A Little Thief (2/2)

Writers: Estelle, Paula
Date Posted: 4th March 2020

Characters: Puwul, A'ten
Description: Puwul offers Arten an job at the tavern
Location: Vintner Hall
Date: month 1, day 24 of Turn 10
Notes: Mentioned: L'keri

Winter reappeared from between, creeling his distress, and landed on
Arten's shoulder, his tail wrapping around the boy's neck.

"I'm sorry, sir," he said, desperately. "Please let me go. I was
just...I was..." His stomach growled, making the reason why he'd tried
to steal food all too clear.

Puwul knew all about hunger, despair and running away from things, and
saw those in the boy's eyes. How many runaways he had taken in as cabin
boys at his seacrafter-days, and how many of them had become loyal
crewmembers? He had lost the track.

"I'm sure he helps to clean up his mess, darling, after we have a little
chat in my office," Puwul addressed both his wife and the lad. He did
had his soft spot and also knew his wife. Once Helere's temper cooled
off, she would take sorry of the boy and feed him.

"Yes, I'll clean it up," Arten promised, a faint note of hope in his
voice. Maybe if he did, they wouldn't call the guards, at least not at
once, and he was hungry enough to eat the broken pastry from the floor.
"I'm good at scrubbing floors. I'll have it done in no time."

Helere took first good look at the boy and already started visibly
soften. She still tried to maintain a stern tone. "I'll make sure you do."

Puwul hid a grin and started to escort the boy towards his office.

"I'll bring you klah and some sandwiches," she called after them.

The boy followed warily, knowing that being summoned to an office rarely
went well for a weyrbrat. The worst the Headwoman could do was make you
clean the infirmary or the latrines, but he'd no idea what happened in
the holds. He'd heard all the horror-stories the other Weyr children
shared, whispered tales of beatings and being locked up in cellars or
made to work from dawn until night.

On the other hand, he'd all his father's instincts for an indulgent
heart and he had an idea that the woman might be relenting towards him.
He thought longingly of the sandwiches.

"Sit," Puwul told him when the reached his office. He took his own seat.
"Let's start with names. What's yours and where do you come from?"

Arten had spent a long time in the tithe cart considering what he was
going to call himself now he was out in the world. In the end, he'd
decided to take his name from the only grown-up in the world who'd ever
actually cared about him; his father's lost weyrmate. "My name's Ari."
He gathered his courage and looked up at the man with determination in
his young face. "And I come from somewhere I'm not going back to."

"I see," Puwul said. "My name is Puwul and I ran this tavern. The woman
who rans the kitchen is my wife, Helere. Now, what should I do with you?"

Arten shrank back in his chair, his moment's bravery failing him.
"Please, please don't call the guards, Tavern Master. I'll clean up the
mess and I can...uh, I can wash the dishes and scour the pots and...I
don't want to go to prison. I didn't mean to steal from you and your
wife. I was just so hungry." The little blue firelizard chirped and
bumped his head against the boy's cheek.

"You ruined some perfectly good food I could have sold to customers. I
do deserve a compensation, that's just fair, isn't it?"
Puwul gave the boy a scowl.

"Yes, it's fair. But I don't have any marks," the boy replied in a small
voice. He couldn't even think of anything he could sell. Then he sat up
straighter, thinking of something that might keep him out of the hands
of the guards. "I can work, though. I'm a really hard worker. I can do
all sorts of kitchen chores."

"Well, there's always pots and pans to scrub and Helere's been
mentioning need for another pair of hands," Puwul said, his tone
thoughtful, although this was what he had had in his mind whole time.
"Do you know anything about runnerbeasts? Sometimes customers leave
theirs tethered outside and it would be nice if someone looked after
them, you know gave them water and fed them."

"Yes, sir. I can brush runnerbeasts down, and feed and water them,"
Arten said enthusiastically. He had helped out occasionally in the
Weyr's stables with the other weyrbrats, and had been there more often
now that he was out of harper classes.

He looked up at Puwul with wide, hopeful eyes. If his father had given
him one gift - besides his firelizard - it was the charm he'd inherited,
the little-boy look that L'keri used to such effect on greenriders. "If
I worked really, really hard...would there be a job for me, here at the
tavern? I don't have anywhere else to go." Winter chirped in his ear and
his eyes lit up as he thought of something. "My firelizard can work too.
He's young, but he could learn to carry messages for you and your
customers."

Puwul nodded, "Oh, there's plenty of jobs in busy tavern like this. You
can bunk in the staff's dorm in upstairs, Helere will arrange an bed
added to it. Once you're repaid the stuff you broke, I'll even pay you
salary," Puwul said, giving a honest, warm smile that transformed him
from scary pirate to jovial and bit paternal Tavern master.

"Really?" Arten's eyes lit up. He had rarely had any marks of his own
before, only occasional gifts from his father. Maybe he could earn
enough to send a letter to his sister, or even a present. "Thank you,
sir! You won't regret it, I promise." His stomach rumbled loudly again,
reminding him of his hunger.

"Let's get you fed, you can't work that hungry," Puwul chuckled.

The boy's head turned eagerly to the door as he heard footsteps
approaching and anticipated the arrival of the tavern master's wife with
the sandwiches. Arten felt as though a weight of fear, that had been
with him since he'd left the weyr, had lifted. He was safe, he had a job
and a place to stay, and a purpose. He had a chance to prove he was more
than just that drunken brownrider's son.

Last updated on the May 31st 2020

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A Little Thief (2/2)