He did it.
Who: Ashwin, Issa, Miniyal, Reyce, Roa, R'vain, Sefton
Where: Living cavern and north weyr
When: Dinnertime on day 6, month 11, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.
What: Upon Gans' death Miniyal inherited his things. Among them was the journal she gave to him on his birthday. Within that journal she learns a secret. Contrary to her usual pattern, she cannot keep this secret to herself. So she shares it with the Weyr. After that she departs to share the evidence in private with the captain of the guard and the weyr's leaders.
Note: I have separated out the part of the log that was Ashwin/Miniyal from the part that was Roa/R'vain. The beginning of the first conversation takes place while the latter two are still in the LC. But, it is neater this way I think.
5/26/2007
At High Reaches Weyr, it is around dinner on day 6, month 11, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.
The dinner period at the weyr winds down to a close. A person or two still trickles in from somewhere else, but for the most part those that are coming have come. And, in many cases, gone on their merry way. There is still, within the cavern, a decent amount of people. So, the noise level is the sort one might expect of people happily discussing how to spend the hours between now and bedtime. The kitchen staff has stopped bringing foods out for dinner and instead are clearing away dishes. While this occurs others make sure there is still plenty of klah and juice available along with breads and even a few pastries. It is, really, just another average night at the weyr. The table where the weyrlings eat is a lot less crowded with the senior weyrlings no longer there. Add to that the fact that many of them have made quick work of their meal so they can spend that 'free' time how they wish as long as they wish and it's actually one of the quieter tables with the numbers it has around it. Miniyal, as it not so unusual, contributes to the quiet by not saying a thing at all and instead continuing the listless picking at her meal that has gone on since shortly after she first sat down.
Though the Headmaster frequently takes his meals in his quarters, this evening he sits with several of his instructors, in quiet conversation. Meals are for the most part finished, though wine still flows, and though this Caucus table makes less noise than many of those filled with wingriders, its occupants are laughing, engaged in some involved debate.
The weyrwoman sits a couple tables away, a slice of redfruit held in one hand as the other gesticulates to enhance whatever point she is making to the pale and quiet Captain of the Guard seated across from her. Her attention slips, now and again, towards the weyrling table and to a particuar goldriding girl that used to have a lot more hair than she does presently. But, for the most part, her attention remains with her weyrmate. After posing a quiet question, Roa falls silent to crunch on the redfruit slice she holds.
With a certain Bendenite having been sent to retrieve some form of dessert for Issa, this pregnant woman's attention is allowed to drift around the cavern as well, skipping over faces of neighboring groups and passers-by while she nurses a nearly empty glass of water. Their claimed spot shows signs of a successful meal, with cleared plates and piled silverware, and is situated in a relatively uncrowded section of the cavern, in sight of the weyrling tables, but far enough to insure a measure of separation from her work.
The Guard's Captain reaches across to take up a piece of redfruit from the Weyrwoman's plate, biting down on it thoughtfully as he listens to her question. His attention is not diverted to the room's other goldriding occupant, but rather fixed on the woman opposite him. His impassive expression clears momentarily, to make way for the suggestion of a fleeting smile, and he half rises from his chair so that he can address his quiet words not to his weyrmate, but to her stomach. Instructions delivered, he sinks down once more, and bites down on his redfruit.
A certain Bendenite is taking his time retrieving dessert, largely because the kitchen is currently restocking their dessert plates in the late-dinner rush. Reyce spends the interim filling and sweetening himself a cup of klah, though he's first in line when a kitchen worker appears with a tray full of crumbly yellow cakes. He grabs one, stuffs a glass of water between his elbow and his ribs, then returns to Issa to plop his findings down unceremoniously in front of her. His klah is his reward, as he steps over the bench to sit next to her.
While the room certainly has other occupants it doesn't seem as if that other goldrider is really aware of it. In point of fact, Miniyal doesn't even seem really aware of the other occupants of her table. Which is why, perhaps, when a couple of them rise up to leave she gives her head a shake and looks around. Blinking as she shoves her plate away she finally spares a glance for the rest of the room at large. People. Right. That does generally happen this time of the day. She says something quietly to someone else seated with her and then stands up. Then she looks around again and tucks her hair behind her ears.
For the words offered to her downstairs tenant, Roa smirks and rolls her eyes. She snatches the rest of her plate of redfruit closer to her person, curling an arm around it protectively, despite a sudden smile on her face. Whatever she says to Ashwin, it is accompanied by a chinjerk towards the counter of food, among which is a basket of redfruits.
There's a burst of laughter from the table filled with Caucus instructors, and a brief dimming of their noise as a passing drudge is flagged down, and despatched for more supplies. Then conversation resumes, a part of it a chorus of complaint, as Sefton begins to rise, clearly making his apologies, and preparing to take his leave for the evening.
Ashwin goes so far as to wrinkle his nose at the Weyrwoman, though the corners of his eyes crease in one of his faint imitations of a smile. He looks across to where the remaining food is stowed, and after brief contemplation he rises, stepping back over the bench. Something's murmured to the goldrider opposite him, and then he begins to weave his way through the crowd, greeting a pair of his men as he nears the counter.
A hand slides up Reyce's arm as he retakes his seat, a mute thanks from Issa, who's already retrieving her fork from her abandoned plate and cleaning it with a swipe through her mouth. Then its dug into the cake, the first bite that comes up for her and quickly chewed down; the second is offered to Reyce though, a nudge from her shoulder gaining his attention for the question she clearly doesn't expect him to take her up on.
Now that his task is complete, Reyce allows his eyes to wander across the cavern, lifting over the rim of his klah mug while he continues his drink. Despite the presence of two weyrwomen in the room, it's the Headmaster whose presence gets a blink, and Reyce's attention pauses there for an instant before Issa's nudge brings him back to her. Probably because she doesn't expect him to eat it, he does, leaning promptly but inconsequentially sideways to slide the bite off her fork. And while he chews, expression blank, his eyes keep moving across the room, moving beyond the Headmaster to the other instructors who drew him to their table.
It is not often, if one were being completely honest not ever, that Miniyal tries to get attention. Certainly not in a room full of people that includes among them several people she'd rather not be noticed by ever. However, it would seem that when she has to, she can. Some old habits die hard and she doesn't make any move to, well, move. Instead she closes her eyes for a moment and then says something quietly to the people who were just sharing the bench with her. They stand up and shuffle around and wind up leaving her with the bench to herself. Once that's done she stands up on it. If that were not enough to get attention she raises her voice to let it carry over the noise. Who knew she could do that? "Excuse me? If I could bother you all for a moment? I have something I would like to say. Briefly, I promise. It's just. . .I lost someone very important to me recently and I know I'm not the only one who was touched by his death and I just want to say a few words. Please."
Having watched Ashwin depart, Roa turns her head, brows arched high, when the newest Reachian goldrider calls attention to herself. She cants her head to the side, curiosity open in her expression, but she doesn't say anything. She only rests her arms on the table and waits, eyes on Miniyal.
Issa's lips perk with a mild amusement as Reyce makes off with that bite, but she turns without remark to her dessert, sectioning off a bite that she won't make the mistake of offering away. That bite is on its way to her mouth when someone standing on a bench at the weyrling table draws her attention away from it. Mild amusement is replaced by mild displeasure, but when Miniyal is found to be the culprit, and a vocal one at that, she buries her impulse to rise and correct the situation. Cake slid slowly into her mouth, she chews absent-mindedly while she attends to what the weyrling goldrider has to say.
Ashwin's made it as far as the fruit, and he scoops up a redfruit, hefting it in one hand as Miniyal speaks. He studies her where she stands, and then turns, making his way back to his table, so that he can sink down opposite Roa, and shoot her a glance, pulling his knife from his belt to begin carving up the fruit as he twists his body to face the woman on the chair.
The Caucus table is not so far from that occupied by the weyrlings, and it's Miniyal's bench-climbing that garners attention here. That means that before she speaks, she already has the attention of the Headmaster and his assorted instructors. Sefton reaches for his glass of wine, and lifts it to his mouth, dark eyes fixed on the woman over the rim. He only lowers it and glances away when it becomes clear that a quelling glance is necessary, for two who wish to continue the argument.
Since the Caucus and weyrling tables are so close together, it's only a short jump for Reyce's eyes to find the weyrling atop the bench. They fix there, patient, while he chews down the last bit of Issa's cake and goes for a swallow of klah to wash it up.
A moment, maybe two, but not three, is taken here for Miniyal to do the whole gather up the courage thing again. She may look about the room, but there's no real chance of meeting anyone's eyes. Not the way she is quick to move on should someone try to do just that. Instead she begins to speak. "There are words that could be said better than I could ever say them. There are thoughts. . .emotions. . .all that someone more articulate than I could share in ways better than I could even imagine. But what you get is me. Standing here and trying to find the words to describe a man that many of you knew better than me. Or at least longer than me.
Everyone will remember him for something different, I imagine. I've known all along what I would remember him for and that hasn't changed. It won't change. Because I'd waited all my life for that one thing. It may not seem like such a big thing to some of you, but to me it was everything.
I'll remember him as the one person who heard me. Who pulled me out of the darkness and told me that what I had to say was worth hearing. Not just by him, but by everyone. He taught me to be proud of who I was and that I was strong enough to handle anything. Even having to live on without him. Even knowing the truth about him and knowing everyone else knows that truth as well."
