Little Goats
Location: Northern Weyr
Time: Evening on Day 17, Month 6, Turn 2
Players: Yevide and Roa
Scene: Roa and Yevide discuss alliances, fortune telling, and farm animals.
North Weyr
This is the sanctuary of High Reaches' senior Weyrwoman. It's been decorated in shades of blue and green with the occasional splash of sunny yellow for contrast. As with the Weyrleader's weyr, it's divided into sections according to work, leisure and rest. The desk and scroll-shelves take up a corner of the weyr with the sitting area in the opposite corner, brightened with hand-woven rugs done in a square key pattern. The bed is small but filled with soft quilts and sheeting.
To the right is the archway that leads out onto the ledge occupied by the Weyr's senior gold. It's large enough for her and for a number of slightly smaller visitors. Directly opposite the entrance tunnel is a smaller tunnel hidden behind a thick curtain. The air is warmer around that curtain, hinting at the tunnel's destination.
G'thon took his tea things with him. Yevide has replaced them, but her choice is simply made, inexpensive. Unadorned cups, saucers and sturdier mugs sit on the sideboard where once his exquisite belongings lay. One of the saucers has been co-opted into holding incense, and a slow curl of smoke makes its way to the ceiling; it has been burning for some time, for the air in the weyr is gently scented. Yevide is informal, at home; her loose trousers hang down over bare, brown feet, and she has built up the fire so that the room is warm indeed. The tunic she wears is lighter than usual, although she keeps to her usual rich blue, playing up her eyes. Just now she stands before the hearth, in the act of tucking her hair into her scarf.
Soft footfalls bring Roa up the steps and into the weyr that has undergone some changes. Her eyes take them in...new smells, new sights, before she softly clears her throat. "Weyrwoman," she begins, hands resting lightly by her side. If there is meant to be any derision in that title, it does not leak through the calm. "Tialith says you wish to speak with me?" Roa is looking...stretched, perhaps. Her shoulders are pushed back, chin tipped up a bit as if someone has tossed out a challenge and she is doing her best to reply in kind. There are dark purple half-moons beneath her eyes, for all that her blue gaze is watchful. Alert.
"Roa," Yevide begins, turning from the hearth with a warm smile at the read; then her own blue eyes fix on Roa, and something in her smile fades, is drawn down slightly. "Ah." Something approaching recognition touches her features, as though the young woman before her has said something audible to the Weyrwoman alone. "I did, yes." Her voice has lowered, a new note entered it - something wistful, perhaps. "Will you have tea?"
Her head cants to the side a little. "I always have tea when I'm here," rejoins the Telgari softly. Gently. "Thank you." She takes a few more steps inward, drawing nearer to a place to sit, although she doesn't yet. "How are you holding up?"
"I am holding up as well as I must," Yevide replies, a touch of mirth entering her warm alto. "Fetch cups and bring them over, my dear." Now the reason she was standing before the hearth is revealed; she has been watching her kettle boil and as she speaks she claims a piece of cloth from a hook to rescue it.
It is a very different sort of tea arrangement. Even beyond the changes to the mugs. Never before would the settings be unprepared. Never before would water still be boiling or cups still need fetching. There was rigid symmetry before. An order. An entire tea culture. And now it is just two girls warming their fingers by the fire. So it is with a tiny smile that Roa turns away and does as bidden, carrying two mugs over to Yevide and her teapot.
It may be that there is a certain purpose in this change of pace; Yevide turns a smile over her shoulder as Roa arrives, then nods towards the mantelpiece. "Set them down there, my dear. Have a look inside the boxes, pick out which one you would like." The teapot waits already; she is that organised, at least. Four small, wooden boxes sit awaiting Roa's inspection, but the Weyrwoman's attention is turned to pouring the spitting kettle's contents into her teapot, her nose wrinkling in protest as a drop hits her wrist.
The mugs are set where requested and Roa bends at the boxes, peering into them, sniffing them quietly. Finally something fruity and a bit sweet is chosen. "There we are," Roa says simply before lapsing into silence again. There is a reason she is here. Roa can wait for it.
"Very well," Yevide agrees, snagging the kettle back on the hook; she's practiced at this, spooning Roa's chosen tea into the teapot and setting the lid in place. She takes her time over that movement, leaning in to sniff the steam with an appreciative hum before she speaks. "Now, where have you left your shadow, my dear? Is he waiting outside for you?"
