Post by Kelli on Jul 9, 2009 22:56:15 GMT -5
Changes In Latitude
Kelli Zielinski (K’marik, J’zsek)
27.08.02
Igen Weyr
“I think that’s the last of it,” K’marik said out loud, looking around his weyr. The room had been reduced to nothing but a desk, a chair, his cot, and whatever best belonged in the storerooms. The rest had been carefully packed in bags, laid in a corner of his weyr, waiting to be tied to Tarreth’s flying straps and carried away to Telgar Weyr.
His few precious books had been padded within his clothing, the legacy of his passion for knowledge. The small sewing kit he kept, to mend his own clothing, was also secured carefully within his other belongings. His numerous decks of dragon poker cards also were hidden away in his bags; he was looking forward to joining his new wing on a trip to the casino while getting to know them. The few decent knives he had, left over from the days he’d defended Jasineri, were carefully laid away, in the hopes he’d never have to use them. Endless piles of notes on various subjects, which he almost thought was funny, at times, as he had committed everything in them to memory. The quilt he’d painstakingly put together was tucked carefully in another bag, as well as a number of sketches he’d had done of his sister and her two children, Tenein and Jolaine. There were times he found it hard to believe that Jolaine had just turned ten turns, but she had, scarcely two sevendays ago.
It was his only worry about leaving Igen Weyr when it came down to it. Jasineri was settled at Keroon Hold, and since her husband had died in the plague, K’marik had been at Igen to be close to her and ensure she was taken care of. Four and a half turns later, Jas had made her home at Keroon and could more than take care of herself. Not that K’marik doubted she ever could, of course – he knew better. Since their family had been shattered by their mother’s death, they had stuck together. They were all the family K’marik had left, for any purpose relevant to his life. He fingered the scar along his arm, looking out for Jas. While a reasonable scrappy fighter when needed, he’d always preferred to use his mind to get out of situations.
He’d found himself missing Telgar Weyr for some time. D’gon was more than capable of being Wingleader to Flamebolt Wing, although he knew he was going to miss his wingsecond and friend horribly. The hot sands of Igen had never been for him and were more likely to make him sneeze than anything else. He could use some good time in the cold and snow again. He missed snow. It called to him like an old friend, beckoning him, drawing him closer. He could almost taste the coolness on the wind, the telltale signs that a storm was coming.
{{Why miss something that is so miserable?}} Tarreth lamented from his couch, lifting his head to look at K’marik. {{There are warm places for me to lay here.}}
“I don’t remember you complaining this much about snow when we lived at Telgar,” K’marik noted, walking over to scratch the bronze on the nose. “And I certainly didn’t have to oil your hide half as much as I do now!”
The bronze snorted, sniffing at K’marik. {{You are lazy.}}
K’marik’s laughter echoed through the empty weyr. “Whatever you have to tell yourself to sleep at night.”
He pulled his hand away from Tarreth’s muzzle, and turned to regard the pile. The sum of thirty-six turns of life and twenty-two turns of dragonriding… in one small pile. What little he had left of his mother, he’d left to Jas, including the ruby pendant their mother had worn when she was alive. K’marik had wanted her to have it – it was the last thing they had of her, removed shortly after-
K’marik shook his head. He did not want to remember. The image would forever be burned into his mind, but he did not want to remember. It would be inevitable, he knew, once he reached Telgar, but for the time being, he had the luxury of pushing it aside.
He sat down heavily on the bed, mulling over the events that had brought him to leave Igen.
# # #
27.07.12
Weyrleader J’zsek of Telgar walked into K’marik’s weyr. “’lo K’marik!” he called, walking in from the weyrledge and through the spacious dragon area. He walked past K’marik’s office and waited near the curtain.
“Come in!” the other bronzerider called, and J’zsek pushed the curtain aside, pushing his way past it. “Right on time,” K’marik noted, setting aside the new dark blue vest he was sewing together for himself. He slid off his bed, striding to where the other bronzerider waited. They shook hands, then embraced like the old friends they were.
“It’s good to see you,” J’zsek said warmly. “I’m glad you found the time to talk to me today.”
“Anything for my former Wingsecond,” K’marik said, with a very slight smile. “Sit,” he said, indicating the weyr’s only chair. He’d always preferred the more casual setting for friends, rather than his office. K’marik took a casual seat on his bed, folding his legs, as J’zsek turned the chair around to sit on it backwards. “What brings you here?”
The smile faded from J’zsek’s face, and he smoothed his hands through his hair. “I wish it was something simple that brought me here, K’marik. As Weyrleader, I’ve encountered a situation, with Tourmaline Moon Wing.”
A groan escaped K’marik despite himself. “That situation has been around turns. It’s really a shame, actually. The riders, at least when I was there, were mostly very good riders, many even considered excellent. They have issues, however. The only reason that wing stays under control is that they’re too scared of Ar’tin to do otherwise.”
