Ideas
10-25-2006 (J'cor, Roa):
Weyrleader's Weyr
Rank allows slightly more comfortable furnishings than can be found elsewhere in the Weyr. Done in warm tones, the walls have been white-washed and hung with sunny tapestries to match the shades of the area rugs and the bed coverings. Those rugs divide the room into sections. There is the seating area, suitable for conversation and informal meetings, with its couches and low central table. There is the working area, occupied by a desk and shelves for hidework. Last but not least, there is the living area where the Weyrleader sleeps and stores his clothing and riding gear.
The weyr has two exits. The first is a simple doorway that leads to the stairs and back down to the shared office. The second is a curtained archway that leads to the couch and ledge sized for a bronze dragon. The ledge is some distance above the bowl and accessible only from the air.
After all the trouble it took getting up stairs and through tunnels, Karth has decidedly implanted himself in his weyr, moving only for food and the occasional bath. All other tending - such as the oiling he receives now - must be done on the ledge, where he can lie in comfort and enjoy the breeze on a warm summer night. For J'cor, this is less convenient, since it means he has to stand out on his ledge all the time, tending a persnickity bronze who thinks the way to get rid of excess oil is to rub his body on the stone, making it slick and hard to walk safely on.
Steps and tunnels are of little matter to a person and Roa steps through them easily on her way to the Weyrleader's weyr. She pauses in the doorway to peer her head in and call softly, Sir?" and then, if there is no answer, a bit louder, "Weyrleader?"
J'cor does not notice immediately, wrapped up in oiling, but Karth turns his head at Roa's first call. The curtain has been drawn partially back, allowing a glimpse of the bronze where he lies; from Roa's angle, though, it's impossible to see J'cor. Fortunate, then, that Karth's sudden attention cues him in - after a beat or two, there comes a loud thump, followed by another loud thump, and a somewhat strained, "One moment, please." He keeps a hand on Karth as he moves around him, drawing a curled lip of distaste from the bronze when that hand leaves a streak of excess oil from his flank to his belly. At the belly, J'cor steps away from him and away from the mess he has made, coming into view through the curtain as he returns to the inside of the weyr. "Ah, weyrwoman. Good evening." He says this as calmly as though he weren't slick with oil, and as though, behind him, Karth hadn't just taken to scratching himself madly against the ledge.
"Good evening, sir." Roa's attention slips a bit, off of J'cor and onto the oily and squirming Karth. She bites her lower lip. "You know," she offers as she fights away a small smile, "I might be able to find something for him that his skin will absorb more completely. To minimize the, ah..." one hand lifts and gestures slightly towards the worming bronze.
J'cor's clever ruse - pretending to be unaware of his (and his dragon's) current state - has been foiled, but he takes it with a wry smile. "That, I think, would be appreciated," he admits. He sidesteps to where, earlier, he dropped a used oil rag, and cleans his hands with it as best he can while he waits for Roa to introduce her purpose. Karth has rubbed off the oil streak that displeased him, and now he rests at ease once again.
A small nod and Roa lifts her arms to cross them over her chest. "I, well, I was wondering a bit, sir. About two things that may be somewhat related. The first being Nabol. They have a new Lord of course, and so I was wondering, well, if you'd any plans to speak with him? How you'd planned to arrange for tithing and the renewal of coverage?"
J'cor's attention remains on the oil rag, but his eyebrows go up to show that he has heard her, and is listening. Swipe front, swipe back; then Roa's done. "Yes. I have been in contact with him." For a moment this seems like the last he'll say on the matter, but he's just looking for a place to toss the rag. He winds up putting it on the floor again, an unappealing lump. "While he establishes his organization over the hold - to say nothing of the effect Thread's had on the land - it is impossible to expect immediate tithe from him. At least, of the expected variety." Making it easier for his dragon to eavesdrop, he carefully picks up the edge of the curtain and pulls it back with him, leaving Karth a clear view of the interior while he leans his back against the ledge entrance. "I expect we will meet and discuss the viability of some sort of symbolic tithe."
