Its Eyes Were Jewels

Chapter 9

.

As way of disclaimer, I own none of Anne McCaffrey's characters nor do I own her world (though I sometimes wish I did), I'm simply borrowing them for the time being.

.

Z'den looked decidedly relieved to finally have her cooperating. The set of his shoulders shifted slightly, seeming much less tense and angry almost immediately. His eyes might have softened, but then if it wasn't a blank stare or a leer Elrenia could never really tell the difference in such things. His lips, she did notice, became just slightly more pronounced, no longer pulled into a thin line of pain. She wondered how much thread-scores really hurt, if the man's features could shift so dramatically at the thought of being relieved of one of them. As she came to stand beside his chair he sighed and asked, "Have you ever spread numbweed before?"

"N-No, sir."

"Shards, you're useless," he murmured, and Elrenia looked shamefacedly at the floor. She heard him sigh loudly again, and figured it was frustration. She would have been frustrated with someone who knew so little about things that were important to her life as well, but she liked to think she wouldn't have been so showy with it. "Take the top off of the jar," he instructed calmly. "Get a healthy dose on your fingers, and spread it on the wound. Plain and simple." After an additional moment he hinted, "I am of the personal opinion that you can never use too much numbweed."

She did not move toward numbing the wound though. She just shifted her weight for a moment, chewing her lower lip before stammering, "B-But—"

"What now, girl?"

"T-thread was on that…"

He just stared at her, stuck between bewildered and dumbfounded. Just for a moment he didn't seem entirely sure what her complaint was, so quietly, tentatively he asked, "Do… you think there's still thread in there?" When the blue-gray eyed girl didn't immediately respond he whispered, "Do you really find us dragonriders so fardling careless?" Her only response was to gaze at the floor, but he didn't sound particularly angry. Maybe a tad more frustrated, more hurt than insulted by the assumed negligence. "What do you know about dragonriders, girl?"

"You… fight thread."

"Is that all we do?"

Elrenia looked up. Not quite meeting the man's searching eyes, but staring in the general vicinity of his nose and lips. She debated not telling him her view of things, because suddenly faced with an actual dragonrider, the stories she grew up on didn't quite seem to fit. Maybe they weren't off, but… they weren't correct either. "You…" her eyes shifted to the floor, until the man moved forward in his seat slightly, and she was looking at his chest instead. "You t-take children… from their Holds… and… and forc… you make them stay, even if they don't impress…" She gripped her hands tightly around the jar of numbweed in lieu of twisting her tunic. She saw his fists clench at his waist and had to look away again when she said, "Y-you are bigger and... and better than others so you hurt people…"

She was trembling, and it only got worse when the man didn't respond. He just sat there, staring at her, and she couldn't tell if he wanted to hit her or… or something else. When she risked a look up at his face, his expression was bleak at best. Almost sad, perhaps distressed even. "Someone has told you vicious lies…" he murmured after a moment. He shook his head, raising a hand to rub one of his eyes before he sighed, "It's no wonder you're so frightened of the Weyr. What… is that really what you think we do to people?"

Her only response was to blush, and hunch her shoulders further. Z'den moved forward then, reaching out to stroke the girl's cheek gently, but pulled back when she flinched away. "Shards," he hissed, smacking a fist against the arm of his chair. "You will learn the truth soon enough, child." And although his muscles were beginning to clench with discomfort again, he settled back in his chair without any expectations. "Thread eats any living thing it can get to," the man said vaguely. "That includes human flesh. It can devour an entire wherry in a matter of minutes, and does away with humans even quicker." The girl shuddered at this, both horrified and disgusted by the explanation. "When a rider gets caught in a tangle, or hit by a stray, their dragon will blink between long enough to kill the thing. Were there any thread still in this wound, rest assured, I'd be dead."

This explanation offered a sort of comfort even as it repelled Elrenia. She… knew how it worked, at least she thought she did. Lessons had been drilled into her and her siblings since they were children because even with dragons flaming in the air, the grounds were in danger. She remembered more than one occasion when entire harvests were lost to infestation, and drastic measures needed to be taken in order to be rid of it permanently. That was why their fields shrunk so significantly over the course of her life, why what was left couldn't sustain plant life anymore. One such infestation occurred the year her mother died, and so had been especially hard on the family.

