One Chance

Writers: Estelle, Suzee
Date Posted: 26th August 2024

Characters: R'fal, Cyradis, Terren
Description: R'fal finds out his father's fate from the Weyrwoman
Location: Dolphin Cove Weyr
Date: month 2, day 16 of Turn 11
Notes: Mentioned: J'ackt, N'vanik (not by name)

Cyradis

R'fal had been half-expecting to be summoned back to the Weyrleader to
find out what would happen to his father and to face up to his own
responsibility for what had happened. He'd been feeling a gnawing
anxiety about it all day. So, when Marlath spoke to him, sounding
unusually awed, it came as a shock.

}:Panitath's rider wishes to speak with us.:{

**The Weyrwoman?!** After a moment's panic, he understood what it must
be about. Although he was a wingrider, Terren wasn't and so it would be
up to her to decide his fate. He hastily checked over his appearance and
tried to straighten his shirt and smooth down his unruly curls. **Should
we bring Da with us?**

}:She says not yet.:{

**All right, let's go.** He hurried out to the ledge so that Marlath
could fly him down to the Weyrbowl.

"Come in," Cyradis said when she heard the knock at her office door.

R'fal entered the office and saluted. "Marlath told me you wanted to see
me, Weyrwoman."

"Yes," she smiled and waved at the chair across from her. "Have a
seat. Would you like some tea?"

"Yes, please, ma'am." R'fal sat down where she'd indicated, hoping that
her warm manner meant good news for his father.

She poured a cup from her porcelain pot with a small flourish. Then
passed it to him to fix the way he wanted. "How is Marlath doing?" She
thought she'd start with small talk to get the boy comfortable before
she started with more difficult questions.

"He's doing well, thank you, ma'am. This morning he was spending time
with the recovering dragons in the infirmary, while I was at class. He
likes keeping them company." Marlath particularly liked chatting with
the green dragons, but R'fal didn't mention that. "And Panitath?"

"She is well, thank you." Cyradis took a sip of her tea. "I know this
may be a bit difficult for you but I have some questions and I need
you to be honest about your feelings. My main concern here is _you_
R'fal."

"Me?" He'd not expected his own feelings to come into it. He'd brought
his father to the Weyr and knew he'd have to accept the consequences of
that, only hoping that they'd believe Terren had nothing to do with the
poisoning of the hatchlings. "Of course, ma'am. I'll answer anything you
want to know."

"You weren't brought up here so you probably didn't realize exactly
how the Weyr works for non-dragon riding folk." She smiled. "I had
difficulty with it myself when I came here from Vintner Hall. Here the
Weyr provides everything you need. Food, clothing and a place to
sleep. As long as you do your job whatever that is. However, we do
not allow people to skate by without contributing unless they're
children or old uncles and aunties who've contributed while they
could." She stopped to see if he was following her.

"Yes, ma'am. Did I do something wrong?" R'fal thought back anxiously
over the past month. He didn't think he'd neglected any of his duties -
surely his Wingleader would have spoken to him if he had? Or was there
something he should have done, that all weyrfolk knew about but he
didn't? "If I have, I'll make it up at once."

"No," she said seriously. "But your father did. He was lazy and
didn't do his job and then he ran off when he thought he'd be accused
of helping with the poisoning." She tilted her head. "Do you want us
to allow your father to stay at the Weyr again? Give him another
chance?"

R'fal didn't reply at once, which was perhaps more telling than he
realized. "To tell the truth, I really wish he'd go back to my Ma," he
confessed. "But I don't think he will. My uncle told him to leave, and
if I don't help him he'll be holdless."

Cyradis nodded. "I understand. You feel responsible for him. Right?"

"Yes, Weyrwoman. He's still my Da." R'fal thought back to what J'ackt
had told him about being holdless. "That life is hard. I'd not feel
right, living here in comfort while my own father is cold or hungry. And
I know he didn't have anything to do with the poisoning. He's not like
that."

"I understand," she nodded. "But the Weyr isn't free. He must
contribute. I'm willing to give him a second chance to earn his keep
but not a third."

"Yes, ma'am. I'll talk to him." He hoped his father would listen this
time. "Do you want me to fetch him? He's in one of the sea cliff weyrs."

"I'm glad you understand," she nodded. "Yes, please retrieve him."

R'fal saluted and left the weyr. A short time later he returned with
Terren in tow. The older man didn't appear particularly chastened by his
time spent in the cliff weyr - if anything, he'd enjoyed the period of
idleness - but though he was frowning, he did manage a respectful
manner. He'd had a talking-to from his son on the way down, but Marlath
showing his teeth had also been effective. The young brown wasn't
terribly fond of his rider's father and was more and more willing to
show it.

