He Did It! (part 11 of 14)

Writers: Yvonne
Date Posted: 17th September 2007

Characters: Larstad, Thorril, Harrit, Merton, Gavrin
Description: The thief is caught... or is he?
Location: Amber Hills Hold
Date: month 5, day 27 of Turn 4

There was brandy waiting for him again, but Larstad didn't touch it.
Instead he jammed a chair beneath his door so that it could not be opened and tumbled into bed. He slept deeply and dreamlessly and did not hear the rattle of a hand on the doorknob in the dead of night.

He awoke to a light tapping at his door in the early morning.
Yawning, he wrapped a blue woolen blanket around his shoulders, removed the chair and opened his door to find a freckle-faced drudge standing there with a fresh pot of klah. "Holder Thorril wants to see you straight off," she said, pushing past him into the room. "Your fire's not lit. The klah will get cold. I'll just be a moment."

"Thorril wants to see me?" Larstad yawned again. "What time is it? My sharding candle keeps going out. This sharding room needs a sharding clock."

"Yes, this room's a mite drafty," she said mildly, setting the pot aside and finding a small rake to pull the ashes from the fireplace.
"It's a little after dawn. He said he wants to see you straight away.
Why don't you go wash up, sir, and I'll get the fire started?" Larstad rubbed his eyes; they felt gritty. "Shells, it's early. I want klah."

"I really think you ought to wash up first, Journeyman." She gave the blanket a pointed look. "And maybe get dressed."

The Smith looked down, then flushed and wrapped the blanket a little tighter around his middle. "Oh. Sorry." He found a pair of trousers and a shirt that wasn't too wrinkled before disappearing into the bathroom and shutting the door behind himself. Movement caught his eye; his reflection in the mirror was unshaven and unkempt. He scowled at himself. **Women and their stupid notions of propriety.
I'm not naked, so I don't see what the problem is. Fussy, troublesome creatures.**

A little while later he emerged fully clothed and somewhat less scruffy to find a fire in the fireplace, a steaming mug of klah on the desk, and no freckly drudge. Larstad smiled and sipped at the hot liquid; the morning was looking better already! He was almost cheerful when he left his room to meet Thorril in his office.

The Holder was pacing when he arrived, and his scarred face looked grim. "Ah! My good Smith. New developments in our case came to light last night that I feel I must act upon immediately. I wanted you here so that you could report back to Benaroy."

Larstad's eyebrows nearly flew into his hair in surprise. "What new sharding developments?" "Harrit was walking past an open door last night and overheard a certain someone speaking to his wife. We've got our man, Journeyman!
And we didn't need you after all." Thorril's voice was so smug, it practically oozed. He clapped Larstad on the back. "Come along. I've already got my guards searching Gavrin's rooms."

"_Gavrin_?!" Larstad shook his head. "What do you mean, Gavrin?"

"You'll see," Thorril replied. The Smith's gut twisted; outwitted by the Steward!? He was slower than the Heir! **It cannot be. It can't be Gavrin...**

**...and yet...** Larstad scowled as he followed Thorril away from his office and into the living wing. **Why not Gavrin? He has a son of the right age, and a grudge and a debt weighing him down. Why wouldn't he steal from Thorril?** He shook his head in disbelief. It wasn't that he didn't believe that Gavrin could be culpable, but rather than _Harrit_, of all people, outwitted him. **Whiney tunnelsnake...**

"Harrit!" Thorril spread his arms wide as they turned a corner to find the Steward overseeing the proceedings in an apartment near the end of the Hall. Harrit turned and grinned, his eyes flicking nervously between his Holder and the Journeyman who followed him.
"Tell me, what have you found?"

"Just one barrel, sir."

"Just one?" Thorril frowned, then glanced through the open door. "And what does Gavrin have to say about all this?"

"I decided to wait for you before questioning him, sir." Harrit bowed to the Holder. "I thought that the criminal might respond better to you than to I. And that Journeyman Larstad would want to be present, since he came all this way to see the end of the mystery!"

