An Understanding

Writers: Estelle, Miriah
Date Posted: 5th November 2019
Series: The Assassin's Husband

Characters: Dunrik, Lorican, Lusilk
Description: Lorican encounters the woman who tried to kill him
Location: Barrier Lake Weyr
Date: month 11, day 27 of Turn 9
Notes: Mentioned: Jayzine, Urlene, Bryvin

Lusilk

The light had started to fade before Lorican realized that the day was
almost over. After nearly a month away from the forge, it felt good to
be back at work and he'd become absorbed in turning out the small
pieces for the technicians, while the apprentices took turns between
the bellows and cleaning and polishing the finished metal. Progress
was slower than he'd have liked since he'd had to make some of the
smaller tools he'd need for finer work first, having lost his own in
the fire, but it had been a useful opportunity to show the two boys
how to do that and he hoped to get on faster tomorrow.

The grumbling of one of the apprentices' stomachs broke through his
thoughts, alerting him that it would soon be time for the evening
meal. He finished a peculiar-shaped metal tube whose purpose he
couldn't begin to imagine, then set down his hammer and stretched and
rolled his aching shoulder. It had been a long day. He still needed to
move to the room in Master Dunrik's cot - not that he needed help with
his belongings, he'd only the one bag, but he ought to tell them so
his bunk could be assigned to someone else. The Headwoman's assistant,
he remembered. Perhaps he could ask her about the firelizard, too.

Dunrik looked up as the forge fires dimmed, wiping his hands on a
cloth. "You did good work today, Lorican. I think we've both done
enough for the day." He wiped his brow, then tossed the other man a
clean cloth for him to do the same. Lorican had performed well,
adapting to the new forge more easily than expected. "Those tools you
made, have to say I'm impressed with those too. Might want to consider
that being your specialty." He turned to Rikol and the apprentices.
"Go get yourselves cleaned up. You step foot in the dining hall before
you've bathed and Jayzine will have your hides for stinking her
kitchens up."

Turning back to Lorican, Dunrik tossed the rag into a small basket.
"There's a bathing area and hot springs right down the pathway for us.
Get yourself cleaned up and I'll show you to Lusilk before we eat.
Half a candlemark should be enough time."

"All right." Lorican remembered how the hot baths in the Weyr had eased
the pain of his injuries. Hopefully the springs would have the same
effect or he'd be stiff and sore tomorrow. A smile, slightly surprised,
appeared on his face at the praise of his work. "Thank you, Master."

He saw to it that the fire was banked for the night, then followed the
apprentices down the path to the baths. The heat of the water was indeed
a relief and he made sure to soak his shoulder, but didn't linger, wary
of keeping the mastersmith waiting again. Instead, he quickly scrubbed
himself clean in the cooler water and dressed again, feeling tired after
his early rising but refreshed and, like the apprentices, hungry. It was
a good feeling, the satisfaction of a hard day's work.

Dunrik was waiting for him, freshly bathed himself and wearing clean
clothing. "Lusilk's office is in the second floor of the dining hall.
She's likely to be there. She eats with her son privately in the
evening. I'll take you there and after you make your arrangements, feel
free to join Rikol and I."

Walking with Lorican to the hall, he waved their apprentices off to eat,
then led Lorican up the newly constructed spiral stairs that still
smelled of freshly oiled wood. Knocking on the door, he opened it when
a soft voice bid him enter. "Lusilk, my new Journeyman needs your
assistance."

Lusilk glanced up, a thin smile on her face as Dunrik and Lorican
appeared in the doorway. She finished wiping Silgan's mouth, then
brushed crumbs off of his clothing. "Thank you, Master Dunrik. I'll be
happy to assist him. Would you mind terribly taking Silgan downstairs?"
Her eyes locked on Lorican's.

He froze in sudden, sheer overpowering terror. He'd know those dark,
pitiless eyes anywhere. They had haunted his dreams for so many nights
after the fire at the smithy. How was it that she was here? Had he been
utterly foolish to think she'd give up on hunting him? And who had
entrusted her with a child? Lorican tried to speak but he could only
manage a soft croak that went unheard as the master smith took the boy's
hand and led him out, leaving him alone with her.

Lusilk waited just long enough for the door to close behind Dunrik and
her son before acting immediately on Lorican's obvious panic. On quiet
feet, she leaped over the desk, facing him. Her belt knife was drawn in
a flash, pressing against his throat with just enough pressure that a
single sharp breath would cause it to bite into his skin. "Be silent."