“And that’s my problem,” J’zsek affirmed. “We don’t have that control now. I was forced to demote Ar’tin after he attempted to rape an unwilling Candidate,” he explained, resting his arms on the back of the chair.
A low exhalation of breath escaped K’marik. “That was a matter of time, and not terribly unexpected,” he said, nodding. “That man doesn’t know when to quit.”
J’zsek’s lips were formed into a tight line. “Well, yes. We all knew it. He didn’t succeed, as a number of riders came to her aid. On top of it, another Candidate kicked him in the balls, but…”
Snorting in laugher, K’marik had to force himself to stay composed at that. “Who did that?” K’marik asked, but J’zsek just smirked slightly. “It was Rio, wasn’t it?” J’zsek’s nod was slight, but confirmed K’marik’s suspicions. “That’s my girl,” he said, nodding, a slight smile on his face. He’d always been fond of Riordis, even if his dragon was prone to telling her too much about his personal life.
“She had to be suspended from the Hatching Sands for it, though,” J’zsek informed him, with a sigh. “Not as if it mattered much, as she Impressed anyway.”
“She did?” K’marik asked, his voice tinged with excitement. “When?”
“Just a month and a half ago,” J’zsek said, smiling. “So no one tried to leave you out of the loop; it’s just that it hasn’t been long! Silver Serafinth.”
K’marik sat back, a smile on his face. “She deserves it,” he said. He’d always remembered her fondly, down to earth. He had always thought that she might have gotten along with Tarina. “She’s a d**n fine girl, and she’ll make a d**n fine rider. This must have been a dream come true for her.”
“I wish it was that easy, but it’s not. I’ll leave you to discuss that with her,” he said, shifting in the chair. “I’m sure she’d love to hear from you. But, at the moment, I have to speak to you about something much more serious. My reason for coming here was to speak to you about Tourmaline Moon Wing.”
K’marik blinked at the sudden change in topic, then put the pieces together. It suddenly made sense why J’zsek had worked back around to Tourmaline Moon Wing. “You want me to lead Tourmaline Moon, don’t you?” he asked, folding his hands in his lap. He had started to wonder where this might be going, and now, it made sense. No Wingleader in his right mind would take on that wing, in K’marik’s humble opinion.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained… K’marik thought, remembering his mother’s words from long ago.
“I know it’s a lot to ask,” J’zsek said hastily, “but I know no other rider up to the task. I’ve never served with a finer Wingleader,” he said, nodding his affirmation. “I can’t trust any other Wingleader to handle them with the firmness and delicacy that are both needed.”
“Flattery won’t work,” K’marik noted, but smiled at him. “Who is leading the wing now?”
“Cr’nan,” J’sek answered swiftly. “And he’s not doing a bad job. It’s just that I don’t think he’s getting in touch with them, and that’s what they need, someone to extend a hand, albeit a firm one, and guide them, teach them, get them in order. They trusted Ar’tin. They had a rapport with him, even if it was built more on fear than anything. Ar’tin’s wing has never taken a lot of injuries, but the last turn or so, things have changed. I suspect things are breaking down, and unless I find someone to step in and salvage it…”
“It’s because riders have two choices in Tourmaline Moon, really. Either come down fine, or don’t come down. Coming down injured, well, most of the riders wished they were dead.”
“And that kind of ‘loyalty’, such as it is, will break down over time. As is happening now,” he added. “And Cr’nan knows it – he’s filed transfer papers.”
Fiddling idly with the vest next to him, K’marik thought for a moment, considering his questions. “Who do I have to work with? I’m assuming the wing is much the same, but who would I have for Wingseconds?”
“Senior Wingsecond is Miakoda,” J’zsek said, and K’marik nodded his approval.
“Very good,” he noted thoughtfully. “Been a rider for over twenty turns, cool-headed, easy to work with. And most importantly, she’s put in around as many turns at Telgar as I have. I trust her completely. Junior Wingsecond?”
J’zsek winced, shaking his head. “T’rad, bronze Banith.”
K’marik suddenly understood why J’zsek winced. “The one rider shorter than me at Telgar, hmm?” he said, nodding. “Not a bad rider, but to be candid, I don’t recall his attitude being all that great.”
“That’s a kind way of putting it,” J’zsek said dryly. “He hasn’t changed. But do you think you could work with it?” J’zsek persisted.
“I think so,” K’marik said, nodding slowly. “I believe I can. D’gon is more than capable of taking on the wing, and I think I’ll work to see if I can get him a promotion out of this,” he said, smiling slightly. “This should be interesting, at the very least. And I missed Telgar. I’ll be glad to be back there.”
“Can I get that in writing?” J’zsek asked, smiling slightly. “When could you start?”
“As soon as the transfer papers can be filed,” K’marik said, nodding. “If that works for you, Weyrleader,” he added.
“Perfect,” J’zsek said with a grin. “I’m looking forward to you riding for Telgar again, K’marik. You’ve been sorely missed.”
It wasn’t until later that K’marik wondered what he’d gotten himself into.
