Logs:You Handled It Wrong
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| RL Date: 22 August, 2010 |
| Who: K'del, Taikrin |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: K'del calls Taikrin in to explain her actions. |
| Where: Council Chambers, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 19, Month 7, Turn 23 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Saliqa/Mentions |
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| Council Chambers, High Reaches Weyr At the heart of this oblong cavern is its meeting table: a long hardwood oval with a mirror's dark shine, High Reaches' sigil picked out in lapis and onyx at its center. Twenty chairs surround it, each softened by an embroidered cushion that's just a little too stiff for complete comfort -- meetings need to be kept short, after all -- with the chair at the table's head, facing the ledge, being somewhat larger than the rest. Interspersed between glowsconces upon the smooth walls, ancient tapestries depict the territories High Reaches protects in a particularly pastoral fashion, all fluffy clouds and fluffier llamas, or else fishing crafts sailing merrily out to sea. Among them is also a natural alcove, its several wooden shelves primarily stocking fine wines and liquors as well as the glasses to serve them, though the lower shelves also hold whatever hidework requires particularly frequent attention. A narrow wooden door leads to the Records room, while the tunnel that extends to the weyrleaders' ledge is wide enough for three men to walk abreast, with just enough kink in it to block the wind. Another day, another summons to the Council Chambers. Whether Taikrin knows it or not, K'del had a conversation with Saliqa yesterday, and now, mid-afternoon on the nineteenth day of month seven, Cadejoth extends a rattling chain to Szadath to inform him: « Your rider, in the Council Chambers, with mine. Now, please. » K'del's there already, when she gets there, alone at the big table, which is, for the moment, empty of everything except K'del's hands, which rest loosely upon the edge of it. Though Szadath acknowledges the contact with Cadejoth, he's unusually reserved: the usual dull roar of his mind is muted, and there's only the faintest hint of cold smoke. « I will send her. » Nor is Taikrin looking a whole lot better, truth be told. She's a bit pale beneath her faint tan, and there are dark circles under her eyes. But whatever else might be going on, she strides with military precision in from the records room with her back held ram-rod straight. There's a moment's hesitation at the intimidating sight of all those chairs, but then the mask falls, all reserved business. "Sir." It's certainly not a happy-faced K'del that's waiting, in the chambers. He tips his head up to give Taikrin a long measuring glance, and doesn't so much as offer her a seat before he says, "Want to explain yourself? Why you thought it was acceptable to kidnap a person - even at their suggestion - and keep them hidden for seven months." There's a prenatural calm to his tone, no emphasis on any of the words, no emotion lurking beneath. Silence, for a moment, as Taikrin gathers herself. Her gaze flickers once to K'del's face, then settles fixedly on a point just over his shoulder. "'Cause at least she'd be safe, here. Wasn't hiding her-- I haven't even-- I've barely /seen/ her--" A hint of frustration creeps in, but is quickly banished, and her voice resumes the sound of one repeating something learned by rote. "Now she's free." "'Safe'. Because she was in such danger, at Crom? Her fiance was going to-- what, beat her? Kill her?" /Now/ K'del lets scarcasm enter his voice, his eyes rolling to emphasise her point, even if Taikrin's not looking at him directly to see. "Any person of majority who wants to petition for residency at the weyr is welcome to. Kidnapping? Is not necessary. Is not /warranted/. You thought at all of the danger that you could have put the weyr in? Do you /want/ Crom to start telling Pern that we're kidnappers and criminals and cheats?" "Maybe." K'del might be sarcastic, but Taikrin remains deadly serious. "You didn't see. Treated her like an /animal/, like a cute pet. I /know/ what happens." She barely waits for the Weyrleader to finish speaking before barreling on, a torrent of words escaping with increasing heat. "You don't-- you don't /know/! Yeah she might end up beat or end up raped and it'd be /okay/ and /fine/ with Crom 'cause her parents /sold/ her t'that asshole and fucked with her head so much she thought she /deserved/ it." She barely pauses for breath, and though she manages to modulate her tone some, there are bright spots of color in her cheeks. "I had to get her out-- couldn't let-- she /told/ me to-- an' I don't /care/ what Crom thinks 'cause everyone /knows/ they're a filthy set of rapists and murderers an-- an--" When she breaks off, she's practically trembling and somewhere, not far outside, Szadath is rumbling darkly. K'del's expression is hard to read during Taikrin's tirade, but his voice, when he opens his mouth to answer her, is cold. "Do you know what happened the last time Crom decided not to deliver their tithes to us? The weyr nearly froze. It's Interval. For the time being, /we/ need /them/ more than they need us. And that's what you've just stomped over: you've put Saliqa above a valuable relationship between weyr and hold." He pauses for breath, staring directly at the brownrider. "If Saliqa was unhappy, she should've asked for a ride to the weyr, and be done with it. None of this