Unwanted Revelations (part 5 of 14)

Writers: Yvonne
Date Posted: 11th September 2007

Characters: Larstad, Thorril, Harrit, Rilon, Merton
Description: Larstad attends his first dinner at Barley Hills Hold and meets some of the holders who call it home
Location: Amber Hills Hold
Date: month 5, day 25 of Turn 4

The dining hall was massive but only half full. The faces of the people who sat looking at the dais where Holder Thorril and his family, the Steward, Brandymaster Merton and his wife sat, were pinched and guarded. Larstad felt uncomfortable sitting up there with them - he was a Journeyman, not a politician. His clothing was plain and in dull shades of brown and blue - all the better to camouflage stains and spilt ink. Beside him Thorril had dressed like a peacock in a fine periwinkle blue waistcoat with gold buttons. The Holder's boots gleamed and his wife's dress was a swath of periwinkle and gold that reminded Larstad of a summer sky. He felt like a dull wherry sitting amid a flight of dragons... and felt irritated at himself for being so shallow.

Thorril had introduced his wife, his eldest son, and Merton before the dinner had begun. Onna was a meek woman with pale eyes and thin, wrinkled lips who spoke in a whispery rasp. Larstad wondered immediately what Thorril saw in her, then quickly realized that the Holder didn't see much value in his Lady at all, except as a fashion accessory. They never touched or made eye contact and she shrank away from him if he came too close. Rilon, their son, was dressed in a fine red tunic and took after his father in mannerisms. He gave Larstad a hearty slap on the back when they were introduced. "It's about time old Benaroy turned his eye to Barley Hills. Too bad he hadn't bothered with us sooner. I guess if it doesn't involve marks, the old codger won't scorch it, eh?" Rilon's grin was forced and it sounded as if he'd been fed his words - the Journeyman noticed Thorril's approving look after his son had delivered his speech. Weak willed, he'd decided. The next Lord of Barley Hills Hold wouldn't be a good ruler without his father beside him.

Brandymaster Merton, on the other hand, was an elderly gentleman with white hair and a gap-toothed grin who'd bowed politely when introduced, and who had introduced his equally aged wife, Tremegi, without prompting. "That's my vintage you're seeking, young man,"
he'd said, "and this Hold's future. Our brandy is the only thing that distinguishes us from the rest of Pern, now a days." He wore a plain, slightly threadbare tunic beneath a set of unfamiliar knots that undoubtedly signified his rank within the Hold, but were intelligible to outsiders. Perhaps that was the way they wanted it...

Larstad had spent the last quarter candlemark pushing his tubers and fingerroots around his plate and trying to think of things other than 'ah' and 'how interesting' to say to the Steward, when Thorril suddenly stood and tapped his spoon against his wine goblet to draw attention. Almost immediately the dining hall went still - the drudges stopped where they stood and everyone, from the most elderly auntie to the youngest babe, turned their eyes to their Lord.
**Eerie,** Larstad thought.

"I would like to introduce our guest tonight, as sent to us by Lord Holder Benaroy. Journeyman Smith Larstad arrived late this afternoon to aide us in our time of need. The sharding men who stole _my_
brandy... they may have been able to fool me, but I have allies. Our Journeyman - Larstad, please stand up."

Larstad coughed uncomfortably as the Lord gestured to him, and unable to refuse under all those pairs of eyes, he reluctantly pushed his chair back and stood. The chair screamed in protest as it was dragged along the floor and Larstad glared at Thorril as he placed his hands on the table.

"Journeyman Larstad here confided in me before dinner began that he has already solved the 'how' of our theft. A genius, the man is! Give him a round of applause!"

Dutifully the holders began to clap. Larstad growled beneath his breath. What on Pern was the sharding idiot up to!? After a (thankfully brief) moment Thorril raised his hands and once again was granted that eerie, conditioned silence. "This is a message to whomever thought that they could profit from me: your time is up. If you turn yourself into me in my office before midnight, I will be lenient. If you do not... you will suffer for your arrogance, and I will not be merciful."