# # #
That had been just over a couple sevendays ago. Now, the wingleader found himself packing up everything he owned, and getting ready to go home. With all his belongings packed, he secured the packs to Tarreth’s riding straps, balancing the load on both sides of the dragon and double checking to make sure everything was tight. When he was satisfied, he pulled on his riding gear, climbed up on his dragon’s back, and walked down to the Bowl, where a group of people waited to say their goodbyes.
He walked to the nearest two people, Weyrleader T’lar and Weyrwoman Lalytha.
“Are you sure you won’t reconsider?” Lalytha asked, hugging him warmly.
“Quite,” K’marik said, returning her embrace. “But I’ll come visit.”
Lalytha made a face as she stepped away. “That’s what our last goldrider said.”
“And Karayan still hasn’t done it?” K’marik said, tilting his head towards Lalytha. “I really will be better. Tarreth is going to miss the sand, and I’m sure he’ll wheedle me into it. And didn’t Izara visit?”
Laughing, Lalytha nodded, her shining eyes wide. “Well, yes, but she wasn’t supposed to go between. It was still early in her training, too early.”
“It’s the thought that counts,” K’marik said, smiling slightly, not terribly surprised. He imagined that every Candidate out of Igen got in trouble eventually.
“You’d better make good on that promise,” T’lar said, stepping forward to shake his hand.
“Come after me if I forget,” K’marik said, smiling at him.
“I’ll send Lalytha after you,” T’lar said, and Lalytha elbowed him.
“You’ve got to visit, K’marik,” D’gon added. “Who else will I get my advice from?”
K’marik walked to him, shaking his hand before he embraced him. “You’ll be fine. In fact, you’ll be great. I’m going to miss you. I’ve got to now get Miakoda used to me,” he said with a wink. “Come visit Telgar sometimes, too. I’d love to see you, and I’m sure the other riders would too. We’ll drink get together and have a drink.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” D’gon said, nodding as he stepped back.
He said goodbye to Tesnia, X’nder, and Gneam, who was scratching Tarreth’s nose in farewell.
It was an odd feeling realizing that he’d just said goodbye to everyone he knew well enough to warrant it at Igen. Tarina had long since moved to StarRise and Impressed. Fiona, to Theran. The thought of Fiona brought a slight smile to his face, as he remembered the time she had knocked him and Tarina over onto broken glass. It had taken Bernel a long time to get all the pieces out of his backside, and worse, Fiona’s wits had been so rattled that she’d tried to move in with him the next day. He’d already said his goodbyes to his wing that morning. Gr’sel, Yabela, Tarra, Kezia, and T’ran he would remember in particular.
“Well, I should be off, I’m sure J’zsek expects me soon. It’s morning at Telgar, so I should get there just in time to take a look how my new wing is doing in drills. Find out what I’m in for,” he said.
“You should be sent to a Mindhealer for taking that wing on,” D’gon noted.
“We’ll see how it goes,” K’marik said, nodding. “I’ll probably have to come vent to you.”
“My curtain’s always open,” D’gon said, smiling.
“I appreciate that.” He looked at all of them in turn, then smiled. He would miss them, but they were always a jump away. “Thank you, all of you.”
He moved to Tarreth and climbed on his back. <<Goodbye, nice warm rocks,>> Tarreth lamented, bobbing his head.
>>Goodbye itchy sand,<< K’marik reminded him, as he waved to those below. Tarreth’s powerful legs pushed them off the ground, and two wingbeats displaced sand into flying swirls and brought them into the air. His wings pushed them upwards until they were high above the Weyr. The watchdragon bugled a farewell that Tarreth returned, and K’marik showed Tarreth a clear picture of Telgar.
He held it in his mind until Tarreth acknowledged it, and before K’marik could remove the image, they were between. In moments, they were above Telgar Weyr, just before breakfast, circling down into the Bowl to land.
After he had dismounted, he started to walk towards J’zsek’s office, when his steps slowed and he cast his eyes towards the Weyrlake. Frowning, he shook his head. Later. After he talked to J’zsek, then the memory could come to him. There was no use fighting it off – it would come regardless.
Shaking his head, he walked to the Weyrleader’s office. He couldn’t help but feel a little bit of pride for his former wingsecond, now a Wingleader and Weyrleader to Telgar. J’zsek was level-headed, and K’marik was sure he was a good influence on Telgar.
He walked to the curtain and knocked on the plate, waiting patiently for J’zsek’s reply. When he heard the other rider call, “Come in!” he pushed his way through the curtain and walked forward to shake J’zsek’s hand.
J’zsek stood from his chair, reaching his hand out. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he said sincerely. “If you don’t mind, after we get your bags put away, I’d like to introduce you to your wing. I’d like you to start forming some thoughts on them as soon as possible.”
K’marik smiled, gesturing towards the exit. “Lead the way,” he said.
They walked out into Bowl, where a dark haired woman came up to them. “K’marik!” she exclaimed, smiling. “It’s good to see you!”