She kept her voice soft, her words meant to slither against his skin
like a venomous tunnelsnake. "Not a sound, Lorican. I'm not here for
you, you fool, so let me make something absolutely clear to you. You
say one word, one thing, about me to put me or my son in danger, it
won't be you I kill. Not at first. I will end everyone and everything
you love. You will live through their body parts being delivered to you
a piece at a time. Your brother, your uncle, and that pretty woman of
the Weyr that you stare at in the evening in your bed. And only after
you've lived to see everyone you care for die will I come for you." She
spoke through what would have been a sweet smile if her eyes hadn't been
so cold. " Do we have an understanding?"

"Yes! Yes." He shivered at the touch of the blade against his skin, but
otherwise remained absolutely still. What a fool he'd been, to think a
few lessons in self-defense could protect him. His instincts screamed to
run, to call for help, but he'd known he couldn't from the moment he
realized she knew about Urlene. "Whatever you want. Just don't hurt her.
Please. She doesn't know about any of this." The thought crossed his
mind that this woman would kill him, that he'd never see her again, and
he closed his eyes, trying to picture her face.

"Good. Remember it." She stepped back, then slowly removed the blade
from his neck. "You keep your mouth shut and I won't have to. " She
backed away, keeping her blade in her hand even as she moved to sit on
the edge of her desk. So, she'd be right. Using the unknown woman had
been a gamble, but apparently one that paid well. Keeping her voice
soft, she continued, idly flipping her blade in her hand. "I'm not here
for anyone. I'm here to live quietly. Don't endanger that and we'll be
fine. "

He raised a hand to his throat reflexively, almost in disbelief that he
was still alive. Be careful, he told himself. She might prefer not to
slit your throat in her own office, but that doesn't mean she won't do
it elsewhere. Lorican felt a wild laugh bubbling up inside him, and
forced it down, breathing deeply. She hadn't had to threaten him. He
couldn't tell anyone about her, not without revealing his part in the
theft of the letters, and the lies he'd told since. Was it possible she
didn't even know about them?

"We're fine? Are you sure about that?" he asked, his voice low. "Am I
still in danger? Are you?"

"Probably." She flipped the knife, watching him the whole time. "I
didn't ask questions, but if they hired me to take care of you then
someone has the marks to keep hunting you. I'm expensive...or I was. "
Faranth, she was tired of running. Silgan was tired of running. "They
might hire someone else." Her eyes narrowed and the blade stopped
flipping. "Which Lord Holder has you in his sights?"

"Lord Holder?" Lorican's eyes went round in shock. "I don't know anyone
like that. I'm just a craftsman." At her look, he hesitated, then went
on. "I was supposed to get some letters. They were being transported in
a locked chest, and they needed me to get into it without anyone
noticing...are you sure you want to hear this?" He frowned. Not that he
had any reason to care about endangering her, but there was the young
boy to think of.

About to tell him that she didn't care what he'd done, she paused,
reevaluating the instant urge to cut him off. Information was always
useful; it could be used if needed in a tight spot. "If anything,
Lorican, I'm discreet. I couldn't do what I did if I wasn't. You..."
She pointed at him with her blade, "were the exception. You're the
only one I've missed. I was too confident. Lesson learned. I say Lord
Holder, because again, I'm expensive. And I want to know who it is."

"I wish I knew," he said, troubled. Until now he'd thought it had been
the criminal gang who'd drawn his brother into their toils, and they
might give up if they couldn't find him. But what if it went deeper than
that? "The letters were from a rich Holder. They were...compromising. I
shouldn't have read them, but I did, and once I knew, I couldn't just
hand them over. I burned them."

She considered that. "Did you ever think that by getting rid of them,
you sent the signal that you'd read them? So, you are the only person,
unless your brother knew what was in those letters, that has knowledge
of what was in them? You set yourself up to be disposed of. That was
stupid."

**So I should have handed them over, and been a party to blackmail?**
Lorican checked his instinctive response. Given what she did for a
living, she wasn't likely to understand his scruples, and she could have
that knife in his throat before he could blink. He didn't want to
provoke her. "Perhaps, but it's done now and can't be changed." He took
a breath, tried to force himself to calm. "Can I ask you a question?"

"You can ask. May not answer." Lusilk studied him. An idealist, Faranth
help her. A fecking idealist was what he was. It was likely to get him
killed.

"You kill people. For marks." He'd made mistakes, he wished that he'd
never heard of those cursed letters, and he certainly wanted nothing to
do with her. But more than anything, he wanted to keep his promise to
Urlene. He wanted to live. "You said you were expensive. How much would
you charge to keep someone alive?"

"Not always." She shrugged. "Usually not." Her eyes narrowed and she
crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm retired. That's why I'm here. I
like my job with Jayzine and my..." she bit off the next words. "More
than you're likely to be able to afford, even if I wanted to. My
advice, run. Go north on the first ship available and forget the
southern continent. "

Lorican shook his head, stubborn. "I can't." She was right, though. He
couldn't afford her. His finances were precarious; he'd lost his pack
runner to theft, most of his tools to the fire, and his brother had
written several letters of increasing urgency asking for marks to set
himself up in a new home. His work at the Weyrhold would support him but
leave little time for commissions, and he'd no well-off family members
to call on for help.

