Shopping for a fight!

[Xinnai]

Finneth danced anxiously until Daisulyth answered her, immediately feeling some calm return when he took control of the situation. She heaved a sigh of relief, putting across her consent and quickly contacted the nearest bronze she could find. She relayed the message quickly and could feel the Weyr begin to buzz with activity.

She danced across her ledge, still slightly panicked though she trusted the brown. He'd get back her silly Mine. Her Mine wouldn't be hurt, would he? Always high-strung, the situation was making the green clearly twitchy, even more so than that. She was acting like a feline on a hot griddle.

She tried to contact K'houry but found him still caught up in the brawl, unconsciously putting up a wall between them that she tried time and again to battle down. She creeled uneasily, shifting from side to side, her eyes whirling madly.

Bring him home safe, she pleaded with Daisultyh. Please, Weyrlingmaster brown. Bring Mine-love back safe. He's just a silly, daft old rider.

K'houry didn't even know that his green was panicking, didn't know that she'd called out the reinforcements. He started up as he saw the vast shadow that appeared. He glanced up, brows pulling over his eyes dourly. He knew that dragon. He stopped, swiping at his face with his ripped and tattered clothes and then spat, tasting blood faintly in his mouth. He watched the Caminar go off and couldn't resist.

"Cowards! Filth! Vermin! And you call yourselves men." He sneered and spat again, directing the spittle towards their feet. "You just run off and hope we don't hurt you! You're not fit to lick the floors of Telgar!"

MINE! Finneth was suddenly there, reprimanding sharply, her mind so firmly linked with her rider's that he wheeled and staggered, eyes going blind, his stomach roiling with sickness. He choked, shaking his head, brushing her to the side to glare after the departing darker-skinned figures.

[anhydrous]

Daisulyth spotted his objective as soon as the grizzled rider had spat his words at the Caminar, pointing I’dalyn in the correct direction. We need to take him to His. She will calm him down. The brown was carefully not involving himself, instead relying on his statue to prove the point. Shifting his attentions skyward, the usually placid brown purred soothing reassurances to his maiden in distress, claws flexing nervously while he waited for his rider to collect K’houry.

Glancing around to the dispersing crowd, I’dalyn threw plenty of menacing glares to all involved. This was a disgrace. I’dalyn had no particular qualm with the travelers, but if this was how low the situation had sunk, perhaps it was time for them to be on their way. He was even more disappointed with the weyrfolk. His nose wrinkled at the unmistakable scent of wine hanging heavy in the air. It mixed with the aroma of blood and sweat, a disgraceful cocktail for the nose still lingering although the fighting had stopped.

The brownrider’s disapproving glare laid heavily on K’houry as he stalked forward, his voice twisted darkly but retaining its characteristic constancy. “K’houry, look at what you’re doing.” I’dalyn pointed roughly in the direction of the man’s weyr, Finneth’s anxious shape pacing on the ledge. He grabbed at the greenrider’s shoulder after the man had regained his breath, attempting to pull him to Daisulyth to get him away from the Caminar. “Come on now, man. Your green is kicking up a veritable fit.” Any scorn in those words were hardly intentional, but undoubtedly laced every syllable.

[Xinnai]

K'houry snarled, incensed, as he saw I'dayln striding through the crowd, dispersing most of the angry men gathered there with an angry look or two. It rankled, knowing that the pup could just send a formerly incensed man a glance and he'd be on his way.

The greenrider swiped a hand across his mouth, pulling it back and viewing it critically. No blood. Well, that was a relief there. His clothes weren't so lucky. He grimaced, having forgotten about I'dalyn in the pressing crisis. His head snapped up, eyes glinting dangerously as the brownrider addressed him. At his words, his tongue pressed against his cheek and he glanced up, indeed seeing his beauty pacing back and forth anxiously across their ledge.

Sweetheart, all is fine. I'm okay. He attempted to soothe her.
No, everything is not fine and you are not okay. Do you know how worried I was? Do you know what would have happened to me if you'd been hurt? If you'd died?

The man winced, all set to reply, when I'dayln grabbed at his shoulder, attempting to tow him away. He growled, jerking back and shoving at the other man. "Get off me!" And just because he could, just because he was still enraged and pumped up from the fight, he pulled back and let fly, aiming for the Weyrlingmaster's nose. From the distance, Finneth gave a keen creel of shock, wings flaring to their full extent. Just what was K'houry doing? He was actually stalking away from I'dayln at that moment. But he turned, sneer on his weathered face and mockery in his voice. "I told you to let me go."