She pauses here, but not to do anything silly like get control of excess emotional displays. Because there is no such thing from Miniyal. It is just a moment to gather her thoughts. To bring out the words that she needs to say now. And, because a proper dramatic pause is something that every speech requires. This is a known fact. It is writ down, after all, somewhere, that one must have a dramatic pause within one's speech. Once the moment has passed she continues with her speech. "If things had gone differently we would have married. It's not important now, really. But it's the truth. And because of that. Because I would have married him and because I still love him and he entrusted to me something important it's my responsibility to speak.
He was a man of actions. And not all of his actions were good ones. He made decisions that had an impact on life here in the weyr for everyone. All of his decisions, good or bad, changed things here. There was one. One decision that lead to one action that has cast upon this weyr, our home, a shadow. While it can't be taken back or changed. While I cannot make it right I can. . .I can do this.
He brought Yevide here for his own reasons. He made her Weyrwoman through means that were less than upright. It may not have turned out exactly as he anticipated, but he did it. And then later. Then later he killed her. He poisoned her and he concealed his crime. But he left it to me when he died. That knowledge of what he had done. He left it to me to do as I would with it. And so I give it to all of you. Now all we can do is know that the truth is finally known. That, despite how long it took, the truth is out. To do what we will with it."
And, having had her say, Miniyal steps down and retakes her seat. That is all, it seems. Reaching for her cup she takes a drink and then stares into it.
There is, from the weyrwoman, a slow blink and the careful closing of her mouth as it had fallen slightly open during Miniyal's speech. She swallows slowly, and carefully draws her gaze away from the weyrling and over towards Ashwin for a beat. Her expression is bland. Composed. Then it skitters off to find Issa, the Headmaster, and come back to Miniyal again.
A suite of reactions kick in at this point, of course. Sefton has listened gravely, wearing the same expression of quiet regret that he has donned so frequently in the days since the death of Miniyal's lover -- he banishes his usual amused, mocking smile, and allows something graver to take over his gaze. Her final words to galvanise him, though, and slowly one hand comes up, to press over his mouth for an instant. Then questions burst out all around him, and with a last glance towards the weyrling weyrwoman that's almost disbelieving, Sefton turns to attend to the discussion at his table, listening without contributing.
It is a silent cycle Reyce seems to have set in on; from the Caucus table to Miniyal, and now from Miniyal to the Caucus table once again. His klah mug has long since been set back on the table (quietly, lest even the slightest clink interrupt the weyrling's speech), leaving his face - sober, but unstirred - entirely open for observation. A gradual narrowing takes over his eyes at that last revelation, however, and almost as soon as it starts his eyes are on the Headmaster. His hand, reflexively aware of its duties, reaches out in front of Issa, the palm turned up for hers, but he's not immediately looking.
Ashwin watches impassively, though as Miniyal concludes, he stops slicing through his redfruit, his hands still. He's ready to meet Roa's gaze when she looks towards him, but when the Weyrwoman takes a survey of the reactions around the room, the Captain looks across to the two of his men he greeted earlier. A slight shake of his head suffices to keep them where they are, and slowly he rises from his seat.
The clink of a fork hitting a plate is the only sound that comes from Issa, joining the other rustling, fidgeting noises of the cavern just as Miniyal begins her speech. Her softened expression doesn't waver a bit until the subject of Yevide surfaces, then it's just a gradual shift, her brows inching into a faint frown while her eyes tense. Frozen there, she watches Miniyal retake her seat and blinks in her direction several times before letting out a heavy breath and looking around. Feeling the movement of Reyce's hand rather than seeing it, she takes it and draws it under the table into her lap, clutched their with a tension not allowed to show above. Only her stiffened brow shows dismay when she directs her gaze a few tables down to find Roa and give her a slow blink and slight shake of her head.
It would be impossible to not notice the reaction. One cannot shut themselves off quite that much. However, for all the exclamations and other noises, Miniyal doesn't seem to be letting it affect her. Instead she takes another drink from her cup and refuses to meet the looks sent her way by anyone. Neither does she bother speaking when a few people shout out questions to her.
When the captain stands, Roa curls her own fingers around her plate, although the interest seems to be more in having something to hold than to do much of anything with the plate, now that she has it. Another person at the table leans to ask a murmured question, and the weyrwoman is obliged to respond.
Peloth> The queen is groggy. She had been sleeping. But waking, it seems, has been demanded. As had the request that now twines outward from Tialith to her daughter. << Roa asks that your rider come to speak with her tomorrow afternoon. >>
Ashwin moves slowly, with the odd sort of grace that comes with turns upon turns of training, and while most of the cavern still stands paralysed, noisy but unmoving, the Captain weaves through the bodies around him, until he can circumvent the length of the weyrling table, and come to a half beside Miniyal, silently awaiting reception.
Peloth> To Tialith: Peloth has been awake. How could she sleep at a time like this after all? So, her answer comes clear and even firm. << She will not yell at her? That would be unwise. >>
Peloth> Tialith projects, << She will do as she sees fit. That rarely includes yelling. Will she come? >>
One of the instructors wishes to rise too, the weyr history specialist, and only sinks into his seat when a number of his fellows hiss at him when he turns towards Miniyal. He's scowling as he takes his seat once more, making his case for an immediate interview. Once more, Sefton allows others to speak, and only leans in when they have finished, adding his final word in a quiet voice. He is less interested in the response of his colleagues, though, and more interested in watching the faces around him, dark eyes returning always to Miniyal.
Peloth> To Tialith: << She will come. >> Barely long enough a pause for Peloth to have asked her rider. And her tone shifts now, a request properly asked. << May I come with her? She will likely need me. >>
Peloth> If dragons do not physically shrug, on occasion, their thoughts do. Shrug. << If you like. >> Tialith agrees blandly, << There is room in the weyr. After lunch. Immediately after. >>
Peloth> To Tialith: Peloth's response comes before she withdraws herself and it is a brief one. << I like. I thank you. We will come as you say. >>
Issa begins to move again, thawed enough to pass a frown, full and heavy with disapproval this time, at one of the weyr's kitchen girls distraught over the fact that she delivered food to a /murderer/. She draws her eyes back to Reyce, however, smoothing her expression to simple confusion as she mutters, "I should see to her, I think." With a last squeeze of his hand, she releases it and struggles her way up from the bench, heaving herself upright. A glance toward the table of contention finds the Captain, however, so when her steps swing past Roa's table she pauses quickly. Her words are just a whisper bent down, kept from the others at the table as she plants a hand on the table and leans right up next to the Weyrwoman. "Did you know about this?" Just a question, blank and devoid of accusation. For now.
Reyce squeezes her hand back, acknowledgement, but he releases it without a word. His eyes do, at least, leave the people in the room alone, as he gives Miniyal - and her attendant Captain - one quick glance before sinking his gaze into his mug of klah.
Not unaware enough to not realise she has someone new near her the weyrling sets down her cup. Lifting her head, Miniyal nods at the guard captain. What she says to him may carry past them, but it is not her intent it do so. She merely does not whisper. "I have proof, sir. I will show it to you, but it will not be taken from me. It is mine." A pause here and she clears her throat. "I would not have had the truth concealed. It had to be told to everyone who was touched by what happened. It was my responsibility to do so."
"I did not," Roa says immediately to Issa's question and with a sharp frown that she quickly smoothes away. "Sit," she offers softly, "Talk with me. Confer. Whatever. Let him speak to her without interference. If what she claims is so, she's a witness, now." After a beat she adds, her tone gentled, "He won't upset her."
The other weyrlings having vacated the bench so that Miniyal could climb on it, Ashwin's not pressed for somewhere to sit. He picks a spot beside the goldrider, his own words quiet, and certainly not intended to carry. "It might have been better if you'd brought it to us first, but I don't disagree. It had to be told, and you did. My concern now is that if anybody else was involved, they'll be packing a bag in the next few minutes or so. I would be. Can you show me your proof now, weyrwoman?"
The hubbub around the cavern is growing now, and conversations are rising to a roar now, arguments starting, debate flying. Ashwin's presence may be what keeps the crowd at bay for now, but it doesn't stop them discussing what they've just heard. For his part, the Headmaster chooses not to contribute to the sensation -- instead, he listens, he shakes his head, he indicates the Captain, he speaks in tones of regret, quietly.
While Roa speaks, Issa's eyes are on the weyrling tables, watching not only the conspicuous goldrider and her guard attendant, but the others that have lingered this long. "Later, I promise," Issa sighs out, turning a glance sideways at the weyrwoman before she straightens from her lean, a hand on her back to correct her balance and aching muscles both. "I should take care of the rest of the herd," she notes with a thin sort of smile, again watching a very young bluerider watching Miniyal with wide, wide eyes. "D'ven'll want them in the barracks." A hand lands on Roa's shoulder to give a sqeeze and then she goes on to quietly issuing orders to those stragglers, avoiding any interruption of the Captain's business.
Eyes closing a moment, Miniyal shakes her head. "No one else was involved. He would not- I /know/ him, sir. That may not be evidence that you like, but I do." She stops and corrects herself with a sigh. "I did. He acted alone." There is another pause here, although briefer than before. "I can, sir. It is not here with me. It is somewhere safe."
