The First Duty

Writers: Estelle, Miriah
Date Posted: 24th November 2020

Characters: Lorican, Silgan
Description: Lorican breaks the news of his transfer to Silgan
Location: Barrier Lake Weyr
Date: month 7, day 25 of Turn 10
Notes: Mentioned: Lusilk, Dunrik, Jayzine, Bryvin

The bell he'd made rang lightly as Lorican entered the rooms that he
and Lusilk had shared. He looked around him as if in a dream, taking
in the couch where he'd sat, so many evenings, working on his designs
and looking up from time to time to see her playing with her son, or
at her desk, going over some records for the Headwoman. The few neat
furnishings, her picture on the wall, the box of Silgan's toys.

He closed the door behind him and walked slowly towards their bedroom.
He'd need to pack everything up, return what belonged to the Weyr to
the Headwoman. Crouching, he reached under the bed and pulled out his
tool bag. A few spare hammers and files rattled inside, along with the
heavy pouch of marks that he'd been trying to forget. Then, he went to
the press and began sorting out clothes. Sunstone was a warmer
climate, he could return most of these...

He lifted out a tunic, saw the neat stitches across the front where
one of the seamstresses had mended it for him. Where Lusilk had
slashed him, that time when they'd practiced and he'd almost given
up... Lorican sat down on the bed, swallowing hard, forcing himself to
breathe, the cloth crumpling in his hands. **Lusilk. Lusilk...** As
grief washed over him, he didn't hear the faint ring of the bell as
someone else entered the rooms.

There was silence until the door closed again, then long moments until
the footsteps faded away. Then Silgan came bursting into the room,
grinning. "Da! I made a clay pot! See?" He held up a warped little
clay bowl, still slightly damp and marked by tiny finger impressions.
"I made it for you." Then seeing Lorican's face, the smile faltered.
Sensitive to his surroundings, and the expression on Lorican's face,
Silgan looked around and what he noticed instantly brought fear.

The little boy saw bags out, pictures taken down. and Lorican's heavy
satchel placed on the bed. For a child that had spent most of his life
on the move, he knew what bags and satchels meant. The little clay pot
dropped from his fingers and fell to the floor as his lip began to
tremble. "You're leaving." His face seemed to crumple as he began
looking around quicker, voice raising into a near panic. He grabbed
Lorican's tool bag, trying to pull it close to him, but unable to
because of the weight. "No...no! You can't! Please! I never had a Da!
I promise I'll be good! I'll...I'll never talk again if you want! I'll
be good and quiet and never say anything! Please, don't go! Please!"

Lorican looked up, startled, and it was a moment before he understood.
When he did, he immediately reached out and swept Silgan up into his
arms. "No, no! I'm not going to leave you. I'm your Da, and I'll always
be here to look after you. I promise." He gently stroked the young boy's
back, the way he'd seen Lusilk do, to calm him. "I'm sorry. I didn't
mean to frighten you."

Silgan wrapped his arms around Lorican's neck, his body shaking as he
buried his head into a strong shoulder. He hugged Lorican tight and
his little body hitched with quick breaths as he tried not to cry. The
thought of not having his mama and his new Da terrified him. He didn't
want to be left behind again, not with a stranger or the old woman
that sometimes looked after him before he met Lorican. "Is...is the
bad man coming? Do we have to run away again?"

"No, the bad man's not coming. We're safe." Lorican fell silent,
uncertain what to say. He had known for days now, since he'd heard of
the death of Lord Rorrigraf and what had followed, that he would have to
tell the boy eventually. He'd held back, hoping that he was wrong, that
she'd made it out alive, somehow, but the rumors that made it to Barrier
Lake only confirmed the story. Could he hold back, give Silgan the gift
of a few days more without knowing?

