Difference between revisions of "Logs:The Time for Hypotheticals Has Passed"

Healer Hall, Fort Area

Patterned after its Harper neighbor, the Healer quadrangle is a couple of centuries newer and the cut of its stone is noticeably different, as is the tiling on the roof, which is brown instead of orange. Most of the windows on the second floor are paned with clear glass, set back on deep sills from where the heavy bronze shutters cling to the walls. The west-facing front wing of the building is set with a gate that guards the archway into the courtyard and a gatekeeper often sits on duty just outside on a chair. Within the courtyard itself, wrought iron benches are scattered strategically along the walls, right beside the doors that grant access to each wing. Usually quiet but for the hum of apprentice conversation and the clatter of feet on the flagstone paved ground, the hall is a fairly restful place for those who have come for specialized treatment.

Just outside Healer Hall, sandwiched between its southern wing and the northern wing of the Harper Hall, a series of gardens serving culinary, medicinal and decorative purposes are bordered by the cliff wall to the east and open meadow to the west. The hold road travels northward to the hold itself and eventually to Ruatha and the Reaches and in the opposite direction far south to Southern Boll and the Weaver craft.

It's been just over two months since Ienavi's son was born, and in that time K'zin has been called on a couple times to transport Euan - or other members of the family - to the lady's side. None of the visits have been long, and there's been no suggestion of any of them staying on with her; indeed, though K'zin has not been invited further than the courtyard of Healer Hall at any time, it may have been difficult to escape the fact that there are tensions, even if the specifics are more difficult to discern. It's a near-perfect autumn afternoon, now, and it's Euan mounted behind the bronzerider as they arrive at the Hall. Instead of unbuckling and departing, the Greenfields bastard hesitates. "She wants to meet you," he says, abruptly. "Today."

K'zin has made himself available to the Greenfields Holders as often as duty has allowed. There's even been times when he's made trade in favors with wingmates to become available when they've requested he come. He's always friendly enough, casual, but not overly chatty most times. By now, the routine is familiar, the pick-up, the delivery, the waiting and the return. Now, however, Euan's words are diverting from the traditional path of these visits. K'zin starts to twist toward the bastard, but the straps are confining. "As the lady wishes," He answer simply without turning. Whatever else he might planned to have done in the time he waited is not more important than this opportunity. "Shall I accompany you or await her pleasure here?" It's a simple enough question to ask even as he starts unbuckling.

The bronzerider's helpfulness has not gone unnoticed: Lady Linuore and her husband have been effusive in their thanks (though usually before the visits to their daughter; they're generally more restrained, afterwards), and even Euan has seemed approving. The clink of buckles precedes any answer to K'zin's question, and then the exhale-through-teeth that so often indicates reluctance or disapproval. "You'd better come in with me," he says. "It will save some hassle, later. Come on. Look smart." He dismounts, smoothing his hands down his trousers to remove invisible creases.

"Never managed well with that." Looking smart. His voice holds some humor. Even so, K'zin neatly slides out of the straps and follows his passenger to the ground. He even glances briefly to his lifemate and makes a small adjustment to just how his jacket sits after shoving helmet, goggles and gloves into a satchel on the straps. Rasavyth vacates the courtyard as soon as the men are enough steps away, K'zin following Euan's lead.

There's no reply from Euan, but then, he's distracted: staring at the main doors that lead into the Hall, staring away. And yet, it's not in the direction of those doors that he leads the bronzerider; instead, he makes his way down the path that leads to the herb garden, where a collection of Apprentices are hard at work, harvesting, under the watchful gaze of their superiors. There's a bench in the garden, and it's there that the Lady Ienavi - if indeed she can still be titled that, given givens - rests. Two men, obviously guards, flank the bench, while a young woman sits uncomfortably beside the lady, cradling what must be the young heir. "Euan." Her voice is low and clear, self-possessed and cultured - genuinely affectionate. And then: "Good. You brought him."

Watchful brown eyes follow Euan's look toward the main doors, and his expression registers thoughtfulness briefly though not real confusion. He follows in silence, eyes taking in the now familiar, if not overly so, herb garden in which he's whiled away some of his waiting time at the Hall. K'zin keeps his expression polite, remaining a respectful pair of steps behind the Greenfields bastard. He dips his head in respectful greeting, but he doesn't interrupt these first greetings and exchanges.

The affection Ienavi feels for her sibling is obviously returned in full: Euan grasps her hand, the look on his face indicating he'd probably like to be more effusive, but is restraining that urge given their present location and company. A few quiet words later, however, and he seems very unimpressed indeed. "Iena-- please." Her reply carries further, that calm voice allowing no opposition. "Lala, lord Euan is going to escort you and Lord Eustan upstairs. It's time for his nap. Brinkler, you'll accompany them." Euan's expression is pained, but with the girl standing up, and one of the guards detaching himself to follow, what choice does he have? It's only once they begin to move away that Ienavi turns her attention on K'zin. "So," she says. "You have come to our aid, I believe, Bronzerider K'zin, rider of Rasavyth, of High Reaches' Taiga Wing."