Issa didn't finish her cake. Reyce's eyes find her at Roa's table, and follow her for a while as she begins to usher out the lingering weyrlings. It's not the most fascinating process, though, and he soon turns his eyes to the cake she left behind, dragging it towards him. He doesn't eat it, but - while the hubbub about murder and excited chatter throughout the caverns continues - just starts wrapping it up in a napkin.
Roa nods. "Later, then," she says to Issa before the greenrider moves away to see to her duty. Roa shifts on the bench to pay more direct atteion to a group of riders talking heatedly. She is silent until a question is addressed to her directly. With a shake of her head, the weyrwoman launches into a quiet if intent discussion with three others seated near her.
"He found poison somewhere," Ashwin points out gently, turning over the redfruit he's still carrying in one hand. "I'd be grateful if you'd show it to me now, weyrwoman, and then I can leave you alone for a time. We may have questions later." He lifts his head, and turns it to scan the living cavern - departing weyrlings, guards quietly intercepting those who would join in the questioning, his weyrmate in conversation. "I can come with you."
A large knot of Caucus conversation has errupted now, with first more senior students, and later the bolder amongst the more junior gathering around their instructors. Whether by design or simply inevitability, the Headmaster is at the centre of it. He has risen from his seat by now, and in one swift step makes it to the edge of the group, where the drudge he despatched before the uproar began has just arrived back with his wineskin. Of this, the Headmaster takes possession. Nearby, the weyrling table has been cleared, and the Captain sits in quiet conversation with Miniyal. The Weyrwoman speaks to a knot of riders, one of many, and surrounded by uproar, Reyce wraps cake in a napkin. It takes all types to build a world.
"It's not as if I will be leaving the weyr anytime soon, sir." It is much easier, focusing on this conversation and on keeping her voice down, than to think of the room around her. Much easier. "If I might meet you somewhere, sir? The place it is held is secure only because no one knows where it is." She has given up one secret tonight. Anyone expecting her to give up anything else has clearly been looking up from the bottom of the bottle. The weyrling sets her cup down and rises to her feet. Something to do. That's a good thing.
That there is uproar of whatever nature seems no surprise to the Weyrleader. He appears in silence, save for the beat of his boots-- and that rhythm is likely to be lost among the uproar. Through the kitchen doors he arrives, then around the tables, then slowly-- as unobtrusively as he can make himself-- between the clatches of riders and students. The former have suddenly a habit of quieting a bit as R'vain moves, one step at a time, one layer of people at a time, closer to the Weyrwoman.
Ashwin rises to his feet immediately - courtesy, or readiness. "I'm more concerned about who else might think to depart. Even if he worked alone, as you say, I'd like to know how he was supplied. I'd be remiss if we didn't look into this tonight." A beat, and he adjusts the knives at his belt. "It's a difficult time. To lose him and then discover this must be very hard. Perhaps the North Weyr, if you will retrieve your evidence, and meet me there?"
It's good cake. But now that he has it, Reyce seems content to leave the uproar behind, for he stacks up his own and Issa's trays and brings them to a cleaning rack by the exit. Before abandoning the food, he picks up the cake he wrapped to-go and does just that.
The weyrwoman is holding up her hands and keeping her voice soft and low. Perhaps it is an intentional tactic. It is harder to shout if doing so would block out the words one is waiting to hear. "Of course we'll get to the bottom of this," she insists gently. "The Captain is speaking with Miniyal now. We cannot get answers instantaneously. Please keep yourselves calm."
While the Caucus debate continues, Sefton stands serenely at the edge of the pack, suffering the drudge to hold his wineglass for him while he cracks the seal, and pours. This momentary solitude allows him the time to watch Ashwin and Miniyal speak, then to turn his head when they rise, and observe the groups that have clustered together, and observe their composition. Inevitably, voices draw him back in, and he turns his head to offer a reply to several questions.
Head shaking Miniyal slides her hands into her pockets. "I told you- Look. I'll just show you what I have and-" Stopping there she looks down at her feet. Another look upwards and she nods to the guard. "It is no harder for me, sir, than for anyone else who was close to him." She has not before now tried to steal any especial mourning privileges for herself. It makes sense she would not do so now. "I will go get it then. And bring it there." Now that she is leaving she might spend a bit more time studying the room. She takes in the varying groups of people, notices the arrival of the weyrleader, and then moves with no haste what so ever towards the exit. It's as if she is completely removed from the uproar and had nothing at all to do with it.
It's as if R'vain hasn't even thought yet to go looking for Miniyal-- or as if his first view of her, speaking with Ashwin, was sufficient. As if all he desires just now is to come up to Roa, then half-turn to present himself by her side. Towering a bit by her side, a fact he can't help. Silent, he tips his red head a little toward her and looks back out at the group of riders through which he walked, gauging faces, expressions, murmurs.
Ashwin nods, standing still for Miniyal's first several steps, and observing her retreat. Then he turns, nods to one of the several guards watching, and with the man a few steps behind him, disappears in the direction of the North Weyr, still holding onto the half-cut redfruit he'd just claimed when all this began.
As Miniyal departs, the outraged voices of several who evidently considered it their right to question her ring out. Amongst the Caucus voices, though, these are few, and this new development seems to remind a few of the instructors of their position and rank. Their combined efforts disperse their crowd of students relatively quickly, and before long, the Headmaster disappears down the passageway that will lead to his quarters, a small group of instructors and students in tow.
The new, large, red presence at the table quells some of the raising anxiety and a fair number of the riders there look up, salute, and either reinitiate discussions with one another or look up to R'vain for some better offering than Roa has been able to supply. The weyrwoman herself glances up when the riders do and offers a rather weak half-smile. "Hey. We're talking. Would you like to sit?"
"Sure." Roa's question earns R'vain's nod, and he finds for himself a place to sit down, parting down his height by so doing. "Seems th'captain has it under control," rumbles the Weyrleader, putting his knees wide enough that he can bend down an elbow upon one of them. "We're talking 'bout - ?" Because the captain, see, has 'it' under control. The red creature grins and tips his head a little more toward Roa, cornering his eyes her way: "You ate, right?"
The other riders shift perhaps a touch uncomfortably and a couple look away. "We were talking about Miniyal's announcement, although I was trying to encourage a little patience on the subject. I have eaten, thank you. And I think I'd better let my legs stretch a bit." And after Roa just made him sit, too. There is a small wince for this fact. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...walk with me?"
"Sure," R'vain says, again. He's so complacent today. The Weyrwoman's lapdog. If she had lap enough left to accommodate such an enormous dog. He lurches slow to his feet, then puts down his palm-up hand to offer her assistance should she like it, and while waiting for her to accompany him he measures out a generous grin for the benefit of those riders who still watch and wait. "Flying th'ninth day," he rumbles. "Drills t'morrow, one-aye, two-bee, three-cee." This certainly does not include every rider present, but in a moment it does thin the group a bit, and turn the tide of conversation.
Even when Roa did have a lap, it was unlikely that it could accomodate a dog of R'vain's....er....moving right along...the weyrwoman slips her smaller hand into the weyrleader's paw and allows herself to be helped upward. Practicality before pride just at the moment. She steps over the bench as a portion of the riders at the table take up the new conversation of drills and 'fall, though 'the Igenite' and 'Ganathon' can still be heard now and again among some smaller groups conversing. She makes her way out into the bowl, waiting until both she and the weyrleader are outside before she notes, "she's in my weyr with the Captain. Tialith says we can join them. I think perhaps we should. Have -you- eaten?"
R'vain's brows draw and he turns that dark look on a group that has said something about 'Ganathon,' but if the red Weyrleader is choosing this time to object to the naming convention occasionally applied to the dragonless dead man, it is a small objection, too late. "I eat whenever I get to it," he rumbles, clearly mentally attached to different subjects, looking out over the bowl like it's a long-ago-forgotten sight, a familiar view just now remembered. "We should," he adds, and they do.
~~~~~North Weyr~~~~~
The Captain has the weyr to himself for a few minutes; it's enough time to revive the fire and add fuel to it, and to address his weyrmate's dragon, reaching up to scratch along her eyeridge as he asks her to inform her rider of his whereabouts, and to invite Roa and the Weyrleader to join him, if they so desire. Beyond that, he waits, back to the hearth, finally finishing the job of slicing up his redfruit, and chewing on it contemplatively. Outside the door to the weyr, a young giant of a guard stands sentry duty, silent.
It takes her, if not a lot of time, definitely a decent amount of time to get what she needs. Or perhaps she lingers on purpose somewhere to further add confusion to where exactly she went. When Miniyal appears outside the door she carries a journal with a couple of loose pages tucked inside. It is held in one hand, but held tightly. The other hangs loose at her side as she nods to the guard and when she enters the weyr she does so silently.
The big guard is expecting her, and leans in to open the door for her silently, and then step back. It shuts behind her, and he resumes his place, leaning against the wall. There's nobody to see if he stands to attention. Ashwin tosses the remainder of his redfruit into the fire, and cleans his knife off on his pants, carefully, before setting it back in place at his belt. "Thank you," he murmurs, as quiet here as he was in the living cavern. "May I see it?"