If he ran North, though, he might survive, but what would be the point?

"Look, you might think you're retired, but I doubt those people who
hired you are any more likely to forgive your failure than they are
mine. You want to live for your son. I want to live, too. We can help
each other." He sighed. "Faranth's Egg, this ought to be easy for you.
If they do get me, I'm hardly going to come and ask for a refund."

"How do you know that I'm not just planning to turn you over myself?" A
thin cold smile lifted her lips. "It'd be easily done and I might just
gain some favor out if it?" She arched a brow, then waved her hand. "I
meant what I said. You put me and mine in danger, it'll be the end of
you and yours. What possibly could _you_ do to help me?" She snorted.
"Seems to me that you're looking more for me to watch your back at my
own expense. "

"I'll watch your back, too," he said, refusing to give in. "I'm not
trained as a fighter, but I can learn. I started, back at the Weyr. Even
if I couldn't help much, maybe it'd be the difference between that lad
growing up with a mother and not. And..." He hesitated. "I'm a smith. I
could make something for you." It felt like a betrayal of his craft, but
he sensed he wasn't convincing her and what else could he offer? "A
weapon. A good one."

"I have good weapons. Plenty of them. Besides, Master Dunrik doesn't
like weapons crafted in his forge." One brow rose as she smirked and
shook her head. "I can't train you openly, even if you were willing.
That's a bit too obvious, don't you think? You wouldn't know what to
look for, so you're not likely to see anything of use." She exhaled
through her nose. "You're fecking stubborn." Her lips thinned. "I'll
make you an offer. A trade. I'll train you...privately. Nothing in the
open. I'll cover your ass if necessary. But in trade, if I get in
trouble, or have to fight whoever comes your way, you get my son to
Sunstone and deliver him directly and in person to Lord Bryvin. No
questions, no hesitation. I get a half cut of any marks you receive
from your work. And, you'll live with me. Where I can keep an eye on
you. "

Lorican could see many reasons to be doubtful about that proposal, not
least that a private lesson sounded like the perfect opportunity for her
to put an end to him, away from the camp where no-one would see. Still,
she did have a point about training in the open and he had to put some
trust in her if this was going to work. The other conditions he could
agree to, except...

"I'm not sure I can live with you. Master Dunrik has offered me a room
in his home, and anyway..." A slight flush rose to his cheeks. "I'm not
married. It wouldn't be decent."

She stared at him, then snorted out a laugh as she rolled her eyes.
Faranth, he was a prude too? "I have no designs on your person,
believe me. I happen to have a lover already and don't find you in the
slightest bit attractive. They don't bother with those things here,
but I suppose as stiff and proper as Dunrik can be, I guess you'd lose
some favor with him if you did. Fine. I can do without you living
here. But remember what I said."

"I'm sorry - I didn't mean to suggest you wanted anything improper."
Lorican turned crimson with embarrassment. "It's only that there are so
many crafters here, and holders, and I thought your reputation..." He
cut himself off, inwardly cursing his idiocy. Why would she care what
people said about her? She was a killer! "Never mind. I'll remember. I
have more than enough reasons to keep quiet." If anyone found out what
he'd done, he could be expelled from his craft.

"I wonder if that weyr woman finds those blushes of yours pretty. "
Lusilk smirked with amusement. "Fine. Half of your marks and your duty
to my son and it's a deal. You just keep up your end with the
training." She slipped her dagger back into its sheath. "Gather your
things from your cot and move them. I'll make a note for Jayzine about
the move so we can place another senior journeyman there."

Lorican's jaw tightened as she spoke of Urlene, but he forced himself to
nod. **Don't get angry. She could still decide you're more trouble alive
than dead.** If he wanted to survive his time at Barrier Lake, he'd have
to persuade her - if not to trust him, then at least to tolerate him.
"All right. I'll do it after dinner. Master Dunrik is expecting me." He
turned, warily, to go, then looked back. "When should I come to you?"

She kept the smirk, rather enjoying his annoyance. "Every other day
after evening meal. Meet me at the doors of the dining hall and we'll
go somewhere private."

He didn't much like the sound of that - in fact, there was very little
about her proposition that he liked - but there was no point in arguing.
"I'll be there tomorrow, then." Opening the door, he hesitated,
politeness compelling him to speak again. "Thank you, uh...Lusilk." He
wondered if that was her real name.

"We'll see if you thank me after the first evenings training." She
waved him off. "I'll see you tomorrow." She would of course, keep an
eye on him and make plans to leave in a hurry if she needed.

Last updated on the December 18th 2019

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An Understanding