[anhydrous]

I’dalyn’s fingertips had barely grazed the other man’s shoulder when he was shoved away, too preoccupied with regaining his balance to notice the fist rapidly approaching his face. He caught sight of K’houry’s knuckles just before they connected solidly with his left eye, his retort a yelp of surprise rather than pain.

Not that it didn’t hurt. Really, it did. I’dalyn pressed his hand to his eye in muted shock, staring after K’houry’s retreating back with his mouth agape as the man spat his caustic little scoff. Daisulyth was just as shocked, automatically baring his teeth helplessly at the greenrider’s careless action. Speechlessly he butted at Finneth’s consciousness, as if she hadn’t already seen what had happened.

“You have to be joking!” I’dalyn spat flatly. Already his eye was beginning to swell, a slight trickle of blood dripping down from a scratch high on his cheekbone. “I get dragged out here..” he growled, frame rigid with fury, “because you cannot control yourself, and you turn on the man who has offered you nothing but kindness and respect?” I’dalyn’s fists tightened, but he took no step forward. “Do you take pride in your position? Are you proud to be a dragonrider?” The question hung in the air awkwardly, Daisulyth’s frame stalking past the riders and Caminar who hadn’t already cleared out to settle behind his injured rider worriedly.

The dragon’s irritation had not faded, but his nervousness was trumping the other emotion for the moment. Forget the green and hers,[/color] he pleaded desperately. I’dalyn waved his dragon’s anxiety away, standing steadily with one hand pressed to his eye. He spoke without conviction, his tone placid but words biting. “You make me sick.”

[hails]

Nysta watched as the dragon and who she guessed was his rider appear. Soon after, the majority of the Caminar had fled. She supposed she couldn't blame them, dragons could be scary if you weren't used to them. She wasn't all that familiar with them, herself. "C'mon, let's go over there and see what they're talking about. We might be able to help or something!" After all, they had been there for the whole ordeal.

Without really waiting for Genet, Nysta took off towards the weyrlingmaster at a brisk pace but stopped when she saw him get him by a bigger man. Would another fight start up, this time between weyrfolk?

___________

Laikol left with the other Caminar, still angry but not ready to risk the dragon's temper. He lost himself within the maze of stalls and wagons.

What to do now? The fighting was over but rage still raced through his veins. And deep in his gut, Laikol realized how bad he had messed up. He could already hear what his aunt and uncle would say when they found out he had thrown the first punch, that they expected him to be above that. He sat on the ground in a relatively empty area and tried to sort out his options. He needed to get medical help soon, though, since it looked like his hand was broken. But the moment he went home, he knew he'd receive the punishment of his life.

[Xinnai]

Finneth already knew what had happened and needed no encouragement from the brown to scold her rider. She hissed, spurred to actual anger by her bonded's careless action. He was damaging their relations, their liasons! Things that were important, that couldn't be lost.

You are an idiot! What am I going to do with you? K'houry, that was wrong. Very wrong. Daisulyth and his rider have shown us nothing but kindness. They have offered us a position on the weyrling staff. And you can bet it wasn't because of your jovial charm! This is a way out of that boring hole we had been reduced to. Do you think people really care about oldsters like us? They don't! And you being sharding idiotic and stupid and-Faranth help me!

She withdrew from him with a sharp slap, erecting a thick wall between them as she fumed. Ruined! He'd ruined it. She paced back and forth, tail lashing angrily, her eyes whirling and wings settling and resettling over her shoulders.

K'houry, for his part, ignored his green. He flapped one hand after her and glared with unveiled loathing at the Weyrlingmaster, one of his own eyes swollen shut. He balled his hands into his pockets and laughed humorlessly.

"Do I have pride?" he barked. "You really cannot be serious! This entire place is going to the dogs," he pointed at the weyr behind him, "because people like you and our lovely Weyrleader are destroying it! Where is your pride, where is your dignity? I'm taking up my pride and dignity by beating the scum you weak-spined fools have allowed in!"

He stabbed a finger at the brownrider, taking a menacing step forward, his one eye narrowed venomously as he glared at the younger man, ignoring Daisulyth as he shifted nervously behind his rider. Finneth came out of her anger enough to realize that she might be able to salvage her own situation.

