The Assignment

[Alsivor]

Aleda waited, expecting the Weyrleader to say more other than that teasing 'Yet'. Did the man not take his duties seriously at all? She heard the others already voicing agreement and couldn't prevent a slight frown from denting her brows. She moved around the table a little restlessly, found one of the pitchers of water and poured herself a glass. Silently she looked up and across at Selvagem and tipped the pitcher up in a 'want some?' gesture.

Then her attention turned back to J'fel, keen eyes marking the shades of worry already slipping into the lines of his face and she tipped her glass up, sipping slowly. It was interesting how readily the riders provided their word. No one had asked her formally for hers yet in the way she expected. P'nset drew her gaze as he used the word plantado and her focus sharpened on him a little. He had the look perhaps, Caminar by origin then? Rafeiro? Or just ... observant? J'fel was speaking again though and his words made no sense.

"Certainly what you have just spoken Weyrleader, is of very great importance, to all of Pern, if it is true. But as these others have asked, where is the evidence of illness? I have treated no one for anything resembling what is in the Ballads and tales of the sick during the plague." Her head tilted to the side slightly, expression thoughtful as she took in J'fel's intensity. Whatever was going on, he believed in it fully, though she found his use of that tone rather droll and had a hard time keeping the corner of her mouth from jumping up.

[Selvagem]

P'nset's arrival wakened the stone-cool girl a little, though it could not fully thaw her calm, watchful silence. Deep brown eyes flicked to him, and glinted with curiosity as she turned fully to cast a glance at the brownrider. P'nset, that had been his name, and he had been the one who "Searched" her. It was an odd term rthe riders had used when they sought her out at the Gather, and she was still getting used to the way they spoke here. But "Searching" apparently meant being chosen by a dragon to Stand at a Hatching. He was not the first or only to have done so, at any rate - only the first she had accepted. She tipped her head in greeting to him, ever so slightly, and turned back to the Weyrleader as he spoke.

"What Telgar asks of you is of paramount importance to both weyr and trader. If we're to succeed, to thrive through the rest of this decade, even through this generation, we must attend to this issue and we must do so in a way that does not build tension or conflict among us and our friends in the holds."

Selvagem raised a brow, a smile teasing the corners of her lips. Perhaps she was wrong, but it sounded almost as if J'fel had nothing against the Caminar. Though it was simply perhaps that as a Weyrleader, he had the burden of being a fairer judge in public, and was playing his role. She waited for him to speak again, and deep brown eyes met fiery blue as he raised his head.

"You must prevent outbreak of Moreta's plague."

The words took almost two seconds to sink in, and when they had the look of incredulity on the Caminar girl's face was almost comical - mainly because she had almost never worn such an expression before. Selvagem opened her mouth as if to speak, paused, and shut it again as she realized she was gaping. Moreta's...plague? She knew the story, there were few Pernese who didn't, but it was almost...childish, for the Weyrleader to be bringing up a legend as if it were fact. She gazed at him: maybe he really was younger than she thought. Younger in both body as well as mind.

Selvagem glanced to see Aleda's reaction, and realized that the older woman was no longer at her side. She searched and found her offering her another glass of water. She shook her head with a raised palm, a polite way of declining. Words were being raised, coming from P'nset and Aleda. As they're voices died away, Selvagem set her gaze on J'fel and spoke, hunting for words to make herself understood.

"They speak true," her voice was soft but purposeful, and clearly audible, "Have you another...meaning by such words, Weyrleader?"

[rigantona]

B'nek found himself leaning forward slightly as the Weyrleader began to tell them why they had been called to the meeting, using such serious words. The entire generation? Avoiding conflict? He frowned, unsure if J'fel was just trying to be dramatic or if he really did find the issue at hand to be of such earth-shattering importance. He suddenly felt as if he wasn't even thinking about the same thing as his Weyrleader.

J'fel's final, sombre statement confirmed that suspicion in a way he never would have expected. He sucked in a breath of surprise, his eyes widening in disbelief. Moreta's plague was a thing of ballads and bedtime stories. It couldn't return. Unless...unless J'fel wasn't speaking of a return. But they couldn't stop the plague that had already happened, even with timing it. Could they?

