Get Me Out (3/3)

Writers: Estelle
Date Posted: 24th June 2019
Series: The Great Bandit Trial

Characters: R'fal, Terren, Lirena
Description: R'fal tries to decide what to do about his father's request
Location: Dolphin Cove Weyr, Emerald Falls Hold
Date: month 10, day 24 of Turn 9
Notes: Mentioned: Tasni

R'fal stared at him, unable to believe what he'd just heard.

"But Da, I can't. There'll be guards, and...if they see me...I'm a
dragonrider. I have my duty to the Weyr. I can't break the law."

"What about your duty to your family?" Terren's voice turned abruptly
accusatory. "To me? You're my son, my heir. I've always looked out for
you. I've sacrificed everything for you, for my family. And you can't do
this one little thing?"

The young brownrider reeled back, too many thoughts colliding at once in
his head. He _couldn't_ leave his father to be dragged off to the mines.
Not now that he knew it was partly his fault. The stone walls of the
tiny room seemed to press in on him, and suddenly he felt stifled, as if
he couldn't breathe. He wanted to get up and rattle at the door and
scream for help.

}:Rider?:{

R'fal closed his eyes, rested his head in his hand, tried to breathe
slowly. **I'm fine. I'm fine.**

}:You need to get out.:{

**I know. I will, soon.**

He looked up at Terren. "Da, I'll do all I can to get you out. I
promise. But this - I don't know, I really don't know if..."

"You can, son." The older man's voice gentled, his fingers loosened
their grip on his arm. "I know you can. I'll be waiting."

R'fal stared back at him helplessly, not knowing what else to say.
Fortunately, at that moment he heard the sound of footsteps outside, the
click of a key in the door and his mother was escorted in.

"Don't forget," Terren said softly, his eyes locked on R'fal's.

"Forget what?" Lirena asked. Her cheeks were slightly flushed from the
walk back from the Harper Hall, and she seemed a little more hopeful
than she'd been that morning.

R'fal hastily pushed back his chair, standing to offer it to her.
"Nothing, Ma. Da was just saying..." He hesitated, glancing at the
listening guards. "He was telling me to look after you and my brother
and sister while he's gone."

"And don't forget your duty." Terren turned in his seat to watch his
wife as she came around the table, a trace of his habitual charming
smile returning, though tinged with sadness. "R'fal was telling me you'd
been to the Harper Hall."

Lirena glanced cautiously from him to the young dragonrider. There was
something in this room that made her uneasy, the same feeling that had
quickened her steps as she'd walked back from the Hall. But this would
be the last time R'fal would see his father until his sentence was over.
She wanted it to be a good memory. And it seemed as though Terren was
trying. She hadn't been sure if he would. He was her husband, she
couldn't distrust every single thing he said.

"Yes. I saw Journeywoman Tasni, we went over the appeal. She thinks it's
a good idea, and it won't cost much. Not as much as the trial. Contracts
for fostering and wardship are quite common."

Terren frowned. "But he's still my son."

"Of course he is. No contract can change that," she replied softly. "But
this is the only way to give him a chance of inheriting the cothold.
Terren, please."

A dark scowl crossed the former cotholder's face, before he recollected
himself and nodded. "Very well."

"Thank you." She folded her hands in her lap. "I'm sorry. We did all we
could."

He shrugged. "I hope you didn't pay that girl harper too much. She
should have got someone to speak for me. Though that tight-fisted old
wherry Galveden has always had a grudge against me, and as for Lewin..."

"The journeywoman did her best." She tried not to sound reproving, not
now. "It's not so long, and when it's over, I'll come to meet you, here
at the Hold. We can go back to my brother-in-law's, together."

His lips twisted. "Well. If there's anything left of me, I suppose we
can." He glanced at R'fal, then at the guards. "Can I have a moment
alone, with my wife?"

"Of course, Da." R'fal followed the men out, turning briefly in the
doorway to look back at his father. The moment seemed so strange and
unreal, his thoughts so full of what Terren had told him, that he
couldn't tell what to feel.

The door closed behind them and the guard who'd taken his knife gave him
a look that was oddly sympathetic. "You want some air, lad. This way."

He ought to have waited - perhaps he'd see Da one last time - but
instead, he silently followed the man out, grateful even for the warm,
humid air of Emerald Falls. The guards had left off their drill and were
resting in the shade at the far end of the practice ground, gulping down
water. When the knife was pressed back into his hand, he stared at it as
if he almost didn't recognise it as his own.

"You all right, brownrider?"

"Yes - yes, I think."

The guard half turned to go, then looked back. "Don't you worry about
that one, son," he said gruffly. "He's sharp. He'll survive anything.
Six months'll go by and he'll be back."

R'fal watched him disappear inside the barracks, then leaned against the
sun-warmed stone wall, closing his eyes, letting himself relax into the
warmth and love of his connection to Marlath. He couldn't have been
wrong to choose this, no matter what the consequences of leaving his
home had been. Could he?

***

He was quiet and thoughtful when he walked back with his mother to meet
Marlath in the Gather Square. She said nothing, only resting a hand on
his shoulder in silent sympathy before they mounted for the flight back
to the cothold. Little more was said in parting, only that she'd send
word when the petition was ready.

When he got back to his weyr, R'fal removed the riding straps, checked
them over and hung them on their peg, without much awareness of what he
was doing, while Marlath settled in to his couch to rest. He couldn't
stop thinking about his father in the cell, the desperate light in his eyes.

There was nothing he could do, though.

Was there?

If his father escaped from the mine and a brown dragon was seen helping,
it wouldn't take the wit of a Masterharper to work out which one it had
been. R'fal had no idea what would happen to him then. Dragonriders were
not allowed to interfere in the business of the Holds.

**But I'm a holder, too.**

He could just have a look. There was nothing wrong with that.

Black Rock Hold, he thought. It would be in the Records. If there was a
drawing, he could use it as a visualisation. Or, if he could find its
location on a map, there must be a sweepride route that overflew it. If
it was as impregnable as he feared, he didn't have to do anything. He
could just return to the Weyr.

There was nothing wrong with looking at the Records.

R'fal took off his riding jacket, hung it beside the straps, and then
went over to his desk to fetch some clean hides. If he was going to the
Archives, he'd need to look as though he was there for good reason.

Last updated on the June 24th 2019

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