The Dimmest Glow (1/2)

Writers: Yvonne
Date Posted: 19th July 2024

Characters: R'hil, Wyomu
Description: R'hil has regrets, and wishes he was never approached by a trader with a solution to all his problems.
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 13, day 3 of Turn 11
Notes: This is part one of two of R'hil's flashback to a weyrling mistake.

The morning sunlight didn't penetrate into his weyr, but it woke Dath and the brown dragon roused his rider. R'hil rolled out of bed reluctantly, dressed in patched trousers and a sweater, and followed his growling stomach down to the dining cavern. There, he piled his plate with sausages, fried tubers and greens, and carefully avoided the weird pink sausage-thing carefully on display. Who knew what they'd put into that.

The thought soured his mood, which was already a bit sour to begin with. He avoided the klah and poured himself water, although the scent of the klah wrapped its tentacles around him like some sort of clinging beast. A delicious, monstrous thing.

He missed klah. But his mother had been right-- warm drinks were dangerous, and he couldn't trust anyone. That lesson had been reinforced the previous Turn, back before he'd graduated to a fighting Wing. It was one he wouldn't forget.

~*~

Back then, R'hil found weyrling classes to be harder than Candidate classes. Both sets of classes were harder for him than the other candidates-- or at least the others who could read. But none of the classes made sense. None of what he was being told lined up with what he'd learned from his ma.

It was dinner, and R'hil, frustrated and hungry, decided to take his dinner and eat it at the Winter Lake instead of in the Dining Cavern with the others. His head hurt, and he just wanted them all to leave him alone.

Sure, the Pass had hung around for the last ten Turns. And of course Amber Hills Hold tithed to Dragonsfall Weyr, everyone knew that. But everything else being taught was... wrong. Or at least, not entirely right.

They'd talked about the Plague in classes, but the weyrlingmasters and Harpers only said that there _was_ a plague. There was no mention of the conspiracy by the Craftmasters to create the sickness to keep both the Weyrs and Holds dependant upon the made-up Healercraft. The Weyrlingmasters also talked about how a greenrider had /betweened/ into Thread instead of the Weyrs letting half the islands in the sea between the continents burn to nothing and become Pernish Threadfarms. Food was also supposedly shared equitably between Weyr and Hold, but R'hil remembered too many hungry winters with the wind howling at the door and his belly growling back. He remembered what his ma had taught him, and he trusted his ma... didn't he? It was confusing, and trying to sort out fact from fiction made him feel dumb.

It was probably all the mind control herbs in the food. R'hil mournfully stuffed his mouth full of bread and cheese, wondering if he could get any dried fruit or sausage rolls for a midnight snack. All these stews and soups the kitchen kept bringing out-- anything could be cooked into there. They were too mushy to be trusted.

"Why the sad face, kid?"

R'hil looked up, startled at being called 'kid'. He was a man grown. "Wha--?"

"Mind if I join you?" A man sat down next to him, dressed in a warm, well-darned coat and a knitted cap. He had brown hair and a smattering of grey in the stubble on his chin, and the knots on his shoulder declared him a trader. He stuck out his hand. "Name's Wyomu."

The weyrling swallowed, then coughed as crumbs went down the wrong way. Wyomu pounded him on the back until he could breathe again. "R'hil."

"Nice to meet you. Are you from the Weyr? I'm looking for some advice..."

R'hil shook his head. "Wrong person. I just got here a few months ago, and most of that time I'm stuck in lots of classes."

Wyomu nodded. "There's lots they don't teach you at the Holds, isn't there."

R'hil sighed. "Tell me about it. It's like they're talking about a whole different Pern."

"Star charts and dragonriding formations and geography... I get it. I was a Candidate for a while. Never Impressed, though. Obviously." Wyomu tapped the side of his head. "I used to be a lot dumber back then, you know..."

"Are you calling me a dimglow?!" R'hil puffed up, offended. Mostly because it was probably true. He felt dumb all the time, ever since he'd come to Dragonsfall Weyr.

But Wyomu held up his hands placatingly. "No, not at all! I'm just saying I understand. I don't think you're dumb. But I get it, it's exhausting and they want you to learn so much in such a short time..." He glanced to either side. "Listen, I didn't mean to offend you, kid. I just want to help you."

"I don't need your help," R'hil said, stuffing his mouth full of bread again.

"Just hear me out," Wyomu said. He opened his coat a little and withdrew a small blue bottle with a grey stopper from his pocket. "You know how the Weyrleaders and Wingleaders always seem so smart? It's not because they're born that way. They get a little extra help."

The weyrling's brow furrowed in confusion as he looked at the bottle. "I... what?"

"The Healers keep it a secret, but my brother is a Master Healer, and he told me about this tincture. It's got secret herbs in it that help your brain work faster and remember better. It's not fair that the Weyrleaders keep this secret from you."

R'hil's eyes widened. Of _course_. That made total sense, that the Weyrleaders used some herbal concoction to help them. Of course it made sense that the Healers were keeping secrets. "Does it help with the mind control herbs too?"

Wyomu paused. "Uh... yes. Yes it does."

"Can you teach me how to make it?" R'hil's mind was already whirling with possibilities. He could start doing better in his classes. His classmates would stop laughing at him, or worse, whispering behind their hands when he tried to answer a question. He'd be able to think for himself again, like he had when he was on his family's cothold. Things wouldn't be so confusing all the time.

But Wyomu slid the little bottle back into his coat. "Sorry, like I said, it's a secret. But... listen. I like you, R'hil. I'm not supposed to, but I'll sell you the bottle."

"Really?! That would-- I'd like to buy some." But then R'hil thought about the paltry stack of eighth and quarter marks he'd stashed away back in the Weyrling barracks. It was embarrassingly little. "I... how much do you want?"

"Just ten marks."

R'hil nearly choked again. Ten whole marks!? That was an unfathomable amount.

But then Wyomu grinned. "Just kidding. That's how much my brother sells it to the Weyrleaders. But like I said, I like you. I'll sell you this bottle for just one mark."

He had enough marks... but just barely. R'hil set down his plate as he debated whether or not he could justify spending all the funds that his mother and aunt had sent with him on a.. on a _potion_. But he also wanted to make them proud and stop feeling like the dimmest glow in the room.

"Sure. Let me go back to the Weyrling Barracks and I'll bring you a mark," R'hil said as he stood.

Wyomu's smile was as sharp as a sickle moon. "I'll wait here for you. You won't regret this, R'hil. Your life is about to change for the better."

Last updated on the July 21st 2024

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The Dimmest Glow (1/2)