Normally she lingers in here by the door. Miniyal rarely likes to come too far into this room, but she does so now. "I'll get it right back?" she asks first, still holding onto what she has as she moves closer, not offering it out. "I won't have the journal taken from me." But, the other notes she seems willing to show for now and so the loose hides are taken out and held for the captain to take. "I found these amongst his notes. He was experimenting with whatever substance- I do not know what it was, although there is an option that has occurred to me."
"I have no intention of taking it from you. I am grateful for your cooperation," Ashwin replies, taking the loose hides, and glancing down to shuffle through them. "If he experimented with it, he must have had some to spare. I want to know where he got it from." He glances up at her, as he backs up closer to a glow, the easier to read. "Please, tell me what you're thinking."
His word seems to be enough for she holds out the journal as well, content to do so until he will take it. "It's in the back. It was. . .he had concealed it." Miniyal looks down at the journal, her thumb stroking over the cover as she watches it. "I worked, for a very short time, as the former weyrleader's assistant. Before we were-" Stopping here she worries at her lower lip. "Before we were involved personally. At one point I discovered he had, well, I am not sure. But when that drug was being passed about? He had that. The klah one. I do not know how much. Or what he did with it. It might not have been that. I mean, no one else has died from it that I have heard. Still, if that was it then the Healer Hall should be notified so I thought it best to mention it, sir."
"Thank you," Ashwin murmurs, accepting the journal, and shifting his attention from the notes to his new acquisition. "I do recall the drug you mean. I'll want a healer to look over this, but perhaps the drug could do more cumulatively than we knew. If so, well." His mouth presses closed in a grim line, and he lifts his head. "So many people had it, around the weyr. There's no way of knowing who supplied it. If that's what he used. I understand your wish for privacy, but if I can't keep these, I need to copy them. I won't make them available for general inspection."
"I can make you a copy, sir. I- You may hold onto the separate notes until I have a copy to trade you. Just so long as I get the journal back." Miniyal is so generous like that. "I could make the copy and have it to you by lunch tomorrow. I have read it. I do not need to see it to copy it for you." She focuses her attention not on the guard holding the journal, but on the journal itself. As if it might change or disappear now that it is not in her possession alone.
"As quickly as you can," Ashwin agrees, dropping his eyes once more to consider his perusal of the journal. "I'll ask the Weyrwoman or the Weyrleader to have the Weyrlingmaster free you up until it's done. He names nobody here, so --" He falls silent as the door opens, and the huge young guard outside pokes his head inside, to murmur, "Weyrleader, sir, an' Weyrwoman." That's the extent of Morley's heraldry efforts, and he then gets out of the way of the aforementioned dignitaries, to reveal Ashwin standing by the hearth, reading from a small journal, and Miniyal nearby.
She rolls her eyes, not much of an expression but it is more than what she has bothered with these days. "Sir, I'll need an hour to copy that. There hardly needs to be intervention on behalf of the weyr's leaders with the weyrlingmaster." Miniyal would have once sounded offended at the thought it would take more, but that is too much work. Instead she just speaks quietly, evenly. Like she continues to just discuss the world around her that she's not a part of right now.
Roa steps inside with R'vain following close behind. "Thank you, Morley," she murmurs to the large, young guard, before turning her attention to those in the room. Tialith looks towards her rider, and then away with a faint rumble. "What isn't we don't need to intervene about?" she asks, looking first to Ashwin, and then to Miniyal.
"If it has t'do with D'ven," rumbles R'vain, very low, just behind Roa to the right and looming past Morley with just a nod, "I doubt it'll come t'gether without some level of intervention. Captain." That's a greeting, with a split-second split of a grin, for Ashwin-- a nod for the junior weyrwoman precedes a somewhat less jovial, "Min'yal." The Weyrleader thins his lips in a frown, brows drawing. "I'm sorry," he says then, rather quietly. And jerks his shoulders into an approximation of his shrug.
"If you need an hour, then I'd appreciate it before breakfast, rather than before lunch," Ashwin replies, looking up as the weyr's two leaders arrive. "No intervention required, sir, it seems," he replies to R'vain, shifting his papers from one hand to the other, so he can manage a salute. "The weyrwoman - the junior weyrwoman - is going to make me a copy of these. I'll be speaking to a healer in the morning. He doesn't name his poison, or anybody who supplied it, though the weyrwoman wonders if it might have been the drug we had about here some time back. I'll ask my men to note anybody who takes leave of our company tonight, but unless the healers took a better look at the late Weyrwoman than I think they did, we're guessing at what he used."
For Roa and R'vain she finds a nod of her head. A nod and a quietly offered, "Ma'am. Sir." Miniyal nods then to Ashwin. Lots of nodding. "Before breakfast then, sir. That is not a problem. It will be ready." Folding her hands in front of her she shifts her position just enough to be able to keep a better eye on everyone who is present. It seems the prudent thing to do.
Roa listens first to R'vain, then to Ashwin, and finally to Miniyal. "You believe then," the weyrwoman asks the Captain, "based on the evidence that Miniyal is presenting, that her supposition is likely correct?" To Miniyal she offers a small nod. "Are you..." but she stalls on finding a proper adjective. "How are you feeling?"
"Th'healers should be asked," R'vain replies Ashwin, sidestepping as Roa moves farther in so that his bulk no longer blocks the way out through which they came. "Just in case." But another thin-lipped frown and the crossing of his arms over his chest probably do enough to convey his own agreement with the Captain's expectaions regarding the examination that was performed upon the Weyrwoman. He's quiet for a moment-- then his jaw sinks a little. "I'll do it," he murmurs, ragged, as softspoken as he ever gets.
"I believe," Ashwin replies quietly, "that he acted alone. Or at least, that he neither names nor indicates that anybody else was present. It may be that whatever he used was supplied to him innocently, in good faith. It may be that it was not. Unless the healers made a careful enough examination to be able to tell us what was used, there's nothing further we can do." And that displeases the Captain, who allows himself to waver an inch from his impassivity towards a frown. "The weyrwoman," he continues, looking across to Miniyal, "has been most cooperative. And very brave."
"I have no desire to tear out my hair and cry, ma'am. I am fine. I have known for two days now." Miniyal offers no shrug to go with this. All she does is give the senior weyrwoman yet another nod of her head. This one manages to free her hair from where it was precariously tucked behind her ears. For the moment no movement is made to remove it from where it lays. "It requires little bravery to speak ill of a dead man, sir. I would object to the use of the term in this instance. I am just sorry- Sorry there was little I could do at the time. I am sorry for the trouble this will cause now. But I had no choice."
"All right," Roa allows for Miniyal's words, her hands clasping behind her back. She looks over towards R'vain noting, "I can do it. Or I can come with you, if you like. They know me fairly well in the infirmary anyhow." As if that has anything to do with anything. "Captain, is there anything else you need from Miniyal until tomorrow morning? Weyrleader, is there anything you wish to ask? Miniyal, would you like somewhere other than the barracks to stay, tonight?"
"On th'contrary." R'vain unfolds an arm to hold a hand out toward Miniyal, not that he seems to have any expectation she will come over and do anything with it; the gesture's open-palmed, good-natured. "You had choices. Just none y'felt were right. This ain't-- it ain't bad." A glance at Roa-- then one out toward the ledge-- then another, suddenly all full of a flash of grinning white teeth, at his Weyrwoman. "No need. I got something t'ask on my own." So there? The grin departs so he can address Miniyal again: "Might not be a bad idea." Being out of the barracks, for now.
"I think," murmurs Ashwin to Miniyal, in amongst all the businesslike talk, "that it always requires bravery, to speak real ill of the ones we love." He looks across to Roa then, to shake his head. "The records in the morning, and word back from the healers. I suspect neither will lead us anywhere. I'll ask Morley to walk the weyrwoman to wherever she's to sleep. Helps avoid conversation." Being six and a half foot of muscle can achieve that, funnily enough. It's the Captain's withdrawal from the conversation, and he steps back, and crosses over towards the door.
"Peloth is waiting for me. She expects me. There is no need to disrupt her routine over this. I will be fine." Miniyal makes note of the hand and then pushes her hair off her face. "There is no need for concern, ma'am. Sir. I will be fine." And he can withdraw from the conversation, but he can't quite get out of everything because Miniyal will step closer a pace or two so she might take back the journal. Once she has it in her possession once more she seems done and just waits to be dismissed. Well, she does clear her throat to add one little thing. "You should know, I sent a letter to J'cor. He knows. I have not informed anyone else. I will- It is nothing that cannot wait until tomorrow to discuss. I am sorry for disturbing your evening." The apology is meant to include everyone since she does not address it /to/ anyone. Now she waits to be dismissed.
Of all the many things that might be said, and judging my the sudden intake of breath, certainly, Roa would very much -like- to say a thing or two, all she offers in the end is, "Rest if you can. We'll speak more tomorrow. Good night, Miniyal." R'vain is shot a bit of a warning look. A whatever-you're-thinking-just-sit-on-it sort of look.
"I suppose he ought t'know," R'vain allows. Roa's warning look gets something cheeky in return-- he should be solemn, over what they've learned, but there's a quiet near-elation that he seems only partly able to keep back. Relief, of a kind, inappropriate in the extreme; he squelches it again, frowning. "Go ahead, weyrwoman." Miniyal's dismissal given, the Weyrleader's then on his way out. Along the way he can spare a look for Ashwin that might amount to, 'where are /you/ going.' But no word.