A tiny upward quirk of Roa's lips and a small nod. "Cavel," she explains, giving the shadow a name. "He prefers to avoid anyone of higher political clout than a lower caverns girl, if at all possible. He does a great deal of waiting outside doorways, but insists his hearing is quite excellent." She watches the tea get added and steeped, hands clasping lightly in front of her.
"And is your Cavel right?" Yevide's question is light, and there is no signal that the greater part of her attention is not now on taking care of their refreshments; so charming, that she does this herself, rather than letting the younger woman take care of it, or summoning a girl to see to it. "I would like to speak to you in confidence, my child."
"Cavel is no threat to my confidence. None of the men are. They were..." and here Roa hesitates just a moment, tiny smile fading just a touch, "...carefully chosen. Please feel free to speak with me on whatever it is that you wish."
"I have no doubt they were," Yevide agrees. "You have come to no harm when they have been near. That you should ask how I hold up, when you have your quartet to trail you. I do not envy you that." With a soft sigh, she sets to pouring tea, yet to tilt her gaze sidelong to the young woman beside her. "You do very well to behave for them. There is a little of the goat in you."
"Perhaps my goat is quieter than yours. I hide her under a different creature most of the time, and when it comes to my detail. Well. I was quite pleased I managed to pressure the Captain into removing them from me. And then, of course, we all know what came next." Roa picks up her mug, once it is filled, bowing her head to inhale the aroma. "I manage my moments of freedom."
"Do you really?" Yevide's delighted at that intimation of freedom, reaching for her own mug and wrapping both hand around it; she turns a smile that's nearly impish on Roa, eyes crinkling at the corners. "How do you steal them?" Her chin lifts, and tilts towards the couches where her interviews are normally conducted, and in the wake of the movement she turns that way herself.
"Tialith is my accomplice. We visit the spire and they must wait below. Or we visit friends in higher weyrs and they are fated to do the same. It is all..." and here Roa's lips take up that playful quirk again, "in the elevation." She blows softly on the tea before taking a tiny sip and moving to seat herself on the suggested couch.
"Clever girl," Yevide approves, sinking down onto the other end of the couch; she pulls her bare feet up, burrowing them underneath a cushion, and makes herself comfortable with much smoothing down of her tunic. "But I am not in your danger, and I have no need of an escort. How are you else, my little goat?" The endearment is very nearly cheeky, ventured with a little lift of her brows. "You look tired."
"Then you have answered your own question." Cheek for cheek, Roa leans back into the softness of the cushions and lets her eyes close for just a moment. But closing one's eyes does absolutely no good when masses of writhing grey lurk beneath your eyelids. They open again, quickly. "My friends are under assault. My home is no longer safe." *Her* home. "Tired only begins to describe it."
"Aah." That noise of understanding from Yevide rides upon a soft breath out, her mug lifted to her lips; she is yet to take a sip, and she does not do so now, instead watching her companion over the rim. "But Roa," she continues after a pause during which she inhales the scent of the steam, and finally ventures her first mouthful. "You are a student here. Your home is Telgar, is it not?" The cheek is gone now; something speculative has entered her gaze to replace it.
"Well," a pause to sip the faintly sweet brew Roa cradles, "as I understand it, that is all dependent on S'lien's whims. Currently, I am. A student of Caucus, a native of Telgar Weyr." Another small sip. "I would go so far as to say, however, that in a turn of living here, this has become a home, albeit a temporary one."
It is the moment for an offer; the possibility hangs in the air as Yevide sips her tea. She lifts her chin, eyes closing for a moment as she draws in a breath through her broad, flat nose. Her expression stills, smile fading away to leave her almost peaceful; something of this is in her tone when she speaks. "I had a son once, Roa. He would have been your age, had he lived."
Blink. Roa's eyes snap to Yevide's face, those words seeming to appear out of nowhere. She resettles on the couch, unable to draw her own legs up for the boots she wears. Heavy. Clumping. Good for snow. Unfit for resting on couches. "I'm sorry that he didn't," is all she can think to say.
"It was a long time ago," Yevide murmurs, in what must be a reply she's repeated more than once. "But I am sorry too." Her lashes lift, and she drinks once more before she speaks, tongue sneaking out to catch a stray drop of tea. "Now I have a weyr full of sons and daughters over whom I watch, and Ulyath has given us more than she can count, these last two decades." A pause, then. Heavy, incense-scented silence. "You care for them too."