"Yes, please clarify," he said dryly, agreeing with the other's confusion.

[Omnia Munda]

J'fel's head nodded, steady and slow. His gaze, though intense, held much of the same steadiness, a certainty undeniable; with those eyes he looked upon those who answered him in turn, attendant to their words and, by his manner, much more as they spoke. Aleda's movement didn't even seem to spark awareness in his peripheral vision, as though his attention to the answers that came to him was so complete as to block out all other guests; yet when the sabedoria herself spoke, that focus was just as intense and as direct upon her.

B'nek's response was most direct, and earned from his weyrleader's mouth a strangely uncharacteristic smile that cast deeper lines around the young man's lips than were generally called for.

"Of course," said J'fel, his voice less ringing but no less rich.

His gaze slid, taking in P'nset and Aleda by turns. "Imagine," he compelled them, his voice fluid and deep as any ocean, "if plague were on the cusp of outbreak, and the planet's leaders knew it. Imagine," and this time his gaze swept all those in attendance, slowly as he spoke that each may feel for a moment the intensity of that endless blue fire, "the panic and chaos that could result. No, you have not seen nor heard of it. Nor, if you together perform the feat that you must, will you."

J'fel's mouth smiled again, this time as if it pained him to do so, as though great sadness rather than pleasure changed the structure of his youthful face. These were not expressions that were familiar to his men; of course, no expression he could possibly wear would be particularly familiar to the Caminar.

"To have such a task assigned is an honor to all Telgar's people." Again there was care taken to offer those eyes to each person in the room, with care for the traders. Such a statement and such a loaded pause should have been the opening to another plea for belief, for their faith in his word, but what came next had the intonation of command - though if J'fel conveyed all of his commands in a voice so powerful, his reputation might be reaching for S'lyn's rather than what it was. "You are familiar with the history: the basic elements of origin and contagion. You must investigate the situation and choose among yourselves the best course of action to achieve this end."

J'fel's hand reached for his water, though he kept his eyes on the people around the table. "You have all the information I can give you except the image Jordeth will provide your dragons."

Raising the glass, he regarded the motley company over its rim. "Anyone unwilling to accept our requirements of you may leave us now."

[Alsivor]

There he went again making his voice all sonorous like that. Who did he think he was the Masterharper of Pern? J'fel wore his Weyrleader's knot with a distinct lack of ease in the sabedoria's view. He was trying too hard to fit the part. Aleda's impatience manifested itself by the hidden tapping of her foot underneath her long skirts. Good thing she'd decided on the /blue/ gown because the violet would have been too short. Visibly she pursed her lips, took another swallow from her glass. She'd set the pitcher down when Selvagem had shaken her head.

Were drageiro always so /dramatic/? Or was this just a very young man trying to make sure he was taken seriously by a group of people of whom he was asking crazy things? Perhaps if Aleda were of Weyr origin she might be able to piece this one together better. As it stood of course it all seemed like folderol to her.

"Weyrleader. Please forgive the stupidity of a poor Caminar woman, who clearly knows nothing, here," Aleda stated boldly, sarcasm sliding into her voice, dark eyes meeting clear blue. "But I must warn you that you are getting close to insulting my honor with this request."

More fervently, eyes still on the young man's face: "I /believe/ that you believe what you are saying. But you have not yet made /me/ believe it. I do not know you, or these others. How can I accept such a task, leave my patients, my people, my duty behind, when I do not understand it and the way it has been described so far makes it seem -- insane?" She paused and set her glass down on the table. "I do not outright refuse, sir, because if it is true and plague is coming, it is too important." Her hands dropped to her sides and she sought the young Weyrleader's gaze again, letting her own convey a sense of being deeply troubled.

Better that than to roll her eyes.

[Invisible]

Once more G’tet looked around the room at the others present. Why us I wonder. What an odd combination of people. Huh? Is it time to wake up?