Where: Living cavern and north weyr
When: Dinnertime on day 6, month 11, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.
What: Upon Gans' death Miniyal inherited his things. Among them was the journal she gave to him on his birthday. Within that journal she learns a secret. Contrary to her usual pattern, she cannot keep this secret to herself. So she shares it with the Weyr. After that she departs to share the evidence in private with the captain of the guard and the weyr's leaders.
Note: I have separated out the part of the log that was Ashwin/Miniyal from the part that was Roa/R'vain. The beginning of the first conversation takes place while the latter two are still in the LC. But, it is neater this way I think.
5/26/2007
At High Reaches Weyr, it is around dinner on day 6, month 11, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.
The dinner period at the weyr winds down to a close. A person or two still trickles in from somewhere else, but for the most part those that are coming have come. And, in many cases, gone on their merry way. There is still, within the cavern, a decent amount of people. So, the noise level is the sort one might expect of people happily discussing how to spend the hours between now and bedtime. The kitchen staff has stopped bringing foods out for dinner and instead are clearing away dishes. While this occurs others make sure there is still plenty of klah and juice available along with breads and even a few pastries. It is, really, just another average night at the weyr. The table where the weyrlings eat is a lot less crowded with the senior weyrlings no longer there. Add to that the fact that many of them have made quick work of their meal so they can spend that 'free' time how they wish as long as they wish and it's actually one of the quieter tables with the numbers it has around it. Miniyal, as it not so unusual, contributes to the quiet by not saying a thing at all and instead continuing the listless picking at her meal that has gone on since shortly after she first sat down.
Though the Headmaster frequently takes his meals in his quarters, this evening he sits with several of his instructors, in quiet conversation. Meals are for the most part finished, though wine still flows, and though this Caucus table makes less noise than many of those filled with wingriders, its occupants are laughing, engaged in some involved debate.
The weyrwoman sits a couple tables away, a slice of redfruit held in one hand as the other gesticulates to enhance whatever point she is making to the pale and quiet Captain of the Guard seated across from her. Her attention slips, now and again, towards the weyrling table and to a particuar goldriding girl that used to have a lot more hair than she does presently. But, for the most part, her attention remains with her weyrmate. After posing a quiet question, Roa falls silent to crunch on the redfruit slice she holds.
With a certain Bendenite having been sent to retrieve some form of dessert for Issa, this pregnant woman's attention is allowed to drift around the cavern as well, skipping over faces of neighboring groups and passers-by while she nurses a nearly empty glass of water. Their claimed spot shows signs of a successful meal, with cleared plates and piled silverware, and is situated in a relatively uncrowded section of the cavern, in sight of the weyrling tables, but far enough to insure a measure of separation from her work.
The Guard's Captain reaches across to take up a piece of redfruit from the Weyrwoman's plate, biting down on it thoughtfully as he listens to her question. His attention is not diverted to the room's other goldriding occupant, but rather fixed on the woman opposite him. His impassive expression clears momentarily, to make way for the suggestion of a fleeting smile, and he half rises from his chair so that he can address his quiet words not to his weyrmate, but to her stomach. Instructions delivered, he sinks down once more, and bites down on his redfruit.
A certain Bendenite is taking his time retrieving dessert, largely because the kitchen is currently restocking their dessert plates in the late-dinner rush. Reyce spends the interim filling and sweetening himself a cup of klah, though he's first in line when a kitchen worker appears with a tray full of crumbly yellow cakes. He grabs one, stuffs a glass of water between his elbow and his ribs, then returns to Issa to plop his findings down unceremoniously in front of her. His klah is his reward, as he steps over the bench to sit next to her.
While the room certainly has other occupants it doesn't seem as if that other goldrider is really aware of it. In point of fact, Miniyal doesn't even seem really aware of the other occupants of her table. Which is why, perhaps, when a couple of them rise up to leave she gives her head a shake and looks around. Blinking as she shoves her plate away she finally spares a glance for the rest of the room at large. People. Right. That does generally happen this time of the day. She says something quietly to someone else seated with her and then stands up. Then she looks around again and tucks her hair behind her ears.
For the words offered to her downstairs tenant, Roa smirks and rolls her eyes. She snatches the rest of her plate of redfruit closer to her person, curling an arm around it protectively, despite a sudden smile on her face. Whatever she says to Ashwin, it is accompanied by a chinjerk towards the counter of food, among which is a basket of redfruits.
There's a burst of laughter from the table filled with Caucus instructors, and a brief dimming of their noise as a passing drudge is flagged down, and despatched for more supplies. Then conversation resumes, a part of it a chorus of complaint, as Sefton begins to rise, clearly making his apologies, and preparing to take his leave for the evening.
Ashwin goes so far as to wrinkle his nose at the Weyrwoman, though the corners of his eyes crease in one of his faint imitations of a smile. He looks across to where the remaining food is stowed, and after brief contemplation he rises, stepping back over the bench. Something's murmured to the goldrider opposite him, and then he begins to weave his way through the crowd, greeting a pair of his men as he nears the counter.
A hand slides up Reyce's arm as he retakes his seat, a mute thanks from Issa, who's already retrieving her fork from her abandoned plate and cleaning it with a swipe through her mouth. Then its dug into the cake, the first bite that comes up for her and quickly chewed down; the second is offered to Reyce though, a nudge from her shoulder gaining his attention for the question she clearly doesn't expect him to take her up on.
Now that his task is complete, Reyce allows his eyes to wander across the cavern, lifting over the rim of his klah mug while he continues his drink. Despite the presence of two weyrwomen in the room, it's the Headmaster whose presence gets a blink, and Reyce's attention pauses there for an instant before Issa's nudge brings him back to her. Probably because she doesn't expect him to eat it, he does, leaning promptly but inconsequentially sideways to slide the bite off her fork. And while he chews, expression blank, his eyes keep moving across the room, moving beyond the Headmaster to the other instructors who drew him to their table.
It is not often, if one were being completely honest not ever, that Miniyal tries to get attention. Certainly not in a room full of people that includes among them several people she'd rather not be noticed by ever. However, it would seem that when she has to, she can. Some old habits die hard and she doesn't make any move to, well, move. Instead she closes her eyes for a moment and then says something quietly to the people who were just sharing the bench with her. They stand up and shuffle around and wind up leaving her with the bench to herself. Once that's done she stands up on it. If that were not enough to get attention she raises her voice to let it carry over the noise. Who knew she could do that? "Excuse me? If I could bother you all for a moment? I have something I would like to say. Briefly, I promise. It's just. . .I lost someone very important to me recently and I know I'm not the only one who was touched by his death and I just want to say a few words. Please."
Having watched Ashwin depart, Roa turns her head, brows arched high, when the newest Reachian goldrider calls attention to herself. She cants her head to the side, curiosity open in her expression, but she doesn't say anything. She only rests her arms on the table and waits, eyes on Miniyal.
Issa's lips perk with a mild amusement as Reyce makes off with that bite, but she turns without remark to her dessert, sectioning off a bite that she won't make the mistake of offering away. That bite is on its way to her mouth when someone standing on a bench at the weyrling table draws her attention away from it. Mild amusement is replaced by mild displeasure, but when Miniyal is found to be the culprit, and a vocal one at that, she buries her impulse to rise and correct the situation. Cake slid slowly into her mouth, she chews absent-mindedly while she attends to what the weyrling goldrider has to say.
Ashwin's made it as far as the fruit, and he scoops up a redfruit, hefting it in one hand as Miniyal speaks. He studies her where she stands, and then turns, making his way back to his table, so that he can sink down opposite Roa, and shoot her a glance, pulling his knife from his belt to begin carving up the fruit as he twists his body to face the woman on the chair.
The Caucus table is not so far from that occupied by the weyrlings, and it's Miniyal's bench-climbing that garners attention here. That means that before she speaks, she already has the attention of the Headmaster and his assorted instructors. Sefton reaches for his glass of wine, and lifts it to his mouth, dark eyes fixed on the woman over the rim. He only lowers it and glances away when it becomes clear that a quelling glance is necessary, for two who wish to continue the argument.
Since the Caucus and weyrling tables are so close together, it's only a short jump for Reyce's eyes to find the weyrling atop the bench. They fix there, patient, while he chews down the last bit of Issa's cake and goes for a swallow of klah to wash it up.
A moment, maybe two, but not three, is taken here for Miniyal to do the whole gather up the courage thing again. She may look about the room, but there's no real chance of meeting anyone's eyes. Not the way she is quick to move on should someone try to do just that. Instead she begins to speak. "There are words that could be said better than I could ever say them. There are thoughts. . .emotions. . .all that someone more articulate than I could share in ways better than I could even imagine. But what you get is me. Standing here and trying to find the words to describe a man that many of you knew better than me. Or at least longer than me.
Everyone will remember him for something different, I imagine. I've known all along what I would remember him for and that hasn't changed. It won't change. Because I'd waited all my life for that one thing. It may not seem like such a big thing to some of you, but to me it was everything.
I'll remember him as the one person who heard me. Who pulled me out of the darkness and told me that what I had to say was worth hearing. Not just by him, but by everyone. He taught me to be proud of who I was and that I was strong enough to handle anything. Even having to live on without him. Even knowing the truth about him and knowing everyone else knows that truth as well."
