He Has To Go

Writers: Estelle
Date Posted: 28th May 2019

Characters: Lorican, Hallad (NPC)
Description: Lorican wakes after the fire at the smithy
Location: Elsewhere on Pern
Date: month 11, day 4 of Turn 9
Notes: SWE (Rocky Bay Hold)

The first time Lorican woke after the fire, sensations returned slowly.
He was in a dimly lit room, and when he turned his head he felt cool
sheets against his cheek. His whole back and chest were numb. It was
a curious sensation, as though he was only half there. His mind was
fogged, confused. What had happened? Why was he here?

When he tried to speak, only a hoarse croak came out. His throat was
raw, as if he'd been screaming at the top of his voice.

"Ssh. Don't try to move." He sensed the weight of hands on his shoulders
without really feeling it. "Just rest. This will help."

Lorican felt them carefully lifting his head, liquid on his lips and a
bitter taste in his mouth. "No - wait - " Then the darkness gathered
again, and he drifted off into an uneasy sleep, broken by dreams of
flashing knives and dark, pitiless eyes.

***

When awareness returned again, sunlight was streaming through the
window, gently warming his face. He lay still, trying to remember. There
didn't seem to be anyone with him this time, but gradually, he became
aware of voices. Not close by, but perhaps in the next room.

Shortly after that, he realised that they were raised, the tone sharp.
He was listening to an argument.

"I won't allow it. It would be a violation of my duty as a Healer." The
first voice managed to remain respectful, but barely. "He's got bruising
and burns all down his back and a knife wound - no, more than one - and
who knows what damage to his lungs. He's not fit to get out of bed."

"It's not your decision. I'm Holder here." Lorican recognised the gruff
tone of the Sea Holder. "He returns late from his journeying, won't say
where he's been but it certainly wasn't his planned route, and now he
burns down my smithy!"

"I don't think he started the fire. He had a knife sticking out of him.
He didn't do that to himself."

"I don't care who started it, he was there," the Holder snapped. "He's
trouble. He has to go. Before he burns the whole Hold down around us."

"Not until he's recovered!"

The second speaker made an exasperated sound and Lorican heard the
stomping of feet departing, and a sigh. Then, the creak of the door
opening. Feeling helpless lying flat on his back, the smith struggled to
push himself up against the pillow. Though he was still partly numb -
and he now recognised the scent of some herbal salve - he could feel a
hot, prickling sensation on his skin and a deep ache in his back and
upper chest that intensified when he tried to move.

He managed to raise his head enough to recognise the hold's journeyman
healer, Hallad, looking across at him in consternation.

"How long have you been awake? No - don't answer that," he said hastily
as Lorican opened his mouth to speak. "Save your voice. I can tell you
heard. Don't worry about the Sea Holder. He's just upset about the
smithy. He'll get over it."

Lorican swallowed. He still tasted a hint of bitter herbs, and his
throat felt dry and swollen. "Water?"

"Here." The journeyman sat down by the bed and offered him a glass.
Lorican closed his eyes and sighed in relief as the cool liquid trickled
into his mouth. "How do you feel? Any pain?"

"Numb. Itches. What happened...smithy?" His voice didn't sound like his
own, rasping and painful.

"There was a fire last night, and you were caught in it." Hallad watched
his expression, worried. "One of the smith apprentices, the older one,
and a sailor dragged you out, but not before you'd breathed in smoke and
fumes from an agenothree tank that went up. I'm afraid it's a ruin,
Lorican. The apprentices were out this morning, seeing what they could
salvage. But that's not your concern. You won't be back to work for a
while."

Lorican noticed he hadn't mentioned the knife wound. He closed his eyes,
thinking. That must be the ache in his chest. He reached up, his arm
protesting the movement, and felt a thick layer of bandages there.
Slowly, as his memories of the previous night returned, he recalled the
glint of metal on a blade, flung towards him.

"Do you remember anything?" Hallad asked, offering him some more water.

"There was an intruder. Thief. Didn't expect... He attacked me. Threw
something on the fire. Burned up." Even as he spoke, Lorican wondered at
himself. Was it pride that refused to admit he'd nearly been killed by a
woman? Or the realisation that he couldn't tell anyone the truth about
what had happened?

"I see." The healer still looked sceptical, as if well aware there was
more to last night's disaster than he was being told. "Well, as I said,
I'll speak to the Holder. When he's calmed down, he'll see sense."

"No. He's right." Now that he'd remembered the woman, Lorican was
gripped by a sudden urgency. If she realised he'd survived the fire, she
would be back, he was certain of that. He was honest enough to admit
that even in good health, he'd barely escaped her with his life. In his
current state, she'd have no trouble finishing him off. And what if she
harmed someone else in the process? Hallad, or one of the apprentices?

He had to get away from here.

"Nonsense," the healer was saying, sternly. "The Holder will let you
stay, at least long enough to recover - and if he doesn't, I'll inform
the Healer Hall. He'll change his tune when he's facing the prospect of
my craft pulling out of his holding."

Lorican shook his head. "I can go...my Hall..." He wasn't sure if he'd
be safe there - it would be the obvious place to follow him to - but he
didn't have many other options. From there, maybe he could get another
posting. Somewhere obscure.

With a sudden jolt of panic, he remembered his brother. If they'd gone
after him, Selrin was surely in danger too. He had to get word to Garnet
Valley. If it wasn't already too late.

"Absolutely not. You're not strong enough to travel, not after you
breathed in all of that poisonous smoke. In fact, I'm thinking of
sending to the Weyr for help. If anyone knows how to deal with
agenothree burns, it's them."

Lorican's eyes brightened and he struggled to sit up, earning himself
another frown. "The Weyr. I could go there." He could send a message to
his brother from there. They'd be keeping a close watch on visitors
after the events of the past month; his attacker would have a hard job
getting to him. And...well, he had other reasons. He could collect his
drawings.

One particular drawing.

Hallad gave him a long look, considering. He was thinking of the knife
wounds. He couldn't quite make it out. He'd known the smith for several
Turns, since his arrival at Rocky Bay. Lorican was mild-mannered
and...well, ordinary. He didn't gamble or brawl or chase other men's
wives, not that Hallad knew of, anyway, and Hold gossip usually ferreted
such things out. Who would want to kill him?

"I'm not promising anything." He sighed. "But I will ask the Holder to
put out the message banner. We'll see what the dragonrider says. If
you're not safe to fly, you'll stay here. Meanwhile," he went on, before
his patient could respond, "you need to rest. Sleep. I'll be back soon,
to change the dressings."

Lorican obediently leaned back against the pillow and closed his eyes,
but his thoughts were anything but restful. **Get to the Weyr. Warn
Selrin. Send word to the Hall. Collect my drawings... See my friends...
See her again...**

Last updated on the June 15th 2019

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He Has To Go