He really didn’t want to speak. It didn’t seem as if speaking up would do any good. Perhaps drawing attention to himself would not be so wise. But, every now and again his practical side was shoved out of the way by the part of himself that he tried to keep in line. “Begging your pardon, sir, but that’s not an awful lot to go on. Do you mean we’re supposed to do this as one group?” Because just tossing us all out with no guidance is a sure sign of not thinking things through. What is he thinking, Kal? I mean, we don’t even know each other. Well, not all of us. His eyes strayed to the Caminar women for a moment before looking back at the Weyrleader.

“I’m not saying I go back on what I said. I’m your man, sir, but surely-“ Surely there’s more you can say. Surely you thought this through? Surely…I’ve said too much and will be looking at a transfer. We’re going somewhere? I like going somewhere. We must know enough? What don't we know?

[Selvagem]

J'fel's expression of speech and face, while no doubt impressive in intensity and brevity for one so young, only succeeded in raising Selvagem's confusion further. Was the young Weyrleader singing a ballad, or holding a conference? Perhaps he often ran the two together, she wouldn't know. Not to mention she was having quite a bit of difficulty keeping up with the common language he used. Too many complex words in there, and his intonation hardly helped.

However it was, she realized soon enough that understood nothing of what J'fel wanted except that she would be working together with these...men. Plantado men. She shuddered, reminded herself that it was holders and not dragonriders she had a grudge against, and kept her eyes on the Weyrleader.

"Anyone unwilling to accept our requirements of you may leave us now."

Selvagem wanted to speak, to clarify if he had indeed meant what she thought he was saying, but Aleda was faster. She listened as the sabedoria asked the questions she had hoped to ask, and turned to the only two other people in the room who might understand Noestacan.

"What is he trying to say?" she asked in the native tongue of the Caminar, her bewilderment showed in her eyes.

[Omnia Munda]

There was no sign of surprise on J'fel's face when Aleda proved first to speak. In fact, the fire in those endless eyes seemed to flame brighter, satisfaction burning as quickly as any fuel.

But G'tet was in on the act as soon as the sabedoria had done speaking and Selvagem spoke in her native tongue just after that and, on this note J'fel evidently saw fit to interrupt the questions.

It was Aleda to whom he spoke first, and very quietly; no matter how quiet, however, the intensity that the Caminar healer ascribed to belief and certainty filled his tone and made his voice just as intense, just as powerful as before. It was as though he spoke to her and her alone, making the others for a moment awkward peepers on a private conversation, and there was something almost laughing beneath his words. Something deeply knowing and if not affectionate, at least not unkind.

"I will forgive it once, sabedoria, but as it's your wisdom and not your stupidity for which you're selected, I hope you'll be more patient with me in the future."

The Noestecan word sounded natural on J'fel's lips, as though since he'd spoken it last he'd made it native to his own tongue. Perhaps he was a quick study. A very quick study, for he then turned his gaze toward the Caminar candidate and answered the question she hadn't asked of him, albeit in ordinary Pernese language: "If you are patient a moment, Selvagem, I will try to clarify myself."

Now he smiled, truly, mouth a quirk of bemusement and brows arched high, and by turns he took each member of his audience in with that lightning-blue gaze. G'tet was last, and spoken to, though the answer the greenrider received was one for all the others as well.

"You can split up if you wish; when you've done what you must, I will recall you. For the purpose of this journey," and here he glanced at the wingleader, "no one among you is chief to the rest. But I ask that you be responsible to one another, and plan well once you have a picture to plan with.

"Unfortunately, of that picture I may paint only broad strokes; you can discover more information yourselves than I may reliably convey unto you. Unchecked, the sickness will spread, and the implications of that spread are far-reaching. Suffice it to say human lives are at greater risk doing nothing than in acting."

Of course it sufficed; the nature of the plague made such statements obvious. J'fel's expression became grim, if one discounted the deep determination that burned in his gaze.

"You have absolute free will in this matter. The means you choose to accomplish your ends will be whatever you make them; no cost is too great."

More grim yet, the weyrleader grew quiet once more. This time, the intimacy of that powerful, oversized voice included them all.

"Again we say: stay or go."