But she was pulled from further thought as the man murmured, "So, there's none in the wound, but it hurts rather intensely. Will you help me now?"

Though visceral disgust almost drove the girl to shake her head, she murmured quiet agreement, moving to kneel beside his chair to more easily reach the wounds. One misfortunate of being tall was the need to kneel or bend inappropriately every time she wanted to reach things closer to the ground than she was. Wounds were to be included in this category, it seemed. And while she could have asked him to stand up, it would have been cruel after making him wait for relief for so long.

"You're… very tall for a girl."

She was hesitant in opening the jar, and even more so of scooping out some of the numbweed to spread across his chest, refusing to respond to his comment. He didn't mean to insult, she was sure, and she wasn't going to assume insult. "Sorry," she whispered when at first touch he winced. "Sorry… sorry…" It became a mantra. She apologized every time she removed her hand to get more of the salve, and again when she replaced it. She apologized when he winced, when he groaned, and when he sighed in relief. She was terrified of hurting him, and petrified of what he would do to her in retaliation. As she finished up on his chest she couldn't help but say, "I-I-I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to… to hurt you…"

"On the contrary, dear. This… is quite the relief."

Being told this calmed the girl enough to request, "L-lean forward?" And when he did she shifted around the chair to better reach the damaged shoulder. With the reassurance she identified the few noises he made as relieved, and didn't apologize quite so much. Though she prefaced the end of her ministrations with, "I-I'm very sorry. I-is that enough? D-does it feel better now?"

"Yes," he breathed. "It's much better now. Thank you, my lady."

Blushing, the girl insisted, "I-I'm not a lady."

"Oh?"

"I-I'm n-not even a Cotholder…"

But Z'den dismissed her claim blithely, "That does not mean you aren't a lady."

Neither of them spoke for a moment after that, her absorbing what he said, and he observing her absorption. It was an interesting situation, really. She had no clue how best to handle him, but was choosing to give him the benefit of the doubt, because in the hour or so that she'd been in his presence he hadn't actually done anything untoward. But she couldn't trust him. She… couldn't bring herself to no matter how she tried to reason it out, no matter how much she truly wanted to.

"Now," he finally spoke up, cautiously offering guidance as the girl remained knelt on the floor, floundering without a job. "If you'll go over to the service shaft – over there," he indicated with a point of his finger, "That I called down before, I'd greatly appreciate you calling for klah and stew if they have it." Elrenia stared at the man, and he stared back just for a moment, realizing that he may have erred. His eyes darted about for several long seconds, before he was inclining his head and adding on, "That is, if you don't mind my staying for dinner."

She didn't want him to stay for dinner, as it were. She wanted him to leave, because she couldn't control the nervous clenching of her stomach the longer he was there. She couldn't get past the idea that he aimed to lull her into a false sense of security so that he could hurt her later, and didn't want him around long enough to succeed. But she reluctantly admitted that she didn't want to be left alone either. She wasn't sure if the risk of him staying outweighed the encroaching darkness of her mind. At least his presence kept the shadows at bay. She was far too preoccupied trying to figure him out to belittle herself when he was there. She… she didn't know what she wanted, and floundered even worse in the wake of his question.

"Just dinner," he reminded her, his voice oddly soothing this time around. "Arlith is still bathing, and I'd hate to rush him. He loves wading in the water best when it's cool, like now." She watched the way his eyes lit up as he spoke of the creature, and was struck with the odd thought that no man who loved so deeply could be cruel. But what of the oldtimers? Everyone knew that they hadn't been any good after the novelty of firstfall faded. "As soon as he's done I'll leave you," he promised. "I just want to eat dinner. Is that acceptable?"

"…Yes."

The man's lips twitched into a slight smile, and he said, "Good. Now, go. Bellow."