bullshit. Can you even imagine how her family must feel? Seven /months/ not knowing if she's alive or dead." "She would never ask for help an' you know it." The trembling hasn't stopped, completely, but everything else is slightly more under control. Sort of. "Didn't think you was the type t'hand a girl over for rape so yer belly's a little more comfortable." Taikrin can be cold, too. "It ain't exactly a /secret/ who she went off with or where we live. /They/ could've asked for a rider t'bring 'em over. Sent a letter. If they cared more about /her/ then what she's worth to /them/." Her opinion of Saliqa's family? Apparently not so high. "You just said she told you to take her," counters K'del, sharply. "And she said the same. Reckon that means she /did/ ask for help." It's obvious that the implication he'd let Saliqa be raped has bothered him somewhat: his cheeks have gone flushed. "Frankly, all of this is irrelevent. I don't care what you think, because you were /wrong/. You handled it wrong, and you've proven once again you can't be trusted. And if Crom come back baying for your blood, I'll have no hesitation in turning you over. Glad Saliqa's happy; she's more than welcome to stay, but what you both did was /wrong/." "She only asked me 'cause I /went/ an' I /saw/ what was goin' on. If I would'a left her? With them? Reckon we never would'a saw her again. An' she would'a been /trapped/." Taikrin doesn't take the assertion that she was wrong very well: her gaze darkens, and her fists clench at her side. "It was /right/," she insists coldly. "I ain't /never/ gonna leave someone I care about t'that kind of-- an' I don't care if you give 'em my head on a flaming /plate/ but she'll go back t'them over my cold dead /body/ 'less it's what she really /wants/." Her eyes, they are a little red-rimmed. K'del is equally cold, and equally firm. "For fu-- /shells/, Taikrin. I didn't say you had to leave her there. What I am saying is that your little kidnapping charade was the worst possible thing you could have done, and /that/ makes me furious." Less angry, more restrained is his addition: "Told Saliqa the same thing. I'll defend her right to stay here if Lord Crom himself comes to collect her, if she wants to stay. But that doesn't mean what the two of you did was right. It. Was. Not." Taikrin's teeth clench briefly against whatever unwise comment might have been about to escape. There's some softening at K'del's own defense of Saliqa, but it doesn't last. When she does finally speak, each word is pronounced with exquisite care. "You think they were going to let me walk out the front door with her? Y'rather maybe I got t'fight half th'guards off gettin' her out? Or maybe let 'em lock me up for even thinkin' she might deserve somethin' better? I /know/ how that goes." Disdainfully, she adds, "Or maybe I should'a written letters for a coupl'a months, beggin' for them t'let her go. Yeah, /that/ would'a gotten her out real quick a'fore somethin' nasty happened." K'del is scornful, now, his eyes rolling, his mouth set into a thin, hard line. "That's bullshit. They weren't keeping her /prisoner/. She was able to see you, wasn't she? You could've just left with her. Let her leave a note to say she was going, be done with it. You didn't even /try/. Always jumping to conclusions, rushing in, never trusting anyone. It makes you a liability. Means we can't trust you. I /don't/ trust you." He's watching her: now, and probably continually, from now on. "You may be justified and right in your own head, but this is the real world." "Like how you know that, when y'didn't even /see/ it," Taikrin shoots back, undaunted. "How they tried /real/ hard t'keep me from seein' her an' pretendin' she wasn't even /there/. They wouldn't let her leave 'cause she was their /property/. Y'don't let a canine or a-- a-- fancy necklace just /walk out/." Her eyes narrow, and she draws herself further back, upright. "Real world, huh. Y'want me t'tell you about how th' /real/ world works? When you was sixteen, you were what-- here? Bein' taken care of, safe an' warm? /That/ ain't th'real world. Real's when yer sleepin' four to a bed an' y'ain't got a fire an' y'ain't got no food an' one of your friends don't come home one night 'cause some asshole squeezed her neck just a /little/ too tight. You don't know /nothing/ about how th'world works." Yes, definitely red-rimmed eyes. Maybe a little moist, though she'd never admit it. K'del dismisses Taikrin's description of the 'real world' without little more than a snort. "Poor Taikrin, thinks no one else knows anything because they don't belong in /her/ real world. Believe it or not, you're not the only person who knows anything, and /that/ world is not the one most of us live in. Most of us, across Pern." He's silent for a moment, then exhales. "Not going to argue this. This is your last warning, Taikrin: I get any more reports of this kind of bullshit, and you'll be grounded. And if Crom comes calling over this, I won't intervene for you. Dismissed." If it were possible for Taikrin to get any stiffer, she would have likely broken her back by this point. She doesn't protest -- can't, really -- as her concerns get dismissed out of hand. Her gaze wanders once more to that spot over K'del's ear, and though her it might be a bit moist, it's also gone ice-cold. As soon as K'del is finished, she grounds out a "Sir," as though the word might strangle her, then pivots on one bootheel and walks out as fast as she can manage without actually running. |
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