“Ghael!” he said, reaching out to hug her. “It’s been ages! You look wonderful!”
“We’ve missed you here,” Ghael told him, returning the embrace and stepping back. Her hand sought J’zsek’s, and K’marik smiled. He knew that they must work very well together, and he hadn’t seen J’zsek with this big of a smile on his face in a very long time.
“How have you been?” K’marik asked, folding his arms across his chest as he regarded her.
She glanced at J’zsek, then back to K’marik. “I am quite well,” she said, a slight smile creeping into her face. The Weyr is well, too.”
“Walk with us to show K’marik his new wing,” J’zsek suggested. “We can talk on the way.
Ghael could barely suppress her smile. “Oh, yes. K’marik’s new wing,” she said, looking sidelong at him. “J’zsek is all business and no pleasure today,” she added, grinning.
“Oh, I am, am I?” J’zsek said, smiling. “This morning would imply otherwise, to me, but…” he trailed off, shrugging as Ghael elbowed him and made a face.
K’marik laughed, feeling good. He might have signed up to take on the most troublesome wing at Telgar Weyr, but at least he was among friends.
# # #
A number of hours later, K’marik had put his belongings away and met the members of his new wing. It was still a bit early to form any opinions, but he’d announced to them his plan to go to The Lucky Wherry in two days with the wing. Some had looked surprised at that, others excited, and K’marik hoped they were looking forward to it.
There’s nothing like gambling, marks, alcohol, and women to see what your riders are made out of outside of Threadfall and drills, he thought wryly. He’d kept his senses sharp, watching each rider and trying to pick out the problem ones early on. He had yet to read their files, which J’zsek had assured him were in his office, but offhand, it would prove interesting. It was always that way with Tourmaline Moon. They were all decent riders, which made their attitudes all the more pity – they would all excel if given the right direction. He hoped he could give that to them.
As lunch approached, K’marik walked down to the Weyrlake. His steps fell like they had all those turns ago. He could almost hear the chaos of that afternoon, the chaos that happened after Threadfall. No one would have noticed one woman, escaped from the infirmary, in pain and in grief.
K’marik, though, had noticed Carriel’s absence. He had come to the infirmary to find her, to discover she was not there. Concerned, he’d come out to look for her. His steps had brought him to the Weyrlake, where he had stood on the shore and stared at her limp body.
With careful hands, he’d waded out in the water and brought her in, as other riders noticed and flocked around him, trying to push him back, to keep him from seeing her face.
It had been too late, however. Much too late…
“Hello, K’marik,” a voice said, with a hand on his shoulder. K’marik jumped, turning as he tried to hide the grief in his eyes. It became easier when he realized who stood behind him.
“Ysevia!” he exclaimed in genuine delight, the sadness evaporating from him for the moment, to haunt him another time. He reached out his arms to hug the midwife. “How have you been?”
“Much the same,” she said, smiling.
“Still fighting with the Healers?” he teased gently as he stepped back.
“Don’t get me started,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“They’ll figure it out eventually,” K’marik assured, looking at her, then laughing suddenly. “I’ve missed this place so much,” he said, remembering the occasional night with the midwife, a very giving person by nature. “I’ve missed the people, the dragons, all of it. I’ve missed you, too” he said, grinning. Ysevia was a giving woman, one who had no qualms about sharing herself with those who needed it. K’marik was one of those men who had spent many nights with Ysevia in the past, and always enjoyed her company. He’d always wished he could do more to thank her, but often, just knowing that she’d made someone’s night better was all she ever needed.
“I’ve missed you,” she said, her smile very familiar and very knowing, as she reached out to touch his hand, caressing it gently.
K’marik paused, his blue eyes focusing on her face, reading the expression. “I missed that, too,” he said, reveling in the feeling of her touch. He’d been practically celibate during his time at Igen. Taking a deep breath, he ventured, “Can I take this as an invitation? Or are things different these days?” he added, hoping he didn’t offend her. She’d always been there before, but that was turns ago now.
“If you need me, K'marik, I am always there,” she said, her smile mysterious.
He took her hand in his and turned it over, kissing her palm. “Ah, so you’re going to make me issue the invitation?” he mused. “In that case, any time you can find to spend with a lonely bronzerider is always cherished.”
“Do you need me now?” Ysevia asked.
“I have the rest of the evening off. Now sounds like a good time to need someone,” he murmured, smiling. Just like before he left. “You never change,” he said. “Still giving, still beautiful.”
“Everyone needs someone they can count on, a stable influence in their life,” she said, taking his hand.
“My life has been anything but, in some regards,” K’marik said, shaking his head and squeezing her hand.
“If you’d ever need to talk, I listen, too,” Ysevia noted.
“I would like that,” he said, running a finger over her jawline. “Shall we go before people start to wonder?”
"And you think they won't wonder after we leave?" she teased.
“At least we won’t be here to notice them doing it,” he said, taking her arm and leading her away.