"Weyrwoman, my father, Terren."

"Terren," she acknowledged. "I don't believe we met the last time you
were here."

"No, my Lady, I was not fortunate enough to have that honor," Terren
replied, turning on his most charming manner. His son winced.

Cyradis continued to smile though the man certainly didn't know his
audience. She'd been pursued by the best and most charming
bronzeriders over the course of her career and he couldn't hold a glow
globe to them. "Well," she said. "I don't know if you'll think it's
such an honor after you hear what I have to say." Her mild tone might
be non threatening but there was metal in her spine. Her eyes turned
almost black and anyone who knew her well would know that was not a
good sign.

"I can't imagine your words would be anything but a pleasure to my ears,
my Lady." He beamed at her, oblivious to the danger.

"This Weyr was once self-sustaining during the interval." she said
seriously. "We were able to provide for our own needs and place a very
minimal burden on those Holds and Halls we are bound to protect." She
watched him closely to see if he was hearing her.

"As such we were short on many things so, crafters came, in all
disciplines, but not in large enough numbers especially with the
plagues. And then the Pass began and our demands on the Holds could
no longer remain such a light burden. Do you understand?"

"Of course. No man understands his duty to tithe to the Weyr better than
I do," Terren replied piously. "When I was a holder, it was always my
pleasure."

R'fal nearly choked. Out of all his father's lies, that had to be one of
the boldest - and to the Weyrwoman of all people! He clearly remembered
his father complaining bitterly about the tithe.

"Ah," Cyradis nodded, not believing for a second. "And now that you're
here _in_ the Weyr how do you expect to tithe?"

He grinned. "In any way that would please you, Weyrwoman."

"_Da_!" R'fal couldn't contain himself any longer. "Show some respect!"

But Cyradis had expected that response and ignored the innuendo. "Ah,
excellent," she grinned. "I would like you to report to the beast
master and work shifts in the beast pens every day except your
designated rest day." She slapped her knees and rose from her seat.
"Oh, and Shadow here," she indicated the little brown flit on her
desk," will be watching to make certain you do. If you don't you'll
be ejected from the Weyr. Living here is not free for anyone except
old aunties and uncles who have already given their best." Her fists
rose to her hips. "Here you will always be provided for by the tithes
that arrive from the holds. But I will not allow you to do nothing and
stay." She tilted her head and regarded him for a moment. "We clear?"

Shadow chirped his attention

Terren's face showed a moment's indignation. Not back to the
beastcrafters! The work was hot, tiring and smelly, and he'd already had
a run-in with the chief herdsman when that bronzerider had caught him
drinking. He quickly covered it with a placating smile. "Of course, I
understand. But I could be so much more use in another role. I used to
run a farm hold, before my, ah, misfortune."

"Of course," she nodded. "And what role would you prefer?"

"I've always been most useful in a supervisory position," he replied
with an ingratiating smile. "Manual labor is not one of my strengths."

Her voice dripped sarcasm as she replied. "So far you've told me what
you don't want to do for the Weyr and your upkeep but not what you're
willing to do. So what would you like to supervise, the distillery
perhaps?"

"That would suit me very well," Terren replied, oblivious to the
Weyrwoman's tone. "Or the bakery?" He grinned, while behind him, R'fal
was looking as though he wished the stone floor would open up and
swallow him whole. "I'm glad we're thinking the same way, my Lady."

"Heh," she shook her head. At least he was amusing in his
unwillingness to acknowledge subtlety. "You were a farmer? Were you
farmcraft trained? Do you have experience in baking or brewing? How
can I put you in charge of something you know nothing about?"

"Once you've been in charge of a farm, you can turn your hand to
anything. Of course, I wouldn't involve myself in the details," he
explained. "That's a great mistake."

R'fal had endured a great deal from his father, but lecturing the
Weyrwoman was too much. "Da, if the Weyrwoman tells you to work with the
beastcrafters, then that's what you should do. You're lucky you're not
being turned out to be holdless."

He bowed his head in apology to Cyradis. "I'm sorry for speaking out of
turn, ma'am. Marlath and I will see to it that he does as you asked."

Her eyes shifted between R'fal and his father. It was obvious to her
that the young man took his responsibilities very seriously. Even
though he was embarrassed by his father he still wanted to provide for
him. "Thank you brownrider," she nodded her approval. Then she turned
to Terren.

"My records say that you're a herder not a farmer. One chance," she
said. "Then I will no longer protect you from the wrath of the
Weyrleader."

She nodded to the young brownrider. "Good day," she waved a dismissive
hand toward the door.

Last updated on the September 8th 2024

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