The Trail Goes Cold (1/2)

Writers: Estelle
Date Posted: 28th April 2019

Characters: Lorican
Description: Lorican seems to reach a dead end in his search for the holdless thief
Location: Elsewhere on Pern
Date: month 10, day 6 of Turn 9
Notes: At Lynsferry Hold

By the time Lorican reached Lynsferry Hold, it looked as though the
market was long since over. He could see the marks on the dusty square
beside the hold where stalls had been set up, wheel ruts and the charred
remains of campfires, but there were few people about. Even though he
knew he was at least a sevenday behind Jilmon, it was still a
disappointment. If the traders had still been here, he'd have been able
to ask if anyone had seen the holdless man.

It was early afternoon, and the heat was oppressive, baking the market
square. The few remaining beasts, in a pen across from the main hold
building, gathered in the shade of a large tree. Lorican glanced over at
them, but they were big draft runners for pulling ploughs or wagons,
nothing like his small, sturdy pack animal.

The hold itself seemed to be deserted apart from a single drudge slowly
sweeping the wide porch, but there was more activity at a building
across the square that looked like a tavern. Someone had set up a canopy
to provide shade, and there were a few oldsters sitting around a table
underneath it with mugs of ale. Lorican went over and sat down at a free
table with a sigh of relief at the weight of the tool bag off his shoulder.

A short while later, a middle-aged woman emerged, drying her hands on
her apron. "Good day, sir. What can I get you?"

"Cold fruit juice, please. I'm parched," Lorican said. While she went
inside for the drink, he reached for the bag of marks he'd tucked away.
At the last hold, he'd traded in all but the most essential of his tools
for the marks, some spare clothes - and the belt knife he now wore.
Plain enough, but it would do the job. He hoped he wouldn't need it, but
it was wise to be prepared.

The hostess returned shortly with a tall glass. Lorican sipped at it
with a sigh of appreciation. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Journeyman. Will you be wanting anything to eat? Noon
meal's done but we've got bread, cheese, cold meat and fruit..."

"Not just now, but perhaps I'll have some dinner, later. I don't think
I'll travel any further today."

"Well, we have room. You've come at the right time, a few days ago we
were full up for the market, and people were camping in the fields
around." She gave his knots a speculative look. "Though perhaps you're
sorry to have missed it. There'd have been work for you."

"Yes, I got delayed on the road. Fell off my runner," he said ruefully,
pointing to the now-faded bruises, "and needed time to recover. Still,
maybe I can go round the farms, see if anyone has a need for smithing."

"Are you new to the area?" she asked, curious. "I don't think I've seen
you here before."

"No, you won't have. I usually work around Rocky Bay, but I've taken a
detour this time." He offered a hand. "Journeyman Lorican."

"Peldra. My husband and I run the tavern here." She shook his hand.
"Welcome to Lynsferry Hold, Lorican. I'll go and see about that room for
you."

Lorican waited until she was in the doorway before he called out. "Oh,
one more thing, Holder Peldra."

"Yes?"

"I don't suppose you've had a young man staying here for the market?" he
asked. "Fair hair, about your height, thin. He might have had a grey
runnerbeast."

The tavern woman narrowed her eyes, but Lorican thought he'd caught a
flash of recognition. "We have a lot of guests. Friend of yours, is he?"

"Not exactly. I did some work for a man like that a little while ago,
shoeing his beast, and he rode off without paying while I'd stepped into
the forge to put my tools away," Lorican explained. He took out the
drawing and showed it to her. "I think he might have been holdless. I'm
just warning people. Wouldn't want you to get stiffed."

She sucked in her cheeks, considering. "We did have someone like that.
Arrived a sevenday ago, stayed until the market was over. I wouldn't
have given him a room, to tell you the truth, but I was cooking at the
time and my husband dealt with him. That silly fool would hand over keys
to a beggar in rags if I wasn't there. Anyway, he did pay his bill, but
only because I was watching him like a gold firelizard with a tunnel
snake. I saw him on the way out, and went over to remind him of it. He
wasn't happy, but he did pay up. My sons were there, and they're big
lads, so..."

"I see." Lorican managed to keep his face calm, but he felt a leap of
excitement. He was catching up. "When did the market end?"

"Two days ago. He sold his runnerbeast there," Peldra offered. "That's
how he had the marks for the room, I think. It was a good sturdy beast,
he'd have got a decent price."

"Most likely it was stolen, too. Did he say anything about where he was
going next?"

"No. Sorry. He stayed in his room most of the time, didn't talk to
anyone. I was so glad to see the back of him, I didn't ask. He left that
room looking like a sty, it took me all morning to clean it." She
clicked her tongue. "Perhaps you'd better tell the Holder. He's out in
the fields, but he'll be back at sundown."

"Thank you, anyway." Lorican's heart sank. If Jilmon had left two days
ago, he could be anywhere by now. He could even have gone back to the
coast and found a ship sailing North.

**No, he wouldn't do that. He needs to be here in the South to use the
letters.** If only he'd looked more closely at them, while he had them.
He might have found out where they'd been written - but at the time, he
hadn't wanted to know. Now, he regretted his discretion.

Last updated on the May 2nd 2019

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The Trail Goes Cold (1/2)