Home. Good memories, painful memories. But still home.
Kelli Zielinski (K’marik, J’zsek)
27.08.02
Igen Weyr
“I think that’s the last of it,” K’marik said out loud, looking around his weyr. The room had been reduced to nothing but a desk, a chair, his cot, and whatever best belonged in the storerooms. The rest had been carefully packed in bags, laid in a corner of his weyr, waiting to be tied to Tarreth’s flying straps and carried away to Telgar Weyr.
His few precious books had been padded within his clothing, the legacy of his passion for knowledge. The small sewing kit he kept, to mend his own clothing, was also secured carefully within his other belongings. His numerous decks of dragon poker cards also were hidden away in his bags; he was looking forward to joining his new wing on a trip to the casino while getting to know them. The few decent knives he had, left over from the days he’d defended Jasineri, were carefully laid away, in the hopes he’d never have to use them. Endless piles of notes on various subjects, which he almost thought was funny, at times, as he had committed everything in them to memory. The quilt he’d painstakingly put together was tucked carefully in another bag, as well as a number of sketches he’d had done of his sister and her two children, Tenein and Jolaine. There were times he found it hard to believe that Jolaine had just turned ten turns, but she had, scarcely two sevendays ago.
It was his only worry about leaving Igen Weyr when it came down to it. Jasineri was settled at Keroon Hold, and since her husband had died in the plague, K’marik had been at Igen to be close to her and ensure she was taken care of. Four and a half turns later, Jas had made her home at Keroon and could more than take care of herself. Not that K’marik doubted she ever could, of course – he knew better. Since their family had been shattered by their mother’s death, they had stuck together. They were all the family K’marik had left, for any purpose relevant to his life. He fingered the scar along his arm, looking out for Jas. While a reasonable scrappy fighter when needed, he’d always preferred to use his mind to get out of situations.
He’d found himself missing Telgar Weyr for some time. D’gon was more than capable of being Wingleader to Flamebolt Wing, although he knew he was going to miss his wingsecond and friend horribly. The hot sands of Igen had never been for him and were more likely to make him sneeze than anything else. He could use some good time in the cold and snow again. He missed snow. It called to him like an old friend, beckoning him, drawing him closer. He could almost taste the coolness on the wind, the telltale signs that a storm was coming.
{{Why miss something that is so miserable?}} Tarreth lamented from his couch, lifting his head to look at K’marik. {{There are warm places for me to lay here.}}
“I don’t remember you complaining this much about snow when we lived at Telgar,” K’marik noted, walking over to scratch the bronze on the nose. “And I certainly didn’t have to oil your hide half as much as I do now!”
The bronze snorted, sniffing at K’marik. {{You are lazy.}}
K’marik’s laughter echoed through the empty weyr. “Whatever you have to tell yourself to sleep at night.”
He pulled his hand away from Tarreth’s muzzle, and turned to regard the pile. The sum of thirty-six turns of life and twenty-two turns of dragonriding… in one small pile. What little he had left of his mother, he’d left to Jas, including the ruby pendant their mother had worn when she was alive. K’marik had wanted her to have it – it was the last thing they had of her, removed shortly after-
K’marik shook his head. He did not want to remember. The image would forever be burned into his mind, but he did not want to remember. It would be inevitable, he knew, once he reached Telgar, but for the time being, he had the luxury of pushing it aside.
He sat down heavily on the bed, mulling over the events that had brought him to leave Igen.
# # #
27.07.12
Weyrleader J’zsek of Telgar walked into K’marik’s weyr. “’lo K’marik!” he called, walking in from the weyrledge and through the spacious dragon area. He walked past K’marik’s office and waited near the curtain.
“Come in!” the other bronzerider called, and J’zsek pushed the curtain aside, pushing his way past it. “Right on time,” K’marik noted, setting aside the new dark blue vest he was sewing together for himself. He slid off his bed, striding to where the other bronzerider waited. They shook hands, then embraced like the old friends they were.
“It’s good to see you,” J’zsek said warmly. “I’m glad you found the time to talk to me today.”
“Anything for my former Wingsecond,” K’marik said, with a very slight smile. “Sit,” he said, indicating the weyr’s only chair. He’d always preferred the more casual setting for friends, rather than his office. K’marik took a casual seat on his bed, folding his legs, as J’zsek turned the chair around to sit on it backwards. “What brings you here?”
The smile faded from J’zsek’s face, and he smoothed his hands through his hair. “I wish it was something simple that brought me here, K’marik. As Weyrleader, I’ve encountered a situation, with Tourmaline Moon Wing.”
A groan escaped K’marik despite himself. “That situation has been around turns. It’s really a shame, actually. The riders, at least when I was there, were mostly very good riders, many even considered excellent. They have issues, however. The only reason that wing stays under control is that they’re too scared of Ar’tin to do otherwise.”
“And that’s my problem,” J’zsek affirmed. “We don’t have that control now. I was forced to demote Ar’tin after he attempted to rape an unwilling Candidate,” he explained, resting his arms on the back of the chair.