I am so sorry,[/color] she babbled to the brown she'd been quite taken with. Sometimes I cannot control him. He is the fool in our relationship; not I. I beg that you'd forgive me, brown Daisulyth. My rider is but a mental old man who knows nothing.[/i]

Perhaps K'houry was a mental old man, but he was an angry one and he thought he knew a thing or two about a thing or two. He tossed his silver-streaked head as he spat at I'dayln's feet, face curled into a black mask of hate. "You make me all the more sick. I didn't know we'd gone so far as to allow boys in such the position as Weyrlingmaster. And I can see our boy Weyrleader put you up to it. Despicable. Accepting such hand outs as that." He laughed mockingly.

[anhydrous]

I’dalyn listened stoically, fighting down the greenrider’s livid stare with one of his own. He wasn’t scared of this man. Nothing could frighten him less. K’houry was pitiful, really he was. He represented everything that was wrong with the way Telgar had been run before Jordeth caught Pelegaoth. Peripherally noticing a girl approach, his attention shifted for just long enough to shoot her a glare that clearly stated his message. Stay away.

As the words and insults stopped flowing from K’houry’s appalling maw, I’dalyn loosened his furiously clenched fists and almost tranquilly regarded the greenrider. “I suppose that when S’len was weyrleader we faced no problems,” he began, that first sentence loosing a torrent of words that were fired smoothly and quickly like gunfire. “I suppose all of his actions were the right ones, and that when he started out he made no mistakes. Ridiculous. I can spot a mistake of his leadership, and it’s standing right in front of me. You have no sense of responsibility, no sense of unity. You haul off and punch anyone who disagrees with you, turning your back on the weyr when it needs your help the most. Do you think that this brawl has solved anything?” The last word was the only one that was particularly stressed, a staggering breath drawn to fill the brownrider’s empty lungs.

“The fear of change that you share with your staunchy generation is what is destroying this place,” he accused levelly, voice unwavering. K’houry’s punch had broken a hole in I’dalyn’s carefully constructed mental dam, his thoughts being transformed into words before he could even think to edit them. His voice was almost eerie, tone monotonous as he tore holes in the greenrider’s logic. “What makes the Caminar scum? Because they lead a different life than you? Where is your tolerance?” These questions were spoken but then immediately ignored, no inflection requiring an answer. “What if the holdfolk suddenly decided that the weyr was trash that deserved no better than an attack in the gather square during a search, just because we are different? Is that right?” Shaking his head with a sickening crack as the vertebrae in his neck fell into place, I’dalyn had the audacity to smile at K’houry.

He was past thinking now. Something dark had opened up and swallowed him. “I may not have your years, but I’m a smarter man than you will ever be.” His stare had lost any conviction, blankly regarding the target at which his words were directed. “I can’t speak for J’fel, but I am trying to change the way our weyrlings are brought up, so that no one ever ends up like you. So angry and full of hate... that will get the weyr nowhere.” Spreading his arms to offer up himself as a target, I’dalyn’s empty eyes stared directly into K’houry’s good one. “You can hit me all you want; it won’t change the fact that I outrank you. You can either be with me, or you can’t. Make your decision.”

While I’dalyn was busy with his spew of listless words, Daisulyth had kept his eyes trained on K’houry. His would not take another punch. He would not. listening irritably to Finneth’s apologies, the brown allowed a few terse words to drift upwards to her waiting ears. You are not Yours, of that I’m aware. Although, should he hope to keep his job he should be educated before he has the chance to speak again.[/color] This situation was much too dire for him to be troubled with Finneth at this moment. His had been slighted. For any other pair, it would be an unforgivable mistake. I’dalyn and Daisulyth had never been quite ordinary, but even this was testing the boundaries of their patience.

[Invisible]

Watching Nysta head off Genet hung back. How interesting could a fight between riders be anyway? “Yea, go on!” she yelled to the girl. “I’ll just go…dunno. Find something more exciting to do.” Because watching a brawl was not that exciting in the grand scheme of things. It would be much more interesting to stick around here and see what happened among the Caminar. They were unknowns. Riders were not so unknown after all. Not really. She’d been at the Weyr long enough to have grown bored watching them. She was at least smart enough to not take off into the encampment. No, best to wait here and see if anything came to her. Besides, Nysta might change her mind and want to go on another adventure. If the girl would just relax she could be quite useful. As a friend.

Verinas was not worried about his family. They would not care about the fight since he had not started it. He saw most of the Caminar running off in separate directions and decided to go his own way. He’d take his time getting back to his family’s wagon. Best to be sure there were no immediate repercussions before facing his father. He was certainly old enough to know better, but with any luck that would work in his favor. He was a grown man and would be married soon. His father would have to respect his right to make a decision. Hopefully.