[ignisfatuus]

S'gur had taken up a position slightly away from the main group, by the wall. There he took a slightly relaxed yet contemplative stance, lent back so his back meet the cold stone wall, arms crossed with his lower lip drawn slightly into his mouth, held lightly in this unnatural position by his teeth. The greenriders head was angled more to wards the floor than to those gathered around him. Though when ever anyone spoke, he would raise his brown eyes to gaze in an almost solemn manner at them before they would fall back down again.

S'gur was not entirely certain about what their Weyrleader had planned. Initially the arrival of the Caminar had ruffled some of his internal feathers, though he, as ever, hide his distrust and dislike of the travelers. Soon more riders and the J'fel had spoken of legends. If S'gur had to guess prior to the meeting what it would have been about, he would have guessed something along the lines of the Caminar or the hatching or something. Not some mysterious plague that no one had any knowledge of.

More questions asked, little information given. It was safe to say, S'gurs interest had been piqued. The Weyrleader was more likely to know about such things than the likes of him and a dangerous disease... well, one simply couldn't not do something, or at least try to, about that. If it turned out to be nothing then there was only a little time wasted, if the opposite were true then they would surely kick themselves.

"I'll go." S'gur said, speaking up for the first time really since this whole thing had started. His demeanor was more serious than usual. "Though if there was anything else, anything at all, that you may know about all of this, it would be surely helpful."

[neopanther]

His hand had moved over his mouth, silent and ponderous took him. He listened to what went on, each one had something to say, and he kept his tongue for now. Even G’tet perked up and added his two marks worth to the weyrleader’s apparent dementia. P’nset had his mind set that he would do as best for their leader as he could throughout the entirety of the Weyrleader’s request, so his mind was set before he begun. The saboderia’s panache on the other hand made him smirk, she was unafraid of the man before her, none of her loyalties lie with him, and it kind of showed in P’nset’s eyes.

He had listened, but, as of this far, he could not make head nor tail of what the Weyrleader was attempting to tell them. Basically, he was saying he (or possibly another prominent weyr-figure) knew that a second coming was arriving, of that plague. That J’fel, despite his knowing was not going to help, that he had chosen those before him to execute this... distinct lack of a plan. And he trusted them to be able to solve the problem.

Please tell me that this is not my own blinkers that stop me from seeing what the weyrleader is getting at her my love?

{Nay, not at all mine, though I do wonder if he was referring to himself when he mention the ‘planet’s leader’} there was a distinctly draconic laugh that rumbled through his thoughts, {Jordeth’s mine is far from being in that league mine,} Despite the humour shared by P’nset, P’nset replied to his dragon with a little less bias, and more of a level headed opinion,

Do not let any other than me hear you say that, our faith might be doubted. Though yes, I wonder does he envision himself in that position? If so, how is it he has the ability to foresee the future? They are the words of a mad man!

{Aye, they are, perhaps he is.} P’nset thought best to leave their conversing there for now at least.

There was one underlying problem here for P’nset. He waited for a silence to arise between all the members of the room, “My presence is requested, and thus it is given, with my entire being I will devote myself to this, however, I would like a question from you if I may.” P’nset paused, but he did not wait for the weyrleader to grant permission, he waited so that he made sense of the hilarity of this entire situation in his head, before talking total blathering idiocy in gibberish and sounding like an imbecile.

“How do you know of this Sir?” He continued, “How is it possible that you know this? Why do you choose us to execute this plan when you might already know the outcome?” P’nset paused, all his forwardness almost spent, he never asked questions and this was quite tiring, he knew not how the Saboderia managed this as frequently as she had displayed so far.

“Forgive my forwardness Weyrleader, but I do not like living in the absence of awareness.” P’nset met that piercing blue with his own, much darker gaze, perfectly serious, lines furrowing in his brow, displaying how truly he needed this question answered.