She pauses here, but not to do anything silly like get control of excess emotional displays. Because there is no such thing from Miniyal. It is just a moment to gather her thoughts. To bring out the words that she needs to say now. And, because a proper dramatic pause is something that every speech requires. This is a known fact. It is writ down, after all, somewhere, that one must have a dramatic pause within one's speech. Once the moment has passed she continues with her speech. "If things had gone differently we would have married. It's not important now, really. But it's the truth. And because of that. Because I would have married him and because I still love him and he entrusted to me something important it's my responsibility to speak.
He was a man of actions. And not all of his actions were good ones. He made decisions that had an impact on life here in the weyr for everyone. All of his decisions, good or bad, changed things here. There was one. One decision that lead to one action that has cast upon this weyr, our home, a shadow. While it can't be taken back or changed. While I cannot make it right I can. . .I can do this.
He brought Yevide here for his own reasons. He made her Weyrwoman through means that were less than upright. It may not have turned out exactly as he anticipated, but he did it. And then later. Then later he killed her. He poisoned her and he concealed his crime. But he left it to me when he died. That knowledge of what he had done. He left it to me to do as I would with it. And so I give it to all of you. Now all we can do is know that the truth is finally known. That, despite how long it took, the truth is out. To do what we will with it."
And, having had her say, Miniyal steps down and retakes her seat. That is all, it seems. Reaching for her cup she takes a drink and then stares into it.
There is, from the weyrwoman, a slow blink and the careful closing of her mouth as it had fallen slightly open during Miniyal's speech. She swallows slowly, and carefully draws her gaze away from the weyrling and over towards Ashwin for a beat. Her expression is bland. Composed. Then it skitters off to find Issa, the Headmaster, and come back to Miniyal again.
A suite of reactions kick in at this point, of course. Sefton has listened gravely, wearing the same expression of quiet regret that he has donned so frequently in the days since the death of Miniyal's lover -- he banishes his usual amused, mocking smile, and allows something graver to take over his gaze. Her final words to galvanise him, though, and slowly one hand comes up, to press over his mouth for an instant. Then questions burst out all around him, and with a last glance towards the weyrling weyrwoman that's almost disbelieving, Sefton turns to attend to the discussion at his table, listening without contributing.
It is a silent cycle Reyce seems to have set in on; from the Caucus table to Miniyal, and now from Miniyal to the Caucus table once again. His klah mug has long since been set back on the table (quietly, lest even the slightest clink interrupt the weyrling's speech), leaving his face - sober, but unstirred - entirely open for observation. A gradual narrowing takes over his eyes at that last revelation, however, and almost as soon as it starts his eyes are on the Headmaster. His hand, reflexively aware of its duties, reaches out in front of Issa, the palm turned up for hers, but he's not immediately looking.
Ashwin watches impassively, though as Miniyal concludes, he stops slicing through his redfruit, his hands still. He's ready to meet Roa's gaze when she looks towards him, but when the Weyrwoman takes a survey of the reactions around the room, the Captain looks across to the two of his men he greeted earlier. A slight shake of his head suffices to keep them where they are, and slowly he rises from his seat.
The clink of a fork hitting a plate is the only sound that comes from Issa, joining the other rustling, fidgeting noises of the cavern just as Miniyal begins her speech. Her softened expression doesn't waver a bit until the subject of Yevide surfaces, then it's just a gradual shift, her brows inching into a faint frown while her eyes tense. Frozen there, she watches Miniyal retake her seat and blinks in her direction several times before letting out a heavy breath and looking around. Feeling the movement of Reyce's hand rather than seeing it, she takes it and draws it under the table into her lap, clutched their with a tension not allowed to show above. Only her stiffened brow shows dismay when she directs her gaze a few tables down to find Roa and give her a slow blink and slight shake of her head.
It would be impossible to not notice the reaction. One cannot shut themselves off quite that much. However, for all the exclamations and other noises, Miniyal doesn't seem to be letting it affect her. Instead she takes another drink from her cup and refuses to meet the looks sent her way by anyone. Neither does she bother speaking when a few people shout out questions to her.
When the captain stands, Roa curls her own fingers around her plate, although the interest seems to be more in having something to hold than to do much of anything with the plate, now that she has it. Another person at the table leans to ask a murmured question, and the weyrwoman is obliged to respond.
Peloth> The queen is groggy. She had been sleeping. But waking, it seems, has been demanded. As had the request that now twines outward from Tialith to her daughter. << Roa asks that your rider come to speak with her tomorrow afternoon. >>
Ashwin moves slowly, with the odd sort of grace that comes with turns upon turns of training, and while most of the cavern still stands paralysed, noisy but unmoving, the Captain weaves through the bodies around him, until he can circumvent the length of the weyrling table, and come to a half beside Miniyal, silently awaiting reception.
Peloth> To Tialith: Peloth has been awake. How could she sleep at a time like this after all? So, her answer comes clear and even firm. << She will not yell at her? That would be unwise. >>
Peloth> Tialith projects, << She will do as she sees fit. That rarely includes yelling. Will she come? >>
One of the instructors wishes to rise too, the weyr history specialist, and only sinks into his seat when a number of his fellows hiss at him when he turns towards Miniyal. He's scowling as he takes his seat once more, making his case for an immediate interview. Once more, Sefton allows others to speak, and only leans in when they have finished, adding his final word in a quiet voice. He is less interested in the response of his colleagues, though, and more interested in watching the faces around him, dark eyes returning always to Miniyal.
Peloth> To Tialith: << She will come. >> Barely long enough a pause for Peloth to have asked her rider. And her tone shifts now, a request properly asked. << May I come with her? She will likely need me. >>
Peloth> If dragons do not physically shrug, on occasion, their thoughts do. Shrug. << If you like. >> Tialith agrees blandly, << There is room in the weyr. After lunch. Immediately after. >>
Peloth> To Tialith: Peloth's response comes before she withdraws herself and it is a brief one. << I like. I thank you. We will come as you say. >>
Issa begins to move again, thawed enough to pass a frown, full and heavy with disapproval this time, at one of the weyr's kitchen girls distraught over the fact that she delivered food to a /murderer/. She draws her eyes back to Reyce, however, smoothing her expression to simple confusion as she mutters, "I should see to her, I think." With a last squeeze of his hand, she releases it and struggles her way up from the bench, heaving herself upright. A glance toward the table of contention finds the Captain, however, so when her steps swing past Roa's table she pauses quickly. Her words are just a whisper bent down, kept from the others at the table as she plants a hand on the table and leans right up next to the Weyrwoman. "Did you know about this?" Just a question, blank and devoid of accusation. For now.
Reyce squeezes her hand back, acknowledgement, but he releases it without a word. His eyes do, at least, leave the people in the room alone, as he gives Miniyal - and her attendant Captain - one quick glance before sinking his gaze into his mug of klah.
Not unaware enough to not realise she has someone new near her the weyrling sets down her cup. Lifting her head, Miniyal nods at the guard captain. What she says to him may carry past them, but it is not her intent it do so. She merely does not whisper. "I have proof, sir. I will show it to you, but it will not be taken from me. It is mine." A pause here and she clears her throat. "I would not have had the truth concealed. It had to be told to everyone who was touched by what happened. It was my responsibility to do so."
"I did not," Roa says immediately to Issa's question and with a sharp frown that she quickly smoothes away. "Sit," she offers softly, "Talk with me. Confer. Whatever. Let him speak to her without interference. If what she claims is so, she's a witness, now." After a beat she adds, her tone gentled, "He won't upset her."
The other weyrlings having vacated the bench so that Miniyal could climb on it, Ashwin's not pressed for somewhere to sit. He picks a spot beside the goldrider, his own words quiet, and certainly not intended to carry. "It might have been better if you'd brought it to us first, but I don't disagree. It had to be told, and you did. My concern now is that if anybody else was involved, they'll be packing a bag in the next few minutes or so. I would be. Can you show me your proof now, weyrwoman?"
The hubbub around the cavern is growing now, and conversations are rising to a roar now, arguments starting, debate flying. Ashwin's presence may be what keeps the crowd at bay for now, but it doesn't stop them discussing what they've just heard. For his part, the Headmaster chooses not to contribute to the sensation -- instead, he listens, he shakes his head, he indicates the Captain, he speaks in tones of regret, quietly.
While Roa speaks, Issa's eyes are on the weyrling tables, watching not only the conspicuous goldrider and her guard attendant, but the others that have lingered this long. "Later, I promise," Issa sighs out, turning a glance sideways at the weyrwoman before she straightens from her lean, a hand on her back to correct her balance and aching muscles both. "I should take care of the rest of the herd," she notes with a thin sort of smile, again watching a very young bluerider watching Miniyal with wide, wide eyes. "D'ven'll want them in the barracks." A hand lands on Roa's shoulder to give a sqeeze and then she goes on to quietly issuing orders to those stragglers, avoiding any interruption of the Captain's business.
Eyes closing a moment, Miniyal shakes her head. "No one else was involved. He would not- I /know/ him, sir. That may not be evidence that you like, but I do." She stops and corrects herself with a sigh. "I did. He acted alone." There is another pause here, although briefer than before. "I can, sir. It is not here with me. It is somewhere safe."