A low exhalation of breath escaped K’marik. “That was a matter of time, and not terribly unexpected,” he said, nodding. “That man doesn’t know when to quit.”
J’zsek’s lips were formed into a tight line. “Well, yes. We all knew it. He didn’t succeed, as a number of riders came to her aid. On top of it, another Candidate kicked him in the balls, but…”
Snorting in laugher, K’marik had to force himself to stay composed at that. “Who did that?” K’marik asked, but J’zsek just smirked slightly. “It was Rio, wasn’t it?” J’zsek’s nod was slight, but confirmed K’marik’s suspicions. “That’s my girl,” he said, nodding, a slight smile on his face. He’d always been fond of Riordis, even if his dragon was prone to telling her too much about his personal life.
“She had to be suspended from the Hatching Sands for it, though,” J’zsek informed him, with a sigh. “Not as if it mattered much, as she Impressed anyway.”
“She did?” K’marik asked, his voice tinged with excitement. “When?”
“Just a month and a half ago,” J’zsek said, smiling. “So no one tried to leave you out of the loop; it’s just that it hasn’t been long! Silver Serafinth.”
K’marik sat back, a smile on his face. “She deserves it,” he said. He’d always remembered her fondly, down to earth. He had always thought that she might have gotten along with Tarina. “She’s a d**n fine girl, and she’ll make a d**n fine rider. This must have been a dream come true for her.”
“I wish it was that easy, but it’s not. I’ll leave you to discuss that with her,” he said, shifting in the chair. “I’m sure she’d love to hear from you. But, at the moment, I have to speak to you about something much more serious. My reason for coming here was to speak to you about Tourmaline Moon Wing.”
K’marik blinked at the sudden change in topic, then put the pieces together. It suddenly made sense why J’zsek had worked back around to Tourmaline Moon Wing. “You want me to lead Tourmaline Moon, don’t you?” he asked, folding his hands in his lap. He had started to wonder where this might be going, and now, it made sense. No Wingleader in his right mind would take on that wing, in K’marik’s humble opinion.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained… K’marik thought, remembering his mother’s words from long ago.
“I know it’s a lot to ask,” J’zsek said hastily, “but I know no other rider up to the task. I’ve never served with a finer Wingleader,” he said, nodding his affirmation. “I can’t trust any other Wingleader to handle them with the firmness and delicacy that are both needed.”
“Flattery won’t work,” K’marik noted, but smiled at him. “Who is leading the wing now?”
“Cr’nan,” J’sek answered swiftly. “And he’s not doing a bad job. It’s just that I don’t think he’s getting in touch with them, and that’s what they need, someone to extend a hand, albeit a firm one, and guide them, teach them, get them in order. They trusted Ar’tin. They had a rapport with him, even if it was built more on fear than anything. Ar’tin’s wing has never taken a lot of injuries, but the last turn or so, things have changed. I suspect things are breaking down, and unless I find someone to step in and salvage it…”
“It’s because riders have two choices in Tourmaline Moon, really. Either come down fine, or don’t come down. Coming down injured, well, most of the riders wished they were dead.”
“And that kind of ‘loyalty’, such as it is, will break down over time. As is happening now,” he added. “And Cr’nan knows it – he’s filed transfer papers.”
Fiddling idly with the vest next to him, K’marik thought for a moment, considering his questions. “Who do I have to work with? I’m assuming the wing is much the same, but who would I have for Wingseconds?”
“Senior Wingsecond is Miakoda,” J’zsek said, and K’marik nodded his approval.
“Very good,” he noted thoughtfully. “Been a rider for over twenty turns, cool-headed, easy to work with. And most importantly, she’s put in around as many turns at Telgar as I have. I trust her completely. Junior Wingsecond?”
J’zsek winced, shaking his head. “T’rad, bronze Banith.”
K’marik suddenly understood why J’zsek winced. “The one rider shorter than me at Telgar, hmm?” he said, nodding. “Not a bad rider, but to be candid, I don’t recall his attitude being all that great.”
“That’s a kind way of putting it,” J’zsek said dryly. “He hasn’t changed. But do you think you could work with it?” J’zsek persisted.
“I think so,” K’marik said, nodding slowly. “I believe I can. D’gon is more than capable of taking on the wing, and I think I’ll work to see if I can get him a promotion out of this,” he said, smiling slightly. “This should be interesting, at the very least. And I missed Telgar. I’ll be glad to be back there.”
“Can I get that in writing?” J’zsek asked, smiling slightly. “When could you start?”
“As soon as the transfer papers can be filed,” K’marik said, nodding. “If that works for you, Weyrleader,” he added.
“Perfect,” J’zsek said with a grin. “I’m looking forward to you riding for Telgar again, K’marik. You’ve been sorely missed.”
It wasn’t until later that K’marik wondered what he’d gotten himself into.
