Quality Time (J'fel)

[Omnia Munda]

A raised brow, a goosey smirk, and not much more answered the topic of the Caminar. Whatever his opinion, J'fel evidently felt no need to share it - and it was, in any case, a tangent. Chadath's rider went on, and the boy weyrleader went along.

It has been, Jordeth agreed, for of course he'd been flying with different dragons too - Chadath's old mates. Then his head tilted, just as Chadath's had done, but the younger bronze lent his mind to listening where his companion had not, and as such came up with a question, bemused, to put to that companion. Is he offended or only clever? Even more bemused, after a beat: Not that they are mutually exclusive.

Offended or clever as his former weyrleader might have been, J'fel was increasingly nearing the territory of baffled. It was clear enough in those blue-sky eyes - between, anyway, the blank blinks that obscured and revealed them.

"I can stand you," he decided at some length, no longer coy and not quite guarded, as though the charm were his only real guard anyway. None of the stronger kinds, stoicism or feigned indifference, were promised within. "And I barely drink." Perhaps I shouldn't have said that, he thought instantly, but had to dismiss it for now in order to speak while he had the words to say. "If you want a friendship, or to pretend at it," an option J'fel offered with equal legitimacy, "I think we ought to start with what we've got in common. And you've got a woman." A grin flashed wide over youthful teeth.

J'fel had no harper lessons to tell him how to talk, nor how to foil the efforts of those to whom he talked. He simply thought back three points in the conversation, retracing his steps for the first common ground that came to mind, and as soon as his mental feet hit that soil he spoke again. "Tell me how I send the Caminar away and avoid a bloody riot on some Hold's road. I like them better alive and here than somewhere else, dead, and it all my fault." He paused but briefly, to grin again. "I bet we can agree on at least that much."

[Slim]

S'lyn sat back a moment, squinting at the young Weyrleader the way one squints at an optical illusion, trying to figure out the trick that makes it 3-D. "I don't want to see them harmed," he replied, "but this Weyr isn't the safe haven you or they imagine it to be. Do you have any plans for avoiding a bloody riot here in the Bowl?" S'lyn shrugged, but his lips had tightened. "Tensions are growing everywhere, and our supplies are short. You can't make them welcome here by force of will alone, and no one can afford to wait around and see what happens if things remain where they're at now."

He would have stopped there, but remembered that his own avowed reason for coming here was to establish some sort of tolerance at least, camaraderie (that ever important value) if possible. So he twitched his lips and added, reluctant to stick in a non-sequitur after such a somber subject, "And I do have a woman, yes." He raised his brow. Clearly he did not see where this created common ground: he had one woman, J'fel - supposedly - had many.

Chadath curved his paw around to scratch an itch on his chest, tipping his head curiously at Jordeth. I don't listen, he replied, but I wouldn't tell you anyway. Letting out a friendly chuff, he stretched his other paw out to give Jordeth a bump with his knuckles. Why do you listen? he wants to know in return. You're only going to hear about it again later. He let his gaze wander at the bowl below, hinting at what he finds a much more interesting show, what with little dots of light scuttling about as people cross it in the darkness.

[Omnia Munda]

"Here in the bowl I can put down riots," replied J'fel without hesitation, leaning forward. His elbows found his knees and rested there, hands hanging between. An intensity of curiosity made finery of his features, need it as they might not; the boy weyrleader wore the mantle of work uncomfortably, but at least it did not quite wear him. "And I don't think the Caminar imagine themselves safe here. Not the wise ones, anyway."

The younger man bowed his head a moment, looking at his hands, but even as his tangled locks fell around his temples and disguised so much of his face, the crook of a wry smile could be witnessed in the corner of his mouth.

"Where do I put them out, then?" J'fel raised his head with a jerky motion, sending his hair back from his face. A hand came up after to smooth the waves back, and he began to answer his own question aloud, thinking: "The Weyr owns no safe hold outside its walls. If we had a loyal Hold in need of many hands, though - perhaps a few of them, the numbers are too many - " One eye narrowed, and Jordeth's rider sank into silence, overturning a hand in supplication for counsel from his elder.