Larstad grit his teeth. "Indeed."

"Well then!" Thorril grinned, then led them into the apartment. It was small and made smaller by the four guards and Merton. The Brandymaster stood by Gavrin who sat glowering in a chair with a woman, presumably his wife, weeping silently beside him. A small tow-headed boy clung to her skirts and watched the guards pull the ratty furniture from the walls and turn out drawers onto the floor that were too small to hide a barrel. Three bags sat in the middle of the room, one packed with clothing, one with toys and runner tack, and the third - the third held a barrel with a crest of grapes, a river, and the rising sun burnt into the oak: Barley Hills Hold's crest. Thorril stopped in front of the Apprentice and crossed his arms. "Well, well, well. Look who strikes again. You don't learn, do you Gavrin?"

"Scorch it, that brandy was planted! It's not my bag and it wasn't here last night!" Gavrin snarled. Merton lay a calming hand on his shoulder. "Shells, Thorril - I was _framed_!"

"That stupid excuse didn't work for you last time, so why should it this time? What am I going to do with you, Gavrin?"

"Thorril..." Merton's voice trailed off warningly as the woman began to cry in earnest.

The Holder glanced at the Brandymaster; it was Merton who looked away first. "There's sharding proof, Gavrin. You know the laws. Your stupid wife must have known as well, and your child. Larstad said that whomever stole that brandy nailed a small child into a barrel to get them into the ageing room."

"He didn't steal from you!" the woman raised her tear-streaked face.
She was pretty in an ordinary sort of way, with watery blue eyes and fair skin that was now blotched red from crying. "Please, Holder! You _must_ believe us! This is- this is some sort of cruel trick!"

"TRICK?!" Thorril thundered. "This is no sharding _trick_, woman!
Quit your crying - it'll do you no good and only irritate me further.
YOU!" He pointed at a guard, who jumped. "Escort Tiana and Vrintan to a holding room. I can't stand the sight of them!"

"If you touch them, I'll break your scorched hands," Gavrin growled.
The guard paled slightly and the child, Vrintan, hid his face in his mother's skirt and began to wail. "Perhaps it's better if you let them go, Gavrin," Merton said soothingly, even as he glared at Thorril. "We can speak about this man to man, and it might be best if they're barred from the room."

Gavrin shook his head angrily. "I swear- if you hurt them..." "They'll be fine," Merton said.

"Gavrin, I won't leave you." Tiana's voice was steely even as tears ran down her cheeks. The guard held a hand out to her and she spat in his face. Thorril snorted, then grabbed Tiana and yanked her forcibly to her feet. He raised a hand to strike her and Gavrin roared; Merton held the cooper down as Larstad caught Thorril's arm. "I don't care if you are Holder here - you will _not_ beat a woman in front of me," the Smith said quietly. Thorril glared at him, then released the woman.
Larstad breathed a sigh of relief. "Tiana, my dear. Please go with the guard. Think of your son," Merton said softly. He nodded at Vrintan who was sobbing on the floor. "I'll take care of Gavrin."

"I'll kill you," Gavrin said to Thorril. Merton sighed. "That's not helping. Tiana? Please, your presence is making things worse."

Tiana hesitated, then scooped up her son and quietly followed the guard out of her apartment. Gavrin was shaking with rage as Thorril faced him down. "You're a bastard. A scorched scum sucking herdbeast lover-"

"Gavrin!" Merton hissed.

"Why do you continue to defend a thief?" Harrit said. "The evidence is _right_there_, Merton! In his bag. Can't you see it?"

The Brandymaster sighed. He looked every turn he'd lived, Larstad thought. "I do, but I'm not sure if I believe it."

"I pay you to make brandy, Merton, not to believe. That's my job."
Thorril turned to Gavrin with his jaw clenched. "Harrit is right. The evidence speaks for itself, and quite frankly I'm ashamed that I ever gave a sharding liar like you a second chance. Dragons don't change their hides."