# # #
That had been just over a couple sevendays ago. Now, the wingleader found himself packing up everything he owned, and getting ready to go home. With all his belongings packed, he secured the packs to Tarreth’s riding straps, balancing the load on both sides of the dragon and double checking to make sure everything was tight. When he was satisfied, he pulled on his riding gear, climbed up on his dragon’s back, and walked down to the Bowl, where a group of people waited to say their goodbyes.
He walked to the nearest two people, Weyrleader T’lar and Weyrwoman Lalytha.
“Are you sure you won’t reconsider?” Lalytha asked, hugging him warmly.
“Quite,” K’marik said, returning her embrace. “But I’ll come visit.”
Lalytha made a face as she stepped away. “That’s what our last goldrider said.”
“And Karayan still hasn’t done it?” K’marik said, tilting his head towards Lalytha. “I really will be better. Tarreth is going to miss the sand, and I’m sure he’ll wheedle me into it. And didn’t Izara visit?”
Laughing, Lalytha nodded, her shining eyes wide. “Well, yes, but she wasn’t supposed to go between. It was still early in her training, too early.”
“It’s the thought that counts,” K’marik said, smiling slightly, not terribly surprised. He imagined that every Candidate out of Igen got in trouble eventually.
“You’d better make good on that promise,” T’lar said, stepping forward to shake his hand.
“Come after me if I forget,” K’marik said, smiling at him.
“I’ll send Lalytha after you,” T’lar said, and Lalytha elbowed him.
“You’ve got to visit, K’marik,” D’gon added. “Who else will I get my advice from?”
K’marik walked to him, shaking his hand before he embraced him. “You’ll be fine. In fact, you’ll be great. I’m going to miss you. I’ve got to now get Miakoda used to me,” he said with a wink. “Come visit Telgar sometimes, too. I’d love to see you, and I’m sure the other riders would too. We’ll drink get together and have a drink.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” D’gon said, nodding as he stepped back.
He said goodbye to Tesnia, X’nder, and Gneam, who was scratching Tarreth’s nose in farewell.
It was an odd feeling realizing that he’d just said goodbye to everyone he knew well enough to warrant it at Igen. Tarina had long since moved to StarRise and Impressed. Fiona, to Theran. The thought of Fiona brought a slight smile to his face, as he remembered the time she had knocked him and Tarina over onto broken glass. It had taken Bernel a long time to get all the pieces out of his backside, and worse, Fiona’s wits had been so rattled that she’d tried to move in with him the next day. He’d already said his goodbyes to his wing that morning. Gr’sel, Yabela, Tarra, Kezia, and T’ran he would remember in particular.
“Well, I should be off, I’m sure J’zsek expects me soon. It’s morning at Telgar, so I should get there just in time to take a look how my new wing is doing in drills. Find out what I’m in for,” he said.
“You should be sent to a Mindhealer for taking that wing on,” D’gon noted.
“We’ll see how it goes,” K’marik said, nodding. “I’ll probably have to come vent to you.”
“My curtain’s always open,” D’gon said, smiling.
“I appreciate that.” He looked at all of them in turn, then smiled. He would miss them, but they were always a jump away. “Thank you, all of you.”
He moved to Tarreth and climbed on his back. <<Goodbye, nice warm rocks,>> Tarreth lamented, bobbing his head.
>>Goodbye itchy sand,<< K’marik reminded him, as he waved to those below. Tarreth’s powerful legs pushed them off the ground, and two wingbeats displaced sand into flying swirls and brought them into the air. His wings pushed them upwards until they were high above the Weyr. The watchdragon bugled a farewell that Tarreth returned, and K’marik showed Tarreth a clear picture of Telgar.
He held it in his mind until Tarreth acknowledged it, and before K’marik could remove the image, they were between. In moments, they were above Telgar Weyr, just before breakfast, circling down into the Bowl to land.
After he had dismounted, he started to walk towards J’zsek’s office, when his steps slowed and he cast his eyes towards the Weyrlake. Frowning, he shook his head. Later. After he talked to J’zsek, then the memory could come to him. There was no use fighting it off – it would come regardless.
Shaking his head, he walked to the Weyrleader’s office. He couldn’t help but feel a little bit of pride for his former wingsecond, now a Wingleader and Weyrleader to Telgar. J’zsek was level-headed, and K’marik was sure he was a good influence on Telgar.
He walked to the curtain and knocked on the plate, waiting patiently for J’zsek’s reply. When he heard the other rider call, “Come in!” he pushed his way through the curtain and walked forward to shake J’zsek’s hand.
J’zsek stood from his chair, reaching his hand out. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he said sincerely. “If you don’t mind, after we get your bags put away, I’d like to introduce you to your wing. I’d like you to start forming some thoughts on them as soon as possible.”
K’marik smiled, gesturing towards the exit. “Lead the way,” he said.
They walked out into Bowl, where a dark haired woman came up to them. “K’marik!” she exclaimed, smiling. “It’s good to see you!”
