Hooked (part 13 of 14)

Writers: Yvonne
Date Posted: 19th September 2007

Characters: Larstad, Harrit
Description: Larstad looks for a fishhook
Location: Amber Hills Hold
Date: month 5, day 27 of Turn 4

"Do you fish, Harrit?" Larstad asked. He picked up a paperweight from the Steward's desk and turned it over and over in his palms. "It's such a relaxing pastime."

"No, I do not." Harrit eyed the paperweight nervously. "What is it that you want, Larstad? You've already created enough of a bother today."

"I was just asking." He replaced the paperweight and reached out a finger to poke apart the hides on the Steward's desk. Harrit glared at him and snatched them from beneath his hand, tapped them straight, and stuck them in a drawer. Larstad smiled. "Did you hear Gavrin and his wife talking when you were going back to your room last night after our trip to see your telescope?"

"As a matter of fact, I did. I was in the right place at the right time." Harrit's expression became slightly smug. "And I'm sorry if I've damaged your reputation, Larstad. It was certainly not my intent, but I thought it would be best if I cleared this matter up sooner rather than later."

"Where do you think he stashed the brandy?"

The Steward sighed. "Gavrin will talk once Thorril starts asking questions- properly. I'm sure of it. For all I know it's been sold all over Pern by now. I doubt we'll get the rest back. I'm sure that was the last barrel - a celebratory cask, if you will, to cheer their success in their evil scheme. But I stopped them. Me."

The Smith felt greasy doing it, but he nodded his head in agreement.
**I can see why Thorril hates liars so much.** "You did. I suppose I should congratulate you. You were the last person I'd have ever imagined to solve this crime before me."

Harrit's forehead creased. "Ah- thank you?" "Although I'd like to go see the ageing room one last time. There's something I'd like to check out in regards to the missing casks..."

"Ah. Ah..." Harrit coughed. "I really don't have the time right now, Journeyman. Go talk to Merton, or Thorril, if he'll tolerate you.
Right now you're just wasting everyone's time."

Larstad managed a crestfallen expression. "Ah. So sorry. I suppose my pride..."

"Your 'pride', indeed." Harrit sniffed. "I suppose you have an appointment to keep."

"As a matter of fact, I do."

Larstad looked around the room; it was small and lined with shelving units for crudely bound hides and loose papers. Most Stewards offices looked the same - full of ink, numbers, and cabinets. And no soothing, ticking clocks. "I'll wait here with you then. You can tell me how you stumbled across Gavrin's room on the way to your own."

Harrit glanced at the candle quietly burning in the corner. "Ah, I'm not meeting them here."

"Oh! My apologies." Larstad leapt to his feet. "Shall I escort you there, then?"

Harrit sighed. "I'd really rather you didn't. Go out of your way, I mean."

"Oh." The Smith looked down at his scuffed boots. "Well... shall I walk you to the end of the hall, then? Or are you meeting them right now?"

The Steward shifted in his seat uncomfortably. "Well, ah..."

"I can wait with you until you're ready to go."

"I'm leaving now," Harrit said, sounding quietly desperate. He rose to his feet and hurried to the door. "I'm sorry, Larstad. Perhaps later."

"Mmm." Larstad steepled his fingers and stared at the ceiling, but didn't leave his chair. "I really hope so. I have a few questions I'd like to ask you about the missing brandy."

"I'll do all I can to help, but I really must be going now."

"Of course." The Smith sighed and finally stood. He slowly wandered out of the Steward's room and started down the hall, but turned to face Harrit before he'd gone far. "Sorry to bother you."

"Not at all." Harrit bowed, then locked his office using a key from the ring at his belt. "And if you'll excuse me..."

"Of course."

Harrit hesitated, then hurried down the hall and out of sight.
Larstad waited a few heartbeats before creeping back to the Steward's door and pulling a set of lockpicks from his pocket. The lock was old and simple and soon gave way. Larstad pushed his way inside and closed the door behind himself.

The Steward's office was quiet. The Smith ignored the desk and hurried to the wall, where he began rifling through hides and files.
Tithes, tithe projections, harvest yeilds, trades from other Holds, orders for brandy, wages for the drudges, a Thread chart, maps of the Holding... Larstad frowned as he came across a set of blueprints. He pulled them out and unrolled them on Harrit's desk. The Journeyman who had drafted them had dated them as being from several hundred turns previous, but marks on the worn paper attested to the growth and renovations that had taken place since then. Technicians and Stewards, Larstad thought. He moved his finger until he found the ageing rooms and read the notes beside them. 'Unassailable walls.
Cool, no sun.' In the hall a small 'X' blocked off several doors.
'Closed 1152' - that was a Plague date. **Convenient...** At least two of those 'X's led to doors that the Smith didn't remember seeing on his trip to the ageing room. A second notation in black ink was scrawled beside one of the X's - 'Boarded over- could be worked'. The ink looked fresher than the rest of the notes. He neatly re-rolled the blueprints and replaced them on the shelf.

Larstad then returned to the hides and eventually found the records for the coopery. He knew he was no accountant, but Larstad quickly scanned through the list of marks that flowed in and out of Gavrin's hands. It all _seemed_ in order... but who knew? He replaced that hide on the shelf as well, then wandered over to the desk. None of the drawers were locked and he went through them quickly - there was nothing remarkable in them save for some expensive pens, one of which Larstad pocketed, and a pack of playing cards with dirty pictures on them.

**No fish hook. Hmm.** The Smith tapped his lip with a forefinger.
There was no hope for it - it was time for him to go before Harrit returned to his office. He pressed his ear up against the door but couldn't hear anything - cautiously he opened it a crack. The hall was deserted. Just as quietly as he snuck in, Larstad snuck out again.

Last updated on the September 23rd 2007

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Hooked (part 13 of 14)