The morning after the unexpected pirate shindig, early if not necessarily bright, Avalanche gets the word: today it's afternoon drills, not morning drills, and they're to clear their schedule. For H'kon and Arekoth, though, Balreth's summons is more private and also not to be delayed. They know where Balreth's ledge is. They are to meet there after they, or at least H'kon, has breakfasted. They can, the green implies, guess why. There is, at this time, no sense from her of trouble.
It must have been a short breakfast. H'kon and Arekoth aren't so long as all that in arriving. H'kon was probably up and halfway through. He's been attending drills faithfully, at least. It's a quick thing, thereafter, of Arekoth's dropping to the bowl to collect his rider, and beating for only so much altitude as Balreth's ledge requires. The landing is as notably thrifty as the flight, and it takes the brown half his usual time to settle his wings to his back once his rider has dismounted.
Balreth watches this with interest enough to make it clear that she's not just a bump on a ledge, but the muscular green is as laconic as ever. There's the entrance to the weyr. He's been there. It's not hard. Inside, partly open to the wallow, her and Sisha's place is the same as it always is: a good-sized outer room, large enough for the entire wing to crowd in at once, small enough to keep those meetings to a minimum. At the moment it's just her and now H'kon, and the older rider has already poured a second mug of what she says is, "Cider, if you want some. Under the circumstances, it had to be apple." She smiles with a touch of warmth. "How are you, H'kon? Did Arekoth encounter anything you didn't see fit to tell the dragonhealers?"
H'kon's way in is practiced enough, as is the formal salute, tempered by the slightly less formal appellation of just, "Sisha." Title dropped, that's how long they've been flying together. H'kon dutifully accepts the mug, with a quick nod of his head and reach of his hand. There's still that faint smell of smoke and salt about him, still a cowlick in his hair, though it seems he'd at least tried to deal with the latter, but the man is alert, looking almost refreshed. "No complaints from him. Nor did I sense anything he'd try to keep quiet. We're well."
It's a salute that's returned, as usual. "Good." Sisha sits back into her chair, though her spine stays erect, her feet flat on the floor. "Tell me about it, if you please. Pretend I haven't heard a word from anyone else." Most of the time, for sweep reports, she requires summaries where only what's different from the norm is highlighted. There are exceptions, and this is one of them, beyond that it's not a sweep at all.
"As you will," H'kon nods. He stays standing, stays alert and at attention, though it's slightly spoiled by the mug of cider he has to hold before himself. A moment of looking up at nothing but the thoughts he's gathering, and then he's off. "The declaration of the new Lord Holder was cut short by the drum towers, carrying a message of a ship in distress. Arekoth and I were among the more senior riders there, amid a good many weyrlings. We were dispatched to find and assess the event. We did this. We found two ships, one trader, one... pirate," though the word makes him frown. "The trader vessel was sinking, an explosion. The dragons destroyed the pirate sails. Rescue was provided for all who could be found." In all this, each sentence, each topic, is marked off with an abrupt nod. "Arekoth and I worked largely to help coordinate, and offer what expertise, if any, my upbringing had provided. Most of the groundwork was accomplished by the weyrlings. Glacier was called in to deal with the other vessel." A moment after that, searching eyes, and then he nods, this time with finality.
The brownrider has all of his wingleader's attention. She asks for elaboration of certain elements, including the other senior riders, the destruction of the sails, the results of the rescue, and particularly what coordination and expertise was required of him. Glacier's involvement, too. But also, "Was the message simple enough that you could understand it directly in its entirety, do you think?"
H'kon grew up a fisherman's son, grew to be a man at Tillek before he was brought to the Weyr. There's some mention of what he anticipated by the listing of the ship, where he and Arekoth sent rescuers in accordance, and also their caution to ensure any would-be escapees from fiery sails were pulled out of the water - so much as to be taken as because, in a crisis at sea, "nothing should matter but the safety of all." Those closer to him might hear his father creeping into his voice, but Sisha... maybe not. "I am not certain how the new Lord Holder and Glacier dealt with those pirates they'd taken," is admitted at the end." It makes him frown. "Our part was done, we were... dismissed." And as to those drums? The brownrider shakes his head, but, will allow that he, "had no reason, from what I could hear, that they were wrongly interpretted." And what he and Arekoth found certainly supports the claim. And that P'ken's Haibroth relayed the message quite instantly, he should think straight from the watchrider.
Sisha continues with her cider, not hurrying him as he speaks, though she does follow up here and there. Her questions aren't leading, but rather open-ended, designed to help her get as much from him as they can. It may be a signal that the wingleader thinks they have gained most of what they can when she finally moves to speculation. "It might serve," she says, "to find an amenable teacher for drum sign, although situations like these are supposed to happen rarely. Tell me, H'kon. Did you notice anyone who seemed unsurprised?"
