Don't Tell Anyone

Writers: Estelle
Date Posted: 3rd May 2019

Characters: Lorican
Description: Lorican remembers how he got into his current situation...
Location: Elsewhere on Pern
Date: month 10, day 7 of Turn 9

The farmer's cart travelled westward all day, rumbling and jolting its
way over an increasingly steep and stony track and occasionally fording
a shallow stream. Soon they were up in hilly country, and the big fields
of grain had given way to small stands of trees and pasture for herdbeasts.

At first Lorican sat up front and chatted to the old man, taking care to
keep the conversation to ordinary matters. Despite the good night's
sleep he'd had in the tavern, though, by the afternoon his exhaustion
was getting the better of him and he retreated to the back of the cart
to rest against the big sacks of grain. Despite the bumpy ride, he soon
drifted into a half-waking, drowsy state, and let his mind wander.

Back to that day - barely more than a month ago - and the letter which
had brought him to this place.

*** Late month 8, Rocky Bay Seahold ***

"Journeyman? There's a runner outside with a message for you."

"One moment." Lorican held the curved metal rod, glowing with heat, on
the edge of the anvil and gave it few firm taps with his hammer, then
lifted it up to examine it. He was making a new bracket for the sign
outside the local tavern, and he wanted to get the decorative scrolling
just right, so it'd look like a breaking wave. He wasn't sure whether
any of the sailors and fishermen would notice after a few pints, but he
would know. The satisfaction he'd feel whenever he saw it would be well
worth the effort.

Deciding he liked the shape he'd achieved, he dipped it into the quench
tub with a hiss, then placed it on the bench near the forge to cool and
replaced the hammer and tongs in the tool rack. It was good to be
meticulous about tidying up, especially when the apprentice was watching.

"All right, I'll go out and see him. Keep an eye on the fire, would you?"

He stepped outside and ran a hand through his damp hair, enjoying the
fresh sea breeze after the close heat of the smithy. There wasn't anyone
close by, but he saw a man he didn't recognise walking up and down by
the dock, drinking from a flask of water.

"Afternoon," he said, walking over to greet the runner. "Welcome to
Rocky Bay. I'm Journeyman Lorican."

"Ah, yes. Got a letter for you. I'm Geltry." The young man raised a hand
in acknowledgement of the greeting and reached into his message bag.

"Good run?" Lorican asked as Geltry searched through the contents of the
bag.

"Not bad. It's been quiet, I haven't had much to carry. Though I'd like
the business, it is good not to be weighed down." He pulled out a tight
roll of paper. "Ah, here we are. From Garnet Valley Hold - your Hall,
maybe?"

"Or my family." He regularly wrote to some of his old friends and
masters, but it could equally be from his stepmother, with all the news
from the Hold.

The young runner checked a hide and frowned, his manner shifting to one
of discomfort. "Oh, the sender said you'd take care of the fee. It's
half a mark, it was sent urgent. I couldn't say why, we usually don't do
it that way."

"Of course." Lorican reached into his pocket and counted over some
worn wooden discs. He smiled. "It's probably from my brother. He's
always short of marks." Though he wondered why it was so urgent. Selrin
did always have a flair for the dramatic.

The young man smiled, relieved that there hadn't been an argument.
"Thank you, sir." He handed over the message. "Well, I'll leave you to
read it. I'm going to wash up after my run."

Lorican was surprised to see that the message covered several sheets of
paper, rolled tight. His brother didn't usually write such long letters.
Curious, he walked down to the end of the dock, where he could sit
quietly and read.

When he was done, he sat gazing out over the calm sea for a while,
listening to the soft lapping of the waves against the stone pillars,
and tried to think. He knew what he ought to do. But as much as he tried
to convince himself to get up, walk back to the hold and ask to speak to
the Sea Holder, he didn't. Couldn't.

He realised that although he was more afraid than he'd ever been, he
wasn't shocked by the news. Perhaps he'd always known something like
this would happen, that it was only a matter of time.