K’tel stopped hauling Jostel when they were a distance away. It looked like the weyrlingmaster and one of his assistants were going to get into a fight. This would be good gossip for the wing. He shushed Jostel and the two moved just a little closer so they might make out some of the words. Definitely not close enough to earn ire. With any luck. Nope just nursing their wounds and making sure those dirty Caminar didn’t come back en masse and catch someone off guard.

[Alsivor]

Ducking away from C'vole and not looking back to see if he was pursued, Silvio skidded across the dusty ground to reach his brother. "Milo ..." he patted the younger boy's cheek a little roughly, trying to get him to come to. No response. Leaning forward he checked for breath and a heartbeat and found them. Brows drew down and the Caminar thought hard, what was it Aleda always said about head injuries? And where /was/ she anyway? He /needed/ her help. Silvio slung one arm beneath Milo's head, wrapping it around to try to keep the limp body as still as possible, then the other beneath the boy's spine before lifting him up and scooting back out of the way.

Off to one side of any lingering hostilities, Silvio cradled Milo in his arms, checking over his brother's injuries. The bloodied nose and mouth were easily dealt with with a few swabs of his handkerchief, but repeated tapping of Milo's cheek was not bringing him around. They needed a healer. Silvio eyed the surroundings, the remaining riders in the fray to make sure no one was coming after him and blinked as I'dalyn strode in, trying to re-establish order. He was unsure of the man's rank but his knot certainly looked fancy enough.

No matter now, except for the fact that most of those riders seemed otherwise occupied for now. A good time for Silvio to try to blend back into the crowd and have his brother seen to. Though he had a good few inches on the lad and Milo was still very much a boy in build and stature, his dead weight was a little difficult to heft around as Silvio tried to back further away first.

[Selvagem]

C'cao
Finneth's news spread through the Weyr like fire, but C'cao happened, by way of a very sleepy dragon, to hear about it fairly late in the proceedings. The news woke the drowsy Opheriath at once, and the shock of her sudden fear almost knocked her rider staggering into the wall of their weyr. He regained himself, somehow, and immediately set about organising the scatter of wild images his green was sending to him. From her place on the ledge, she had a keen view of the brawl, and the riders involved in it.

Steady, steady girl. We'll go down and help, yes, let's hurry...

Panic continued to wash the greenrider in waves, even as he struggled to keep his wits in the cosmic force of emotion that his dragon emitted like random distress signals. Opheriath whirred her wings as she stomped up and down the ledge, snorting and hissing through her nostrils, her eyes swirling orbs of dark orange, near-red. He ran out to her while still buckling his belt and dagger, and the green almost whirled onto him.

Hurry hurry...

Yes, yes, let's go, he scrambled onto the pale green back and clung to a neckspine as she pounced from the ledge and snapped her wings open, making a direct line for the Bowl and the brown dragon already prowling the area there. C'cao recognized Daisulyth as they neared, and relief flooded him as he saw the combatants already withdrawing, leaving blood and wounded in their wake. The Weyrlingmaster, it seemed, had already seen to things.

His relief was short-lived. Loud voices of accusation reached his ears as he saw, aghast, how K'houry turned on I'dalyn with a punch. Opheriath snarled a long hiss through her mouth, her shock flaming red and orange hues into his mind, and he knew that if she had vocal cords she would be shrieking at what had just happened. He tried to call out to them, then stopped as he realized they would never hear him. Cold anger was beginning to stiffen I'dalyn's frame, his stare turning dark and alien. It was something the greenrider had not seen happen in a long, long time. C'cao drew in a long breath. They had to be stopped, before this could go any further; his dragon flared approval into his mind, her eyes still whirling orange-red, and spread her wings wide for landing.

He was off her back and running almost before she even touched ground, a move which prompted another hiss of trepridation from Opheriath. A glance at Daisulyth and a sharp touch of her deep agitation sufficed for greeting before the green stalked pointedly after her rider, determined not to be left behind. C'cao forced himself to skid to a placid, jarring walk before he reached I'dalyn and K'houry, for fear that a sudden movement might provoke an attack from either man. The atmosphere was so thick with tension that even striking a stone with his foot might start another explosion, for all he knew. Words reached his ears as he came alongside the pair - I'dalyn was speaking. C'cao winced inwardly at the make and tone of his words, and felt Opheriath wince within his mind. He had seen the brownrider angry before, but never like this. He fought for calm against his fear, against his dragon's tumult of nerves, and groped for words to attend to them.