"I didn't do it the first time, and I didn't do it now," Gavrin ground out. Thorril scowled darkly. "And what's worse is that you dragged your _wife_ and _son_ into this. I cannot spare them a thief's punishment-"

"Don't you DARE touch them!" Gavrin surged from his chair and Harrit squeaked. Merton made a grab for his apprentice as Thorril grinned a soldier's grin and balled his hands into fists. Larstad stepped between the two men with his palms upraised. "Please, calm yourselves, the both of you! Gavrin - scorching sit down. I'm sure that Thorril doesn't seriously mean to have them whipped."

"Oh, yes he does," Gavrin growled. "Just ask him!"

Larstad turned to the Holder, who was still smiling. "Thorril?"

"By the Egg, I'll see the skin peeled from their backs. Thieves!
Liars! In _my_ Holding! I will not tolerate that sort of madness!"

**Thieves?** Larstad's stomach roiled. Whipping a _woman_, let alone a _child_?! "Don't be absurd. Lord Benaroy might have turned a blind eye to your justice, but he will not condone the murder of innocents.
A _child_?!"

"Justice is blind. They committed a crime under his direction, and I will not spare them simply to save your delicate sensibilities,"
Thorril snapped.

Harrit nodded. "Hear hear. This sort of behavior needs to be nipped in the bud. Better to get him young."

"Scorch your justice! I won't see a child whipped. He's tiny, and you'd probably snap his spine if you hit him but once. Besides,"
Larstad crossed his arms and glared at the Holder and his Steward. "I was sent here to investigate by Lord Benaroy, and that is _exactly_
what I will do until I am satisfied with the situation. You charged me to act using your authority, Holder Thorril."

"I did, but you are no longer needed. Harrit has solved the crime."

"Not entirely. Where are the other casks of brandy?"

There was a small silence. Thorril looked at Gavrin. "Well?" "I didn't steal your sharding brandy!"

"Liar!" Harrit spat.

Gavrin glared at the Steward. "Shut up!"

Larstad sighed, feeling the beginnings of a headache forming between his temples. "Gavrin... if you truly have stolen the brandy, there isn't much I can do for you. You're a holder beneath Thorril and you committed a crime in his Holding, but if you tell us where the rest of the brandy is, I can ensure that your wife and child are taken from here to Amber Hills Hold, and will _not_ be whipped."

"Holder Thorril will agree to no such thing!" Harrit said, piqued.
The paunchy Steward put his hands on his hips and glared at Larstad.
"Remember your place, Journeyman."

"I think that Holder Thorril can agree that twelve casks of brandy is worth the hide of a woman and a small child," Larstad replied.

The Holder hesitated, but greed won out and he nodded to Larstad. "I agree. Where's my brandy?"

Gavrin's face was agonized. "I don't have it. Whip me if you want, but I'm telling you the truth. Just leave my wife and son alone."

"BAH!" Thorril spat on the carpet. "See what I get for staying my hand? More lies. I detest liars!"

The situation was rapidly getting out of hand. Larstad stepped forward again and put a hand on Thorril's elbow to get his attention.
"This doesn't feel right to me, Thorril. Not right at all, and I'll say as much to Lord Benaroy when I next see him. He won't be impressed by your ideas of 'justice' one bit, and if he is concerned enough, he will do something about it. Give me to the end of the week to figure this out. I'm sure that I can find the missing brandy by then."

"You have one day," Thorril snapped. "_One_ day, Journeyman, and only because of Lord Benaroy. And then justice will prevail!" The Holder turned on his heel and stormed from the room.

"Journeyman?" It was Gavrin. "Please... help me."

Larstad sighed; the headache was rapidly blossoming into something much worse. "I'll do my best for you, that I swear. But if you're guilty, neither will I protect you."

"What about Tiana and Vrintan?" Merton asked.

