[Writing Assignment] Answers
The thought kept T'kas awake every night. He hadn't been there, hadn't seen it, but he knew; he imagined, and that was more than enough to haunt his dreams and waking thoughts. Those green eyes, that intent stare, and around his feet, half-formed dragons, piles of corpses, the two multiplied into an entire clutch. T'kas threw back the covers again and rose again this night, pacing out to the entrance to his ground-level weyr. Rhylanth's eyes watched him pass.
<< I can call the watchdragon, >> the blue made the same offer he always made.
T'kas was silent, his mind imagining again the scene as his left arm reached up to rub at the shoulder of his right, the Threadscores there that still ached at night, paining places he no longer even had. T'kas knew the one who had been there, the one who'd taken his son away to a dark little storeroom T'kas could imagine just as clearly. He imagined the two of them sitting together there, waiting on the guards to come, to relieve the one and take charge of the other.
E'sere.
T'kas was old enough to remember him as a child--he'd not been but a few turns older than Trakasi was. They'd played together some, but had never been close friends. T'kas, in the end, didn't know much about him now. He was a wingleader, the Weyrwoman's son--Lexine would always be the Weyrwoman to him. He was perfect, untouchable, as far as the bluerider knew. And now--
Now he was the one controlling everything, the mastermind, the man behind the curtain. T'kas knew how 2C always talked about their leader. They loved him. Surely a whole wing couldn't be wrong. The Weyr--everyone had loved him. Even now, even with him imprisoned and accused of these terrible things, half the lower caverns still thought it was the new leadership out to remove a threat.
T'kas didn't know what to think anymore. He'd never had a gripe with the man, had only spoken to him on a couple of occasions. Could he really be the one behind all this?
T'kas had to know this.
Rhylanth knew what his rider was going to do before even T'kas did. He called the watchrider, the younger blue landing near the entrance to their weyr as T'kas stood there. The one-armed bluerider hesitated, glancing back at his dragon; Rhylanth croons encouragements to him as T'kas, with the help of the watchrider, pulled himself up on the blue.
T'kas hadn't been aboard a dragon since Rhylanth, since that last near-fatal 'Fall when 3C died. In a way, to fly now felt like a betrayal of Rhylanth, when his own blue could not do so, but some things--
T'kas had to do this.
A few murmured words explained their purpose, and the dragon rose upward, taking them to meet that man. They landed carefully, and the aging man slid carefully down. Morelenth's eyes glinted as he moved, the bronze's head moving to watch him. T'kas lingered by the watchdragon, and glanced up at the rider.
"Don't go. I'll be quick," he murmured.
In a moment, E'sere, flanked by two guards, slipped out of the weyr's dark doorway and stopped, seeing T'kas.
"I... I'm sorry to come so late," the bluerider began quietly.
"I wasn't asleep," E'sere answered simply. "Would you like to come in, T'kas?"
T'kas was surprised to be remembered by name, but then, why should he be? He knew E'sere always remembered people, and he was, after all, all tangled up somehow with his son. So T'kas stood there, fidgeting awkwardly under E'sere's steady gaze, and he finally said, "No, no. That's all right. I won't be long. I just wanted to know--" His voice broke off, and he looked away.
"Did I get Katric exiled." E'sere finished the sentence quietly, his expression unreadable. T'kas, mute, nodded.
E'sere said, "No."
Hours later, T'kas lay awake, seeing still the same images, the same half-real memories of something he surely couldn't remember.
He still didn't know.
<< I can call the watchdragon, >> the blue made the same offer he always made.
T'kas was silent, his mind imagining again the scene as his left arm reached up to rub at the shoulder of his right, the Threadscores there that still ached at night, paining places he no longer even had. T'kas knew the one who had been there, the one who'd taken his son away to a dark little storeroom T'kas could imagine just as clearly. He imagined the two of them sitting together there, waiting on the guards to come, to relieve the one and take charge of the other.
E'sere.
T'kas was old enough to remember him as a child--he'd not been but a few turns older than Trakasi was. They'd played together some, but had never been close friends. T'kas, in the end, didn't know much about him now. He was a wingleader, the Weyrwoman's son--Lexine would always be the Weyrwoman to him. He was perfect, untouchable, as far as the bluerider knew. And now--
Now he was the one controlling everything, the mastermind, the man behind the curtain. T'kas knew how 2C always talked about their leader. They loved him. Surely a whole wing couldn't be wrong. The Weyr--everyone had loved him. Even now, even with him imprisoned and accused of these terrible things, half the lower caverns still thought it was the new leadership out to remove a threat.
T'kas didn't know what to think anymore. He'd never had a gripe with the man, had only spoken to him on a couple of occasions. Could he really be the one behind all this?
T'kas had to know this.
Rhylanth knew what his rider was going to do before even T'kas did. He called the watchrider, the younger blue landing near the entrance to their weyr as T'kas stood there. The one-armed bluerider hesitated, glancing back at his dragon; Rhylanth croons encouragements to him as T'kas, with the help of the watchrider, pulled himself up on the blue.
T'kas hadn't been aboard a dragon since Rhylanth, since that last near-fatal 'Fall when 3C died. In a way, to fly now felt like a betrayal of Rhylanth, when his own blue could not do so, but some things--
T'kas had to do this.
A few murmured words explained their purpose, and the dragon rose upward, taking them to meet that man. They landed carefully, and the aging man slid carefully down. Morelenth's eyes glinted as he moved, the bronze's head moving to watch him. T'kas lingered by the watchdragon, and glanced up at the rider.
"Don't go. I'll be quick," he murmured.
In a moment, E'sere, flanked by two guards, slipped out of the weyr's dark doorway and stopped, seeing T'kas.
"I... I'm sorry to come so late," the bluerider began quietly.
"I wasn't asleep," E'sere answered simply. "Would you like to come in, T'kas?"
T'kas was surprised to be remembered by name, but then, why should he be? He knew E'sere always remembered people, and he was, after all, all tangled up somehow with his son. So T'kas stood there, fidgeting awkwardly under E'sere's steady gaze, and he finally said, "No, no. That's all right. I won't be long. I just wanted to know--" His voice broke off, and he looked away.
"Did I get Katric exiled." E'sere finished the sentence quietly, his expression unreadable. T'kas, mute, nodded.
E'sere said, "No."
Hours later, T'kas lay awake, seeing still the same images, the same half-real memories of something he surely couldn't remember.
He still didn't know.