Two Important Questions (1/2)

Writers: Estelle
Date Posted: 1st April 2019

Characters: Lorican, Jilmon
Description: Lorican is not all he seems...
Location: Dolphin Cove Weyr
Date: month 9, day 22 of Turn 9

***

After he'd been released from the infirmary, a young woman who said she
was from the Headwoman's staff came to show Lorican to his guest
quarters. She didn't seem at all disconcerted by his injuries, and kept
to a slow pace as she led the way through the Weyr caverns, for which he
was grateful. Fortunately, the guest room turned out to be on the ground
level. He thought he could have managed stairs, but it was a relief not
to have to try.

"Here we are." She unlocked a door, opened it and went inside, placing
the key on a table. "I hope this is all right for you, Journeyman?"

"Oh, yes. Thank you." The guest room was small, but comfortable - much
more than he was used to when he was journeying, with a bed covered with
a blue-green woven blanket, a press and a desk positioned to catch the
best light from the lamp. No window, though. He hadn't been so deep in
the rock since his days back at Garnet Valley. Someone had thoughtfully
put out a folded pile of clothes on top of the press, perhaps knowing
that he'd arrived with nothing.

"There are mostly crafters living in this area. The dining caverns and
the kitchen are back the way we came, at the end of the long tunnel. You
can get hot water there, for your tea." She'd noticed the packet of
herbs he'd been given for the pain. "And the smithy is back outside,
past the Hatching Grounds. You should be able to hear it when they're
working."

"Yes, I'll want to see them. But maybe later..."

"Of course. You'll want to rest," she said, plumping up the pillows and
straightening an almost invisible crease in the bedsheet. "The bathing
room's down the hall, at the end on the left, and they'll start to serve
lunch in an hour or two. Though, if you're not feeling up to it, I can
ask one of the drudges to bring you something?"

"Thank you, but I'm sure I'll manage," Lorican said hastily. He didn't
really want to walk back to the dining cavern, but back home no one, not
even the Sea Holder had food brought to their rooms unless they were
physically incapable of getting out of bed.

Once she'd left, he sat down on the bed, careful not to jolt his head or
his injured side. He was alone for the first time since he'd woken out
there on the road, confused and in pain, with the runner kneeling beside
him.

Now, in the quiet of the guest room, he could admit to himself that he
had not been entirely honest with the healer. His memory, though
imperfect, was in fact returning, and had been since the morning. He
knew what had happened to him, even if he didn't quite know why. And
with his memories had come two important questions.

Where was Jilmon?

And where were the letters?

*** 3 days ago ***

Lorican bent over the large iron chest in the dark, concentrating on the
slender metal rods that protruded from the opening of the heavy padlock.
He breathed out slowly, his hands steady as he gently eased the one in
his right hand up and down, feeling for the shape of the tumblers
inside. He'd been nervous before - no, he'd been so terrified at the
prospect of the night's task that he'd thought he would vomit - but now,
focused entirely on his work, he barely recalled where he was.

A slight, unconscious smile crept onto his face as he pushed and was
rewarded with a soft click inside. This lock looked formidable from the
outside, with its weight and its shackle as thick as his little finger,
but it was not so complicated as he'd feared.

"Hurry up!" Jilmon hissed from the door. He glanced over his shoulder,
then returned his gaze to the silent main room of the roadside tavern.
"How long is this going to take?"

"Nearly done." The smith carefully extracted his pick from the lock,
laid it down on the tool roll beside him and picked up another,
maintaining the pressure with his other hand.

"Be quick, then. If he wakes..." He jerked his head at the snoring
guard, slumped on a chair outside the door. "We should have used more
fellis."

"Too late now," Lorican murmured, only half listening. He wished Jilmon
would hold his tongue. He'd been travelling with the holdless man for
more than a sevenday now, and he'd disliked him from the start. He was
shifty, and worse, he was stupid, which only made their job more
dangerous. The fellis was a case in point. Lorican was no healer, but he
did know that too much would kill the guard, bringing certain disaster
down on their heads. He'd decided not to use any at all - the ale the
man had downed that evening would do the job adequately - but he'd kept
that fact from his companion. They didn't need an argument just now.

It couldn't be helped. He was stuck with Jilmon, until this was over,
and he could go back to his life. Ordinary. Safe...

The lock clunked, heavily, and fell open. The guard snorted in his
sleep, and Lorican caught it one-handed before it could hit the floor
with a clang. He waited, his heart thudding, but after a long moment the
sleeping man sighed and resumed his snoring.

Last updated on the April 12th 2019

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Two Important Questions (1/2)