Posted: Thu May 24, 2007 2:29 am
As the sun set far above, a very different tableau was underway not far from one edge of the practice ground, at the periphery of the weyr. Into a stone chamber with ceilings that appear to be vaulted, or at least to vanish in the dim recesses far above, strode the weyrling-master. Despite his relative weariness, he never failed to appreciate the austere pleasures of his quarters. The walls looked to be highly polished natural granite, with prominent grain and even some subtle tints. Just beyond, very fine joints were just visible near the lintel-posts and supporting the mantel by the hearth of the communal kitchen, where a large fire appeared to have been recently extinguished. A few well-charred logs and a steaming cauldron of what smelled enticingly like stew gave evidence that suppertime was near, and Kavi’s stomach betrayed his outwardly implacable veneer. In the background he heard kitchen sounds and the muted voices of women. A filtered angular light drifted through one narrow window where the thin curtain had been brushed aside by the afternoon breezes. He placed one foot upon a low trestle table, the only furniture visible in the chamber, and began to unlace his leggings.
The master smelled of sweat and leather, with undertones of a peculiar, close aroma that weyrfolk no longer noticed. Redolent in part of smoke and in part of iguana, the scent was subtle yet powerful, and had been known to drive domestic animals blind with fear. He smelled of dragon.
Neither of the two men who followed him into the room appeared to have noticed. Or perhaps they were too circumspect to mention it to a man only too clearly exasperated, tired, and hungry. Why antagonize a man who had been a terror to both men in their youth, which suddenly seemed not that long ago.
The two riders were marked with the insignia of their rank: Brown wingseconds, the workhorses of the weyrmacht. Aside from this concession to social hierarchy there was outwardly very little to tell one apart from the other, or for that matter from the weyrling master in his current garb. They too smelled of dragon, although not to as pronounced a degree. But instead of the sweats of their labors they sported traces of their recent activities in groomsmanship. Faint tinges of mineral oil covered the ever-present sulfurous aftertaste that was the hallmark of working dragons and their riders even when not hard pressed in flaming battle. Still their gear seemed too clean and their appearance too unruffled for them to have come here directly from the stables.
The master’s demeanor darkened as his suspicion grew. This was no casual stop.
“So let’s have it then. Why have ye come?” His tone was gruff and demanding, and they were accustomed to obey it, even this long past training. One rider almost stood to attention, then relaxed. His partner took the moment to reply, hesitantly at first, then warming gradually to the task at hand.
“Well, Master Kavi, it’s not to tax you any further, you need not be concerned about that. All reports to the Weyrleader have been satisfactory or better and it appears another class will graduate on time and in good form, despite your best efforts to break their spirits.”
His partner nudged his ankle gently then broke in.
“What Willem means to say, Sir, is that we all respect your opinion in the upbringing of our youth, especially those of us who came up under your guidance. There is only a minor matter that deserves the wisdom of a steady hand.”
Now it was Willem’s turn to nudge his partner. He was really laying it on too thick!
“Rosteen has an excellent point, Master Kavi. But we would not trouble you before the evening meal. Please, we will return when you have refreshed…”
“Out with it, man, or I’ll refresh you! I haven’t had a moment to spare these last weeks, and with all the excitement lately I am so far behind I can never die. Is this about those illicit flights our young daredevils have been at? I heard there’re three cases of frostbite in Healers’ Temple and one fellow who still can’t look in a mirror without screaming. You call that progress?”
Rosteen and Willem eyed each other in chagrin—this was going about as well as they had expected. Finally, Willem spoke.
“Sir, the between jumps are going exactly according to plan; I’m sure you have read the official report. I couldn’t speculate on the unexplained patterns of injuries you mentioned, but Weyrleader Sio has visited with them and their families and we all wish them a speedy recovery. We have come here to address a more trivial matter, if you please.”
“Make it quick, I’m taking off my pants,” the Weyrling Master snapped, and proceeded to follow through on what the two riders were hoping was an empty threat. The smell in the room became worse.
