Questioning the Mad (PG-17)

Writers: Devin, Miriah, Suzee
Date Posted: 7th March 2024

Characters: Cyradis, N'vanik, J'ackt
Description: The Weyrleaders and J'ackt attempt to question Shuvan.
Location: Dolphin Cove Weyr
Date: month 10, day 1 of Turn 10
Notes: **PG-17 for violence and discussion of torture** Follows "What Have You Done?"
Rating: PG-17

Cyradis

N'vanik

J'ackt

When Shuvan groggily opened his eyes, he first tried to wipe at them
and was confused as to why he couldn't move his limbs. Woozy, he
lifted his head and found that for some reason, his arms were tied
firmly to a bed at his sides. He blinked and tried to speak, then
winced as he felt broken teeth slice into his inner cheeks. In the
back of his mind, he was surprised that he wasn't in too much pain,
but it took a moment before reality asserted itself and he remembered
what had happened.

Alarmed, the man tugged at the restraints, trying to find some leeway
as he looked around. His foggy mind attempted to work quickly but he
felt sluggish, unable to bring forth the thoughts he needed to have.
Movement at the end of his bed alerted him and he looked down to his
feet, where a young blonde man was rising. His brow furrowed as the
young man moved to twitch the curtains aside, his hand never leaving
the hilt of a sword that was strapped to his hip.

J'ackt's voice was grim as he looked out from the curtain. "Tell
N'vanik he's awake."

In only a few moments, Loseth landed on the high, seaside ledge.
N'vanik dismounted with a grim expression, the anger he'd almost
gotten under control escalating again. He swept the curtain aside and
glared down at Shuvan. Then he dragged a chair next to the bed and
sat. "You're going to tell me everything."

Cyradis was only a moment behind and Panitath landed in the room
Loseth made for her. She came into the little room and stood at
N'vanik's back with a hand on his shoulder.

Shuvan's eyes flicked between the knots of the Weyrleader and the
Weyrwoman, then at the silent, brooding, young- looking bronzerider in
the room. Narrowing his gaze, his eyes went back to the man and woman,
struggling to find his thoughts and fight through the fog that was
present. Instead of responding, his lips pressed together tightly and
he offered a defiant, thin-lipped smile.

"If you don't start talking, I'm going to one of those sandy little
uninhabited islands with a bunch of metal buckets." N'vanik's voice
was dark and cold. "I'm going to wait until they fill up with Thread,
and take them back here. And then I'm going to have it eat you. One
piece at a time."

Cyradis barely reacted visually but her eyes closed for a moment. She
had no wish to see that happen to anyone. She knew N'vanik wasn't
bluffing even if their prisoner didn't. "We already know the story,"
she said with a very direct look at Shuvan. "This is your chance to
defend your own actions." She shrugged and looked at N'vanik, "Or not,
your choice. It will probably end better for you, if you talk."

The man's voice was gravely as he responded, his little smile never
fading. "The boy bled like a squealing porcine." The smug grin never
left his face. "The keening was like sweet music. Was he your boy? I
wish there had been more of that." He never saw the blow coming from
the other side of the bed. N'vanik and Cyradis might have shown
restraint, but J'ackt did not. Shuvan felt the hot sting of blood on
his lips again and felt his cheek throb painfully.

"We need his mouth functional so he can give us names," N'vanik said
mildly. He wished Cyradis wasn't here. He didn't want her to see any
of this.

"You enjoy torture then," Cyradis said in an even tone. Then she
turned to N'vanik. "Bet he won't like it quite as much when he's on
the receiving end." She smiled a malicious smile for Shuvan's benefit
even though it made her sick to her stomach.

N'vanik briefly quirked an eyebrow at Cyradis, surprised at her being
so vicious. Then again, Shuvan had just murdered a dragonrider and had
tried to kill Panitath's babies. "Torturing you won't bring G'fand and
Olisrath back, but watching Thread eat you an inch at a time might
make me feel a tiny bit better."

Shuvan slowly turned his face towards the Weyrleaders again. “I’m not
going to tell you anything. Torture me. How do you know I won’t give
you the wrong names? You don’t.” His speech was slightly lisping
through the broken teeth. “You’ve only dealt with stupid little
gullible children. There’s so many of us. We’re in the Weyr and the
holds.” His smile showed his broken teeth. There’s eyes and ears that
you’ll never guess or find. Killing me will just make me a hero. Go
ahead. Do it. You’ll solve nothing.”