Roa's gaze lowers back onto the tea. Or, more specifically, the little eddies of steam that coil upwards and vanish beyond the rim of the mug. "Very much." Spoken so softly.
Yevide tilts her head for that whisper of a reply, then rolls it back to centre once more, and past that point; she is watching Roa now, warmth in her wry smile, warmth in her low alto. Maternal, concerned, confiding. "You might help me do so. I think that is what you want. I worry, though."
"Do you?" A little louder this time, a bit less confiding as Roa finds a spot on the wall to study for a moment. Perhaps, if things had not fallen as they did, she might say more. Ask more. As it stands, she only waits.
"I do," Yevide agrees, taking a larger mouthful now that the tea in her mug is cooling; this is a difference, as well. G'thon would never have overseen mugs where cups and saucers were available. "Shall I be blunt, Roa? I lack the subtlety of others, I am afraid. I cast my stones with a loud rattle, and I reach out to shift them if I do not like where they lie."
"So you do, Weyrwoman. And goats are not known for stepping softly. Be blunt then, if you please, and I will watch your stones fall." Roa takes the moment after she speaks to indulge in a deeper gulp of the cooling tea.
"Then I will stamp my feet, and make a sound," Yevide agrees, wriggling around until she faces Roa, her toes coming to rest just a fingerlength from the other woman's thigh. "The Weyrlingmaster came to importune me on your behalf, Roa. A second junior would suit me well. We both know the arrangement would suit. I am not seeking a girl who will be listening to R'vain rather than to me."
"Ah." Roa sighs softly. "I didn't realize he'd actually paid you a visit. I spoke with him after the incident in the baths. I was still in the infirmary and somewhat convinced, incorrectly I later learned, that S'lien would recall me. I suppose I flailed a bit." Another small sip of tea and a moment for Roa to mull over her next words. "R'vain understands, I believe, exactly what sort of advantage he would get if I were to transfer. It doesn't have much to do with fealty."
"It was quite the visit," Yevide replies, with something very close to a snort. "You tell me then, Roa, what it is that R'vain understands from you." She does not disguise the note that has entered her usually warm voice; she does not like the Weyrlingmaster.
One eyebrow raises at the sudden chill in Yevide's voice. But Roa doesn't ask. "Ruvoth and Tialith have established a friendship. A close one. I wouldn't be surprised, when Tialith rises..." Shoulders lift and fall again. As if it does not matter. "I checked the records of clutches on the sands here. And of Caucus flights. Ruvoth's never caught."
"R'vain would not be surprised either," Yevide agrees, marshaling her tone a little, and producing a smile that's very close to her usual offering. "Is that the end of it, Roa? R'vain does this for his dragon alone? You will be no better off here than at Telgar, if this is not settled."
"No, I'm sure he doesn't. I imagine that he sees this potential as something...I don't know. A possible hold on me. A possible step towards the leadership. We never went into specific details, I had just hit my head. And, if *I* may be frank, whatever his hopes may be, he is allowed to keep them, even if I don't intend to oblige." Roa tsks softly. "The thing to understand about R'vain is that all of his goals are personal. Not political."
"We all have our dreams," Yevide agrees, softening somewhat. "One man's dream is another man's nightmare, but I would deny none of them. I will ask about what you think instead then, Roa. You make me glad I have left the Caucus behind. I had forgotten how oblique communications could become." She swallows a generous mouthful of her tea, and trains her gaze on the young woman at the other end of the couch. "Prising you out of S'lien's grip would not be so easy, Roa. I am asking you if that is what I should try to do."
"Am I being oblique? I'm sorry. I wasn't intending to be." Roa's fingers taptap softly against the side of the mug. "That is very much what I would like you to do. I..." Her lips thin a moment before she speaks again. "G'thon suggested there were certain values you were seeking. It seems, now, that he was perhaps mistaken. Less so, with me." A small pause. "That *was* oblique, I suppose."
Suddenly, Yevide laughs, leaning forward to lean past her feet and rest a hand on Roa's knee for a moment. "G'thon is as oblique as any man alive," she points out, warm tone full of affection for the old man. "I am seeking to do the best I can by my people, Roa." There's not even a flutter of irony in her tone as she claims High Reaches for her own. "I am seeking a junior who will work with me to do that, and loyally. Our bronzeriders come and go, but we remain."
