Two Important Questions (2/2)

Writers: Estelle
Date Posted: 1st April 2019

Characters: Lorican, Jilmon
Description: Lorican starts to make a plan
Location: Dolphin Cove Weyr
Date: month 9, day 22 of Turn 9

***

"It's done!" Jilmon moved away from the door, his eyes aglow.

"Stay there," Lorican snapped, only just remembering to keep his voice
low in his frustration. "You're on watch." He raised the lid of the chest.

"I want to see." The man's lip twisted. "_He_ won't want any of the haul
disappearing into your pockets, smith."

He sighed, exasperated. "Fine. Look if you want." Reaching into the
chest, he extracted a sheaf of papers, some rolled up and sealed, others
folded. One by one, he held them up to the glowbasket, then placed some
into a pile beside his tool roll. Each paper extracted was replaced with
another from the leather bag he'd brought with him. The owner would
notice the difference immediately, but they should be enough to pass a
cursory inspection. And with luck, the chest wouldn't even be opened
until it reached its destination.

"Isn't there anything else?" Jilmon frowned. "No marks? Valuables?" He
reached into the chest and stirred around inside it.

"These are valuable." Lorican gathered up the papers he'd selected and
slid them into the bag, then replaced the rest, giving each a second
glance to be sure he hadn't made a mistake. If even one was left behind,
this would all be for nothing.

"A pile of dusty papers?" the man sneered. "What use are they?"

"If you don't know, I'm not going to be the one to tell you." He closed
the lid of the chest gently, making sure it didn't bang, then re-fitted
the padlock. Last, he began to restore the seal over the lock to where
he'd gently peeled it away, earlier.

"Leave that. Come on!"

"If the seal is missing, they'll know it's been tampered with, and we'll
lose our chance to get clean away." He felt curiously calm, free of the
jittery urge to get away that seemed to affect Jilmon. Almost, he was
tempted to take more time than he needed, just to irritate his
accomplice. But, recognising that as a particularly bad idea, he
carefully pressed the last corner into place and straightened, rolling
his cramped shoulders.

"All right, it's clear." Jilmon peered around the door, into the
darkened tavern bar. "Let's go."

Lorican gathered up his tools, bag and the glowbasket, cast his eyes
over the room once more to be sure that everything was in its proper
place, and followed the holdless man out. He felt light-headed, fizzing
with energy. Sparks danced in front of his eyes, whether from excitement
or the long time spent bent over the chest, he hardly knew. It was done.
The worst part was over. In a few sevendays, he would hand over the
letters, and never have to think of this again.

Now that it was over, he could almost feel regret.

Maybe he was good at this...

*** Present day ***

Lorican curled up on the bed on his uninjured side, his mind racing in
circles as he considered just how naive he'd been. The holdless man
might not have been the sharpest tool in the box, but clearly he'd
worked out that the letters were worth more in the right hands than
marks or jewels, and had decided to take the chance of using them himself.

What about him? The rendezvous was in...two sevendays. Probably. Perhaps
less. His head ached, he wanted to sleep, but he had to think this out.
If he turned up, empty-handed, the best case scenario was that he'd be
given another chance, another task to redeem his debt. The worst case...
He had to find Jilmon, and the letters, before then.

Also, he wanted his tools back. He'd had some of those since his
apprentice days. Others had been his father's. The bastard hadn't had to
take them.

But how? He could barely walk, he had no marks or supplies, not even so
much as a belt knife to protect him. Jilmon could be on a North-bound
ship by now. He was, at least, where he'd planned to be, although he'd
thought to stay only a few days at the Weyr, selling his wares and lying
low. Now, he was stuck here for ten days.

**No, I'm not. It's not a prison. I can leave, if I want.** But he
needed rest, that much was clear, a few days at least, and he needed a
plan. A way to protect himself, and to induce Jilmon to hand over the
letters if he found him. One way or another.

**I'm an ordinary journeyman smith, who's had a dose of bad luck. No-one
knows any different.** He closed his eyes. For now, there wasn't much
else he could do but sleep, and try to get well. Even enjoy being in the
Weyr. He'd told the truth about wanting to see the place. In other
circumstances, he'd have been delighted.

He let his breathing slow, tried to think of nothing. **I'm still
alive.** That was something. Luck. And an advantage. The thief would
hardly expect to see him again.

And with that hopeful thought in mind, he drifted into sleep.

Last updated on the April 12th 2019

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Two Important Questions (2/2)