Another small nod. "Well, sir, I was wondering if you might be willing to consider...not so much a symbolic tithe, but a tithe of unusual nature. Services or, perhaps..." Her lips press together a moment before Roa continues. "Well, it seems to me that in regards to various small situations and particularly in regards to the arrests and incercerations of E'sere and Aivey...we would have had a considerably harder time if we hadn't retained any of the guards."
J'cor's eyebrows, which he had raised as a casual symbol of his attention earlier, have just gone up the rest of the way. "Indeed," he says, inclining his head to acknowledge the suggestion. "More guards -" he pauses, lets his lips twist slightly, and has to restart the sentence - "More guards would be more useful than a symbolic tithe, assuming that it's within Nabol's capabilities. I admit, I haven't thought to ask Lord Sorel how much manpower he had to staff his hold, or how much lawlessness he has had to cope with in the wake of-" a hand flicked out in explanation excuses him from naming Odern directly.
"I can understand that sir, but it may be worth asking. As I understand it, many of the Nabolese have simply...left for safer havens." Roa shifts her weight slightly before she continues. "I know there are some here that would be willing to stay, if their lords could be convinced to allow them. If Nabol might give us enough to fill out the ranks more fully. It seems to me, that if we want guards, we may wish to, well, make them -our- guards. A transfer, officially, rather than something temporary. With the Caucus, it seems like a wise thing to do. To have those trained to protect and investigate on hand."
J'cor folds his hands - one might wonder why he even bothered to wipe the oil off them, since he evidently doesn't care about getting it on his clothes - a shirt that's clearly old, pants that clearly cost him little. "It's certainly worth asking. Given the typical loyalties of guards, it may even be that a large number of them stayed on, while the Nabolese people emigrated." Karth stretches his nose out along the ledge, bringing it closer to where his rider stands, though his eye remains fixed on Roa. J'cor spares him only a quick look. "Permanent guards are an unusual choice for a weyr, admittedly," he continues. "But as you say, there is the Caucus to consider." One eyebrow makes a little pop upwards, and then falls back into an even expression.
Another small nod. At the eyebrow quirk, Roa's own lips hitch upwards. "I would be lying, of course, if I said this was a completely unbiased suggestion. I've come to know quite a few of them through my...incidents. They're good men and loyal. They could serve as ears and eyes as much as muscle. Some who would stay are not from Nabol, and that is where things get sticky. But, many of the neighboring holds are now supporting Nabolese refugees. I wouldn't wonder if, in exhcnage for assisting Nabol over the coming turns in rejuvinaing their lands and for providing dragon transport for those refugees who would return home, those other holds might not allow whichever guards would choose to remain here to," a small smirk at the redundancy of her words, "remain here."
J'cor squints his eyes slightly while he considers the thought - and, no doubt, is distracted by Karth, whose eyes have just begun whirling a little faster as he edges his nose closer yet. "Indeed," he murmurs again. "Since those holds have already been functioning without that manpower, I doubt the suggestion will trouble them unduly. I will mention it, certainly." His eyes, which wandered to the floor while he mused out that thought, return to Roa now he's finished.
Roa nods once again. "I was also thinking, although this is truly Sinopa's judgement just now, that if we shaved of a small percentage of each tithe we received from the other holds, it might be enough to keep Nabol from going hungry as the land recovers." She clears her throat, shifting a bit again. "I don't know why this feels so awkward..."
J'cor's expression levels out when Sinopa's named, but he offers the suggestion a nod. His mouth pops open for a response, as well, but the clearing of her throat pauses him and he closes it again to wait. At her words, he blinks - and Karth echoes him, a single lid drawing half-way down over his whirling eyes. "I'm sorry?" J'cor clears his own throat, straightening off the edge of the wall. "I - assure you, it is not my intention to make you feel uncomfortable." And yet he continues to make it more so, and now obviously; he directs his gaze down towards his boots, staring at them for a moment while he sums up the energy for a little smile to direct back at her on his response. "I fear I've been remiss in showing my appreciation for your ideas, weyrwoman. I sincerely apologize: they're very good ideas, I think, and I'm glad you brought them to me." Karth's half-lidded eye lids the rest of the way.