Issa didn't finish her cake. Reyce's eyes find her at Roa's table, and follow her for a while as she begins to usher out the lingering weyrlings. It's not the most fascinating process, though, and he soon turns his eyes to the cake she left behind, dragging it towards him. He doesn't eat it, but - while the hubbub about murder and excited chatter throughout the caverns continues - just starts wrapping it up in a napkin.
Roa nods. "Later, then," she says to Issa before the greenrider moves away to see to her duty. Roa shifts on the bench to pay more direct atteion to a group of riders talking heatedly. She is silent until a question is addressed to her directly. With a shake of her head, the weyrwoman launches into a quiet if intent discussion with three others seated near her.
"He found poison somewhere," Ashwin points out gently, turning over the redfruit he's still carrying in one hand. "I'd be grateful if you'd show it to me now, weyrwoman, and then I can leave you alone for a time. We may have questions later." He lifts his head, and turns it to scan the living cavern - departing weyrlings, guards quietly intercepting those who would join in the questioning, his weyrmate in conversation. "I can come with you."
A large knot of Caucus conversation has errupted now, with first more senior students, and later the bolder amongst the more junior gathering around their instructors. Whether by design or simply inevitability, the Headmaster is at the centre of it. He has risen from his seat by now, and in one swift step makes it to the edge of the group, where the drudge he despatched before the uproar began has just arrived back with his wineskin. Of this, the Headmaster takes possession. Nearby, the weyrling table has been cleared, and the Captain sits in quiet conversation with Miniyal. The Weyrwoman speaks to a knot of riders, one of many, and surrounded by uproar, Reyce wraps cake in a napkin. It takes all types to build a world.
"It's not as if I will be leaving the weyr anytime soon, sir." It is much easier, focusing on this conversation and on keeping her voice down, than to think of the room around her. Much easier. "If I might meet you somewhere, sir? The place it is held is secure only because no one knows where it is." She has given up one secret tonight. Anyone expecting her to give up anything else has clearly been looking up from the bottom of the bottle. The weyrling sets her cup down and rises to her feet. Something to do. That's a good thing.
That there is uproar of whatever nature seems no surprise to the Weyrleader. He appears in silence, save for the beat of his boots-- and that rhythm is likely to be lost among the uproar. Through the kitchen doors he arrives, then around the tables, then slowly-- as unobtrusively as he can make himself-- between the clatches of riders and students. The former have suddenly a habit of quieting a bit as R'vain moves, one step at a time, one layer of people at a time, closer to the Weyrwoman.
Ashwin rises to his feet immediately - courtesy, or readiness. "I'm more concerned about who else might think to depart. Even if he worked alone, as you say, I'd like to know how he was supplied. I'd be remiss if we didn't look into this tonight." A beat, and he adjusts the knives at his belt. "It's a difficult time. To lose him and then discover this must be very hard. Perhaps the North Weyr, if you will retrieve your evidence, and meet me there?"
It's good cake. But now that he has it, Reyce seems content to leave the uproar behind, for he stacks up his own and Issa's trays and brings them to a cleaning rack by the exit. Before abandoning the food, he picks up the cake he wrapped to-go and does just that.
The weyrwoman is holding up her hands and keeping her voice soft and low. Perhaps it is an intentional tactic. It is harder to shout if doing so would block out the words one is waiting to hear. "Of course we'll get to the bottom of this," she insists gently. "The Captain is speaking with Miniyal now. We cannot get answers instantaneously. Please keep yourselves calm."
While the Caucus debate continues, Sefton stands serenely at the edge of the pack, suffering the drudge to hold his wineglass for him while he cracks the seal, and pours. This momentary solitude allows him the time to watch Ashwin and Miniyal speak, then to turn his head when they rise, and observe the groups that have clustered together, and observe their composition. Inevitably, voices draw him back in, and he turns his head to offer a reply to several questions.
Head shaking Miniyal slides her hands into her pockets. "I told you- Look. I'll just show you what I have and-" Stopping there she looks down at her feet. Another look upwards and she nods to the guard. "It is no harder for me, sir, than for anyone else who was close to him." She has not before now tried to steal any especial mourning privileges for herself. It makes sense she would not do so now. "I will go get it then. And bring it there." Now that she is leaving she might spend a bit more time studying the room. She takes in the varying groups of people, notices the arrival of the weyrleader, and then moves with no haste what so ever towards the exit. It's as if she is completely removed from the uproar and had nothing at all to do with it.
It's as if R'vain hasn't even thought yet to go looking for Miniyal-- or as if his first view of her, speaking with Ashwin, was sufficient. As if all he desires just now is to come up to Roa, then half-turn to present himself by her side. Towering a bit by her side, a fact he can't help. Silent, he tips his red head a little toward her and looks back out at the group of riders through which he walked, gauging faces, expressions, murmurs.
Ashwin nods, standing still for Miniyal's first several steps, and observing her retreat. Then he turns, nods to one of the several guards watching, and with the man a few steps behind him, disappears in the direction of the North Weyr, still holding onto the half-cut redfruit he'd just claimed when all this began.
As Miniyal departs, the outraged voices of several who evidently considered it their right to question her ring out. Amongst the Caucus voices, though, these are few, and this new development seems to remind a few of the instructors of their position and rank. Their combined efforts disperse their crowd of students relatively quickly, and before long, the Headmaster disappears down the passageway that will lead to his quarters, a small group of instructors and students in tow.
The new, large, red presence at the table quells some of the raising anxiety and a fair number of the riders there look up, salute, and either reinitiate discussions with one another or look up to R'vain for some better offering than Roa has been able to supply. The weyrwoman herself glances up when the riders do and offers a rather weak half-smile. "Hey. We're talking. Would you like to sit?"
"Sure." Roa's question earns R'vain's nod, and he finds for himself a place to sit down, parting down his height by so doing. "Seems th'captain has it under control," rumbles the Weyrleader, putting his knees wide enough that he can bend down an elbow upon one of them. "We're talking 'bout - ?" Because the captain, see, has 'it' under control. The red creature grins and tips his head a little more toward Roa, cornering his eyes her way: "You ate, right?"
The other riders shift perhaps a touch uncomfortably and a couple look away. "We were talking about Miniyal's announcement, although I was trying to encourage a little patience on the subject. I have eaten, thank you. And I think I'd better let my legs stretch a bit." And after Roa just made him sit, too. There is a small wince for this fact. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...walk with me?"
"Sure," R'vain says, again. He's so complacent today. The Weyrwoman's lapdog. If she had lap enough left to accommodate such an enormous dog. He lurches slow to his feet, then puts down his palm-up hand to offer her assistance should she like it, and while waiting for her to accompany him he measures out a generous grin for the benefit of those riders who still watch and wait. "Flying th'ninth day," he rumbles. "Drills t'morrow, one-aye, two-bee, three-cee." This certainly does not include every rider present, but in a moment it does thin the group a bit, and turn the tide of conversation.
Even when Roa did have a lap, it was unlikely that it could accomodate a dog of R'vain's....er....moving right along...the weyrwoman slips her smaller hand into the weyrleader's paw and allows herself to be helped upward. Practicality before pride just at the moment. She steps over the bench as a portion of the riders at the table take up the new conversation of drills and 'fall, though 'the Igenite' and 'Ganathon' can still be heard now and again among some smaller groups conversing. She makes her way out into the bowl, waiting until both she and the weyrleader are outside before she notes, "she's in my weyr with the Captain. Tialith says we can join them. I think perhaps we should. Have -you- eaten?"
R'vain's brows draw and he turns that dark look on a group that has said something about 'Ganathon,' but if the red Weyrleader is choosing this time to object to the naming convention occasionally applied to the dragonless dead man, it is a small objection, too late. "I eat whenever I get to it," he rumbles, clearly mentally attached to different subjects, looking out over the bowl like it's a long-ago-forgotten sight, a familiar view just now remembered. "We should," he adds, and they do.
~~~~~North Weyr~~~~~
The Captain has the weyr to himself for a few minutes; it's enough time to revive the fire and add fuel to it, and to address his weyrmate's dragon, reaching up to scratch along her eyeridge as he asks her to inform her rider of his whereabouts, and to invite Roa and the Weyrleader to join him, if they so desire. Beyond that, he waits, back to the hearth, finally finishing the job of slicing up his redfruit, and chewing on it contemplatively. Outside the door to the weyr, a young giant of a guard stands sentry duty, silent.
It takes her, if not a lot of time, definitely a decent amount of time to get what she needs. Or perhaps she lingers on purpose somewhere to further add confusion to where exactly she went. When Miniyal appears outside the door she carries a journal with a couple of loose pages tucked inside. It is held in one hand, but held tightly. The other hangs loose at her side as she nods to the guard and when she enters the weyr she does so silently.
The big guard is expecting her, and leans in to open the door for her silently, and then step back. It shuts behind her, and he resumes his place, leaning against the wall. There's nobody to see if he stands to attention. Ashwin tosses the remainder of his redfruit into the fire, and cleans his knife off on his pants, carefully, before setting it back in place at his belt. "Thank you," he murmurs, as quiet here as he was in the living cavern. "May I see it?"