The girl stood with no visage of her momentary insecurity left. She placed the numbweed on the table without a word, and walked over to the shaft she found in the direction the man pointed, calling, "K-klah, and whatever food is available, for two, in the… in the junior queen's weyr! P-please!" And she glanced briefly over her shoulder, looking for some indication that she'd done well. But the man didn't say anything. He wasn't even looking at her. So she walked back to the sitting area, sinking into the seat across from Z'den carefully, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

He didn't look any better off, however. Something was obviously on his mind, but she didn't have the courage to ask him about it. She just allowed him to stare off into space and she kept her eyes trained firmly on his chest. She wished he was wearing a shirt. She wished, desperately, that he would finish getting dressed because the longer she stared at him, the more she imagined thread squirming around, eating through to his heart and—

"Are you well, child?"

"E-excuse me?" she asked airily, startled by the sudden question.

"You've gone pale quite suddenly," he explained, looking prepared to inch forward in his seat, but stopping his progression before it began. "Are you well?"

"Y-yes. Quite. Thank you." She took a deep breath to clear herself of the horrible image, perhaps much worse than being eaten by thread would be witnessing someone else being eaten in person, because her mind was cruel to her. She wanted so badly to distract herself, but had to look away from the man to banish the image completely, and wasn't sure what to do from there.

Z'den shifted in his seat, crossing his legs at the ankle only to uncross them moments later. "So…" He cleared his throat, and Elrenia looked up at his face just for a second. His brow was creased with thought, easing only slightly when he finally breathed the words, "You… were headed to Keroon?"

"Yes, Brown Rider."

"Please, you should call me Z'den."

The girl looked up and they made eye contact, but she was quick to look away again. It was an honor, of course, to be allowed to speak so informally to the man… but the thought of it didn't sit right in her mind. He was a brown rider! A dragonrider! She couldn't even keep a single Cothold safe, and he was responsible for protecting several Holds worth of land! His rank was so much higher than hers, but he wanted her to address him by name. She couldn't. And embarrassed by the granted privilege she couldn't even look at him any longer.

So he cleared his throat, continuing, "You… were traveling alone?"

"Yes." She did not directly address him at all, so that she could not be expected to call him by name, or corrected when she failed to.

"Koth said he picked you up right off of the leading edge."

"So it seems…"

And the two again settled into silence. Neither spoke a word until the sound of someone walking echoed, and a young woman entered the weyr with a platter of food. She moved to trade the plate for the numbweed, and froze in her crouch at the sight if Z'den's wounds. The moment was just becoming awkward when the woman squawked, "I'll warn the healer!"

She'd almost disappeared through the doorway just as Z'den regained his senses enough to shout, "Don't tell Brekke!" But he let out a string of curses when he realized the girl probably wasn't going to listen to him. "Shards. Silly women, always having to investigate everything!"

"Investigate?" Elrenia breathed. "But… she was just delivering the food I asked for."

"She could have sent it up the service shaft. They girls from the lower caverns just want to get a glimpse of you – Koth can't keep his mouth shut. He's probably told every dragon, firelizard, and watchwher within a hundred miles that you're here!"

This made this girl's blood run cold, because she didn't know if the man was exaggerating or not. She hoped he was, because if Koth had literally told everything that could hear him within a hundred miles… Then he knows. But… he couldn't know! If he knew she was there he'd get to her before she could escape. He'd tell the Weyrfolk that she was his, and he'd take her away. He…

"Elrenia?" She looked up at Z'den, expression haunted, and he recoiled when it rested on him for a moment. Tone almost worried he asked, "Child?"

But her only response was, "C-can he really… speak so… so… far?"

"Koth?" the man made sure they were speaking of the same thing. "Of course not. And he wouldn't deign to talk to a wher either. Don't… worry. Child, are you—"

"May I ask a question?"

"Of course."