"Gentleman, if you please, enough," his voice, somehow, was calm: something retained from his Harper training perhaps, though he didn't know at that moment where it had come from - he was trembling through his bones, "If we will make a spectacle of ourselves, we can do so before dragons in our private weyrs, but not before men. And not here. The Caminar will laugh all the more, don't you think? Riders fighting each other, hurling insults, in the open!"

Not the best words, perhaps, but he could think of nothing else to say. It hurt him to speak as he did of the Caminar, who made up half of him, but he had little choice if he wanted to avert another fight. He wanted I'dalyn and K'houry to go inside, to walk and move to get there, and in doing so perhaps get some of the pent-up anger out through the kinetic motions of doing so before they went hammer and tongs at each other again. He wanted them to keep this fight private, that neither man (and especially I'dalyn) might be disgraced publicly. He wondered if what he wanted was even wise to attempt.

Behind him, Opheriath prowled up and down, wings half-raised, eyes whirling red and jaws half-open. Her anxiety had reached such a level that anyone within five metres of her would, perhaps, begin to wonder why they were feeling so anxious themselves, and especially so if they did not know how a dragon's strong emotions could affect those around her. She might have been smaller than Daisulyth, but that hardly mattered in her current state of mind, fueled by the lingering anger and fear from the men all around.

[Xinnai]

Disgust welled up within the older man, strong and unshakable as I'dalyn's quick words thudded into him. He listened, mouth pursed angrily, his eyes glinting as hands folded and unfolded into fists of fury. Slowly, his lip curled over his teeth.

He could not speak though, for everytime he tried, the brownrider plowed right over him, words coming faster, his eyes staring with black anger into the greenrider's. K'houry refused to, but he felt like flinching a bit as the words kept rolling, as insult and misdeed and misconception was placed upon him.

He took a step forward, teeth gritted and bared, preparing to retaliate when Finneth intercepted smoothly, will baring down. She refused to lose anything because of her rider, refused to become isolated once more just because K'houry could not control his temper nor opinions.

You stop this now. I'dayln and His have done nothing to us. Nothing. You imagine slights and prejudices to make yourself feel better, K'houry, when there are none. I do love you because you are Mine, but I will not allow this. You put our future in jeopardy here. I will not allow it.[/color]

The man staggered, taking a few involuntary steps back after his green's speech. He blinked rapidly, eyes turning clear, the red haze receding from his vision as he instinctively swung, spotting the dark blur of Finneth sitting upon their ledge, thick tail lashing angrily like a cat's. He looked back at I'dayln with his brown behind him, his mouth open comically, eyes still shocked.

He shook his grizzled head slightly and swallowed, Finneth's words still ringing in his mind as he spoke. He'd salvage this for her, no matter how tasteless it was to him. She cared for it so he had to, he must.

"I will not speak of this now, I'dalyn, bonded of Daisulyth, nor will I speak of it ever out of respect to Finneth. I...I must say I am sorry. It was wrong of me to swing at me and wrong of me to insult you as I did." He swallowed, feeling the sour taste of his words slide down his throat. "I hope that we could salvage the professional relationship we had been...working upon. I do it for Finneth..."

K'houry saw the blur of motion, the flash of green and sighed as C'cao interceded. It was not needed now, but he was secretly glad that if this fight had continued, someone would have stopped it. He turned to the young man and nodded.

"Thank you. I do believe you are right." He nodded to both riders and turned, headed back towards the Weyr. "However...I am done here." He looked at I'dayln questioningly, wondering if the man were to accept his apology. K'houry made a stiff bow to both nonetheless. "I am sorry for the disturbance. If I may, I'll be leaving now."

[anhydrous]

Daisulyth responded appropriately to the green’s anxious form, leaving her plenty of space for her pacing and wing-flaring, but attempting to project a more calming air. One of the quickest ways to stir up a weyr was with an agitated green. However quiet, this was certainly an agitated green. Opheriath’s silent irritation was washing over the bowl in waves and Daisulyth did what he could to smother it.

Oblivious to the entrance of his other staff member, I’dalyn listened to K’houry’s apology with clouded eyes. Although he didn’t believe a word of what the older man said it was a relief to hear him say it. His suspicions were confirmed at the mention of Finneth, which spoke worlds of the little green’s willpower. Briefly he considered Daisulyth’s interests in the other dragon, although neither positive nor negative associations could be placed in the short span that his thoughts drifted in that particular direction. Nodding silently at K’houry’s words, I’dalyn allowed himself to say nothing further. He feared what might escape if he did.