K'zin makes use of the expression developed for dragonpoker, and Quinlys would be proud of the way he stands at attention, as though he weren't waiting, and waiting. He acts more than his age (of this, Rasavyth can be proud). He betrays nothing of his thoughts on Euan's being directed to depart along with the girl, babe, and guard. He doesn't draw too near Ienavi, even once she's spoken, just enough paces nearer that they won't have to have everyone hear their conversation. "I've endeavored to do so, Lady Ienavi. Today's a little different than most," He observes, "How may I aid you today?"

Ienavi indicates the space on the bench alongside her with one fine-boned hand, then returns it to her lap, where it rests with the other. For a woman with a newborn, she looks very well put together - but then, she does seem to have plenty of help, despite her altered circumstances. "I dislike being unable to put a face to a name, Bronzerider," she explains. "Especially when the owner of that name has been of assistance to me and mine. I would have had Euan bring you to me sooner, but the timing was inappropriate. Tell me, Bronzerider, what you know of the present situation at my son's Hold."

Once invited, K'zin steps to the bench and settles neatly. He clearly doesn't have the same breeding or background afforded the Lady, but he must have taken something from his Silver Threads lessons. Perhaps not enough, though, since he leads with a very candid, "Well, your step-grandson ex-fiance is doing a number on your son's people." The bronzerider waits a beat to see if he'll be immediately restrained by the guard for his blunt tongue, then continues: "They say it will be a lean winter at best. Rone is taking his army of conscripts and burning the crops of those who won't cooperate. The Weyr doesn't expect a tithe from them this turn, refugees are flooding in, not only to the Weyr but to Tillek, too. Some bring food, others just bring themselves. Some leave with genuine cause, others have come simply out of fear of genuine cause. Tevrane is in hiding, last I heard. I don't know that any of the rest of the family's been of much use, too. And, of course, you'll have heard that Huelet passed away." So there's the rundown.

If anything, Ienavi seems amused by K'zin's candor: her lips part ever so slightly, the faint ghost of a smile. Her guard stiffens, but when she doesn't seem bothered, he makes no further movement. Such amusement is not, however, destined to linger for long. The lady's mouth tightens as the bronzerider continues, and though none of it can, surely, be a surprise. "My late husband would be aggrieved by these events," she says, at the end of it all. "But not, I think, surprised. He had good reason for desiring my son as his heir. Lord Ustelan's children grew to adulthood and beyond in lives of idleness and luxury. They raised their children so. Rone and his ilk crave power, but they have no grounding - no foundation to secure it. I would raise my son differently."

If K'zin has doubts about how deep and true the relationship between the much younger Ienavi and the elderly Ustelan, they don't show on his face at her words. "It does seem that we have a mutual-" He pauses only momentarily before saying, "-friend," With a straight face! "Who feels more than just the Hold would benefit from seeing your son's claim legitimized." He moves a hand casually up to brush through his dark hair. "What, I wonder, could one do to help that end, if one were a mind to do so being short on both influence and status? A simple wingrider, if my lady will entertain the hypothetical." Because that's all it is, clearly.

Ienavi is too strong a player in this game of thrones to miss K'zin's hesitation, surely, but she too is well practiced at that ancient art of the poker face, and shows no visible response. "The time has come, I think, to do away with hypotheticals," she announces. "The present situation cannot go on. You cannot continue to accept refugees from my home, I think, not without our tithes to see you through the winter. We cannot afford to be seen in such a state of disarray. Winter is," coming, but no, she won't actually say that, "nearly here, and that will make matters more difficult - but it will stop the refugees, I think. In the meantime, I need to be seen."

The young bronzerider listens, a look of quiet focus on his face. There's no visible responses, no cues to be taken from his look. That leaves only his spoken words to reveal anything, and they are few. "Is there something you would have me do, Lady Ienavi?" Direct, but quiet K'zin poses this question, if hypotheticals aren't to be entertained.

K'zin's directness earns a careful incline of Ienavi's head. "I am given to understand that you have some means of communication with goldrider Aishani. I wonder... would you be in a position to beg an audience of your Weyrwoman, too? Your Weyrleader? I would like the Weyr's support. In exchange, I will promise Nabol's allegiance, when I succeed: a strong relationship, prosperity for all. I would have you take that proposal to them. I acknowledge that it is not without risks, for the Weyr. Perhaps you might present it, first, to Aishani. I would be interested in any suggestions she has... if she believes it would be best for the Weyr to stay outside matters; if I might receive unofficial assistance, instead."

"One advantage of dragonmen is that we always have means of getting word to one another." Albeit some dragons are more reliable than others. K'zin offers this as initial response as he considers. "I can make you no promises, Lady Ienavi, but to promise I'll take it to goldrider Aishani." He pauses, "I may have opportunity to bring it to the Weyrwoman. But if I do, it would serve to have more details on your plan. Nothing you wouldn't want known to her, but perhaps even just what you'd want to see happen with the refugees and the tithes for winter." He acknowledges with a slight incline of his head all of the givens - given that she has limited information, given that she might not wish to share these details with him. "It may be difficult for the Weyrwoman to meet with you without earning political reprisal." Not that the Weyr's exactly reaping benefits from Rone's would-be leadership of Nabol.