“It’s the wonder twins, Zhan and Jiayna,” Rosteen blurted to cover his embarrassment. “There’s been too much talk and no good information.”
“If you’re referring to the idle chatter of depraved minds, I give it no credence. Mating is set for the usual season, the Greens will rise, and the Blues and Browns will give chase. Second-year Grendonil is not likely to be ready with his Bronze, Vulenk. Zhan is strong, to be sure, but Jiayna’s unbonded and there’s any number of Browns that will fight him for the honors. Without rider preference he hasn’t got a chance.” The Master grunted as he pulled down his pads and stood up in nothing more than thin silks, relieved of his heavy gear and any further interest in his two guests.
“That’s the crux of the issue, Master Kavi,” continued Rosteen smoothly, pressing his host perhaps unwisely. “There’s speculation they will pair off separately, not mate with the others. Their bond has been strong indeed for opposite sexes and it has not wavered since hatching. Even Brecht has voiced some concern that Jiayna is riderless.”
“Nonsense! No riders or dragons under my supervision would dare defy the old ways! Still, tongues will wag. I’ll see they’re kept separated for the appearance of propriety.” He finished tiredly, despite his initial heat. This trivial concern would not have fazed him, once. Perhaps a year or two more and he would have to begin training a successor to fill his chaps. The idea disturbed him only a little.
Willem was speaking: “…where they are now, I suppose?”
“What’s that?”
“I was only asking if you knew where the two had gone, just now. You see it was mentioned that they tend to wander off a bit more than is usual, and…”
“We’ll lock ‘em up tight after tonight, you bet! None of this sneaking around. I guess two-a-days aren’t enough for them! This time tomorrow they won’t be able to see, much less walk!”
And with that the interview was clearly at an end. The master stalked off to the kitchen, where he was met with the astonished yelps of women who, finding a partially undressed man in their midst, were unsure whether to laugh or be frightened. The two riders covered their grins with their hands and went in search of their own evening meal.
Rosteen turned to Willem as they served themselves from the communal table, and said with a gleam in his eye, “Some things never change, eh?”
Willem looked back at the kitchen as if afraid to be overheard then replied, “Let’s hope he keeps them in check, and nobody has any accidents this year. With all the difficulties these new jumps are giving even our best riders, we can’t afford to have any problems with the new blood.”
They turned and walked off into the purple dark just as a cool wind dusted up the front yards. There was a change in the weather coming.
The master smelled of sweat and leather, with undertones of a peculiar, close aroma that weyrfolk no longer noticed. Redolent in part of smoke and in part of iguana, the scent was subtle yet powerful, and had been known to drive domestic animals blind with fear. He smelled of dragon.
Neither of the two men who followed him into the room appeared to have noticed. Or perhaps they were too circumspect to mention it to a man only too clearly exasperated, tired, and hungry. Why antagonize a man who had been a terror to both men in their youth, which suddenly seemed not that long ago.
The two riders were marked with the insignia of their rank: Brown wingseconds, the workhorses of the weyrmacht. Aside from this concession to social hierarchy there was outwardly very little to tell one apart from the other, or for that matter from the weyrling master in his current garb. They too smelled of dragon, although not to as pronounced a degree. But instead of the sweats of their labors they sported traces of their recent activities in groomsmanship. Faint tinges of mineral oil covered the ever-present sulfurous aftertaste that was the hallmark of working dragons and their riders even when not hard pressed in flaming battle. Still their gear seemed too clean and their appearance too unruffled for them to have come here directly from the stables.
The master’s demeanor darkened as his suspicion grew. This was no casual stop.
“So let’s have it then. Why have ye come?” His tone was gruff and demanding, and they were accustomed to obey it, even this long past training. One rider almost stood to attention, then relaxed. His partner took the moment to reply, hesitantly at first, then warming gradually to the task at hand.
