik with a slight edge of irritation in his voice.

“Truer words have never been spoken,” replied Jelak, cheerfully. He stood up from the desk. “Come on,” he said, “I’ll buy you breakfast.  You should never fire a man on an empty stomach.”

•        •        •

The two men walked down the hill to the Rusty Hook.  It was still early, but the sky was starting to turn a lighter shade of blue over the water.  There were groups of fishermen streaming out of the Hook, heading down to the docks to begin another day’s work.  Jelak greeted the men by name that they passed.

They entered the tavern and sat at a table right by the door.  Jelak ordered fish and eggs for both of them, the standard breakfast at the Hook.

Jelak fixed serious eyes on the younger man sitting across from him. “Son,” he said, “I want you to know something about this village before you take over as Constable. The people that live in Port Billen are good folks. There isn’t any real crime. Not because of anything I’ve done, but because people here look out for one another.  As long as you don’t come in and rock the boat, it’ll stay that way.  Keep that in mind and you’ll do fine.”

Their food arrived.  Jelak smiled and thanked the young girl as she sat a plate in front of each man.

Jelak looked at Kirkik over the plates of food. “Have you got a place to stay yet, Constable?”

“No,” said Kirkik, “I haven’t made any arrangements.”

Jelak looked around the room and spotted Pemmy, the middle aged woman who owned the Rusty Hook, standing and talking with a table full of fishermen. “Pemmy!”, he called and waved her over.

Pemmy nodded and said her goodbyes to the men at the table.  She walked over and sat down at the table with Jelak and Kirkik.  “Good Morning, Jelak,” she said, resting an affectionate hand on Jelak’s forearm.  She looked over at Kirkik.  “Who’s your handsome friend?”

Kirkik was surprised to find himself blushing slightly.  The women in Panna were certainly not this forward.

“This is Kirkik,” said Jelak. “Constable Kirkik, I should say.  He’s come to replace me so I can spend more time chasing women.”

Pemmy arched one eyebrow and gave the old man a gentle slap on his shoulder.

“Kirkik is going to need a place to stay.  Do you know if Anin would rent the room behind his shop to our new Constable?”

“I’m sure he would,” she replied.  She turned to Kirkik.  “If it doesn’t work out, you’re welcome to stay with us until you find a place.  We’d be happy to have you.”

“Thank you, Pemmy,” said Jelak.

Pemmy patted his arm again, nodded to Kirkik and left.

Jelak looked at Kirkik. “Anyone in the village will make you that same offer, Constable.  That’s the kind of people you’ll be dealing with here in Port Billen.”

They finished their meal.  Jelak pulled three small silver coins out of his pocket and laid them on the table.  “Come on,” he said to Kirkik, “Let’s go talk to Anin about that room.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Tanan walked with Soama through the woods near the Abbey.  They often took walks in the afternoon and talked about various things.

“Cold summoning is the magic that most people are able to do,” said Soama.  “It’s not the easiest, but for some reason it’s the one that most people can do first.”

“But I thought you said most people can only do one kind of magic,” said Tanan.

“Most people can’t do any magic. Of the few of us who do have the gift, very few are able to master more than one kind of magic. Most can do a little elemental magic, but it’s not good for much. Even those who are able to reach some level of mastery in elemental magic can’t do much more than light a campfire or cool a drink.”

“Do you know anyone who has mastered two kinds of magic,” asked Tanan?

“A few, yes.”

Tanan had only known two people who were able to do magic; his father and his grandfather.  And now Soama, which made three.  All healers.

“Maybe I will be able to do healing magic like you,” said Tanan.

“It is possible that healing with be your gift.  But no child has ever shown the ability for magic at such a young age. I suspect it will take years for your talents to fully reveal themselves.”

“Would it help if I read books about magic?” he asked.  “Abbot Sweelin would never let me read magic books at the Port Billen Abbey.”

“He was right to keep that information from you.  One of the main missions of the Brotherhood of Abbots is to protect magical knowledge.  There are people in this world who would use magic for great harm.”

Tanan picked up a stick as they walked and began breaking small pieces off and throwing them into the woods.  “I would never use magic for harm,” he said.  Then he realized he already had. “Not on purpose, anyway.”

Soama patted Tanan affectionately on the shoulder.  “I have received a letter from your grandfather. You will be returning to Port Billen in time for your birthday next week. I will send a message to Sweelin and ask him to allow you access to the books on magic. You will be coming back to study with me again so you may as well start reading up on magic.”

“Thank you, Soama.”

“You are welcome, Tanan.  Now, let’s head back to the Abbey.  It’s my turn to cook isn’t it?”

Tanan shrieked ‘no!’ and started running up the path.

Soama laughed.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Kirkik rented the room from Anin and officially took over as Constable of Port Billen the next morning.  News of Jelak’s retirement spread through the small village like wildfire.  There was no question whether there would be a retirement party, only when it would take place.  The people of the village asked Kirkik to give a speech and he flatly refused.

It wasn’t that Kirkik had any kind of aversion to public speaking.  As the King’s younger, and only, brother, he had been groomed from childhood for public service. He refused to speak at Jelak’s retirement party because he considered the old man incompetent, and wouldn’t stand before a crowd of people and say otherwise.

Kirkik wasn’t here to give speeches.  He was here to investigate Tanan.  Kirkik didn’t yet have proof that the boy was Lataki, but his gut told him that was the case.  Once he had proof, Jelak would be punished for treason against the Komisani people.

No, his job was not to give speeches, his job was to watch and listen.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Tanan was tired of pulling weeds. There were just so many of them, and every day there were more. The worst part was that his back was aching from spending hours on hands and knees in the dirt pulling, pulling, pulling.

“My back is sore,” he complained.

