The First Life of Tanan by Andrew Riley Read Free Book Online Page A

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