Difference between revisions of "Logs:The Right Choice"

It's well past the dinner, but there's been no sign of most of Savannah for most of the day. It's only towards the late evening that they begin to appear, one by one, some dropping by the ledge shared by Leiventh and Saindyth, others heading straight for their own. The bronze in question is only lately arrived, himself, taking up his perch on the rim. Inside the weyr, R'hin's half is cool and mostly dark, apparently not having bothered to stoke up the hearth yet against the autumn chill that's starting to creep into the evenings. He's settled on the couch, mostly still dressed in full leathers, head back. Not sleeping, so much as staring.

It is perhaps unusual that the former scribe has waited until the occupants of the weyr have returned to show up on the ledge. Her bag is clicking and clinking as she strides purposefully through the door without a knock or waiting for an invitation. She eyes the rider on the couch wordlessly, and glances at the rug, giving it a brief inspection before setting the bag down on it. It's a few minutes, and a few logs thrown into the hearth, coaxed into the beginnings of a fire. The bag's contents emptied one by one; the bottles far from her usual fare as she lines them up before the fire. "If you hadn't heard, it is my regret to inform you that Gretvyn of Esvay hold passed two days ago, the funeral was over on the same day. I would have informed you sooner - but it seems you are a busy man." She explains without any particular tone in the words.

Despite the entrance of another visitor, R'hin's head doesn't stir to see who has arrived. Perhaps he recognizes the footsteps, or Leiventh learnt from her lift who was visiting. It's only when she mentions Gretvyn that his head lifts, pale eyes almost indistinguishable in the low light. "I hadn't," he says, after a pause. "I'm sorry." His gaze, inevitably, is drawn to the items she brings out an arranges, with curiousity, but soon returns to Edyis, no doubt taking in her mood. "You didn't stay." It's a statement, and yet it has an air of lilting question to it.

"I'm not as kind as she was. I don't forgive as easily." There is perhaps more to the answer, but instead she rises to find a pair of glasses before settling back down and opening the first in the row of bottles. Pouring something amber colored in the firelight into one of them and tossing it back, then wiping her mouth on her sleeve, watching the flames silently. "Cron rushed the funeral; livestock went missing, and the raiders hit some of the smaller cot holds deeper in the valley. Or at least that was his claim."

"That's why I thought you'd stay," R'hin counters, with a hint of his usual jocularity, though he definitely gives the sense of being a shade more gentle than normal. Standing while she goes for the glasses, he unzips his flight jacket, lying it over the arm of the couch, before he moves to settles on the rug, on the opposite side of that row of bottles. "I'd've liked to have been there," he says, after a long pause, before his brow furrows. "Do you believe him?" About the raiders.

"Yes I'm sure Greta, Gerta, and Giorgee would have felt the same." She adds, pouring another glass for herself, pausing a moment and filling the extra. "I thought about it, but it was made fairly clear that I was - unwelcome. Though if you need, there's a few of the smaller holds I could visit for a while." She roll of her shoulder. "Doesn't matter anymore if it is the truth or not anymore. I liberated the ledgers, and the ones he kept his debts in before I left. I figure Rh'mis will find a way to put them to use."

He's frowning, silent for a moment. "I wouldn't make you do that," R'hin says with an alacrity that rings true. He reaches for the second glass, though doesn't pour any wine for it. That frown might well deepen as she mentions Rh'mis. "What do you want for Esvay, Edyis? What did Gretvyn want?"

A swallow of more of that amber liquid and she's glancing aside at him, with a smirk. "Have you ever made me do anything?" A touch of that mischievous grin spreading across her lips. "What she would have wanted won't ever happen. What Esvay needs..." She downs the glass again, her dark eyes turning to the fire. "Esvay needs someone to step in who has the interests of the valley at heart. Besides, you were the one who told me there were more ways to punish a man than violence were you not?"

"Yes," R'hin says, after a measured beat. "But punishing Cron means punishing Esvay, too. Is it worth it?" Pale gaze is fixed on Edyis, wanting to see her non verbal response as much as the verbal.