"Why…" She seriously considered following the train of thought for a moment. Asking how far Koth could speak, and why he wouldn't talk to a wher. Who would he talk to? Would he talk to a humans? A Holder? But instead, as the words were leaving her mouth, she revised the question to, "Why do you want to keep your wounds a secret from Brekke?" The name felt sour on her tongue, as though she were committing some crime by saying it. Was the woman a dragonrider too? A queen rider? Was Elrenia being disrespectful calling her by name the way she was? The… the way she had been already…

"She worries too much," Z'den said briskly. When Elrenia raised an eyebrow in curiosity, moving forward to spoon some stew into one of the two bowls sitting on the platter, he continued, "The wound isn't serious, child. Arlith is quick. He took us between before any real damage was done to me. I don't need her fretting over me."

"Oh?" she made a curious noise, moving next to pour the klah and hand him a bowl and mug. "But… it's her job, isn't it?" Brekke had taken care of her feet, scolding her the whole time. Worrying seemed to be her occupation. "She… she's supposed to worry, and fret, and dote on your wounds."

"It would be our job if she was our healer."

"She isn't?"

"No. She…" The man paused, cup of klah halfway to his mouth, and examined the girl's curious expression as she served herself food next. "Have you… ever heard of Brekke before?"

"Should I have?"

He let out a wry bark of laughter, caught between relief that the dragonless rider wouldn't be ogled by the girl for her curiosities and shocked that Elrenia seemed to know nothing about what had been happening in the Weyrs since firstfall. Everyone, Lord Holder or minor, knew what had happened to Wirenth and Pridith! But this girl, this young girl… "Did you live in a cave?" he asked, voice perhaps a tad louder than it rightfully should have been.

And the tone brought a look of shame to Elrenia's face again. "I'm sorry," she murmured, unsure of where to look when she found it impossible to meet his eyes. "I… I often didn't get away from home," she tried to remedy her ignorance. "I… had responsibilities. I… my father didn't… he didn't care for the Weyrs, we… I-I'm sorry."

"No," the man asserted. "Don't…" He ran his fingers through his wet hair, sighing heavily again. "Don't apologize. I suppose I'm not used to dealing with people who aren't interested in Weyr life."

"It isn't that I'm not interested," the girl said quickly. What am I saying? I don't care for the Weyr... He doesn't matter. His opinion of me doesn't matter. I won't be here long. "I just… never had the opportunity to learn about these things. We were… very isolated, any news that did come in was usually outdated."

"Oh?"

"We were several days off from the nearest Hold. We only had one runner, so I… never really got the chance to travel. I…" Unable to think of anything else to say, the girl insisted, "I had responsibilities at home!"

"And now you're here," Z'den spoke with an odd lilt to his voice, almost as though he was amused with the situation. "Instead of being at home, with your responsibilities, you're in Benden. Sitting in a junior queen's—"

"I told the Weyrwoman that I didn't want—"

"Shards woman!" the brown rider cut off her excuse. "Can't you recognize a joke?"

"I… shouldn't be here," she whispered. "I don't—"

"If Koth consented to bring you here, then he had a good reason," Z'den dismissed her once more. "The blue may be young, but he's got a good head on his shoulders. So does his rider," the man spoke with pride. "I trained him myself."

Elrenia was almost willing to nod her head and just allow his explanation to be the truth, but something niggled at her mind. Just for a moment she stared at her hands, trying to figure out what wasn't sitting with her. He trained H'val? But… that couldn't be. "You… your weyrwoman said he comes from Fort…"

"You've spoken to Margatta?"

"Who?"

"My Weyrwoman."

"But Lessa…"

This time the man did smile, lips pulling over white teeth pleasantly as he explained, "I was sent here to help when a group of riders got injured." He didn't explain the injuries, or the cause to the girl, but instead spoke of numbers. "Fort could only spare five of us, but many of the other Weyrs sent riders to compensate for the time being. My Weyrwoman is Margatta rider of Ludeth, of Fort, as is H'val's."

The girl blinked lazily as she asked, "So… you're not a Benden rider?"

"I am a dragonrider, and that is all that matters."