“Well, Master Kavi, it’s not to tax you any further, you need not be concerned about that. All reports to the Weyrleader have been satisfactory or better and it appears another class will graduate on time and in good form, despite your best efforts to break their spirits.”
His partner nudged his ankle gently then broke in.
“What Willem means to say, Sir, is that we all respect your opinion in the upbringing of our youth, especially those of us who came up under your guidance. There is only a minor matter that deserves the wisdom of a steady hand.”
Now it was Willem’s turn to nudge his partner. He was really laying it on too thick!
“Rosteen has an excellent point, Master Kavi. But we would not trouble you before the evening meal. Please, we will return when you have refreshed…”
“Out with it, man, or I’ll refresh you! I haven’t had a moment to spare these last weeks, and with all the excitement lately I am so far behind I can never die. Is this about those illicit flights our young daredevils have been at? I heard there’re three cases of frostbite in Healers’ Temple and one fellow who still can’t look in a mirror without screaming. You call that progress?”
Rosteen and Willem eyed each other in chagrin—this was going about as well as they had expected. Finally, Willem spoke.
“Sir, the between jumps are going exactly according to plan; I’m sure you have read the official report. I couldn’t speculate on the unexplained patterns of injuries you mentioned, but Weyrleader Sio has visited with them and their families and we all wish them a speedy recovery. We have come here to address a more trivial matter, if you please.”
“Make it quick, I’m taking off my pants,” the Weyrling Master snapped, and proceeded to follow through on what the two riders were hoping was an empty threat. The smell in the room became worse.
“It’s the wonder twins, Zhan and Jiayna,” Rosteen blurted to cover his embarrassment. “There’s been too much talk and no good information.”
“If you’re referring to the idle chatter of depraved minds, I give it no credence. Mating is set for the usual season, the Greens will rise, and the Blues and Browns will give chase. Second-year Grendonil is not likely to be ready with his Bronze, Vulenk. Zhan is strong, to be sure, but Jiayna’s unbonded and there’s any number of Browns that will fight him for the honors. Without rider preference he hasn’t got a chance.” The Master grunted as he pulled down his pads and stood up in nothing more than thin silks, relieved of his heavy gear and any further interest in his two guests.
“That’s the crux of the issue, Master Kavi,” continued Rosteen smoothly, pressing his host perhaps unwisely. “There’s speculation they will pair off separately, not mate with the others. Their bond has been strong indeed for opposite sexes and it has not wavered since hatching. Even Brecht has voiced some concern that Jiayna is riderless.”
“Nonsense! No riders or dragons under my supervision would dare defy the old ways! Still, tongues will wag. I’ll see they’re kept separated for the appearance of propriety.” He finished tiredly, despite his initial heat. This trivial concern would not have fazed him, once. Perhaps a year or two more and he would have to begin training a successor to fill his chaps. The idea disturbed him only a little.
Willem was speaking: “…where they are now, I suppose?”
“What’s that?”
“I was only asking if you knew where the two had gone, just now. You see it was mentioned that they tend to wander off a bit more than is usual, and…”
“We’ll lock ‘em up tight after tonight, you bet! None of this sneaking around. I guess two-a-days aren’t enough for them! This time tomorrow they won’t be able to see, much less walk!”
And with that the interview was clearly at an end. The master stalked off to the kitchen, where he was met with the astonished yelps of women who, finding a partially undressed man in their midst, were unsure whether to laugh or be frightened. The two riders covered their grins with their hands and went in search of their own evening meal.
Rosteen turned to Willem as they served themselves from the communal table, and said with a gleam in his eye, “Some things never change, eh?”
Willem looked back at the kitchen as if afraid to be overheard then replied, “Let’s hope he keeps them in check, and nobody has any accidents this year. With all the difficulties these new jumps are giving even our best riders, we can’t afford to have any problems with the new blood.”
They turned and walked off into the purple dark just as a cool wind dusted up the front yards. There was a change in the weather coming.
Think about the role mutation plays in the development of life. How nature evolves.