Because someone has to, the younger bronze said after all of that, using the pause to reply his companion. He tilted his head toward Chadath and, after a moment, experimentally unfolded a wing just enough to use its spar to nudge the more celebrated beast in the shoulder. He will make up his mind on a thing, and discard all the others. The disapproval was mild but tangible - but brief, too, for it was interrupted by a sudden, jerky-feeling cohesion of the young dragon's attention. He honed that focus upon Chadath, and then at the dots of light and shadow he was watching below.

Do you miss it?

[Slim]

Chadath let himself be rolled slightly by the nudging wingspar, letting the younger bronze know that his friendly forays would be cheerfully accepted. Miss what? Literal-minded as he is, Chadath looks down at the bowl he was watching, and which seemed - to him - to trigger the question. But he can watch the Bowl any time, can't he? He looks back at Jordeth, eyes whirling faster with curiosity.

S'lyn's brow rose higher at J'fel's cocksure assumption that he could put down riots in the bowl, but with a grave nod, he allowed that the young Weyrleader might have plans he didn't know about that would accomplish just that. "They wouldn't do well in a hold even if you could find a place for them," was S'lyn's opinion. "If it were harvest season, then every hold would be in need of more field hands, but the traders aren't familiar with that kind of work, and the holders aren't comfortable with the traders." He wedged his beer between his knees, steepling his fingers to create a brace for his chin while he thought.

"I admit I don't know why you assume that you'll have to turn them out into a hostile world." He lifted his eyes to J'fel's, requesting some sort of information in this regard. "The best solution would be to find out who's responsible for the missing children and, if possible, clear the Caminar." So why wasn't that option, became the reason for his pointed look at J'fel.

[Omnia Munda]

The possession, replied Jordeth, more thoughtful than direct, as though even explaining it in this way was revelation. Self-revelation, perhaps, but revelation all the same.

"Well, it'll be harvests soon," said J'fel, but it was only an aside and he dismissed it like the other possibilities S'lyn had excluded. But the possibility that S'lyn included seemed to strike a tender cord in the young weyrleader, and he slowly straightened, back fitting to the shape of the chair. He picked up his beer and held it before him like a shield.

For a long moment he just looked at the older man. Maybe the younger one was judging him, trying to guess what he already knew. Maybe he was just thinking about his phrasing. He certainly thought of Aderes, during that long moment's baleful silence, drawing little connections, playing a tiny mental game of dot-to-dot. But in the end he just replied, quietly, "I sent a team to investigate." Beat. "I think you must have noticed."

It wasn't really an accusation. If J'fel thought his predecessor disingenuous for asking, he didn't make any point of it; he was just that accustomed, by now, to defending his decisions, his choices, his position. What he said had no aggression in it - it was too busy being a defense. "I expect word back within the month. It's delicate business, or at least I assume it is: the holds can't be let to think we suspect them."

He barely took a breath and went on: "It's been too long, but what do I do? Send another group?" The shrug that shook the young man's shoulders was almost violent, and the beer swirled, leaving foam stuck up the neck of the bottle. "We have to turn up one of these kids somewhere, somehow, to clear the Caminar or anyone else. It's long past the point where saying 'Well, they don't have any of the missing children among them here in my Weyr' is worth much."

J'fel frowned down at the beer in his hand, then lifted it and fit the bottle's mouth to his own malcontent one. A wince twitched the corners of his eyes as he drank, but he drank anyway, and used the web between thumb and forefinger to wipe his lips after.

[Slim]

Ah, Chadath replied. He remained silent for a while, his eyes tracking the points of light far below them. Yes, he answered, catching on to Jordeth's meaning at last. His wings rustled. There's pride in looking down on that, from here. He watched as a pair of hoisted glows joined up, hovered together for a moment, and then set off in stride towards the living cavern.

"I noticed," S'lyn affirmed dryly. "I assumed." He recovered the beer between his knees and took a drink. "G'tet was very circumspect, and it's not my place to pry into your assignments. So I assumed, yes, but I didn't know the search was getting nowhere. Now, I can see why you're not counting on it." There. He might at least manage to explain why he had asked, and put that defensive tone to rest. He hadn't spoken to J'fel often enough since they'd changed knots to know it was a habit.