She shook her head at that. "No, to punish Esvay would be to leave someone so wholly incompetent and out of touch with the valley in control. Gretvyn's gone, if she were still around I would feel different maybe, but she is gone, and I can't take over the hold myself, so what options do I have left?"

R'hin doesn't hesitate, as if he had the answer ready: "Petition Lady Tevrane directly. If one of her holds are being mismanaged, she'd want to know, and I'm sure she'll quickly take steps to rectify it. You risk your family losing control of the hold, though -- given your sisters are apprenticed away, you'd be the only other one to potentially run the hold--" his hands spread, as if to suggest such an outcome would be inevitable. "--Tevrane might choose to use it to reward a family member of her own, perhaps, given how her own ascent came about. But if your goal is to save Esvay, it's the wisest move."

"I'm not the person Esvay needs anymore R'hin; world is too big and there's so much more beyond those barren halls. Maybe once I was that person... but now?" She frowns, "Family stopped counting when Cron decided he could pick and choose." The cup is drained, and a narrowed glance is thrown in his direction. "What happened to the guy who suggested I learn how to deceive from a master, and encouraged me to learn lockpicking and fighting?" She snorts almost in disbelief. "Now you think I should take up a hold and get settled down? Wouldn't it be better to find the person Esvay actually needs?"

"I think you're completely overskilled to run a hold," R'hin says, with his familiar amusement. "But it's your life. Sometimes, in life, we feel obligated to our brethren to take up their cause, even if it is not our cause." He does, though, exhale a breath at her last words, almost in relief, leaning forward to touch a hand to her arm. "Spend a day detailing what you know, and what you suspect. When you're ready, I can take you to seek an audience with Tevrane."

She snorts, and it ripples into genuine laughter. "You just enjoy the chaos I think." She seems to decide. "You won't let me do this from the shadows will you." She says after a beat or two, glancing back brow furrowed. "You won't let me allow him to think that it was all his own fault or that the blame lies with him if Esvay passes out of his hands. You would have me take responsibility for it. Why?"

R'hin doesn't deny it, but he doesn't linger on the point, either. "Because sometimes the right choice means not doing it our way. What we do is useful, but it supports, it doesn't always replace direct action. Iceberg and Alpine being seen in Nabol much more to help with the issues in Nabol than us listening and reporting rumors that might or might not pan out. Cron," he hesitates a moment. "He'll find his punishment in being left with nothing. He's not a man who will ever take or acknowledge responsibility for what will happen, and it'd be a waste of your time and energy to try. Some people never change." As for the last, it comes with a smile: "It's a good lesson." Perhaps that really is the only reason.

"Alpine's good folks, but I'd feel alot more comfortable with Y'rel and H'kon over Nabol than H'vier." She states with a touch of disgust. "He's brash and doesn't think with the head on his shoulders. If his riders are any indication, they only think in terms of the weyr." She comments with a frown. "And they have the whole Rone thing to their credit."

R'hin waves his hand, as if the politics of which wing matter little. "K'del's choice," he says, of the wings assigned. He pushes to his feet, "I'll grab you something to start to make notes on. You should make it as coherent and concise as possible -- it'll lend weight to your position." He's always walking towards the table, rummaging around -- turning up the glows in the process.

There's something of a derisive snort for that. She leans over and pulls a leather-wrapped notebook from her bag tossing it onto the floor in R'hin's direction. "You know, I'm starting to think you have completely forgotten who you are dealing with. Why put in all the effort to snatch me away from Jeroman if you weren't aware of the skills he ingrained into me?" The tone however is far more playful, as she collects the open bottle and re-stoppers it. "Give me some time though, to get my head straight." pulling to her feet.

"Didn't think you carried it around with you everywhere," R'hin says, in his defense, with a lift of hands as if conceding the point. He gestures towards the desk, as if inviting for her to take possession of it if she wants, while he crosses back to the hearth to begin stoking it, then moving to put his jacket back -- moving about the weyr and yet leaving the former scribe to her own devices.