"If she would prefer for us to meet through intermediaries, that would be acceptable," answers Ienavi. "Or if she would be willing to provide unofficial support. It would be better if I were not seen to be meeting with her, if she is not willing to be publicly supportive, of course." The dark haired lady hesitates, evidently giving some consideration to her next words. She stares out over the herb garden, the apprentices at work. Evidently, they're relatively used to her presence, by now - or they're very well-disciplined. "I have some connections within the other Holds. It's possible that I could make some arrangements to assist the Weyr in carrying this burden. I would certainly do my best to do so. A peaceful, settled Nabol is in their best interests, too. I would be concerned about Rone's militia if it existed near my borders... wouldn't you be?"

"Oh, very." To K'zin, this isn't really a question that needs consideration. Armies are bad. Especially when they're burning what could be his dinner. "What kind of support would you be seeking, if not public?" This is certainly a question he will be asked, "Or would you prefer to get into that only with her designated proxy, if she's unable to meet with you directly?" There's a pause, "It's... notable that my experience with the Weyrwoman is that she prefers to deal with things directly, and aboveboard, whenever possible. I know it would be best for everyone to have details to a minimum at this early stage of discussions, but the more information you can provide me, the better I can attempt to persuade her toward less direct methods."

Ienavi's dark gaze continues to focus upon the apprentices rather than on K'zin; to an observer, this might seem a very casual conversation indeed. "I don't necessarily need the Weyr to come out and publicly inform the world that they support my son's claim," she explains, after a moment of contemplation. "Although having an ally like that would be advantageous. What is vital, however is transport - an escort. I'm not opposed to them being considered 'renegade' riders, individuals who choose to work with me without the support of their Weyr. I need to be seen, but I also need to be safe. Were the Weyr able to provide me with that, officially or unofficially, I would be forever grateful."

While K'zin's expression has remained fairly focused throughout, it can be easily chalked up to a once-apprentice now-rider meeting with a real live Lady, and trying to remember all his manners. Otherwise, he doesn't betray anything of the gravity of the conversation taking place. Her words lead to another fair question, "What is Rone capable of that you would wish us to protect you from?"

Now, finally, Ienavi's head turns so that she can look at K'zin - really look at him. "Had I stayed at Nabol," she tells him, simply, "I would be dead now. As dead as Journeyman Lunmein is - as dead as my late husband. And so would my son. I have known Rone since I was younger than you are, Bronzerider, and I know what he is capable of."

K'zin's nod is simple and he meets her eyes without any dissembling, "I meant, simply, Lady Ienavi, should we be vigilant for squads of assassins or will you want us to taste test your food since the rumors say Ustelan's death was poison?"

"What? No." Ienavi is firm, and though not ruffled, certainly inclined to find distaste in such a suggestion. It takes her several more seconds to open her mouth again, and by then she's glanced away. "Lord Ustelan was an old man - a very old man. I would be more interested in knowing how his son died. No, I do not fear poison. I fear a stray knife, yes. I fear kidnapping and torture. I fear my son being left an orphan."

K'zin's aim was not to ruffle and it is therefore not now to placate. His reply is easy, "When rumors are running as rampant as imaginations, perhaps you can understand my asking, so when I am asked what will be expected of this transport in the way of protection..." He lets that hang. "I will communicate your wishes to Aishani, and to the Weyrwoman if the opportunity can be created." Another push through his hair comes as he lets his eyes rove over the apprentices. "Is there any other service I can provide today? Aside from conveying lord Euan home."

"Of course," says Ienavi, quickly. "I understand. I would not wish there to be any misunderstandings with regards to the services I am requesting." She rises, abruptly, turning her body so that she might face K'zin directly. "Thank you. Please do convey to both that I will respect any thoughts they may have on this subject; it is not my intention to place anyone in a difficult situation. I regret, very much, the troubles already imposed upon your home. Would you escort me back to my quarters, Bronzerider? You may then rendezvous with my brother, and escort him home."

"I'll be sure that's clear. Discretion is always the better part of wisdom." It's an old sentiment, but one the bronzerider seems to speak sincerely. The man rises, chivalrously offering the woman his arm. "It would be my honour to escort you, Lady Ienavi. And it's K'zin, if it pleases you." There's a faint trace of a smile, "Though some of my friends still call me Waki." He slurs the name purposefully to be half way between the true pronunciation and the more comedic one. "Perhaps if, through all of this, we're in repeated contact, you'll come to see why." Can he get her to smile? He does like to make pretty women smile.

Alas, Ienavi is not an easy woman to win over, and though she graciously takes K'zin's arm, her expression shows little sign of appreciating the joke. On the other hand, she doesn't seem offended. "Perhaps," she says, neutrally, as her guard falls in line behind them, and she begins to lead the way - so much for needing an escort! - back to her quarters.