Behave Yourself

Writers: Estelle
Date Posted: 1st November 2024

Characters: L'keri, A'ten
Description: L'keri tries to persuade his son to become a Candidate - will he succeed?
Location: Vintner Hall
Date: month 2, day 26 of Turn 12

L'keri

Rhalith drew more attention than usual when he landed near the Vintner
Hall, mainly from apprentices and younger support staff. It was only
when his rider dismounted and headed straight for the tavern that they
realised the pair hadn't come on Search and drifted away, disappointed.

**News travels fast.** L'keri had hoped to surprise his son, but between
Fall and duties he'd not been able to get away from the Weyr until a few
days after Chioneth's clutching. Most likely they'd been talking about
it in the tavern the same evening.

It was still early enough in the afternoon to be quiet, and the
courtyard outside the tavern was dotted with puddles that sparkled in a
brief period of sun between showers. He spotted Arten's pale-blue
firelizard basking on the roof, and went on in, nodding to a group of
elderly uncles gathered around a table with mugs of beer.

Arten was busy sweeping the floor, but he looked up when his father came
in and did seem genuinely pleased to see him. That hadn't always been
the case, but since he'd left the Weyr and taken this job their
relationship had calmed, helped by the brownrider's commitment to
staying sober.

"Good day, Brownrider," the tavern master's wife greeted him, from
behind the bar. "The usual?"

"Yes, ma'am, thank you. Hello, son."

"Hello, Da." The two hugged, a little awkwardly. "How's Rhalith?"

"He's doing well. Flamed so much Thread yesterday I could hardly keep up
with the firestone. We fought over this area, actually - would you have
been out with the ground crews, after?"

"Yes. I'm still not old enough to help with the agenothree tanks, but
I'm allowed to help the vintners check for burrows. There weren't any
this time." Arten glanced at the older woman for permission as she
returned carrying a tray, with a jug of klah and two mugs, then joined
his father at the table.

"Conditions weren't bad. And it often seems this way when there's a
clutch on the sands. The dragons feel protective, they want to burn the
old enemy to dust before it gets anywhere near the ground. This time
more so than ever."

"Yes, I heard. The news is all over the Hall." Arten poured them both a
serving, then raised his mug. "Congratulations."

"Thanks. Gold eggs don't come along all that often. The Searchriders are
flying out every spare moment they get, and the candidate barracks are
filling up. Eluri's part thrilled and part furious that she's still four
Turns too young to join them." The brownrider raised his mug, then
sipped the steaming liquid, but the question he'd hoped for didn't come.

"That's great. I'll send a note to some of my old classmates with
Winter, wish them luck. Funny to think one of them might be a goldrider.
How is Eluri, otherwise? How's she getting on with her pipes?"

"Oh, well enough, according to the harper," L'keri said, distracted.
He'd considered how to approach this on the flight from Dragonsfall, and
wished he'd paid more attention in those long-ago weyrling leadership
classes about influence and persuasion. "But you don't have to send
messages with your firelizard. You could tell them yourself."

"You mean I could come to see the Hatching?" For the first time since
he'd come to the Vintner Hall, Arten didn't immediately reject the idea
of setting foot in the Weyr. "I'd have to get permission from the Tavern
Master. But if it's just one day, and I make up the time, then it might
be all right. If you don't mind..."

"No - well, yes, of course I'll bring you to watch if that's what you
want. But I meant, you could come and Stand yourself." L'keri caught the
boy's incredulous look and pressed on. "You're easily old enough now and
you're weyrbred. I'm sure if I spoke to the Weyrlingmaster they'd be
happy to have you. It's a big clutch, so the more Candidates, the better."

Once he'd got over his surprise, Arten straightened in his chair, the
defensive walls coming up. "I don't know about that, Da. Going back to
Dragonsfall for the Hatching is one thing, but living there again? I
have a job here, and friends. I can't just leave."

