Difference between revisions of "Logs:Slippery Slope"

"Some things are not for public consumption," K'del had said just before his anger had him striding away. Public consumption. K'zin was just another one of them to K'del. This realization struck like a punch to the gut. All he saw was red in the moments that followed K'del's exit, his own swift to follow. He remembered nothing but red until he was back in his weyr, back in the half-finished training room, with it's suspended punching bag. It was the bag that received his rage, thoughts only semi-coherent.

Two fathers down. Who needs a sharding father anyway. All the do is keep secrets and disappoint.

Slam.

Some things are not for public consumption. What kind of bullshit answer is that anyway? Secrets are for those with something to hide.

« Secrets are power. Cadejoth's K'del was in power once. » And hopes to be again, the ooze intimates, but does not say.

Slam.

Secrets are stupid!

« A childish notion. »

Slam. K'zin moves to still the bag.

What, then?

« Secrets are a necessity. Secrets are control. Some secrets protect, some harm, and some serve no purpose at all. Think of your turnday, K'zin. »

SLAM.

« Yes, yes, I know. » The tenor soothes softly the spike of rage that thought produced. « Why do you keep it? »

To protect myself.

« And what will happen when it is know, as it doubtlessly already is? »

I'll have to explain something that's none of her business.

Slam.

« And it would be better had that secret been kept, would it not? »

Yes.

« Perhaps some of the secrets and confidences Cadejoth's K'del should be kept, for the same reason, so he does not have to explain something that is none of our business. »

Slam.

I don't care about his shit. A lie.

« You do. But that isn't the point you were making, now was it, my K'zin. » He knows it wasn't.

I wasn't asking about his shit. Just the Weyr's shit.

« Yes. And he would not tell you. He asked, » The memory is pulled, and played back in vivid color: "Are you really that naive?" He doesn't pause for an answer. "Do you honestly believe that it's necessary for people to know everything that goes on in this Weyr? Do you honestly believe that it is in everyone's best interest to know the ins and outs of things that are not relevant to their daily lives?" He slams back the rest of his second whisky and shoves the glass away, almost violently. "If people know everything, every detail, then there would be more people rushing out to to solve things themselves, without understanding the intricacies involved. There's a reason we have leaders. And if you can't grasp that, then there's really no point in having this conversation."

SLAM.

I'm not. He's wrong. People don't need to know everything that goes on, but they shouldn't be ignorant of history that matters, now. There's a Lord in power who might be a murderer and no one is giving two shits about finding out if that's even true before it makes things worse for everyone. How do you act if you don't have the facts? And why should knowledge be denied to those who seek it? Everyone doesn't need to know everything, but if someone wants to know, asks to know, it just makes the secret-keeper look guilty. Could that be? The girl was found in his weyr. Surely he was a suspect. But did K'zin believe K'del was capable of that?

The ooze was silent. Rasavyth's way of saying this was for K'zin alone to decide.

SLAM. K'zin grabbed the bag and stopped its swinging, out of breath and knuckles bleeding.

He didn't know. He knew he didn't want to believe it. But without any of the facts, without any of the information, with the investigation having just gone nowhere, how could he say for sure? How well did he really know K'del? The man, the Weyrleader, his boyhood hero. Not well. K'del had secrets. He didn't trust K'zin. K'zin who would have been loyal unto the end with just a little trust shown to him.

Hadn't he earned it? Hadn't he always come to K'del and been honest always? He'd made himself, his short-comings and strengths an open book to the older bronzerider, his mentor.

Mentor. Disgust filled his mind. Mentor. Mentoring him toward what? Toward being a 'people'? Toward someone who couldn't be trusted with the truth no matter how many times he proved himself? That wasn't a life he wanted.

« It is not the life we will have, if you do not wish it. »

I don't. I want to know. It surprised him. I want to know the world. To see it for what it is and what it could be. This, with resolution.

« He will not tell you. »

Then I will find another way.

SLAM.