S'lyn paused to take another drink, but his brow was furrowed. Clearly, more thoughts were on their way. "It's a Weyr's duty," he began, "to look after the peace in its own holdings. I don't think it would go amiss for you to conduct an open investigation along those lines, just so people see that you are doing something. The idea that you aren't seems more damaging to me than shaking up a few holders who don't want to answer questions."

He tipped the bottle in his hand, listening to liquid slosh within. His eyes became heavy-lidded, his lips downturned. "And you should have a backup plan."

[Omnia Munda]

G'tet, circumspect, thought J'fel, and felt his shoulders relax against the back of his chair. S'lyn's words had their desired effect, even if the particular words that did it weren't the intended ones, and defensiveness left the boy weyrleader in both posture and tone.

"So I send a more formal group, maybe two men to a hold, just for show?" He presented the idea without incredulity, but a hint of a smile curved his lips as he took another mouthful from the bottle (again with a wince, though less this time). J'fel mulled the beer in his mouth, letting the bubbles sting and settle against his palate, then swallowed. "Because questioning the holders won't turn anything up, not done directly. We'll have to go after Miner and Smith, too."

He frowned, eyes narrow, at the bottle in his hand, and without looking up asked, "Backup plan proposals?"

[Slim]

Puzzled again, S'lyn tilted his head at the Weyrleader. How negative he was, for such a young man. "Won't it?" he asked, genuinely curious about why J'fel thought questioning the holders won't help. "I doubt the criminal or criminals will incriminate themselves, but finding out what the families remember about the circumstances of their child's disappearance could reveal a pattern." He shrugged, leaving that determination up to the man in a position to know what the current situation was like.

By taking a drink, S'lyn bought himself a moment for thought, but during that moment his brow grew more and more deeply furrowed. At last, he resurfaced with a frown. "Backup plans in a case like this are bound to be unpleasant. The goal is that they be less unpleasant than what happens if the Caminar's reputation can't be cleared before things come to a head."

He pinched his beer between his knees again, freeing his hands up. He brought the index finger of his right hand down on that of his left, counting it out: "One. Find somewhere else to put them, and have them brought there by riders you trust to keep silent about the location. It would trigger an outcry, I'm sure, but better that than wait till there's real violence in the bowl, or watch them be hunted down outside it. Sound out other areas for sympathetic people who can find extra supplies to set aside for the Caminar, and hope that you can get enough scraps for them to live on, because Telgar alone can't support them. For that matter, they'd have to leave most of their own things behind. Dragons can hardly carry caravans. If things go well they can return to them - and if things don't go well, you can seed the Caminar quietly in with the harvest workers come next season. I doubt, however, that would be well received." His mouth twisted wryly.

"Two." Now it was two fingers of his right hand, tapping down on the extended index of his left. "A scapegoat. A sacrifice might be more accurate. The Caminar don't want to see their trade and heritage wiped out any more than you do, and should it come to that, there may be one among their ranks willing to take the blame if it clears his people. Gives them a chance to show they don't tolerate nor harbor kidnappers. The obvious problem is that the real kidnapper is still at large - you might deal with that by suggesting that the scapegoat is just one of a larger conspiracy, and vow that you are hunting down the rest. As I said, it's unpleasant - deceitful, quite possibly dangerous. But you know by now that there's no easy solution."

S'lyn recovered his beer from between his legs, exhaling a heavy sigh into the top of the bottle. It hummed as bottles do when blown upon, but he ignored it. "Whatever the case, I don't expect you to act alone, nor should you. The Caminar elders must be consulted, although it's my opinion that you'd be better off not involving any of your coverage areas. They won't appreciate knowing about it."

[Omnia Munda]

Not a show, then, thought J'fel. His meaning had been unclear - but he allowed S'lyn to go on uncontested. If he did send pairs out to interview the families, he'd thank the old weyrleader for that later.

Or he thought he would, if he could stand to. The talk of scapegoats widened the young man's eyes; his brows, ever artful and expressive, shot high and stayed there. A couple of times his lips parted, only to seal again; once he even went "Uh," quietly, and silenced himself with the bottle. There was no wincing at the beer this time.

But there was a spluttery gulp as J'fel hurried to swallow so he could say something at last. "I should say they won't," he agreed, incredulous enough now to make up for his agreeableness before. "And the fewer of the Caminar that know the better. They'll feel slighted - they'll feel ashamed."