“Ghael!” he said, reaching out to hug her. “It’s been ages! You look wonderful!”
“We’ve missed you here,” Ghael told him, returning the embrace and stepping back. Her hand sought J’zsek’s, and K’marik smiled. He knew that they must work very well together, and he hadn’t seen J’zsek with this big of a smile on his face in a very long time.
“How have you been?” K’marik asked, folding his arms across his chest as he regarded her.
She glanced at J’zsek, then back to K’marik. “I am quite well,” she said, a slight smile creeping into her face. The Weyr is well, too.”
“Walk with us to show K’marik his new wing,” J’zsek suggested. “We can talk on the way.
Ghael could barely suppress her smile. “Oh, yes. K’marik’s new wing,” she said, looking sidelong at him. “J’zsek is all business and no pleasure today,” she added, grinning.
“Oh, I am, am I?” J’zsek said, smiling. “This morning would imply otherwise, to me, but…” he trailed off, shrugging as Ghael elbowed him and made a face.
K’marik laughed, feeling good. He might have signed up to take on the most troublesome wing at Telgar Weyr, but at least he was among friends.
# # #
A number of hours later, K’marik had put his belongings away and met the members of his new wing. It was still a bit early to form any opinions, but he’d announced to them his plan to go to The Lucky Wherry in two days with the wing. Some had looked surprised at that, others excited, and K’marik hoped they were looking forward to it.
There’s nothing like gambling, marks, alcohol, and women to see what your riders are made out of outside of Threadfall and drills, he thought wryly. He’d kept his senses sharp, watching each rider and trying to pick out the problem ones early on. He had yet to read their files, which J’zsek had assured him were in his office, but offhand, it would prove interesting. It was always that way with Tourmaline Moon. They were all decent riders, which made their attitudes all the more pity – they would all excel if given the right direction. He hoped he could give that to them.
As lunch approached, K’marik walked down to the Weyrlake. His steps fell like they had all those turns ago. He could almost hear the chaos of that afternoon, the chaos that happened after Threadfall. No one would have noticed one woman, escaped from the infirmary, in pain and in grief.
K’marik, though, had noticed Carriel’s absence. He had come to the infirmary to find her, to discover she was not there. Concerned, he’d come out to look for her. His steps had brought him to the Weyrlake, where he had stood on the shore and stared at her limp body.
With careful hands, he’d waded out in the water and brought her in, as other riders noticed and flocked around him, trying to push him back, to keep him from seeing her face.
It had been too late, however. Much too late…
“Hello, K’marik,” a voice said, with a hand on his shoulder. K’marik jumped, turning as he tried to hide the grief in his eyes. It became easier when he realized who stood behind him.
“Ysevia!” he exclaimed in genuine delight, the sadness evaporating from him for the moment, to haunt him another time. He reached out his arms to hug the midwife. “How have you been?”
“Much the same,” she said, smiling.
“Still fighting with the Healers?” he teased gently as he stepped back.
“Don’t get me started,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“They’ll figure it out eventually,” K’marik assured, looking at her, then laughing suddenly. “I’ve missed this place so much,” he said, remembering the occasional night with the midwife, a very giving person by nature. “I’ve missed the people, the dragons, all of it. I’ve missed you, too” he said, grinning. Ysevia was a giving woman, one who had no qualms about sharing herself with those who needed it. K’marik was one of those men who had spent many nights with Ysevia in the past, and always enjoyed her company. He’d always wished he could do more to thank her, but often, just knowing that she’d made someone’s night better was all she ever needed.
“I’ve missed you,” she said, her smile very familiar and very knowing, as she reached out to touch his hand, caressing it gently.
K’marik paused, his blue eyes focusing on her face, reading the expression. “I missed that, too,” he said, reveling in the feeling of her touch. He’d been practically celibate during his time at Igen. Taking a deep breath, he ventured, “Can I take this as an invitation? Or are things different these days?” he added, hoping he didn’t offend her. She’d always been there before, but that was turns ago now.
“If you need me, K'marik, I am always there,” she said, her smile mysterious.
He took her hand in his and turned it over, kissing her palm. “Ah, so you’re going to make me issue the invitation?” he mused. “In that case, any time you can find to spend with a lonely bronzerider is always cherished.”
“Do you need me now?” Ysevia asked.
“I have the rest of the evening off. Now sounds like a good time to need someone,” he murmured, smiling. Just like before he left. “You never change,” he said. “Still giving, still beautiful.”
“Everyone needs someone they can count on, a stable influence in their life,” she said, taking his hand.
“My life has been anything but, in some regards,” K’marik said, shaking his head and squeezing her hand.
“If you’d ever need to talk, I listen, too,” Ysevia noted.
“I would like that,” he said, running a finger over her jawline. “Shall we go before people start to wonder?”
"And you think they won't wonder after we leave?" she teased.
“At least we won’t be here to notice them doing it,” he said, taking her arm and leading her away.
Home. Good memories, painful memories. But still home.