Normally she lingers in here by the door. Miniyal rarely likes to come too far into this room, but she does so now. "I'll get it right back?" she asks first, still holding onto what she has as she moves closer, not offering it out. "I won't have the journal taken from me." But, the other notes she seems willing to show for now and so the loose hides are taken out and held for the captain to take. "I found these amongst his notes. He was experimenting with whatever substance- I do not know what it was, although there is an option that has occurred to me."
"I have no intention of taking it from you. I am grateful for your cooperation," Ashwin replies, taking the loose hides, and glancing down to shuffle through them. "If he experimented with it, he must have had some to spare. I want to know where he got it from." He glances up at her, as he backs up closer to a glow, the easier to read. "Please, tell me what you're thinking."
His word seems to be enough for she holds out the journal as well, content to do so until he will take it. "It's in the back. It was. . .he had concealed it." Miniyal looks down at the journal, her thumb stroking over the cover as she watches it. "I worked, for a very short time, as the former weyrleader's assistant. Before we were-" Stopping here she worries at her lower lip. "Before we were involved personally. At one point I discovered he had, well, I am not sure. But when that drug was being passed about? He had that. The klah one. I do not know how much. Or what he did with it. It might not have been that. I mean, no one else has died from it that I have heard. Still, if that was it then the Healer Hall should be notified so I thought it best to mention it, sir."
"Thank you," Ashwin murmurs, accepting the journal, and shifting his attention from the notes to his new acquisition. "I do recall the drug you mean. I'll want a healer to look over this, but perhaps the drug could do more cumulatively than we knew. If so, well." His mouth presses closed in a grim line, and he lifts his head. "So many people had it, around the weyr. There's no way of knowing who supplied it. If that's what he used. I understand your wish for privacy, but if I can't keep these, I need to copy them. I won't make them available for general inspection."
"I can make you a copy, sir. I- You may hold onto the separate notes until I have a copy to trade you. Just so long as I get the journal back." Miniyal is so generous like that. "I could make the copy and have it to you by lunch tomorrow. I have read it. I do not need to see it to copy it for you." She focuses her attention not on the guard holding the journal, but on the journal itself. As if it might change or disappear now that it is not in her possession alone.
"As quickly as you can," Ashwin agrees, dropping his eyes once more to consider his perusal of the journal. "I'll ask the Weyrwoman or the Weyrleader to have the Weyrlingmaster free you up until it's done. He names nobody here, so --" He falls silent as the door opens, and the huge young guard outside pokes his head inside, to murmur, "Weyrleader, sir, an' Weyrwoman." That's the extent of Morley's heraldry efforts, and he then gets out of the way of the aforementioned dignitaries, to reveal Ashwin standing by the hearth, reading from a small journal, and Miniyal nearby.
She rolls her eyes, not much of an expression but it is more than what she has bothered with these days. "Sir, I'll need an hour to copy that. There hardly needs to be intervention on behalf of the weyr's leaders with the weyrlingmaster." Miniyal would have once sounded offended at the thought it would take more, but that is too much work. Instead she just speaks quietly, evenly. Like she continues to just discuss the world around her that she's not a part of right now.
Roa steps inside with R'vain following close behind. "Thank you, Morley," she murmurs to the large, young guard, before turning her attention to those in the room. Tialith looks towards her rider, and then away with a faint rumble. "What isn't we don't need to intervene about?" she asks, looking first to Ashwin, and then to Miniyal.
"If it has t'do with D'ven," rumbles R'vain, very low, just behind Roa to the right and looming past Morley with just a nod, "I doubt it'll come t'gether without some level of intervention. Captain." That's a greeting, with a split-second split of a grin, for Ashwin-- a nod for the junior weyrwoman precedes a somewhat less jovial, "Min'yal." The Weyrleader thins his lips in a frown, brows drawing. "I'm sorry," he says then, rather quietly. And jerks his shoulders into an approximation of his shrug.
"If you need an hour, then I'd appreciate it before breakfast, rather than before lunch," Ashwin replies, looking up as the weyr's two leaders arrive. "No intervention required, sir, it seems," he replies to R'vain, shifting his papers from one hand to the other, so he can manage a salute. "The weyrwoman - the junior weyrwoman - is going to make me a copy of these. I'll be speaking to a healer in the morning. He doesn't name his poison, or anybody who supplied it, though the weyrwoman wonders if it might have been the drug we had about here some time back. I'll ask my men to note anybody who takes leave of our company tonight, but unless the healers took a better look at the late Weyrwoman than I think they did, we're guessing at what he used."
For Roa and R'vain she finds a nod of her head. A nod and a quietly offered, "Ma'am. Sir." Miniyal nods then to Ashwin. Lots of nodding. "Before breakfast then, sir. That is not a problem. It will be ready." Folding her hands in front of her she shifts her position just enough to be able to keep a better eye on everyone who is present. It seems the prudent thing to do.
Roa listens first to R'vain, then to Ashwin, and finally to Miniyal. "You believe then," the weyrwoman asks the Captain, "based on the evidence that Miniyal is presenting, that her supposition is likely correct?" To Miniyal she offers a small nod. "Are you..." but she stalls on finding a proper adjective. "How are you feeling?"
"Th'healers should be asked," R'vain replies Ashwin, sidestepping as Roa moves farther in so that his bulk no longer blocks the way out through which they came. "Just in case." But another thin-lipped frown and the crossing of his arms over his chest probably do enough to convey his own agreement with the Captain's expectaions regarding the examination that was performed upon the Weyrwoman. He's quiet for a moment-- then his jaw sinks a little. "I'll do it," he murmurs, ragged, as softspoken as he ever gets.
"I believe," Ashwin replies quietly, "that he acted alone. Or at least, that he neither names nor indicates that anybody else was present. It may be that whatever he used was supplied to him innocently, in good faith. It may be that it was not. Unless the healers made a careful enough examination to be able to tell us what was used, there's nothing further we can do." And that displeases the Captain, who allows himself to waver an inch from his impassivity towards a frown. "The weyrwoman," he continues, looking across to Miniyal, "has been most cooperative. And very brave."
"I have no desire to tear out my hair and cry, ma'am. I am fine. I have known for two days now." Miniyal offers no shrug to go with this. All she does is give the senior weyrwoman yet another nod of her head. This one manages to free her hair from where it was precariously tucked behind her ears. For the moment no movement is made to remove it from where it lays. "It requires little bravery to speak ill of a dead man, sir. I would object to the use of the term in this instance. I am just sorry- Sorry there was little I could do at the time. I am sorry for the trouble this will cause now. But I had no choice."
"All right," Roa allows for Miniyal's words, her hands clasping behind her back. She looks over towards R'vain noting, "I can do it. Or I can come with you, if you like. They know me fairly well in the infirmary anyhow." As if that has anything to do with anything. "Captain, is there anything else you need from Miniyal until tomorrow morning? Weyrleader, is there anything you wish to ask? Miniyal, would you like somewhere other than the barracks to stay, tonight?"
"On th'contrary." R'vain unfolds an arm to hold a hand out toward Miniyal, not that he seems to have any expectation she will come over and do anything with it; the gesture's open-palmed, good-natured. "You had choices. Just none y'felt were right. This ain't-- it ain't bad." A glance at Roa-- then one out toward the ledge-- then another, suddenly all full of a flash of grinning white teeth, at his Weyrwoman. "No need. I got something t'ask on my own." So there? The grin departs so he can address Miniyal again: "Might not be a bad idea." Being out of the barracks, for now.
"I think," murmurs Ashwin to Miniyal, in amongst all the businesslike talk, "that it always requires bravery, to speak real ill of the ones we love." He looks across to Roa then, to shake his head. "The records in the morning, and word back from the healers. I suspect neither will lead us anywhere. I'll ask Morley to walk the weyrwoman to wherever she's to sleep. Helps avoid conversation." Being six and a half foot of muscle can achieve that, funnily enough. It's the Captain's withdrawal from the conversation, and he steps back, and crosses over towards the door.
"Peloth is waiting for me. She expects me. There is no need to disrupt her routine over this. I will be fine." Miniyal makes note of the hand and then pushes her hair off her face. "There is no need for concern, ma'am. Sir. I will be fine." And he can withdraw from the conversation, but he can't quite get out of everything because Miniyal will step closer a pace or two so she might take back the journal. Once she has it in her possession once more she seems done and just waits to be dismissed. Well, she does clear her throat to add one little thing. "You should know, I sent a letter to J'cor. He knows. I have not informed anyone else. I will- It is nothing that cannot wait until tomorrow to discuss. I am sorry for disturbing your evening." The apology is meant to include everyone since she does not address it /to/ anyone. Now she waits to be dismissed.
Of all the many things that might be said, and judging my the sudden intake of breath, certainly, Roa would very much -like- to say a thing or two, all she offers in the end is, "Rest if you can. We'll speak more tomorrow. Good night, Miniyal." R'vain is shot a bit of a warning look. A whatever-you're-thinking-just-sit-on-it sort of look.
"I suppose he ought t'know," R'vain allows. Roa's warning look gets something cheeky in return-- he should be solemn, over what they've learned, but there's a quiet near-elation that he seems only partly able to keep back. Relief, of a kind, inappropriate in the extreme; he squelches it again, frowning. "Go ahead, weyrwoman." Miniyal's dismissal given, the Weyrleader's then on his way out. Along the way he can spare a look for Ashwin that might amount to, 'where are /you/ going.' But no word.