Memories of the First Deal

Writers: Estelle, Miriah
Date Posted: 17th January 2020
Series: The Assassin's Story

Characters: Varlin, Lusilk
Description: Varlin remembers his first meeting with Lusilk
Location: Elsewhere on Pern
Date: month 2, day 18 of Turn 10

Lusilk

Varlin stood on the deck of the Lady Slipper and watched as the docks of
Sunstone Seahold receded into the distance. Ahead of them, the sun rose
slowly above the horizon, staining the water a deep, warm red. They'd
sail down the coast a few days, then pick up a riverboat near the site
of the ruined Weyr to travel to where they were building the new one.
The place where he'd find Lusilk.

For now, he had nothing to do but wait...and remember.

*** 17 Turns ago ***

Rukbat hung low in the evening sky as the dark-haired man approached the
run-down cothold, casting a deep crimson glow over the landscape.
Overhead, a faint point of red light glimmered, but the man paid it no
heed. He had more pressing concerns than myths and harper legends of
dragons and deadly silver rain.

He needed somewhere to lie low, until his trail went cold and he could
start looking for another job.

This had to be the place he'd been told about. It didn't look like much,
but he'd heard it was comfortable enough for the price and more
importantly, they didn't ask questions. Still, he approached with
caution. There were many reasons why he didn't want to be found in a
hold, even a poor cothold like this one.

The door was open and he stood in the doorway, looking into the dimly
lit interior for faces he recognised. Seeing none, he knocked to attract
the attention of the holder woman.

The woman turned and started a little at the appearance of an unknown
man at her door. Most of her visitors were well known to her, but it
wasn't too surprising to see a new face; but caution ruled her
response. "Can I help you?" Her gaze flicked just past him and down
and she straightened as her daughter, aged only eight turns, slipped
quietly behind him, a small blade at the ready.

He held out his hands, empty of weapons, and remained in the doorway.
"I'm looking for a place to rest for a few days. A friend told me I
could find shelter here." His eyes didn't leave hers and he shifted his
stance slightly, then placed a hand on his belt pouch. "I can pay."

The woman flicked a gaze to his pouch, then back up again. "What
friend?" Negative experiences with guards and less friendly Holdless
folk, tempered her response, keeping her from completely welcoming the
young man. She wasn't an overly pretty woman; life had been hard and the
three children she had borne had hungry mouths and needs that had
strained her looks. But still, she was feminine enough that many men
also paid in marks or supplies for extra services from her. Perhaps this
man would be one of them. It wouldn't do to run him off yet. She
flicked a finger and the child went still, knife almost to the pouch.

"A man called Harrok. He's a - trader." He'd also been the source of the
marks Varlin carried, payment for the goods he'd helped take from a real
trader caravan two nights since. Varlin figured he could be trusted as
much as anyone; he'd paid a fair price even though the raid hadn't gone
entirely to plan. His eyes flickered at her gesture, but he didn't look
back. "He said it was quiet here. That's what I'm looking for. No trouble."

The woman relaxed. "I know Harrok." She knew him quite well and
wouldn't send anyone her way that would endanger her too greatly. He
valued her services and occasional company. "You can come in." She
paused, "but you'll still have to pay." At that statement, the child
behind Varlin, slipped forward on bare feet and carefully sliced at
the pouches tie, avoiding rustling it too badly or touching the man's
fingers. She had learned to be quick, being smacked across the face by
irritated men had been enough to teach her sly efficiency in her
movements.

"All right." He stepped inside and swung the heavy pack down from his
shoulder. His hand left the pouch to open it and search inside,
apparently distracted from the almost imperceptible tug at his belt. It
was only when the ties loosened and parted that he spun, snake-fast to
grasp the thief's arm, his free hand tensing to strike.

Then he saw that his pouch was in the hands of a skinny dark-haired
girl, staring back at him with wary eyes, and he held back. He glanced
over his shoulder at the woman. "Harrok didn't tell me I'd have my
pocket picked less than a minute after walking through your door. She
yours?"

The little girl flinched immediately as she was grabbed, fulling
expecting a blow, but her eyes never left Varlin's. They remained
stubbornly locked on his as though daring him to complete a blow. When
the man glanced over his shoulder, she acted, kicking out to the man's
shin just hard enough to startle him and allow her to escape. She
darted around him and ran behind her mother's skirts, She stared at
him defiantly and without fear.

Her mother grimaced. "Yes, she's mine. My eldest. I am Lusena and do
beg your forgiveness for her. We've encountered a fair few men who
take advantage. " She looked down at her child with a frown. "She was
only supposed to take the pouch if you refused." The girl scowled,
then slunk away to begin to stir the pot over the fire. "Please, come
in. She won't try again."

Varlin bent to pick up the pouch and weighed it in his hand, then
shrugged and tossed it towards the girl. "Keep it. It's yours." He took
the pack in one hand and went over to the table, sitting down at the
bench alongside. It felt strange to be under a roof again after months
lived outdoors, the long nights huddled around a campfire. "Can I get
something to eat?"

The girl moved away from the fire quickly to catch the pouch, eyes
gleaming with excitement and satisfaction. That satisfaction paled as
she opened it into her palm, revealing nothing more than light, flat
river stones. Her eyes lifted and narrowed. "Hey...that's not fair!"