How he knew this was a matter for another moment. Gaining momentum and leaning forward, hanging the beer and his hands once more between his knees, J'fel went on. "It'll be a wonder if they agree at all. It has to be about the women and children, not just the trade routes. It's life for life and if we don't make that clear, there's too great a risk someone will talk."

Now he fell silent, though only for a moment. In that moment he looked down at the beer, shifted the bottle's neck between his fingers so the liquid inside rolled and tossed, and looked up again. "I'll feel ashamed," J'fel observed, and from that observation gained acceptance on the breath of a sigh. From that came resignation, rounding his shoulders, and from the resignation came resentment, sinking his brows low over unhappy eyes.

"It's a good plan," he confessed. "You won't mind me if I do keep looking for another."

It was a weak play at humor and the smile that came with it was pathetic and wan. Jordeth punctuated it with a tilt of his head toward Chadath, and this time, when he nudged the older dragon with the spar of his wing, the gesture was more sad than experimentally friendly. It was a demeanor the younger beast was more expert with, and it suited his quiet announcement well: It's over.

[Slim]

Is it? Chadath stirred from watching the bowl, turning his head over his shoulder as glanced inside the weyr. He began to stir slowly, stretching his limbs with a slowness borne not of age (for no dragon had yet reached the limit of his natural years, so who could say where old age began for them?) but of laziness that had seeped into him during the quiet evening. Shuffling closer to the other bronze, he gave him a bump with his shoulder. Most likely, it has only begun. He rustled his wings.

"I'm ashamed for thinking of it," S'lyn admitted. Either his dragon clued him in or he sensed that the conversation could not comfortably continue beyond a point like this one, for he leaned forward and set down his beer. "So I hope you find another." Planting his hands on his knees, he shoved himself up - with a few cracking joints, since unlike his dragon he could indeed be called old, or at least middle-aged - and offered a hand to the young Weyrleader for a parting handshake.

"I think that's enough for one night," he concluded.

[Omnia Munda]

Sad gave way to comforted, though within an instant of letting that emotion seep through his mental contact, the younger bronze lifted his wings and shook them, prim. Still, it had been there, and remained, warming his reply. Maybe so. It had to, eventually.

Inside, J'fel agreed with his dragon, know it or not. He was not, after all, the listener. He was the man who went 'heh' in a quiet, self-aware manner, and who too willingly put down his beer, too, the better to rise and perform parting rituals. His hand met S'lyn's, held, shook, parted from it again.

"More than enough," grinned the younger man, head shaking. And yet - he could think of other things, now, he'd like to bounce off of this particular wall. Things left unresolved from his talks in other quarters. In a particular quarters.

J'fel shook these reflections from his mind and turned to walk beside the former weyrleader, perhaps, toward the ledge and the dragons beyond. "Thanks for coming, and for the beer, and the ideas." Another 'heh' nearly snuck in.

"Maybe next time we can talk about the weyrlings," he supposed. "Light work, by comparison."

[Slim]

The weyrlings? S'lyn cocked a brow. He didn't miss a step though, keeping pace with the young Weyrleader. "And lighter talk would be a blessing," he agreed, though the sentiment was at odds with his grave tone. He couldn't quite shake it, not after what they'd just discussed. He lifted a hand in farewell to Jordeth as he stepped out on the ledge. Chadath gave the other bronze another, gentler bump - not comfort this time, more of a 'see ya' - before he moved away, giving his rider room to step up that same shoulder.

Shuffling to the other side of the ledge, Chadath spread his wings, took one last look down at the bowl, and dropped soundlessly off into the night.

[Omnia Munda]

S'lyn's raised hand was J'fel's signal and he obeyed it, staying behind at the threshhold of his weyr. He leaned in the entryway, reaching a hand up to unhook the heavy drape from its catch, but held it open over his arm until the other bronze and rider were off into the sky.

Our thanks, Jordeth sent after them. Then dragon and man shared a long look, and after some time, the weyrleader's bronze joined him in the dragon's chamber of their weyr. The drape fell closed behind them, and one more glow in the wall of Telgar's bowl was snuffed.