Roa ahs softly with a tilt of her head. But, the gesture seems more directed at herself than the Weyrleader. "My final suggestion is really more of a request. And of a slightly more personal nature. It is, perhaps, the real crux of my discomfiture. I feel odd asking it, but, well, here I am anyhow."
J'cor's brow furrows thoughtfully, but he keeps his mouth shut - no more awkward words - and gestures with a sweep of his hand for her to continue.
A deep breath is drawn in, Roa's gaze lifting to meet J'cor's. "Aivey has confessed to a variety of crimes, and Morelenth's interrogation supported many of them. Or, at least, it supported that she also told E'sere of these crimes. Two of the things she claims responsibility for are the stabbing of the Captain, Jensen, in the shoulder as well as the murder of Luren, the guard. It was a crime the Lieutenant Ashwin was incarcerated for and then the Captain confessed to. Both these men were my friends, sir. I feel I knew them well and could vouch for both of their characters. I did not then and do not now believe either of these men committed any crime, save that of fleeing once under arrest."
J'cor simply listens to this explanation, offering a nod here and there to confirm his understanding of its points. "You would clear their names," he inserts simply, right on the heels of her last sentence.
"Yessir," Roa's words come just as quickly, "if Aivey is found guilty of these crimes, I would."
J'cor's mouth twitches up into a thin smile. "If Aivey is found guilty of these crimes, then their names will be cleared, as it were, automatically."
"Including the fact that they fled, sir?" A small smile hides itself in the corner of Roa's lips, "because I am rather certain they -did- commit that crime."
J'cor blinks sharply, his smile twisting itself sideways into a wry little grimace. "Yes," he agrees slowly, "that one they did commit." He lets his eyes wander down to the floor again, the hands crossed over his chest tightening while he thinks. Karth withdraws his nose a little, deciding to watch something interesting down in the bowl; his eyelid draws slowly up so he can do so. And then, J'cor looks back. "Why did they flee." He doesn't bother to make it a question, but he seems to expect Roa will know.
"Because the Captain thought he should sacrifice himself to protect his Lieutenant, and his Lieutenant found that unacceptable. Since the only other option open to them was for one to see the other punished for a crime he didn't commit...they fled together instead." Roa smirks. "Not that they sat me down and divulged this plan, but I spoke with them both as events were unfolding and, as I said sir, I know these men."
J'cor does not quirk a smile in response to that smirk, his expression sober while he continues to listen and lean on the wall. "I will not lie to you, Roa. Their choice - and their timing - was inconvenient to say the least." He looks away from her, eyes finding Karth - the dragon doesn't look at him - and brow furrowing again. "For the timing, I cannot fault them. For that their escape necessitated abandonment of their duty, and a failure to leave the guards in order, the weyr secure - you will have to give me time to think, Roa. I have not ... spent much time with this suggestion." His eyes trail down to meet hers.
A slow nod and Roa's hands come to clasp in front of her. "I understand, sir. I don't...believe they made the best choices, sir. But I do suspect that knowing those very things you have stated, having been gone all this time and left to wonder what that choice ultimately meant for their men and the Weyr...may have been punishment enough. Though, certainly, that is no simple thing to explain to an observer of the events." She is silent a moment befor she adds, "I would also note, sir, to consider that the guards were in the process of being recalled. Had they stayed, they and the rest of the men still would have been gone in a seven."