[Alsivor]

Tilting her head a little, Aleda continued to meet J'fel's gaze straight on until he turned to speak to the others. She started to answer Selvagem: "Quiere qu'os --" and one brow lifted as J'fel displayed his understanding of their language. Now just where had he picked /that/ up. He might be crazy, but he certainly was easy on the eyes and apparently not so much of an idiot that he couldn't pick up Noestacan. Interesting. One corner of Aleda's mouth quirked up as she listened to all that was spoken. Fingers tapping lightly along the back of a chair at the table. She considered each of the other men as they spoke, the apparent devotion to J'fel, or to duty, though she couldn't help but wonder at its true depth. She had to at least give them credit for asking questions, even if they weren't getting any answers either and seemed to display no further understanding of this matter than she. Unsettling. Finally she lifted her voice again, bold words, calm disposition.

"I do not really need your forgiveness, Weyrleader." As softly as he had spoken to her, but devoid of any other particular intonation. Matter-of-fact. "But I thank you for the generosity in granting it and I am pleased to know that it is a healer's knowledge you seek if it is sickness we must deal with." A little hint of her usual warmth and accompanying it one of her sweetest smiles. "That is the wisest thing I have heard you say yet." Dry humor laced those words and her smile widened, a hint of a spark coming into her eyes.

Her head tilted as she took in the tenor of P'nset's questions, there was something here, something she was missing and it made another frown flicker briefly along her brow. She slid her fingers out along the cool curve of the chair, back in again.

"If there is sickness coming ... then it must be fought," she said slowly, looked up again around at all the men, at Selvagem giving the girl a reassuring smile. "And it is best fought not in ones and twos but with all together. Otherwise any plan is only as good as the single person who makes it. And with illness that is no plan at all." She took a deep breath, let it out and lifted her chin, squared her shoulders, looked J'fel right in the eye again.

"I will go. And I will give my word to hold my tongue on this matter. But we must know more in order to be effective. Otherwise we will fail."

Let him chew on that for a little. See what he said next. For all this was unsettling and he was utterly maddening ... parts of this were actually quite lot of fun.

[Invisible]

It was clear by now to G’tet that the Weyrleader planned on simply stringing them along. All this talk of secrecy. It’s probably because he isn’t even sure what he’s saying, Kal. Maybe I should turn him down? The whisper to the sleepy green’s mind was said with no small amount of guilt. Hadn’t he already committed them after all? There’s nothing for it, is there? We’re going to be sent on some wild wherry chase because our Weyrleader’s snapped under pressure. Or because our Weyrwoman has given him some fool’s task to keep him away from her power.

You worry too much. It will be fine. He’s Jordeth’s. I think I know him. G’tet had long since gotten used to Kalpeth’s memory lapses, but it was the sudden remembrances that threw him now. Right. He’s your clutchsib. So, it will be fine. Now I want to sleep. There was just something about the simplicity of it all that made G’tet chuckle. Oh, he didn’t mean to. Not at all. Certainly not now in the conversation amongst all these disparate people, but there was no way to stop it. The laugh was immediately followed by his own embarrassed silence.

[Selvagem]

Selvagem watched Aleda hopefully as the older girl started to speak, only to be interrupted, once more, by J'fel explaining himself. The Caminar girl turned back to him, one brow raised in surprise: the Weyrleader's knowledge of Noestacan, while not complete, was enough to impress her. She was astonished that he seemed to have picked it up so quickly - hadn't he just been asking her, at the meeting's beginning, what was term she had used to address Aleda?

Yet the effect of his words was to make her aware, suddenly, of how hard it must be for the young Weyrleader to conduct himself before so many who were older than him - or hostile towards his intentions. She nodded once, soft sympathetic patience glinting in the deep brown eyes as she assented to J'fel's request for patience. Settling herself idly against the table, she listened intently, determined to understand what he was saying this round. Some sickness was about to come on everyone, something to do with the plague of Moreta's time.

And he, J'fel, wanted them to stop it.

She glanced around the room again, at the motley group that surrounded her, and for the first time she wished C'cao was with them. She was not often comfortable with being around people, or working with people for that matter; but the slender greenrider had a way of steadying her with his quiet presence.

"Again we say: stay or go."