N'vanik knew you could . . . encourage people to give you information.
He also knew you couldn't _make_ someone, not if they were determined
enough. "I'll need to check our charts against Windswept Islands', see
when the next 'Fall is over the islets we don't protect." After all,
there was no point risking lives for little uninhabited spits of land
surrounded by ocean. "J'ackt, I should probably tell you not to help.
Don't want to mess you up with something like this."

Cyradis agreed with N'vanik in this and reached out to put her hand on
J'ackt's arm. She didn't want him going down that road either. She
closed her eyes and remembered something she'd learned at the Vintner
Hall many Turns ago. **In Vino Veritas** Her brothers and father had
discussed it as some arcane term that was part of the Vintner's art,
thinking they were talking over her head and in a way they were but
she had observed over the time since that people spoke more truth when
they were drunk and the alcohol loosened their tongues. "I want to try
something." she whispered to N'vanik. Then loud enough for the rest to
hear. "Why don't we drink to your health while you still have it," she
smiled the nasty smile again. She called down for a nice bottle of
wine and four glasses.

}:Yours wants to make him talk while drunk?:{ Loseth asked Panitath.

When the relayed message reached Cyradis she smiled with her eyes and
lifted a brow at N'vanik.

The Weyrleader thought for a moment, then shrugged a shoulder. }:He
says it can't hurt,:{ Loseth relayed to his mate.

When the wine arrived it had been opened, so Cyradis set it down to
breathe a bit before pouring. "So why do you hate dragons," she asked
brightly.

"Stupid bitch. I don't. I hate you." Shuvan grunted softly as he
blearily moved his head back to face the pair. "Do you actually think
I'll drink anything you give me?" He licked the split in his lip and
grimaced. Then he glared at N'vanik and made a feeble attempt to spit
at Cyradis.

J'ackt glanced down at Cyradis' hand on his arm, looked at N'vanik,
and then slowly turned back to stare down at Shuvan. His temper was
already short and he was barely keeping it in check, but the man's
direct disrespect to Cyradis was enough to crack the thin veneer of
control that he was managing. Without waiting, J'ackt moved quickly,
snatching up the wineskin and without waiting for approval, grabbed a
handful of Shuvan's hair. He yanked back the man's head to hold it
still and began to pour the wine directly into the man's mouth. "Drink
it, you fecking wherry shite." As Shuvan began to splutter, J'ackt
made sure there was wine in the man's mouth and then clamped his hand
over the man's mouth and nose until he saw the throat move. Without
looking, he thrust the wine skin towards Cyradis and released Shuvan.

Gasping and sputtering, Shuvan roughly coughed, trying to get a good
breath but was unable to speak even as the wine settled in his
stomach.

N'vanik's gaze drifted to Shuvan's hand, wondering what it would feel
like to snap one of his fingers. Whether the man would scream or hold
back. "Give him a moment, then give him another drink."

Cyradis nodded at J'ackt in approval. She was neither stupid nor a
bitch. **Okay well maybe most of the time I'm not,** So his epithet
was more opinion than fact.

}:You are not a female canine:{ Panitath confirmed. Cyradis couldn't
quite suppress the reaction and went on with an odd tone in her voice.
"How can you hate someone you've never met," she asked, genuinely
puzzled. "I was raised at the Vintner Hall, a hall resident just like
you. Daughter of Master Cyris..." her voice trailed off.

"All of you..." Shuvan choked out. "So high and mighty. So sure that
you're all right in everything you do." The combination of the fellis
he had been given with the wine was already working against him. His
eyes narrowed at the Weyrwoman, taking N'vanik in as well as his voice
became mocking though his speech was slurred. "Master Cyris..." He
snorted. "Useless old man promised things...." His head slumped
towards N'vanik. "Not gonna tell you anything." He licked his lip
again, his brain even more foggy. "Couldn't get close to you, but
could get close to that pet of yours, didn't we though? Those boys we
sent didn't do their damn duty like they ought. Nor did the girl. Did
you kill her? The boy was good enough to keep his mouth shut before he
died. At least he was that smart. They were so easy to convince to
hate you all. So stupid." He chuckled darkly, a note of insanity
creeping into the laugh. "They were so _easy_."