"It might. More so when the Weyr must be closer to the hold; Interval." Green eyes are closed for her final question to him, though, that frown gone pensive as he attempts to reconstruct what he can. Riders are, after all, trained to remember visual details, are they not? And when he's opened his eyes again, H'kon's frown is back to just being a frown. "Iesaryth," is offered quietly, "counselled caution rather than rescue at first. It was Hraedhyth calling for action." Almost apologetic is, "Arekoth preferred her take on the matter. There were some riders who did not rush so quickly... but even I had Arekoth hold a moment, until the initial panic had settled."
"That does seem characteristic of them, doesn't it," Sisha posits. "No doubt he chafed at the bit, too, and it's good that you waited that moment yet not too long. You know my thoughts on coordination... as well as on spinning our wheels." She refills her mug, sips from it slowly. "Here, action was warranted, and it seems that even with weyrlings involved, riders were able to act more or less in concert. Now give me the other side of the mark, H'kon, if you can. Two instances in which caution for more than just crashes, for more than just avoiding panic might have been deserved."
He's been almost a fountain of words up until this point; now, H'kon's run dry. "Two instances," and a cautious, "ma'am?" even creeps in at the end of his query. "It seems to me that only so much time as was taken was required. There was a weyrlingmaster who held back with those weyrlings who did not assist in the rescue..." And it's only belatedly that he looks down to his mug of cider, though for the moment it seems more useful as a recipient of the Face than as drink. "Fire to the sails may have been a bit of an over-reaction, but on the whole, I believe the Weyr acquitted itself well enough, for what I saw of the event." Not getting it.
"I'm glad to hear of that. The last thing we need, nearly the last thing we need," here Sisha laughs. "Weyrlings getting themselves into trouble, at a Hold, no less. Since Glacier seems to have gotten the correct vessel, that's the main thing. No, H'kon, what I mean is this. One instance where caution would have been warranted: a trap of some kind that awaited the dragons, a seemingly helpless ship left as a lure only to damage those who arrived once they got into range. The grappling hooks you mentioned earlier, those could have been employed, along with other distance weapons, slingshots perhaps. I've heard of such, they might even have been used there, miniature oil lamps within extra fragile glass. Given such a reception, we would be advised to be very careful indeed. Try to name me another such possibility. Take what time you need." Such extreme possibilities are never what Sisha talks about with the wing generally, not with him. This is the first, and her demeanor is for the most part calm. She isn't out to scare him. It's something else.
« We were sent ahead, » is proud insistence from a brown who has otherwise, but for the occasional comment or explosive noise (for effect) kept quiet and contented himself to listen to the tales of his glory. H'kon does not voice as much, though there's a neatly timed twitch at the corner of his mouth for Sisha's initial elaboration. The mug is clasped more tightly, lowered faintly, and still hasn't known the touch of his lips. (Unrequited.) "Hypothetical," H'kon summarises with another of those nods at which he's so practiced. He thinks, closes his eyes to envision, and finally looks faintly ill. "I suppose, in days such as these, there is possibility of.. diversion for some purpose? A means of dividing the riders. We well know dragons can hold secrets from one another, though to what purpose that might be- I suppose there could be many." Still looking uncomfortable.
« Of course you were. » Amused, and also there's an element of of course: he is who he is, and Avalanche to boot. Which reminds Sisha and Balreth both, « Show us what you saw, Arekoth. More than just the exciting bits! » "Yes," Sisha says, conditionally. She holds up one finger in lieu of immediately elaborating, saying instead, "You would not wish Arekoth to spill all your secrets to other dragons, would you, more than he does already. Which is not to say that what those queens did was on the same scale."
Arekoth has told this so many times over that what he saw might be a bit more epic in the remembering than it was in the experiencing - but the brown does at least tell it as he believes it happens, whatever good that might now do them. The sudden flow of images from his dragon is a strange enough occurrence to give H'kon pause and have him look, if only by way of a quick glance, out to the ledge. When he turns back to Sisha, it's to shake his head. "It is not a matter of scale at all. It is a matter of nature."
"We may discuss that later." It is a conditional. « Thank you, Arekoth. » They will do something with the information, epic or otherwise. Sisha says, "You spoke of diversion. Imagine what might have happened if there had been armed men and, yes, women in the crowd, set to take advantage of dragons' possibly very real distraction. Not that dragons could stop them from taking hostages at any distance, but they might be able to stop them from moving their prizes away."
"They might well," H'kon is willing to agree. But between the shelving of his protest, and the trail of words, of which he cannot see the destination, the brownrider is beginning to show signs, however minute, of frustration. It's the tightness of his lips when he's not speaking, the slight pulling back of his shoulders, force of muscle rather than posture. "But this is not reason to advocate inaction."
Sisha's been wingleader enough, has known him enough, to see those signs and yet not relent. "I believe you have advocated inaction in the past," she mentions. "Do you regret our actions over Tillek, or rather our inactions not over Tillek? Caution does not equate to inaction, escept when we read into it that way. It's a matter of where we use it."