"Yes, we do. And I also want what's best for the people. You're Reaches’ Weyrwoman. Of course I should work with you, so long as that does not, in your mind, mean blindly agreeing or refusing to put forward my own thoughts when they conflict with yours." Roa's head tips downwards. "Not in front of others perhaps, but at least here. For tea. I would appreciate some opportunities to stamp my own hooves."
"Hush, hush, my little goat." Yevide's tone is warm, maternal, laughing. "What good would you be if you were not headstrong? Your Tialith chose well, and I would add her stock and yours to High Reaches. Here, for tea, you may stamp away to your heart's content. You would keep on your Caucus classes, too. I cannot have you both so busy, but I think you will learn more than Sinopa."
Roa's lips quirk upwards and she shakes her head slightly. "I doubt Sinopa would weep overmuch to withdraw from them." She sighs softly. "Shells, that one..." but the thought is unfinished so the last of her tea can be swallowed.
"I doubt it as well," Yevide agrees, lifting her eyes to the heavens; a quick shake of her head completes that observation, and then she echoes Roa's movement, draining her mug. "You see why I wish to add you to those by my side, I do not doubt." She uncurls, setting her bare feet down on the floor, and reaching over to clap Roa on the knee once more. "I shall add my efforts to those of others, Roa."
Roa leans forward to first set her mug down and second to briefly touch her hand over the top of Yevide's. "Thank you," she says gently. "I hope they prove effective. S'lien..." another small shake of her head. "I can't say I understand his motivations at all, but they very rarely sway."
"Ah, but Roa. I have already proven myself effective." Mischief dances in Yevide's eyes, and there's a squeeze before she reclaims her hand, rising slowly to her feet. "Your hound will be waiting outside for you, my little goat, straining his ears."
The Telgari pushes herself upright as well. "I suppose I'd better see to him then, before he starts to whimper. Thank you, Weyrwoman." A small pause. "Yevide. We'll speak again soon, I hope."
"Yevide, from now on," that woman agrees, reaching up to tuck her curls away inside her scarf. "Soon, and frequently thereafter, my child."
The small smile, for the first time, warms into something that no etiquette teacher has instructed. And then Roa turns to go, slipping back out the way she came.
Time: Evening on Day 17, Month 6, Turn 2
Players: Yevide and Roa
Scene: Roa and Yevide discuss alliances, fortune telling, and farm animals.
North Weyr
This is the sanctuary of High Reaches' senior Weyrwoman. It's been decorated in shades of blue and green with the occasional splash of sunny yellow for contrast. As with the Weyrleader's weyr, it's divided into sections according to work, leisure and rest. The desk and scroll-shelves take up a corner of the weyr with the sitting area in the opposite corner, brightened with hand-woven rugs done in a square key pattern. The bed is small but filled with soft quilts and sheeting.
To the right is the archway that leads out onto the ledge occupied by the Weyr's senior gold. It's large enough for her and for a number of slightly smaller visitors. Directly opposite the entrance tunnel is a smaller tunnel hidden behind a thick curtain. The air is warmer around that curtain, hinting at the tunnel's destination.
G'thon took his tea things with him. Yevide has replaced them, but her choice is simply made, inexpensive. Unadorned cups, saucers and sturdier mugs sit on the sideboard where once his exquisite belongings lay. One of the saucers has been co-opted into holding incense, and a slow curl of smoke makes its way to the ceiling; it has been burning for some time, for the air in the weyr is gently scented. Yevide is informal, at home; her loose trousers hang down over bare, brown feet, and she has built up the fire so that the room is warm indeed. The tunic she wears is lighter than usual, although she keeps to her usual rich blue, playing up her eyes. Just now she stands before the hearth, in the act of tucking her hair into her scarf.
Soft footfalls bring Roa up the steps and into the weyr that has undergone some changes. Her eyes take them in...new smells, new sights, before she softly clears her throat. "Weyrwoman," she begins, hands resting lightly by her side. If there is meant to be any derision in that title, it does not leak through the calm. "Tialith says you wish to speak with me?" Roa is looking...stretched, perhaps. Her shoulders are pushed back, chin tipped up a bit as if someone has tossed out a challenge and she is doing her best to reply in kind. There are dark purple half-moons beneath her eyes, for all that her blue gaze is watchful. Alert.