"But we do have to leave. Sometimes in my craft - in any Craft - the
Masters at the Hall decide you have to work in a new place for a while."
He held the boy close. "I'm sorry. I don't want to leave Master Dunrik,
but it's my duty to obey. You are my first duty though, more to me than
my craft. You can come too."

Relieved and comforted now, Silgan relaxed and pulled away, but didn't
attempt to climb down from Lorican's arms. Now that he knew that his Da
wasn't leaving him, he was better able to try to understand what Lorican
was saying. Silgan wiped at his eyes and sniffled. "Like when I have to
listen to Dunrik or the ladies at the creche? You're being good?" He
gave a little hiccuping breath. "But, what about mama? She's not home
yet. Will she be able to find us at the new place?"

Lorican felt his heart beat hard, painfully. Was this the right time? He
couldn't keep the truth from Silgan forever, and yet he couldn't bear to
tell the child his mother was not coming back. Not after he'd just
learned he had to leave the Weyr which had become his home. He'd have
to, soon. But not yet.

"Yes, I'll leave a message with Jayzine, so she'll know where to come."
He forced down his sorrow, tried to smile. "The place we're going to is
called Sunstone Seahold. It's a port, there'll be lots to see there.
Trader and goods from all over, and big ships that go to the Northern
Continent. There'll be new friends. And there'll be no more bad man."
That, he did know for certain. "When we get to Sunstone, you can talk to
whoever you want."

"No more bad man?" Silgan looked hopeful. "I'll have friends? And I
can talk? I don't have to be quiet anymore?" He reached to hug Lorican
again. "I love you, Da."

"I love you too, son." Lorican patted the boy's back. His determination
that he'd give Lusilk's son a good life, and the freedom to choose his
own path, was stronger than ever now, seeing how happy he was just to be
allowed to speak and have friends like an ordinary child. He began to
form a resolve, though he said nothing of it yet. "Now, what about this
clay pot you've made? Is it really for me?"

Silgan proceeded to climb off of Lorican's lap and picked up the
slightly bent bowl. Chattering eagerly about how he'd made it, he seemed
to outwardly forget his worries, but until he went to bed, didn't
leave Lorican's side for an instant.

Lorican tucked the boy in and started on a new bedtime story, continuing
until his eyes closed and he drifted off to sleep. Then he rose and
returned to his bedroom, crouched down and pulled out the wooden box
from its hiding place under the bed.

Lusilk had told him it contained documents that concerned Silgan, and
that he should give it to Lord Bryvin if he came for it. He'd been
trying to forget it existed, but now he couldn't help but notice the
coincidence that he was being sent to Sunstone Seahold, and for a reason
that, even to him, seemed doubtful. Lorican wasn't so innocent that he
thought himself the only journeyman ever to have...sowed his grains, as
Master Dunrik had but it.

He carried it over to the hearth and quickly built a small fire. Then,
once it had caught, he examined the lock by its flickering light. It was
a decent one, he wouldn't have expected anything less, but he had time
and privacy on his side, so he went to fetch his tool bag.

**This was how you got into trouble in the first place,** he thought to
himself as he gently probed at the lock. Stealing letters. But this
time, he had no doubts. The last Lord of Beryl Peak had been murdered,
and he imagined confusion, plots, rival claimants, ambitious men
fighting to control that wealthy Hold. Silgan was only a boy, he'd
didn't deserve to get mixed up in whatever vicious power struggle was
taking place there.

Whatever Lusilk might have promised Lord Bryvin, he was under no such
obligation. If there was anything linking Silgan to his grandfather in
that box, it was going in the flames. He'd have a good life, free from
fear and bad men, with friends and a stable home and the chance of a
craft. One day, perhaps, a wife of his choice, and a family.

Eventually, after a quarter candlemark of patient work, the lock snapped
open. Lorican unhooked it and lifted the lid - and stared down at it in
disbelief and fear.

The box was empty. Whatever it had held was gone.

Someone knew.
---

Last updated on the December 18th 2020

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The First Duty