**Dimglow. Scorch him to the Red Planet!** Larstad slowly sat and picked up his fork. Suddenly he'd lost his appetite.

~*~

"What was running through your scorched dimglow head when you made an announcement like that?!" Unlike Thorril, whose rage had been calculated, Larstad was genuinely furious. The blood in his head boiled with it and his vision had tunneled until he felt as if he was being suffocated. He paced the length and breadth of Thorril's fine office while the Lord sat impassively behind his monstrous desk. The Smith could feel his hands shaking and he'd balled them into fists to stop it, but that, too, was beyond his control. "Of all the sharding fool things to do - you gave them time to prepare their lies and erase any evidence that may have been left behind. You've got them running scared and you've made my job a thousand times more difficult. Do you not want to find your missing brandy, sir!?"

"Are you quite finished?" Thorril drawled. Larstad grit his teeth to keep back any further insults. "What I want to know is what sharding thoughts ran through your head when you made your pretty little speech - if there were any."

"Please, Journeyman. Hold your tongue. I've had men with better rank than you disciplined for far less an infraction. Not even my son dares speak to me that way anymore, and he's not nearly as bright as you."

"Then _kindly_ explain to me just what you think you're doing," he ground out.

Thorril tapped a finger against his desk and frowned. The edge of his mouth pulled at the end of the scar that ran rakishly across his face and made him look lopsided and slightly inhuman. "Our rules are much stricter than most Holdings, but I'm sure that you've realized that already. No one is allowed out of their rooms inside the Hold after the tenth candlemark in the night, and anyone caught outside their cots had better have a sharding good reason. People caught lying or cheating have heavy fines levied against them, and if they cannot pay their possessions are sold and they are indentured to the Hold until they've worked off their debt. Thieves are tried and if found guilty, whipped, in addition to our fines. These rules were approved by my holders and put in place shortly after I achieved my Holding, but along with them I worded in leniency for anyone who confesses voluntarily."

"And so you jeopardize my investigation to appease your conscious? So that you can whip a man without having your scorched heart bleed in sympathy!?" Larstad spat. His nails dug into his palms as he paced.

"No. I do it to appease my holders."

The Smith snorted. "Same sharding thing. I was off to a good start with your case and you might have ruined it completely for me. Good sharding luck retrieving your marks now, 'Holder' Thorril. You should have stuck to Captaining."

"Those marks aren't worth shells to me! Someone dared to _steal_ from _my_ Holding, and whoever that is will not go unpunished for defying me." The Holder grit his teeth and balled his tapping finger into a fist. "Yes, those thirteen casks would have ensured that Barley Hills had a comfortable turn rather than being impoverished by _your_
sharding tithes, but we've been through hard times and can do it again. I just want you to find those bastards and serve them up to me!"

"Ah! So it's revenge you're after then, and scorch your holders!"
Larstad jubilantly stabbed the air with a finger. "The truth comes out - someone stole your pride and unmanned you, and that deserves a whipping while marks stolen from the sticky hands of your holders' scorched children is worth less. You selfish bastard!"

Thorril's eyes flashed angrily and for a moment Larstad thought that he'd goaded the ex-guard into an honest declaration of anger, but Thorril bit back whatever he said and looked pointedly at the candle marking the time in the corner. "It's almost ten, Journeyman. You'd best be off if you're going to make your rooms by the bell."

"And if I choose not to obey your sharding laws?" Larstad crossed his arms and planted his feet square against the floor.

"Then you'll suffer the same fate as anyone who breaks my laws."
Thorril's voice simmered with anger. "You're far from Lord Benaroy's Hold now, my man. And might I emphasize - _my_ man. Until I say otherwise, you're mine to do with as I wish. A gift from my Lord Holder."

"Think again," Larstad growled. He turned on his heel and left Thorril staring broodingly at the candlemark, ensconced in his mahogany desk and battling his conscious until the flame went out.

Last updated on the September 13th 2007

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Unwanted Revelations (part 5 of 14)