Elrenia couldn't say anything of this, because it was not untrue. She supposed dragonriders were interchangeable. So long as a Weyr had the number they needed to fly wing-full, it didn't matter where they came from. Benden needed extra riders, and so Fort sent those that they could spare. Z'den's place of origin didn't matter nearly as much as his profession, which even she had to admit in all her ignorance, was sublime. To ride a dragon, she officially knew from experience, was rather amazing. Terrifying, but amazing. She could only imagine how it was to fight with one.

"Eat your meal, child," Z'den urged. "You're far too thin for your age."

And though the girl obediently raised a spoonful of stew to her lips she breathed, "Oh?"

"Too thin, I say!" Z'den ignored the way the girl blushed in embarrassed shame at this. He was beginning to realize exactly how easy it was to embarrass and shame her. Mention her home, her family, her responsibilities and she turned red as fire. Scold her and she did as well. It seemed there was nothing he could say to make her comfortable, but at least she was eating. She'd gotten two spoonfuls of food into her before he laughed, "How old are you anyway, child? Sixteen? Seventeen?" And her eyes were on his face for once, searching, but not blushing.

He thinks I'm so young? she wondered, looking down at herself curiously. Could it have been that she was wearing clothing that didn't fit her well? The fact that her breasts weren't about to pop from her tunic, the way some other unmarried women her age seemed to dress all the time? Was it that, at first glance, she really didn't have a chest at all? Surely that was it. He was judging her by the maturity of her body, and thinking of him… looking at her there made her face glow hotly yet again.

"Granted," he continued without pause, "you're quite tall for your age. Towering over where I stood when I was so young, I suppose."

"I'm nearly twenty one."

And he stopped mid-sip of his klah. "Oh are you?"

"W-why would you think I'm so young?" she stammered in embarrassed confusion. Why are you embarrassed? Why are you always embarrassed? "I-I don't look young at all!"

"You look younger than twenty one, that's for sure."

"I-I-I do not!"

"It's not an insult, my lady," the brown rider said, raising his hands in a defensive motion. "You look young, paired with the fact that you rather act like a child on her first trip out without her sire…"

"This… this is my first trip out… like this."

"And you're nearly twenty one?"

The girl's eyes moved from his face suddenly, staring at the wall to her left as she explained, "I… never had much reason to travel from home."

"Until now," the man interjected.

"Yes."

"And what exactly was that reason?"

"T-to get to family."

Placing his bowl to the side, Z'den crossed his arms and looked sternly at the girl, as though silently accusing her of lying. "If you lived in your father's home, as you've been hinting all this time, would your family not have been there?"

Elrenia's throat closed up, and so she didn't bother responding to the question. That was what hurt most, the fact that her family had been there. She silently renewed her vow to get away, and get justice somehow. She would see that he got what was coming to him, and… and… and Z'den mistook her silence for a completely different issue.

"You were escaping your father," the man said quietly, leaning forward intently in his chair. "But why? What did he do?"

"My… father is dead, Brown Rider."

His eyes clouded over as he murmured, "I… my condolences."

"N-no. No. He… my father died many years ago." I should have been married by now, she couldn't help but think. If I'd just gotten married when I turned eighteen… when my sister was still trying to pick out men for me… Except she hadn't because she'd had different plans for her life. It was a foolish decision. Soon she would be too old to marry. No man would want her in a few years, and oddly enough the thought of it made her sick. The think her only experience with a man… "He… my father died when I was still young."

"You are still young!"

"I—"

"You are!"

And Elrenia couldn't help but stare at the rider who had no qualms about staring right back at her. She was confused, wondering why he was so insistent, but his expression gave nothing away. He was obviously older than her, so… maybe that was why he sounded so angry. By calling herself old she was extending the same insult to him. But then things were different in a Weyr. Different with men. Z'den didn't need to worry about it the way Elrenia did.

"You are not old," he insisted one last time and, almost reluctantly, she nodded acknowledgement of this.

"Okay."

"Good."

.

Is the Fort Weyrwoman Margatta? I searched, and searched, and since she's the Weyrmate of the Weyrleader, I figured it was the best I could do. If anyone has information to the contrary feel free to share, eh?