"I'll do what I can. But I cannot make any promises." "Please, Journeyman. You're my only hope right now," Gavrin said quietly. "Please take care of my wife and son. Thorril's been itching for my hide for turns, and now that he has an excuse..."

Merton sighed and ran a hand through his poufy white hair. He looked as if he'd been electrocuted. "And a fine excuse it is, my boy. What on Pern happened? How could someone have snuck that in here?"

"I don't know. The door was locked - _was_ locked this morning, too.
I didn't hear anyone in the night." Gavrin put his head in his hands and moaned softly. "Tiana... oh shells, what have I done?"

"You did nothing," Merton said fiercely. "If he raises that whip to your family, or to you again, I swear that I'll never brew another drop for the miser."

The cooper smiled faintly. "What about Tremegi?"

"Tremegi'd understand. But I won't let this abuse continue.
Ravelon--" Merton stopped and looked pointedly at Larstad. "I won't lose another apprentice, and especially not one as bright as you."

Gavrin reached out and gripped the old man's hand in a white-knuckled fist. His hand was shaking. "Thank you."

"I hate to interrupt, but..." Larstad cleared his throat. "You say that you didn't steal the brandy--"

"I _didn't_!" Gavrin growled.

"Yes, right. But if you didn't, who do you think would have set you up?"

The cooper sighed and let go of Merton's hand. He stared at the floor miserably, then put his head back in his hands. "I don't know."

"Gavrin's a good-hearted lad, Journeyman, but he's also been wronged by Thorril and isn't afraid to express his views." Merton glanced at the guard still standing by the door, then lowered his voice to a whisper. "Want to know why I chose a thief as my new apprentice?"

Gavrin shook his head. "Merton, don't..." "Go on," said Larstad.

"Well... when Thorril took over the Hold, most of us were glad to have him. He imposed order were there was none, and people respected him because they feared him. That was- right for the time. There were so many ruffians in the Hold..." Merton sighed. "Thorril's justice scared off most of those who wanted to take advantage of the situation post-Plague and we were left with those with nothing to hide, and who enjoyed the sense of security a little fear brought.
But as the turns passed, the need to rule by fear has diminished. No one needed whipped anymore and Thorril doesn't realize that his style of leadership is outdated. Some people spoke against him - like Ravelon. Poor Ravelon." The Brandymaster smiled faintly. "He was the most outspoken of them all. People listen to the Brandymasters here... we earn the marks and the honor for our people. Ravelon was charismatic and people listened to him... and then Ravelon was found at the bottom of a flight of stairs with his neck broken because of it."

"You're not suggesting he was murdered?!" Larstad asked.

"He wasn't. It was an accident," Gavrin said.

"Maybe. He and Gavrin were friends, so when Gavrin was framed for theft and whipped, I got my own sort of revenge by choosing him as my successor. I might not be able to stand up to Thorril as overtly as Ravelon did, but I'll do so in my own way. Not everyone likes that I picked someone who would not heel nicely to the Holder. Thorril, for one, and his son Rilon. And Harrit."

**Interesting.** "Thank you. I'll... do my best." Larstad turned to go, then hesitated by the door. Gavrin had started to weep and the guard standing watch looked uncomfortable. Larstad touched the guard's shoulder. "Do me a favor and see if Gavrin has any fishing tackle, hmm?"

The guard looked confused. "Fishing, Journeyman?" "Yes, fishing. And don't just ask him, either. Tear this sharding apartment apart, and get someone to do the same to his coopery. And report to me as soon as you've completed your search, no matter what the outcome is."

"Yes, Journeyman."

Larstad left then, and closed the door quietly behind himself. Who'd have ever known that in Brandy Hills Hold, justice really was blind?
Thorril wanted his brandy, but even more than that he wanted someone to blame... and he didn't care if it was the right man.

Last updated on the September 17th 2007

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He Did It! (part 11 of 14)