Following the Trail

Writers: Estelle
Date Posted: 22nd April 2019

Characters: Lorican
Description: Lorican speaks to the smith who bought his tools
Location: Elsewhere on Pern
Date: month 10, day 3 of Turn 9
Notes: At Trefil Sea Hold

Lorican's progress had been slower than he'd hoped, and it took him two
full days of walking to reach Trefil Sea Hold. He had to go carefully
and stop frequently to rest. The coast path was steep and winding,
descending into little bays where he had to scramble over rocks and then
ascending in a weary climb to the cliff tops. His bruised limbs ached
constantly, and after the first night, sleeping in a tiny cave that the
runners must use as a waystation, he was so stiff and sore he could
hardly move when he woke.

Still, the weather held, the sky was blue and cloudless, and the views
out from the cliffs over the sea were spectacular. Lorican had never
taken this route before, and despite the circumstances he was glad for
the chance that had brought him there.

The third night, he had given in to his aching muscles and spent the
night in a cotholder's hay loft, paying for his dinner by sharpening a
few farm tools. The holder and his wife didn't seem to have heard of
anything unusual happening at the Weyr, and he hoped that meant he was
ahead of the news.

The sea hold was in the next cove onwards from his stopping place, but
he rose with the cotholder before first light, anxious to get on.
Despite the better rest he'd had, his arm and side were worse, and he
knew there would be Fall that day. The sun was fully up by the time he
started to descend the cliff path towards the hold. The sun beat down on
him, and he felt his head beginning to ache and his damp shirt clinging
to his back.

The hold had been built at the mouth of a stream, where it descended
into a rocky pool before draining out into the sea. Lorican saw a holder
woman filling a bucket there, and gratefully went over to fill his water
bottle and drink deeply. The water was wonderful, clear and fresh,
soothing his parched throat.

"Good morning," he said politely. "This is Trefil Sea Hold? I'm looking
for the smithy."

"Yes, Journeyman." She'd looked a little alarmed at first by his
appearance, but recognised the knots. "It's the far building over there,
with the smoke coming out the chimney."

Lorican thanked her and pushed himself to his feet, suppressing a groan.
The hold was busy, as he'd have expected on a Threadfall day, with
sailors making sure the boats were safe under cover and ready to sail
out for fish as soon as it was over. The net-menders and dockhands were
starting to pack up, ready to move inside as soon as the leading edge
was sighted. Lorican thought of the dragonriders back at the Weyr, and
wondered how they were preparing for the Fall. Whether the one who'd
been attacked had survived, and if they'd caught the culprit.

He made his way over to the smithy. The door was open to let in the
breeze, and inside he saw a man about a decade his senior, short and
stocky but muscular like most of his fellow craftsmen. He was just
taking off his heavy leather apron, while a young boy gathered up the
tools to put them away.

"I'm sorry, we're just closing for..." He saw Lorican's knots and smiled
politely in greeting. "Oh, good day, Journeyman."

Lorican entered the smithy, looking around him. It was small but neat,
every wall covered with shelves stacked with boxes of supplies and
brackets with hanging tools. Although the fire was now almost out, the
temperature was stifling, but he was used to it.

"Good day. I'm Journeyman Selrin, from the Hall." He'd decided not to
use his real name, since Anderli might have told the man not to speak to
him, and his brother's was one he could easily remember. Fortunately,
the other smith didn't show any sign of recognition, although he did
raise an eyebrow at the sight of the bruises.

"Journeyman Nieldar. What happened to you, man?" He touched the side of
his own cheek.

"Fell off my runnerbeast last sevenday," Lorican said ruefully, "and got
dragged. I think I'll stick to walking from now on." He was thankful
that the scar from the blow he'd taken to the head was mostly covered by
his hat.

"Ah, sorry to hear that. You'll be wanting to shelter during Fall?"
Nieldar asked. "Or do you have business at the Sea Hold?"

"Well, actually, I have business here in the smithy," Lorican said. "I
understand from the Hall that you bought a bag of tools from a man about
a sevenday ago?"

Nieldar gave him a long look. "I do buy tools, sometimes. You're from
the Hall, you say?"

"I've been asked by the Hallmaster to look into a matter concerning
those tools." Lorican held up his bag. "Are these the ones?"

The smith relaxed a little when he saw the tool bag. "Aye, that's the
bag they were in, anyway." He glanced at his apprentice, who was
listening to the conversation with interest. "Geffyn, you go on over to
the Hold. I'll finish up here."

He waited until the boy departed, with a disappointed look on his face.
"Sorry about that. He's a good lad but he's got a nose for gossip, and
the last person to ask about those tools was a dragonrider."

"Journeywoman Anderli. Yes, she found them, but...as you can imagine,
she has other responsibilities, so I've been asked to look into it."
Lorican watched as the other smith hung up his apron and began replacing
his tools on their hooks. "Can you tell me anything about the man who
sold them to you?"

"Yes, like I told the greenrider, he was a skinny fellow, fair hair,
narrow face. Quite young, maybe early twenties," Nieldar said. "He told
me his father, who was a smith, had died and left them to him. Showed me
the knots to prove it. I remember thinking it was sad, to lose your
father so young, so I gave him a good price." He scowled. "Lying little
bastard."

"Was this him?" Lorican pulled a scrap of paper from his belt pouch,
where he'd sketched Jilmon's face as best he could.

Nieldar took the paper and studied it, his forehead creasing. "Yes, that
could be the one. You know him?"

"He's a holdless man. Known thief." Lorican took the paper back. "Did he
say anything else, that you remember?"

"Not much. I asked him about his father, but he didn't say much. I took
it for grief at the time." He made a contemptuous sound in his throat.
"Oh, he said he needed the marks to invest in a trading wagon, since he
didn't have the aptitude for the smithcraft. Asked if there was anywhere
round here he could buy and sell runnerbeasts."

"Oh?" Lorican's attention was drawn by that remark, thinking of his
missing pack runner. "Did he have a beast with him?"

"I think so, a grey. I didn't get a close look, though, we talked in
here and then he was off." Nieldar dusted off his hands and checked the
fire in the forge was out. "I told him he'd get a better price inland,
there's a market near Lynsferry Hold, about a half day's ride south. We
don't have much call for runnerbeasts here."

"Thanks. I might go down that way, see if anyone's seen him." Lorican
picked up the tool bag. "Can I stay in the Hold during Fall?"

"Of course. We're not going to put you out in that!" They left the
smithy and he locked the door behind him. "Is he all right, do you know?"

Lorican blinked. "I'm sorry, who?"

"The smith who was robbed. Greenrider said he was beaten up pretty bad."

"Oh, yes. Yes, he's recovering at the Weyr, in the care of the healers."

"Lucky man," Nieldar said, grinning. "I wouldn't mind a few days there
myself. They say at the beaches there, you'll see girls bathing without
a stitch on, and when the queen rises to mate, they...uh, well." He cut
himself off as they approached the main Hold building. "Don't tell my
wife I said that, will you?"

"I didn't hear a thing." Lorican smiled, but vaguely. His thoughts were
already racing ahead on the road to Lynsferry Hold, and what he might
find there.

Last updated on the May 2nd 2019

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