The ultimatum had been delivered. The Caminar girl glanced at J'fel a moment, unreadable brown eyes matching lightning-blue, then turned away again as she looked up and down the rest to see what they said. The riders were agreeing, not a surprising response. They reported to him, after all. Then Aleda began to speak, and Selvagem listened. She spoke well and strong, and the younger girl fel her heart lift with pride at the manne in which the sabedoria conducted herself. Yes, let the plantado see that there was strength and courage amongst the wandering folk, and from a woman no less. That would turn some of their stupid prejudices back on their heads!

"I will go. And I will give my word to hold my tongue on this matter. But we must know more in order to be effective. Otherwise we will fail."

Selvagem nodded as Aleda finished. The sabedoria's agreement was all she needed. She didn't want to stay. There were too many choices to be made here in Telgar and amongst her people. Going with this group would mean a delay in making her choices yet again, an escape. She was not naive by nature and knew that escape only postponed rather than solved a problem; but for this moment she chose, delibrately, to be naive about that, simply because it was so much easier than being wise. Perhaps everything would indeed sort itself when she had gotten back. Fat hope. She raised her head to J'fel.

"If Aleda goes, I will go too," her voice was even, "But I will bring Rulf with me."

Her chin was raised, as if daring them to refuse her that right. Her mind was moving quickly: she still had to think about Bessie. And her father's wagon. She could not expect Forca to look after them again, she had already asked too much of him. But a solution would have to be found, somehow.

[Omnia Munda]

S'gur's relatively quick, relatively short-spoken agreement brought a smile to J'fel's face, and P'nset's simple question opened that smile into a lazy, toothy grin. It was Aleda's words, though, that made those endless eyes seem eerie with pale and delighted fire. Selvagem agreed, and G'tet laughed. And none of this seemed stranger to J'fel than he must seem to himself.

"It would be easy to explain why I choose you," the enriched voice of the weyrleader informed P'nset. "But too easy. You are the right variety of think and act, of investigate and believe; you are the right mix of self and selfless. I will not flatter you more."

However serious the topic, J'fel had gall enough to waggle his brows.

"The real question is how we know," and there again was the plural pronoun; this time it was emphasized, though gently. "And the answer is just as simple as the question. People have died already."

Just like that, the brows were still, the smile was gone. Though J'fel's eyes yet burned, their fire was no longer the least bit pleasant. Only compelling determination remained.

One of the things that had been said remained unanswered, and after a long stare at the assembled members of his team, J'fel turned his eyes to Selvagem. "Rulf," he repeated, as though the name held significance for him; as though he knew personally the creature to which the syllable was attached. And for a moment, the weyrleader just seemed to think.

"I am not... " For the first time since he'd first named Moreta in this conference, J'fel's expression seemed to be an uncertain one. But he smiled, too, and as his smile grew it warmed his voice so that his words apologized for their uselessness. "...sure that is possible, Selvagem. But if among the riders here one has a dragon that will allow the beast aboard, you may try."

Then the young weyrleader turned his gaze directly to the one among them who had not yet given his word to this cause, the wingleader B'nek. It was as it had been when he'd spoken to Aleda, intimate and private yet exposed for all the others to see: "And you, wingleader?"

[rigantona]

J'fel demanded they imagine, and B'nek did so, admitting grudgingly to himself that the man could be an excellent speaker when he wanted to be. Once he looked past the pleasant, dramatic tone of the words, however, the meaning was quite shocking. He wasn't sure if J'fel was brilliant or downright insane for coming up with such an idea. The lack of information he was willing, or even able, to provide didn't push him towards the "brilliant" side at all, however.

It would never work. There were too many repercussions to consider. But if it did work...

As the others voiced their questions and opinions, B'nek was silent, watching their reactions closely. They seemed stunned as well, but each one eventually gave consent to the mission. Finally J'fel turned to him, and B'nek met his gaze steadily. Everyone else was going. That was never a good reason to do anything, but he trusted the riders here, and if they were won over, perhaps it was worth a try. At the very least, he had to look out for them. "I will go," he answered quietly. "But if I have any reason to believe this 'mission' is going badly, I have no reserves about dropping out."