**Oh, Selrin...** He should never have left the Hold. Now, he had a debt
to pay, and it seemed there was only one way to do it.

***

Dear Brother,

Please forgive me for writing this letter to you, but I have nowhere
else to turn. I'm in bad trouble, Lorican. Very bad. I need your help.

It all started a few months ago, when I was let go from the guards in
unjust circumstances. They had put me on watch duty two nights in a row,
and I had only closed my eyes for a moment, but the captain said I was
past my final warning and I had to go. They gave me a month's pay and
that was that. Uncle Olefan was no use, he said that I'd had my chance
and that I should go to the Headwoman and ask for a job as a drudge!

So I moved out of the barracks and went to stay with Mother, but she
treated me like I was still in harper classes, and wouldn't stop asking
me if I'd found work yet. Eventually I decided to go down to the tavern
and see if there were any jobs there. There weren't, but I got talking
with this man, and he invited me to a poker game. I still had quite a
lot of my pay left, and you remember how I would always win when we
played together, you, me and Pa. And it did go well to begin with. That
first night, I took home my winnings to Mother and she was so happy. (I
might have told her I'd been working at the bar. Please don't say
anything to her).

After a while, my friend said that I played really well and asked if I
wanted to run a game together with him. We just had to have a pot of
marks to draw people in. Well, my saved pay wasn't enough to attract
serious players, so he introduced me to someone he knew who could lend
it to me.

That night, something terrible happened. My luck changed. I thought it
was just a bad streak, that it couldn't go on forever. By the time I
thought it would be better to stop, it was too late. I had to go on, to
win some of it back so that I could pay my debt. But it only got worse,
and soon there was nothing left.

It was the worst night of my life. The man who had lent me the marks
said that I couldn't leave. They kept asking me about who in my family
would be able to pay them back. So I told them about Mama and Uncle
Olefan, but they are only a widow and a retired guard and the men just
laughed. They said they were going to do things to me, disgusting,
vicious things. I am so sorry, Lorican, but I told them about you. I
didn't know that a smith would be any better, but they seemed interested.

This is where I need you to help. There are some letters that they
want. They were written by a holder called Beliron, and they're being
transported in a sealed chest on a ship which docks at Topaz Sea Hold
soon. Then they'll be taken south. They told me to say that you have to
get all of them. There can't be even one missing.

There is a man called Jilmon who will help. He's on the same ship, he'll
know where to find the chest and get past the guard. But you have to
open it and get the letters out. Then there will be someone to meet you
and take them. Jilmon knows who and where.

Lorican, those men follow me everywhere. I can't even go near Uncle
Olefan in case they think I'll tell him. If we can't pay them back, I
don't know what will happen. You have to help. Remember what Papa said,
about us being brothers, and looking out for each other.

This is very important. Don't tell your Holder, or the Hallmaster.

Don't tell the guards.

DON'T TELL ANYONE.

Just do as they say.

-Selrin

*** Present Day ***

"Journeyman?"

The old farmer's voice jolted Lorican out of his doze, and he sat up,
suppressing a gasp at the sharp ache in his back. Whether it was the
exertions of the past sevenday, or the fact that sleeping so long in the
cart had stiffened his muscles, he could feel every bruise. He had to
admit, the Weyr healers had been right about the inadvisability of
travelling so far, so soon.

He rubbed his eyes and looked ahead. They'd just reached the top of a
rise, and before them the road sloped down towards a clear, fast-flowing
river. Ahead of them, last rays of sunlight filtered through the thick
woods on the far slope and sparkled on the water.

His companion pointed, and now he could see stone buildings in the
distance, some way downstream. Faintly, on the breeze, he caught the
scent of sawdust and woodsmoke.

"Cedar Vale Hold. We should reach it by dusk." The old man grinned at
him, clearly anticipating excitement. "Nearly there."

Last updated on the May 3rd 2019

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Don't Tell Anyone