"Not that night." The words snap out of him, his posture tensing even higher when he says them. His eyes have left Roa's face, now, and stare off into the bowl - whatever Karth has found must be interesting indeed. After a beat, he clears his throat and continues, "The process, had it been followed, would have eventually resulted in their recall - true. But it would not have created the issue which their unannounced departure did, in leaving the guards without a hierarchy." His eyes close slowly, and his swallow is visible; even Karth has begun to show signs of distress, his eyes whirling faster and his talons tensing on the stone. "Even if they had to slip away," he concedes quietly, "surely they trusted one person enough to leave instructions."
Roa lowers her head, her hands squeezing her fingers tightly together. She has no words to offer of those first three. Nor any of the ones that come after. After a time she says, "The Lieutenant has a very particular sense of honor. He wouldn't have wanted any of the other men involved. To leave instructions ahead of time would be to make one of the men an accomplice to their escape. I don't imagien he could have known or ever guessed that...it's not an excuse. It makes nothing better. But, I expect that was the reasoning behind such a decision."
J'cor has opened his eyes again, midway through that explanation, but his focus remains out on the bowl. For his part, Karth quiets, stretching out along the oil-slicked ledge (with no concern for how it will over-oil his belly) and leaning his head against his foreleg. "It may be that he chose the correct course. As I said, I haven't considered this question yet, or come to a decision." He pauses, a breath caught in his mouth: more words to follow. He lets them out, almost in a sigh: "Maybe it is both the correct and the incorrect course. In that case, it is no less his duty to accept whatever consequences may follow." His fingers tap a little rhythm on his arm, and when they still, there are little pressure marks where they've come to press in.
"That is true, and I believe, sir, that that is precisely what he would do." Roa follows J'cor's gaze out towards Karth and the bowl. "Unless you have any questions for me, sir, I shall leave you to consider these things as you will. And, I truly appreciate your willingness to discuss them with me. To consider them at all."
J'cor pushes off the wall, his hands dropping to his sides. "That will be all, Roa," - which, at some point in his distraction, he has begun calling her in place of 'weyrwoman.' "Thank you." He glances her way long enough to add a farewell nod, but then he retreats to his dragon, laying a hand along Karth's neck and receiving a low grunt in return.
Weyrleader's Weyr
Rank allows slightly more comfortable furnishings than can be found elsewhere in the Weyr. Done in warm tones, the walls have been white-washed and hung with sunny tapestries to match the shades of the area rugs and the bed coverings. Those rugs divide the room into sections. There is the seating area, suitable for conversation and informal meetings, with its couches and low central table. There is the working area, occupied by a desk and shelves for hidework. Last but not least, there is the living area where the Weyrleader sleeps and stores his clothing and riding gear.
The weyr has two exits. The first is a simple doorway that leads to the stairs and back down to the shared office. The second is a curtained archway that leads to the couch and ledge sized for a bronze dragon. The ledge is some distance above the bowl and accessible only from the air.
After all the trouble it took getting up stairs and through tunnels, Karth has decidedly implanted himself in his weyr, moving only for food and the occasional bath. All other tending - such as the oiling he receives now - must be done on the ledge, where he can lie in comfort and enjoy the breeze on a warm summer night. For J'cor, this is less convenient, since it means he has to stand out on his ledge all the time, tending a persnickity bronze who thinks the way to get rid of excess oil is to rub his body on the stone, making it slick and hard to walk safely on.
Steps and tunnels are of little matter to a person and Roa steps through them easily on her way to the Weyrleader's weyr. She pauses in the doorway to peer her head in and call softly, Sir?" and then, if there is no answer, a bit louder, "Weyrleader?"
J'cor does not notice immediately, wrapped up in oiling, but Karth turns his head at Roa's first call. The curtain has been drawn partially back, allowing a glimpse of the bronze where he lies; from Roa's angle, though, it's impossible to see J'cor. Fortunate, then, that Karth's sudden attention cues him in - after a beat or two, there comes a loud thump, followed by another loud thump, and a somewhat strained, "One moment, please." He keeps a hand on Karth as he moves around him, drawing a curled lip of distaste from the bronze when that hand leaves a streak of excess oil from his flank to his belly. At the belly, J'cor steps away from him and away from the mess he has made, coming into view through the curtain as he returns to the inside of the weyr. "Ah, weyrwoman. Good evening." He says this as calmly as though he weren't slick with oil, and as though, behind him, Karth hadn't just taken to scratching himself madly against the ledge.