"People do. If you were Searched, they'd find another tavern boy. But if
a dragon's waiting for you in that clutch?"

The boy frowned, drawing away again. "You don't know that. Nobody knows
how that works."

"We don't know that's _not_ how it works." L'keri hesitated, then threw
dignity to the wind, slipped off his chair and fell to his knees, hoping
he'd missed any suspicious stains on the floor. "Please? It's going to
be one of the most exciting Hatchings in Turns. I'd be so proud if you
were there on the Stands."

Arten pushed back in his chair, looking thoroughly mortified and wishing
he could pretend he didn't know this eccentric dragonrider. "Da, please
get up. You know how I feel about this. I wanted to make my own life here."

"But there's a gold egg."

"What difference does that make?" He threw up his hands, exasperated. "I
can't Impress it."

"Stranger things have happened. Haven't you heard about the girl who
Impressed a blue? I'd be delighted and proud of you, son, no matter what
colour you Impress," L'keri said solemnly.

He paused.

"I mean, as long as it isn't a bronze. I'm not bowing and saluting you
and calling you 'sir'."

For the first time, the boy's lips twitched. "That's the first thing
you've said that actually makes me want to try my luck."

L'keri grimaced. "My own son, a would-be bronzerider." He thought for a
moment, then shook his head. "No, I'm not worried. I can see your head
and it clearly isn't stuck up your - "

"Da. Mind your language." He was smiling now. "This is a respectable
tavern."

"And as for the gold egg - I know _you_ can't Impress it, but think of
the girls! Every girl who can find an excuse to get to Dragonsfall is
going to be there in that Candidate barracks. Ah, if I was only a young
lad again." L'keri sighed and clasped a hand to his chest.

"Urgh, Da. You're way too old to be thinking like that." Arten thought
it better to get his father off that topic. "They'll all have their eyes
on the egg. They're not going to be interested in me."

"Don't sell yourself short. You're a weyrbred lad who's spent time
working in the Hold. The holdbred girls will find that reassuring, and
the weyrbred ones will want to hear all your stories. And all that
heaving barrels of beer around, or whatever it is you do, it's done you
no harm. You're getting to be quite a strapping young fellow." He beamed
unselfconsciously. "Just like the old man."

Arten snorted. But in the back of his mind it did spark a few wistful
thoughts. Most hold girls his age were not allowed in the tavern, and
their parents didn't think a boy with no known family much of a catch.

"You're thinking about it. I can tell!" L'keri crowed.

"Fine. I'm thinking about it. I'll talk to the Tavern Master and ask his
advice. I can't promise to do any more than that."

"That's all I ask." He breathed out in relief. "This would mean a lot.
You always wanted to be a dragonrider. I don't want you to miss out
because..."

He closed his eyes briefly. "Because I drove you away."

"You didn't. You've worked really hard, Da. I just - I'm not sure if I'm
ready yet."

He rose, wincing at the slight stiffness in his knees, and resumed his
seat. "Well, the eggs will be hardening for a short while yet. You've
got some time. Winter knows where to find Rhalith."

"All right." A flicker of the mischief he'd inherited glinted in Arten's
eye. "Oh, one thing. If I come, you can't get into any trouble between
now and the Hatching. None."

"Me?" L'keri drew himself up in mock affront. "Trouble?"

"I mean it, Da. It's _so_ embarrassing when all my friends see you
scrubbing out the weyrling barracks, or on punishment watches." Arten
folded his arms. "You have to behave yourself."

"I always behave myself," the brownrider protested, conveniently
choosing to forget a few interesting incidents over the past month. "But
just for you, I'll make an extra special effort. I'll be the paragon of
solid, steady brownriders. People will say, 'There goes L'keri, the most
disciplined man in the Weyr', and they'll point me out for their
children to aspire to."

"No need to go that far. Just a little more dignity?"

Finally, L'keri could share a grin with his son. "I'll see what I can do."

Last updated on the November 9th 2024

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Behave Yourself