“Three things,” replied Soama. “First, I’m sorry to hear that your back is sore. Second, complaining about your back being sore won’t make it hurt any less.”

Tanan rolled his eyes at that one.

“And third, when you’ve finished complaining, maybe I can try to teach you a bit of healing magic that will help the soreness in your back.”

Finally!  In two weeks, all Soama had taught him, other than how to pull weeds, was the cold trick that he already knew, and the warm hands trick, which was so easy he had figured it out in an hour.

Tanan took a deep breath. “I would like to try to learn it.”

Soama very slowly and precisely enunciated a long string of words.  “Repeat that back,” he instructed.

Tanan had caught about four syllables before it started sounding like gibberish. “I didn’t get it all,” he said sheepishly.

“Listen very carefully this time,” said Soama. “These are the words to the song that you will need to chant in your head if you want to try to ease the pain in your back.”

Soama said the words, slowly and precisely.  “Gering luvea cestoreth surven celtane hehinke apendrowde.”  And then he repeated them a second time.

“Say them along with me,” he said before repeating them again.

“Can’t you just write it down for me?” asked Tanan.

“No, I cannot. Now say them along with me. Pay attention to the exact sound of each word.”

They repeated the words together for almost an hour as they continued to pull weeds.  When Soama was confident that Tanan had it memorized, he instructed Tanan to begin repeating the words silently in his head, but to maintain the precise sounds as he imagined saying them.”

They pulled weeds.

After another half hour, Tanan told Soama, “I think I feel something.”

“Tell me what you feel,” said Soama.

“It feels like kind of a warm tingle, but also numb at the same time.  Is that right?”

“That is exactly right,” said Soama, suppressing his astonishment.  He had not expected Tanan to be able to get results.  “Tomorrow I will teach you the melody that goes along with the words.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Kirkik had been in Port Billen for two weeks and hadn’t seen the boy Tanan once.  He stopped by the school to speak with the boy’s teacher, and in addition to learning about Tanan’s unorthodox attendance arrangement, he ended up being convinced to spend an hour in front of a classroom full of children answering questions about what it was like to be a Constable.

When he questioned the boy’s father directly, he was told that the boy was on a trip to a friend’s farm learning about agriculture. Follow up questions were deftly avoided, and no real information was actually gleaned from the conversation.

The boy’s grandfather was even less helpful.  The man was extremely pleasant, but a master of saying a great number of words that amounted to nothing. Kirkik thought that Lindelin would have made a fine addition to the crowd that frequented the King’s court in Panna.

Other than to continue to watch and wait for Tanan to turn up, there was very little for Kirkik to do in Port Billen.  He spent a great deal of time walking up and down Port Billen’s single street.

•        •        •

The night of Jelak’s retirement party was eventful.  Every person in the town turned up in the town square, which had been meticulously swept, cleaned and decorated for the occasion.  Windows were cleaned, flower beds weeded and mulched.  Even the stray dogs were caught and given baths.  A few of the buildings on the square had been given a fresh coat of paint.

There was a great deal of food and drink. A group of fishermen dusted off musical instruments and spent every evening for a week secretly practicing at the school.  They played music all evening.  There was singing and dancing and even a few good natured wrestling matches. Kirkik attempted to break up the first wrestling match, which he mistook for a fight, and received bewildered stares from everyone involved.  After that he decided it would be best to just observe.

Jelak was the center of attention.  He had been kept busy for two days before the party while his favorite bench was given a complete going over.  The bench was stripped of uncountable coats of paint.  Then, a beautiful bas-relief of Jelak’s face was carved into the back of the bench along with the inscription, “To our dear friend Jelak from the people of Port Billen.”  Several coats of a brilliant blue stain were applied to the wood.  There was an almost luminescent sheen to the finished product. Kirkik suspected some magic had been used to achieve the effect.

Jelak received gifts from everyone in the town, including several intricately sewn and quite stunning quilts, several suits of clothing, and more preserved fruit, jellies and dried meats than he would eat in a year.  The people of Port Billen all pitched in for a lovely silver plaque commemorating his years of loyal service to the village.  Kirkik didn’t dare argue when he was told that the plaque would hang in a prominent place inside the Constable’s office.

At the end of the evening, people came to Jelak singly and in groups to congratulate him on his retirement.  Everyone shook his hand or gave him a hug.  He received more than a few slightly drunken kisses from village women.  His embarrassment only prompted more kisses and a lot of good natured jokes.

Eventually everyone went home to bed, leaving the village square as spotless as it had been at the beginning of the day. Kirkik walked around the empty square and ended up standing in front of Jelak’s bench, which was slightly luminescent in the moonlight. He sat on the bench and wondered how long he would have to be in this place.

Jelak appeared out of the darkness and joined Kirkik on the bench.

“Shouldn’t you be home sleeping?” asked Kirkik.

“Old habits die hard,” responded Jelak. “After so many years as Constable, I can’t sleep until I know everything is in order.”

After sitting quietly for a few minutes, Kirkik turned to Jelak.  “The boy, Tanan.  He is Lataki, isn’t he?”

If Jelak was surprised to hear the question his face didn’t show it. He considered the question for a few moments before looking back at Kirkik. “The first milk that boy suckled came from a Komisani goat. He is as much a Komisani as you or I, Kirkik.”

Kirkik was growing tired of the evasive answers he’d been getting for the last two weeks. “You don’t deny that the boy is Lataki.”

Jelak rarely lost his temper, but he could feel it slipping with Kirkik.  “Are you so weak that you feel threatened by a ten year old boy?”

Kirkik was satisfied with Jelak’s answer.  As far as he was concerned, it was an admission that the boy was Lataki.  He stood and glowered at Jelak.  “Go home to your bed, old man.  The streets may not be safe after dark.”  Kirkik turned and stalked up the street.