"Good evening, sir." Roa's attention slips a bit, off of J'cor and onto the oily and squirming Karth. She bites her lower lip. "You know," she offers as she fights away a small smile, "I might be able to find something for him that his skin will absorb more completely. To minimize the, ah..." one hand lifts and gestures slightly towards the worming bronze.
J'cor's clever ruse - pretending to be unaware of his (and his dragon's) current state - has been foiled, but he takes it with a wry smile. "That, I think, would be appreciated," he admits. He sidesteps to where, earlier, he dropped a used oil rag, and cleans his hands with it as best he can while he waits for Roa to introduce her purpose. Karth has rubbed off the oil streak that displeased him, and now he rests at ease once again.
A small nod and Roa lifts her arms to cross them over her chest. "I, well, I was wondering a bit, sir. About two things that may be somewhat related. The first being Nabol. They have a new Lord of course, and so I was wondering, well, if you'd any plans to speak with him? How you'd planned to arrange for tithing and the renewal of coverage?"
J'cor's attention remains on the oil rag, but his eyebrows go up to show that he has heard her, and is listening. Swipe front, swipe back; then Roa's done. "Yes. I have been in contact with him." For a moment this seems like the last he'll say on the matter, but he's just looking for a place to toss the rag. He winds up putting it on the floor again, an unappealing lump. "While he establishes his organization over the hold - to say nothing of the effect Thread's had on the land - it is impossible to expect immediate tithe from him. At least, of the expected variety." Making it easier for his dragon to eavesdrop, he carefully picks up the edge of the curtain and pulls it back with him, leaving Karth a clear view of the interior while he leans his back against the ledge entrance. "I expect we will meet and discuss the viability of some sort of symbolic tithe."
Another small nod. "Well, sir, I was wondering if you might be willing to consider...not so much a symbolic tithe, but a tithe of unusual nature. Services or, perhaps..." Her lips press together a moment before Roa continues. "Well, it seems to me that in regards to various small situations and particularly in regards to the arrests and incercerations of E'sere and Aivey...we would have had a considerably harder time if we hadn't retained any of the guards."
J'cor's eyebrows, which he had raised as a casual symbol of his attention earlier, have just gone up the rest of the way. "Indeed," he says, inclining his head to acknowledge the suggestion. "More guards -" he pauses, lets his lips twist slightly, and has to restart the sentence - "More guards would be more useful than a symbolic tithe, assuming that it's within Nabol's capabilities. I admit, I haven't thought to ask Lord Sorel how much manpower he had to staff his hold, or how much lawlessness he has had to cope with in the wake of-" a hand flicked out in explanation excuses him from naming Odern directly.
"I can understand that sir, but it may be worth asking. As I understand it, many of the Nabolese have simply...left for safer havens." Roa shifts her weight slightly before she continues. "I know there are some here that would be willing to stay, if their lords could be convinced to allow them. If Nabol might give us enough to fill out the ranks more fully. It seems to me, that if we want guards, we may wish to, well, make them -our- guards. A transfer, officially, rather than something temporary. With the Caucus, it seems like a wise thing to do. To have those trained to protect and investigate on hand."
J'cor folds his hands - one might wonder why he even bothered to wipe the oil off them, since he evidently doesn't care about getting it on his clothes - a shirt that's clearly old, pants that clearly cost him little. "It's certainly worth asking. Given the typical loyalties of guards, it may even be that a large number of them stayed on, while the Nabolese people emigrated." Karth stretches his nose out along the ledge, bringing it closer to where his rider stands, though his eye remains fixed on Roa. J'cor spares him only a quick look. "Permanent guards are an unusual choice for a weyr, admittedly," he continues. "But as you say, there is the Caucus to consider." One eyebrow makes a little pop upwards, and then falls back into an even expression.
