Logs:The One
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| RL Date: 21 August, 2011 |
| Who: Itsy, Raum |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Vignette |
| What: Raum gains another associate. |
| Where: Tillek Hold |
| When: Day 19, Month 7, Turn 26 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Devaki/Mentions |
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| Raum spent the rest of the brewfest hiding, more than anything else. Well, there was a fair bit of drinking, and some whoring on the side, but all in all Raum wasn't much of one for parties. He was relieved when it was all over and the crowds went home; and he could finally get down to business. He left Devaki to his own devices, those days afterward. At night, when they retreated back to the room they'd secured on the waterfront, Raum had relatively little to say, and even less about where he'd spent his day. The nights, he spent down at the little taverns dotting the wharf; mornings, he spent nursing his hangovers. Near as he could tell, that was what sailors did, anyway, by and large. That, and fight, and after the third fight down at Pruett's that he put an end to, Pruett offered him a spot doing just that for a little money--just until he shipped out, they agreed. Raum took it, since he was doing the work anyway and marks were never amiss. Afternoons, though, were still all his, and Raum spent them as he pleased. At first, he spent his time in the main hold, poking around here and there and never finding what he was looking for. After a little while, he gave up. The people there were holders, no different than you'd find anywhere else on Pern. He was looking for something--else. He found it down on the docks, practically on his doorstep. He'd seen the girl, or one like her anyway, a few times before around the docks. But that night, a couple weeks after they'd come to Tillek, she caught the guard's eye. Children didn't belong in Pruett's, and when she noticed his attention on her, she stiffened a little and then approached. "Please, sir, I think my father is here, I'm looking for him. Have you--?" She was quick, but not quite quick enough to get the mark piece from his pocket while his attention was distracted. He gave the girl a shove away. "Get out of here," he ordered, and she scurried away. Raum started noticing her more and more, then: sometimes alone, working a crowd; sometimes at the head of a small rabble of skinny, unhealthy-looking children that never seemed to go home. It took him another week of watching for her for him to confirm what he suspected: there was no father, or if there was he'd long since been consigned to /between/ in her mind, for all her interest in parental authority. She was filching food and sleeping in whatever spot she could find, always in the same dirty clothes: in short, exactly the kind of child no one would ever miss. Raum saw his chance one late morning, when the girl got herself caught trying to steal a stack of late-summer fruit from a cart at the dockside. She had a deathgrip on her prize, but the shopkeep had her by the arm, shouting when Raum interposed himself. "There you are, girl," he said, in that dangerous calm voice he'd perfected in the guard. The shopkeep took a step backward and released her arm. The girl looked about to just bolt, but Raum caught her by the back of the neck before she could. "What did I tell you? --For your troubles," Raum passed the man enough to cover the fruit and a little extra, giving the girl a shake for good measure. "Now, come." It was not a request, and he didn't loosen his grip at all as he dragged the girl away from the stall. They didn't go far, only far enough, down an empty dead-end alleyway that butted up against the high stone walls of the hold. Then, he let the girl go, giving her a push away while he kept himself between her and the escape. She eyed him warily, but took a bite of one bruised apple to show just how unconcerned she was. "What's your name, girl?" he asked. "Itsy." "Itsy." "Itsalisy, but you better not tell and you can't call me that. It's Itsy," she caved under his steady gaze, though her chin jutted out defiantly at the last. Raum accepted it. "How old are you?" "Nine, last month." "Perfect." She was scrawny enough to pass for younger, and anyway, kids always idolized their elders. She was regarding him now with a more wary look, backing closer to the wall behind her. "Perfect for what? --I'm not no whore like them down at the bars." It was, Raum decided, almost endearing the way her little mind jumped to the worst possible conclusion. That, and the way she'd kept her hand on the skinny little knife in her belt the whole time. He could work with this. |
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