Suddenly he realized that another had joined them, and with his gaze darting sideways, the brownrider eyed C’cao as placidly as he could manage. The man’s words grated against his nerves. With a particular stress, I’dalyn addressed the greenrider who had waded into the fray. “Please do not reprimand me right now, C’cao.” That was all he could manage before he slipped into silence once more. There was something of an apology lacing those words, with whatever solemn fury that had accumulated in his voice attempting to fade. It had been replaced with exasperation much akin to embarrassment. There was truth to C’cao’s words. Dragonmen should not behave like he just had.

What knotted his brow now was attributed to personal disappointment, and he turned to the comfort of his dragon grudgingly. You mustn’t think this your fault, mine. He is irrational.[/color]

Maybe so, the brownrider admitted, but I shouldn’t have lost my temper. I haven’t spoken like that in front of anyone in a long time. Daisulyth had borne the brunt of such fury privately; listening, agreeing, and comforting as necessary.

Perhaps he needed to see such an action to understand how serious you are, [/color] the brown suggested as he stretched out his long neck to offer the weyrlingmaster an eyeridge to scratch at. I’dalyn obliged, his fingers searching out the grooves instinctively as the condolence of the gesture enveloped them both.

That man will never respect me. Nothing about what he just said was genuine. He spat his thoughts quite caustically, watching silently as K’houry turned to leave. He almost laughed at the questioning glance that the greenrider threw over his shoulder, a silent cold stare his only reply. Words mean nothing if they are not true.

Daisulyth nudged his rider towards his broad side, trying to coax him up into position on his back. They definitely mean something, [/color] he responded tidily, leaving I’dalyn to ponder exactly what.

The brown shifted his attention to the pair of greens that the morning had attracted while his rider climbed up into position, first calmly addressing Opheriath. Please direct Mine’s apology towards Yours. His terse words were stress induced, and he means no ill will. [/color] With that he bowed out gracefully and turned in the direction of the barracks, his consciousness sneaking skyward to nuzzle Finneth’s seeking condolence. Yours is on his way home[/color], he said quietly, as if to offer reassurance when he was really seeking some sort of praise. Perhaps not the most cunning of moves, but carefully executed none-the-less.

I’dalyn, meanwhile, sat stoically and dabbed at his eye. It was tender, and he was now in quite a foul mood. The barracks was the last place he felt like facing but he already knew that Daisulyth was carefully steering him away from the skins of wine up in their weyr. He frowned at finding his dragon’s consciousness otherwise occupied, wiping the blood from his face as the pair slowly moved off away from the caravans. After he checked in on his charges, the weyrleader would need to hear about this.

[Invisible]

A few riders lingered, getting in a last kick or punch at any Caminar not smart enough to retreat with the pack. But these incidents were isolated and growing increasingly short as friends and family appeared to drag off people from either side. The few that remained were either too injured or too drunk to remove themselves. Caminar ventured out to recover their fallen and take them to their own people. They would not let the Weyr’s healers see them but would let the sabedoria tend them. Minus Aleda who continued to be missing. This fight would only increase the rumors that one of the riders had taken a liking to the sabedoria and was keeping her hostage in his weyr. Some thought it the Weyrleader who had done so. Others had begun to wonder if she might have been killed defending herself against some lecherous rider. Many people looked to Aleda’s family to await their reaction to their missing daughter.

A’wan was slow to stop but the urgings of his blue and C’vole eventually reached him and he let the last of the Caminar he was engaged with go. The man limped off alone until he was closer to the encampment when a woman hurried out to let him lean on her. A’wan looked around again and spied the Weyrlingmaster and those near him. “Come on, let’s go before the scolding starts,” he told C’vole. They were both knocked around looking, a telling indication of their involvement in the brawl, but neither headed for the infirmary. They would nurse their wounds somewhere else. Likely with another skin of wine and perhaps some willing weyrfolk who might ohh and ahh at their bravery for taking on the child stealing Caminar.

As for Genet, well, what was there to do? There wouldn’t be any more trading and Nysta had not seemed thrilled with the idea of spying on the Caminar. Left to her own devices she would linger for a bit to be sure things were really over and if they were she would just go back and get her own attention as a witness to the whole thing. Retelling the events would not be as exciting as doing something, but being the center of attention was not going to hurt.