Another small nod. At the eyebrow quirk, Roa's own lips hitch upwards. "I would be lying, of course, if I said this was a completely unbiased suggestion. I've come to know quite a few of them through my...incidents. They're good men and loyal. They could serve as ears and eyes as much as muscle. Some who would stay are not from Nabol, and that is where things get sticky. But, many of the neighboring holds are now supporting Nabolese refugees. I wouldn't wonder if, in exhcnage for assisting Nabol over the coming turns in rejuvinaing their lands and for providing dragon transport for those refugees who would return home, those other holds might not allow whichever guards would choose to remain here to," a small smirk at the redundancy of her words, "remain here."
J'cor squints his eyes slightly while he considers the thought - and, no doubt, is distracted by Karth, whose eyes have just begun whirling a little faster as he edges his nose closer yet. "Indeed," he murmurs again. "Since those holds have already been functioning without that manpower, I doubt the suggestion will trouble them unduly. I will mention it, certainly." His eyes, which wandered to the floor while he mused out that thought, return to Roa now he's finished.
Roa nods once again. "I was also thinking, although this is truly Sinopa's judgement just now, that if we shaved of a small percentage of each tithe we received from the other holds, it might be enough to keep Nabol from going hungry as the land recovers." She clears her throat, shifting a bit again. "I don't know why this feels so awkward..."
J'cor's expression levels out when Sinopa's named, but he offers the suggestion a nod. His mouth pops open for a response, as well, but the clearing of her throat pauses him and he closes it again to wait. At her words, he blinks - and Karth echoes him, a single lid drawing half-way down over his whirling eyes. "I'm sorry?" J'cor clears his own throat, straightening off the edge of the wall. "I - assure you, it is not my intention to make you feel uncomfortable." And yet he continues to make it more so, and now obviously; he directs his gaze down towards his boots, staring at them for a moment while he sums up the energy for a little smile to direct back at her on his response. "I fear I've been remiss in showing my appreciation for your ideas, weyrwoman. I sincerely apologize: they're very good ideas, I think, and I'm glad you brought them to me." Karth's half-lidded eye lids the rest of the way.
Roa ahs softly with a tilt of her head. But, the gesture seems more directed at herself than the Weyrleader. "My final suggestion is really more of a request. And of a slightly more personal nature. It is, perhaps, the real crux of my discomfiture. I feel odd asking it, but, well, here I am anyhow."
J'cor's brow furrows thoughtfully, but he keeps his mouth shut - no more awkward words - and gestures with a sweep of his hand for her to continue.
A deep breath is drawn in, Roa's gaze lifting to meet J'cor's. "Aivey has confessed to a variety of crimes, and Morelenth's interrogation supported many of them. Or, at least, it supported that she also told E'sere of these crimes. Two of the things she claims responsibility for are the stabbing of the Captain, Jensen, in the shoulder as well as the murder of Luren, the guard. It was a crime the Lieutenant Ashwin was incarcerated for and then the Captain confessed to. Both these men were my friends, sir. I feel I knew them well and could vouch for both of their characters. I did not then and do not now believe either of these men committed any crime, save that of fleeing once under arrest."
J'cor simply listens to this explanation, offering a nod here and there to confirm his understanding of its points. "You would clear their names," he inserts simply, right on the heels of her last sentence.
"Yessir," Roa's words come just as quickly, "if Aivey is found guilty of these crimes, I would."
J'cor's mouth twitches up into a thin smile. "If Aivey is found guilty of these crimes, then their names will be cleared, as it were, automatically."
"Including the fact that they fled, sir?" A small smile hides itself in the corner of Roa's lips, "because I am rather certain they -did- commit that crime."