"Roa," Yevide begins, turning from the hearth with a warm smile at the read; then her own blue eyes fix on Roa, and something in her smile fades, is drawn down slightly. "Ah." Something approaching recognition touches her features, as though the young woman before her has said something audible to the Weyrwoman alone. "I did, yes." Her voice has lowered, a new note entered it - something wistful, perhaps. "Will you have tea?"
Her head cants to the side a little. "I always have tea when I'm here," rejoins the Telgari softly. Gently. "Thank you." She takes a few more steps inward, drawing nearer to a place to sit, although she doesn't yet. "How are you holding up?"
"I am holding up as well as I must," Yevide replies, a touch of mirth entering her warm alto. "Fetch cups and bring them over, my dear." Now the reason she was standing before the hearth is revealed; she has been watching her kettle boil and as she speaks she claims a piece of cloth from a hook to rescue it.
It is a very different sort of tea arrangement. Even beyond the changes to the mugs. Never before would the settings be unprepared. Never before would water still be boiling or cups still need fetching. There was rigid symmetry before. An order. An entire tea culture. And now it is just two girls warming their fingers by the fire. So it is with a tiny smile that Roa turns away and does as bidden, carrying two mugs over to Yevide and her teapot.
It may be that there is a certain purpose in this change of pace; Yevide turns a smile over her shoulder as Roa arrives, then nods towards the mantelpiece. "Set them down there, my dear. Have a look inside the boxes, pick out which one you would like." The teapot waits already; she is that organised, at least. Four small, wooden boxes sit awaiting Roa's inspection, but the Weyrwoman's attention is turned to pouring the spitting kettle's contents into her teapot, her nose wrinkling in protest as a drop hits her wrist.
The mugs are set where requested and Roa bends at the boxes, peering into them, sniffing them quietly. Finally something fruity and a bit sweet is chosen. "There we are," Roa says simply before lapsing into silence again. There is a reason she is here. Roa can wait for it.
"Very well," Yevide agrees, snagging the kettle back on the hook; she's practiced at this, spooning Roa's chosen tea into the teapot and setting the lid in place. She takes her time over that movement, leaning in to sniff the steam with an appreciative hum before she speaks. "Now, where have you left your shadow, my dear? Is he waiting outside for you?"
A tiny upward quirk of Roa's lips and a small nod. "Cavel," she explains, giving the shadow a name. "He prefers to avoid anyone of higher political clout than a lower caverns girl, if at all possible. He does a great deal of waiting outside doorways, but insists his hearing is quite excellent." She watches the tea get added and steeped, hands clasping lightly in front of her.
"And is your Cavel right?" Yevide's question is light, and there is no signal that the greater part of her attention is not now on taking care of their refreshments; so charming, that she does this herself, rather than letting the younger woman take care of it, or summoning a girl to see to it. "I would like to speak to you in confidence, my child."
"Cavel is no threat to my confidence. None of the men are. They were..." and here Roa hesitates just a moment, tiny smile fading just a touch, "...carefully chosen. Please feel free to speak with me on whatever it is that you wish."
"I have no doubt they were," Yevide agrees. "You have come to no harm when they have been near. That you should ask how I hold up, when you have your quartet to trail you. I do not envy you that." With a soft sigh, she sets to pouring tea, yet to tilt her gaze sidelong to the young woman beside her. "You do very well to behave for them. There is a little of the goat in you."
"Perhaps my goat is quieter than yours. I hide her under a different creature most of the time, and when it comes to my detail. Well. I was quite pleased I managed to pressure the Captain into removing them from me. And then, of course, we all know what came next." Roa picks up her mug, once it is filled, bowing her head to inhale the aroma. "I manage my moments of freedom."
"Do you really?" Yevide's delighted at that intimation of freedom, reaching for her own mug and wrapping both hand around it; she turns a smile that's nearly impish on Roa, eyes crinkling at the corners. "How do you steal them?" Her chin lifts, and tilts towards the couches where her interviews are normally conducted, and in the wake of the movement she turns that way herself.
"Tialith is my accomplice. We visit the spire and they must wait below. Or we visit friends in higher weyrs and they are fated to do the same. It is all..." and here Roa's lips take up that playful quirk again, "in the elevation." She blows softly on the tea before taking a tiny sip and moving to seat herself on the suggested couch.