Cyradis poured herself half a glass of wine and took a sip. It _was_
pretty delicious. "He's mad," she said to no one in particular. Then
signaled J'ackt with a lift of her chin to give the man another drink.

N'vanik took the wine from her, a small tremor in his hand as he
tilted it over his glass. He knocked back a large mouthful. Had Shuvan
been mad before, or had the knowledge of his looming death cracked
him? Metal chains, those would survive Thread. Metal posts, too.

"Hmm," Cyradis thoughts traveled back to before Panitath had found her
at the time her father had been negotiating a possible match for her.
Her eyes narrowed at the man on the bed. What had been promised.
Internally she shuddered at the possibilities and took a pull from her
glass.

Shuvan tried to avoid the wine, but J'ackt's grip was too firm and if
the young bronzerider was a bit too enthusiastic about pouring down
more of the drink into the mouth, it truly didn't matter.
The Master Weaver sputtered and gasped once again, the liquid burning
his broken teeth and gums. "Stop..." He gurgled again and J'ackt
forced more of the wine into his mouth, unable to get the young man to
stop despite writing on the bed. Only after J'ackt put aside the
wineskin once again was he released, bruising emerging from his mouth
where J'ackt's grip had held him tight. "Stop...I can't.." Shuvan
coughed raggedly, a mixture of spittle and wine drooling out of the
side of his mouth. "Foul....may Thread eat you all..." He closed his
eyes and swallowed, then there was an odd little giggle.
"Dragonmen...must fly...when Thread is in the sky...but not if they're
sick and puking! Not if you're so afraid it'll happen again! Watch the
meat...watch the Candidates...how will you ever know who to trust? You
caaaan't." The last was a singsong, finishing with a high pitched
giggle. "Can't trust the Holders now can you? Can't trust the
Crafters...Maybe we have a Healer or two? How will you know?"

She tilted her head at the little man on the bed. "Hmm I wonder what
would happen to your herds and hall if Dragonmen didn't fly when
thread was in the sky?" She looked at J'ackt and N'vanik. "What do
you think bronzeriders? Do you think we should stop defending the
Weavers hall entirely and let them feel and see thread up close? I'm
thinking maybe this one should see it up close and personally."

"Oh this one is gonna see it very close," N'vanik said. "Gonna feel it
too. The way it burns as it eats you." The scar on his face itched but
that was nothing compared to the sick feeling in his gut. How much of
the truth was Shuvan telling? Who could they trust?

Clearly impacted by the wine now, Shuvan's voices was slurred. "You
wouldn't dare lest all the Crafts rise up against you. But what I
wanted has happened." He unknowingly echoed N'vanik's thoughts.
"You'll never know now who you can trust. You'll never know if there's
someone else who might hurt you...seek you out...bear your children
and raise them to hate you...if a Healer might not help a rider as
much as they could...or if any of your drudges plot against you.
You'll never know rest now. Maybe your next wine is poisoned with more
than fellis, hm? Maybe your children will be in danger...just like you
put ours in danger when you snap them up, ruin our girls, make our
boys your Thread fodder. You'll never know now. Never. I might die,
but you will never know if one of your own is next."

**Done, done and done** Cyradis thought. **This one is so full of hate
he can't see reality at all. He can't see the forest for the trees.**
She half smiled. "Neither will you." She turned and walked away. "Do
what you will with him N'vanik."

Loseth gave a great cry, full of his rider's anger and a dark kind of
triumph. N'vanik looked down at Shuvan for a moment. It wouldn't solve
anything, it wouldn't protect the Weyr from Shuvan's fellow
conspirators, but here, at last, was someone N'vanik could take his
anger out on. "J'ackt, it would be best for you to stay out of this."
His gaze swept up to meet the other bronzerider's, his eyes dark with
fury and a coldness not too different from /between/. "But I'm not
ordering either way. Gonna check some charts and then take a trip out
to the islands."

He waited until Cyradis had left and turned back to face N'vanik, his
face determined and simmering with with own rage. His, however, was
just under the surface and radiated from every pore of his skin. "No.
I'm staying."

Last updated on the March 9th 2024

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Questioning the Mad (PG-17)