J'cor blinks sharply, his smile twisting itself sideways into a wry little grimace. "Yes," he agrees slowly, "that one they did commit." He lets his eyes wander down to the floor again, the hands crossed over his chest tightening while he thinks. Karth withdraws his nose a little, deciding to watch something interesting down in the bowl; his eyelid draws slowly up so he can do so. And then, J'cor looks back. "Why did they flee." He doesn't bother to make it a question, but he seems to expect Roa will know.
"Because the Captain thought he should sacrifice himself to protect his Lieutenant, and his Lieutenant found that unacceptable. Since the only other option open to them was for one to see the other punished for a crime he didn't commit...they fled together instead." Roa smirks. "Not that they sat me down and divulged this plan, but I spoke with them both as events were unfolding and, as I said sir, I know these men."
J'cor does not quirk a smile in response to that smirk, his expression sober while he continues to listen and lean on the wall. "I will not lie to you, Roa. Their choice - and their timing - was inconvenient to say the least." He looks away from her, eyes finding Karth - the dragon doesn't look at him - and brow furrowing again. "For the timing, I cannot fault them. For that their escape necessitated abandonment of their duty, and a failure to leave the guards in order, the weyr secure - you will have to give me time to think, Roa. I have not ... spent much time with this suggestion." His eyes trail down to meet hers.
A slow nod and Roa's hands come to clasp in front of her. "I understand, sir. I don't...believe they made the best choices, sir. But I do suspect that knowing those very things you have stated, having been gone all this time and left to wonder what that choice ultimately meant for their men and the Weyr...may have been punishment enough. Though, certainly, that is no simple thing to explain to an observer of the events." She is silent a moment befor she adds, "I would also note, sir, to consider that the guards were in the process of being recalled. Had they stayed, they and the rest of the men still would have been gone in a seven."
"Not that night." The words snap out of him, his posture tensing even higher when he says them. His eyes have left Roa's face, now, and stare off into the bowl - whatever Karth has found must be interesting indeed. After a beat, he clears his throat and continues, "The process, had it been followed, would have eventually resulted in their recall - true. But it would not have created the issue which their unannounced departure did, in leaving the guards without a hierarchy." His eyes close slowly, and his swallow is visible; even Karth has begun to show signs of distress, his eyes whirling faster and his talons tensing on the stone. "Even if they had to slip away," he concedes quietly, "surely they trusted one person enough to leave instructions."
Roa lowers her head, her hands squeezing her fingers tightly together. She has no words to offer of those first three. Nor any of the ones that come after. After a time she says, "The Lieutenant has a very particular sense of honor. He wouldn't have wanted any of the other men involved. To leave instructions ahead of time would be to make one of the men an accomplice to their escape. I don't imagien he could have known or ever guessed that...it's not an excuse. It makes nothing better. But, I expect that was the reasoning behind such a decision."
J'cor has opened his eyes again, midway through that explanation, but his focus remains out on the bowl. For his part, Karth quiets, stretching out along the oil-slicked ledge (with no concern for how it will over-oil his belly) and leaning his head against his foreleg. "It may be that he chose the correct course. As I said, I haven't considered this question yet, or come to a decision." He pauses, a breath caught in his mouth: more words to follow. He lets them out, almost in a sigh: "Maybe it is both the correct and the incorrect course. In that case, it is no less his duty to accept whatever consequences may follow." His fingers tap a little rhythm on his arm, and when they still, there are little pressure marks where they've come to press in.
"That is true, and I believe, sir, that that is precisely what he would do." Roa follows J'cor's gaze out towards Karth and the bowl. "Unless you have any questions for me, sir, I shall leave you to consider these things as you will. And, I truly appreciate your willingness to discuss them with me. To consider them at all."
J'cor pushes off the wall, his hands dropping to his sides. "That will be all, Roa," - which, at some point in his distraction, he has begun calling her in place of 'weyrwoman.' "Thank you." He glances her way long enough to add a farewell nod, but then he retreats to his dragon, laying a hand along Karth's neck and receiving a low grunt in return.