"Clever girl," Yevide approves, sinking down onto the other end of the couch; she pulls her bare feet up, burrowing them underneath a cushion, and makes herself comfortable with much smoothing down of her tunic. "But I am not in your danger, and I have no need of an escort. How are you else, my little goat?" The endearment is very nearly cheeky, ventured with a little lift of her brows. "You look tired."
"Then you have answered your own question." Cheek for cheek, Roa leans back into the softness of the cushions and lets her eyes close for just a moment. But closing one's eyes does absolutely no good when masses of writhing grey lurk beneath your eyelids. They open again, quickly. "My friends are under assault. My home is no longer safe." *Her* home. "Tired only begins to describe it."
"Aah." That noise of understanding from Yevide rides upon a soft breath out, her mug lifted to her lips; she is yet to take a sip, and she does not do so now, instead watching her companion over the rim. "But Roa," she continues after a pause during which she inhales the scent of the steam, and finally ventures her first mouthful. "You are a student here. Your home is Telgar, is it not?" The cheek is gone now; something speculative has entered her gaze to replace it.
"Well," a pause to sip the faintly sweet brew Roa cradles, "as I understand it, that is all dependent on S'lien's whims. Currently, I am. A student of Caucus, a native of Telgar Weyr." Another small sip. "I would go so far as to say, however, that in a turn of living here, this has become a home, albeit a temporary one."
It is the moment for an offer; the possibility hangs in the air as Yevide sips her tea. She lifts her chin, eyes closing for a moment as she draws in a breath through her broad, flat nose. Her expression stills, smile fading away to leave her almost peaceful; something of this is in her tone when she speaks. "I had a son once, Roa. He would have been your age, had he lived."
Blink. Roa's eyes snap to Yevide's face, those words seeming to appear out of nowhere. She resettles on the couch, unable to draw her own legs up for the boots she wears. Heavy. Clumping. Good for snow. Unfit for resting on couches. "I'm sorry that he didn't," is all she can think to say.
"It was a long time ago," Yevide murmurs, in what must be a reply she's repeated more than once. "But I am sorry too." Her lashes lift, and she drinks once more before she speaks, tongue sneaking out to catch a stray drop of tea. "Now I have a weyr full of sons and daughters over whom I watch, and Ulyath has given us more than she can count, these last two decades." A pause, then. Heavy, incense-scented silence. "You care for them too."
Roa's gaze lowers back onto the tea. Or, more specifically, the little eddies of steam that coil upwards and vanish beyond the rim of the mug. "Very much." Spoken so softly.
Yevide tilts her head for that whisper of a reply, then rolls it back to centre once more, and past that point; she is watching Roa now, warmth in her wry smile, warmth in her low alto. Maternal, concerned, confiding. "You might help me do so. I think that is what you want. I worry, though."
"Do you?" A little louder this time, a bit less confiding as Roa finds a spot on the wall to study for a moment. Perhaps, if things had not fallen as they did, she might say more. Ask more. As it stands, she only waits.
"I do," Yevide agrees, taking a larger mouthful now that the tea in her mug is cooling; this is a difference, as well. G'thon would never have overseen mugs where cups and saucers were available. "Shall I be blunt, Roa? I lack the subtlety of others, I am afraid. I cast my stones with a loud rattle, and I reach out to shift them if I do not like where they lie."
"So you do, Weyrwoman. And goats are not known for stepping softly. Be blunt then, if you please, and I will watch your stones fall." Roa takes the moment after she speaks to indulge in a deeper gulp of the cooling tea.
"Then I will stamp my feet, and make a sound," Yevide agrees, wriggling around until she faces Roa, her toes coming to rest just a fingerlength from the other woman's thigh. "The Weyrlingmaster came to importune me on your behalf, Roa. A second junior would suit me well. We both know the arrangement would suit. I am not seeking a girl who will be listening to R'vain rather than to me."
"Ah." Roa sighs softly. "I didn't realize he'd actually paid you a visit. I spoke with him after the incident in the baths. I was still in the infirmary and somewhat convinced, incorrectly I later learned, that S'lien would recall me. I suppose I flailed a bit." Another small sip of tea and a moment for Roa to mull over her next words. "R'vain understands, I believe, exactly what sort of advantage he would get if I were to transfer. It doesn't have much to do with fealty."
"It was quite the visit," Yevide replies, with something very close to a snort. "You tell me then, Roa, what it is that R'vain understands from you." She does not disguise the note that has entered her usually warm voice; she does not like the Weyrlingmaster.