Her mother snorted and began to laugh softly. "Life's not. Fetch the
man some stew, Lusilk. And some ale from the keg." She turned back to
their 'guest', and sat across the table from him, watching him as
Lusilk, with a scowl slammed down a bowl and mug in front of him.

"Thanks." The man's grin showed teeth, white against his tanned skin.
"Get a drink for your Ma, too. It's on me." While she turned away, he
ate with efficient haste, not quite bolting the stew, but with a manner
than suggested he'd not eaten this well for some time.

"You should have waited until now to try to rob me." As the girl
returned, he put down his spoon and reached for his ale, having
satisfied the worst of his hunger. "Now I'm more relaxed, and I've my
meal to distract me. It would have been easier and you've got light
fingers, so you'd have stood a good chance. Of course, you'd have still
got pebbles, since I'm not so stupid as to wear a purse of marks openly
into...the kind of place where I could find shelter." He glanced at the
mother. "But you can tell the difference, if you're careful."

Despite her obvious pouting scowl, it was clear that Lusilk was paying
attention as the man explained, remembering the advice and locking it
away in her mind. As she put down her mother's ale, she stared at the
man, trying to figure out where the pouch was. "How?"

Lusena brushed her aside, drinking from her cup as she studied the man
as well, not taking apparent offence at the man's suggestion "Never
mind, girl. You stir that stew like you ought. Me and this man, we'll
need to talk payment." Then Lusilk did sulk, stalking back to the
stew and thrusting a spoon into it to half-heartedly stir even as she
did her best to listen to their conversation. "It's two marks a week
for a bed up in the loft, three meals and drink but you don't bring
your business here. An extra half mark if you'd like a more
comfortable bed with company."

Varlin hesitated, considering. It was tempting, to be in a soft bed with
a willing woman; such opportunities were rare in the life he led. On the
other hand, he didn't want to wake up with his purse emptied and his
gear missing. Nor did he know how long he'd have to stay. Two marks a
week would burn through his earnings, but he knew he wasn't in a good
position to argue.

"The loft will do for now." He gave Lusilk a sidelong glance, held out a
fist, then uncurled his fingers to reveal a two-mark piece lying on his
palm, as if from nowhere. As the woman reached for it, though, he closed
them again and met her gaze steadily. "And you keep quiet about me being
here. Do you understand?"

"Understood." Lusena nodded easily. Her scant security depended on her
discretion and the discretion of those who depended on her for a safe
night or two. "And agreed as long as you don't spread word about us
neither. We're go through Harrock and him alone. But payment's up front.
And if you change your mind about the company, even for just a night and
in the loft, we can make a deal for that."

Lusilk watched them, dark sharp eyes on the man's hand. What they
spoke of didn't seem to surprise or alarm her. She'd heard it before.
But the trick with the mark... that was something she wanted to learn.
"How'd you do that?"

"This?" He turned his fist over, knocked on the table, then spread his
fingers again to reveal an empty palm, his eyes glinting with amusement.
"How about we make a deal, too? I'll show you how to do it, if you
promise to give back anything you steal from me while I'm here."

Her eyes followed the movement and when the coin disappeared, a look of
frustration grew on her face. She flicked a glance at her mother, then
back at Varlin, eyes narrowing. "Deal."

Lusena's eyes flickered with suspicion at the interplay but she said
nothing, instead just thinning her lips as she nodded agreement. "Well
then, Lusilk can show you to the loft. Breakfast is at dawn."

Lusilk hopped up and went to the door, waving the man after her. "Come
on. I'll show you the ladder. " She waited on him to follow, and as the
door closed behind him, looked up at him, young eyes watchful. "I hear
stuff you know. There men that come, they talk and think I don't
listen, but I do. " She began to walk around the house to the ladder
that led to the small loft. "You stick around the area and maybe teach
me some tricks like that, maybe I can tell you what I hear. "

Varlin tossed the mark onto the table, picked up his pack and followed
her out. "That does sound interesting." He eyed the opening at the top
of the ladder, considering the girl's offer carefully. She was quick,
he'd realised that almost immediately, and could be useful. It wouldn't
take much to show her a few tricks...and besides, it looked like he was
going to have time on his hands, these next few days. Who knew, it might
even save his skin, one day. "I'd like to know if you hear talk of
unusual activity round here. Any sightings of the Lord Holder's guards,
in particular."

She eyed him, crossing her arms. "A trick for every bit of news. Or no
deal." Her chin lifted stubbornly and she waited.

The man gave her a long, skeptical look. "A trick for every solid,
useful piece of news. I don't want to know that your nursemaid's
cousin's canine heard a rumor there might be treasure buried in the
forest." The corner of his mouth curved up. "Tell me something good and
I might show you a few ways to use that little knife of yours."

"I don't have a nursemaid." Lusilk scoffed. "been taking care of
myself since I was five." She stared up at him, then nodded. "Fine.
Deal." She spit on her palm and thrust it at him. "Shake on it."

He grinned and returned the gesture, shaking her hand firmly. "Deal.
Now..." He released her hand, then snapped his fingers and turned his
hand over to reveal an eight-mark in his palm. "I'd better show you how
this is done before I lose my pack and boots. But I'll warn you, it
takes practice."

Last updated on the February 1st 2020

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Memories of the First Deal