H'kon can also see the signs in himself; it's what makes him take a careful breath, roll his shoulders back as if to bring them into a normal position, though he holds them there with a careful tension still in his frame. His voice is quieter, words steady, when he offers an almost gentle insistence of, "That, too, is a matter different in its very nature."
Sisha recognizes that with a slight nod that is not so very different, in its implication, from a salute. She may expect it of him, but still she can recognize it. What might be further reward: "What would you say to me now, H'kon? Ideally, that you have not already. Also, sit."
H'kon sits first, in a chair more or less opposite Sisha's. That part is simple, straightforward, clear. "That is a difficult question, when I am not certain what I've said to you to this point." There's another moment taken in pursuit of calm. He still doesn't drink any of that cider. "I do not make decisions at random. If there is an issue you are attempting to raise," and though he catches himself, his eyes do at least begin to scan the empty room, the private meeting, "I've yet to understand what it is."
"If it's pushing at you to get out, I suppose I can stand some repetition," Sisha says. "Beyond that, I am not at this time, attempting to raise an issue. There is one that I will, before you go, but it can wait."
H'kon shakes his head. "If I've answered what you've required, then no." A hand that would have been held out to her, an invitational sort of gesture, turns out to have a mug in it. He gives it a quick look, but otherwise doesn't change his overall posture, sitting, alert still, in that chair. "Whatever it is you would speak."
"Why don't you sip," Sisha doesn't quite ask, doesn't quite order, doesn't quite say. "I plan to appoint a wingsecond. I wish it could be you, H'kon, given your actions at the Hold among other instances. I have other requirements, however... and you, I think, have other needs."
That isn't received with any obvious ambition; the tilt of H'kon's head is more curious than anything, the slight click of his teeth when they come together maybe deliberative. And he does, at length, take a sip of that cider, and offer a polite, "Mm," more hum than anything, to suggest it's a pleasing thing. "Then this was a means of seeing if I fit those requirements of yours," is almost a question, though there's satisfaction at having figured it out just waiting at the borders of his voice. "I'd not change the actions I've carried out - how I will carry out future actions - for rank, Sisha."
"No. I had already decided." Avalanche's wingleader is plain about that. It's Sisha who smiles, but when she speaks she's resumed a briefly more humorous tone of that from before. "I think you would be offended if I offered, which I would not in any case. No, we're taking Kieri from Icicle. She and F'der have already agreed." Icicle's wingsecond, and he just might have heard of Sisha's having seconded that wing too in her time.
"Ah," has none of the understanding that such a sound often conveys, though there's at least some sort of acceptance - acknowledgement, maybe - in that one syllable. H'kon lifts up his mug, takes another sip, and this time feels no need to make comment on the contents. All throughout, his eyes are on Sisha, but he doesn't press her for more. Just stays attentive and alert, much the attitude he'd carried in at the beginning. Have his shoulders eased somewhat?
Perhaps that's part of why she'd chosen another. Sisha doesn't seek to re-explain. Rather, she asks plainly, "Do you want to stay in Avalanche? I know your opinions. I know Arekoth's will to action. I would offer to recommend you elsewhere, if that is your choice, but... I expect that most wingleaders feel they know you well enough already."
"I've not meant to give you the impression that I'd be elsewhere." The darkness in that tone might be concern. It might be consideration. "It is not you, nor the wing, I've meant to sit away from." Though that troubles him on further thought, for all the thought isn't given voice. "Though if you require more of your riders... As I've said. Avalanche is yours. Do as you think best. That, I understand." And he nods. The mug stays stationary once more.
Sisha acknowledges what he's not meant with a nod. "I do plan to." Do what she thinks best. It's a touch brusque, though without the 'so glad you agree' with which she might have met someone else's saying so. It's not personal, that way. "Avalanche may not necessarily always go the way you might wish. Sometimes, yes, but I need more freedom than just to fall in behind certain others." She sips. "Some people put their will above the wing's from what they see as principle, while others claim principle for what they simply wish to do. You may have noticed J'denak." And what happened to him. "You may do well to approach your... friends? Allies? The other men, to see whether there is a place that's more immediately compatible."
And that, H'kon receives with a nod. "As you'd have it." From another, it might be icy. For him, it's just matter-of-fact. "Though," and the grip on his mug is shifted slightly, "I would have you know this is little to do with my will. And less to do with Taikrin's being a woman." A final swig of that cider, and he seems ready to stand - though catches himself short of doing so. "My eyes are on the Weyr. Or, what is recognisable of it still."
"I hear your words." Does she believe them? Sisha doesn't call that into question. She keeps looking at at him. "Believe that my eyes are on High Reaches as well. I haven't looked away for well on forty Turns, and I won't now." She sets down her mug. "Do you have more to contribute this morning, H'kon? If not, I'll see you for drills." Him, and Kieri, and the others.
"This afternoon, then," H'kon agrees. And once formally dismissed, he'll go to Arekoth, and both will be characteristic in their punctuality and enthusiasm (almost respectively) for the exercises with the wing that has been theirs for so long.
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