One eyebrow raises at the sudden chill in Yevide's voice. But Roa doesn't ask. "Ruvoth and Tialith have established a friendship. A close one. I wouldn't be surprised, when Tialith rises..." Shoulders lift and fall again. As if it does not matter. "I checked the records of clutches on the sands here. And of Caucus flights. Ruvoth's never caught."
"R'vain would not be surprised either," Yevide agrees, marshaling her tone a little, and producing a smile that's very close to her usual offering. "Is that the end of it, Roa? R'vain does this for his dragon alone? You will be no better off here than at Telgar, if this is not settled."
"No, I'm sure he doesn't. I imagine that he sees this potential as something...I don't know. A possible hold on me. A possible step towards the leadership. We never went into specific details, I had just hit my head. And, if *I* may be frank, whatever his hopes may be, he is allowed to keep them, even if I don't intend to oblige." Roa tsks softly. "The thing to understand about R'vain is that all of his goals are personal. Not political."
"We all have our dreams," Yevide agrees, softening somewhat. "One man's dream is another man's nightmare, but I would deny none of them. I will ask about what you think instead then, Roa. You make me glad I have left the Caucus behind. I had forgotten how oblique communications could become." She swallows a generous mouthful of her tea, and trains her gaze on the young woman at the other end of the couch. "Prising you out of S'lien's grip would not be so easy, Roa. I am asking you if that is what I should try to do."
"Am I being oblique? I'm sorry. I wasn't intending to be." Roa's fingers taptap softly against the side of the mug. "That is very much what I would like you to do. I..." Her lips thin a moment before she speaks again. "G'thon suggested there were certain values you were seeking. It seems, now, that he was perhaps mistaken. Less so, with me." A small pause. "That *was* oblique, I suppose."
Suddenly, Yevide laughs, leaning forward to lean past her feet and rest a hand on Roa's knee for a moment. "G'thon is as oblique as any man alive," she points out, warm tone full of affection for the old man. "I am seeking to do the best I can by my people, Roa." There's not even a flutter of irony in her tone as she claims High Reaches for her own. "I am seeking a junior who will work with me to do that, and loyally. Our bronzeriders come and go, but we remain."
"Yes, we do. And I also want what's best for the people. You're Reaches’ Weyrwoman. Of course I should work with you, so long as that does not, in your mind, mean blindly agreeing or refusing to put forward my own thoughts when they conflict with yours." Roa's head tips downwards. "Not in front of others perhaps, but at least here. For tea. I would appreciate some opportunities to stamp my own hooves."
"Hush, hush, my little goat." Yevide's tone is warm, maternal, laughing. "What good would you be if you were not headstrong? Your Tialith chose well, and I would add her stock and yours to High Reaches. Here, for tea, you may stamp away to your heart's content. You would keep on your Caucus classes, too. I cannot have you both so busy, but I think you will learn more than Sinopa."
Roa's lips quirk upwards and she shakes her head slightly. "I doubt Sinopa would weep overmuch to withdraw from them." She sighs softly. "Shells, that one..." but the thought is unfinished so the last of her tea can be swallowed.
"I doubt it as well," Yevide agrees, lifting her eyes to the heavens; a quick shake of her head completes that observation, and then she echoes Roa's movement, draining her mug. "You see why I wish to add you to those by my side, I do not doubt." She uncurls, setting her bare feet down on the floor, and reaching over to clap Roa on the knee once more. "I shall add my efforts to those of others, Roa."
Roa leans forward to first set her mug down and second to briefly touch her hand over the top of Yevide's. "Thank you," she says gently. "I hope they prove effective. S'lien..." another small shake of her head. "I can't say I understand his motivations at all, but they very rarely sway."
"Ah, but Roa. I have already proven myself effective." Mischief dances in Yevide's eyes, and there's a squeeze before she reclaims her hand, rising slowly to her feet. "Your hound will be waiting outside for you, my little goat, straining his ears."
The Telgari pushes herself upright as well. "I suppose I'd better see to him then, before he starts to whimper. Thank you, Weyrwoman." A small pause. "Yevide. We'll speak again soon, I hope."
"Yevide, from now on," that woman agrees, reaching up to tuck her curls away inside her scarf. "Soon, and frequently thereafter, my child."
The small smile, for the first time, warms into something that no etiquette teacher has instructed. And then Roa turns to go, slipping back out the way she came.