Ketke was not a happy young man. Although he had been trained, (as had his brothers) in Hold management, and even spend five years fostered at Fort, he chaffed under the restrictions his position placed on him. As such he found his only solace was in his evening visits to the wher enclosure, and the time he spent in Namul and Fulsa's company.
Telgarsk snorted and bounded up to the young Lord, playfully headbutting him until a smile cracked his somber face and he hugged the ugly dragonkin.
"It's good to see you too, Telly." He told the wher, who walked along side him as they returned the the wher enclosure. Inside the wherhandlers had the ovens going. On either side of the roofed area some long forgotten handler had build two brick ovens, so the area would be comfortable enough for the handlers to spend long hours in the colder months without hurting the photosensitive eyes of the whers.
"Look who the wher dragged in." Fulsa laughed, and poured a new mug of mulled wine for their guest. Namul, resting in a chair near the oven grinned and raised a hand in greeting. "Welcome and welmet, Ketke. How goes the search?" Of course by now the whole Hold knew of Kestket's defection, although, they would be hard pressed to find anyone truly unhappy with that turn of events.
"Nnnnngh." Ketke groaned and took the seat offered to him by Fulsa, who perched on Telgarsk's forearm. His bronze firelizard landed on his shoulder, his tail going around the young man's neck. "I swear he's smarter and more trouble than I ever thought."
"Oh?" Namul glanced at Fulsa, who very faintly shook her head, indicating she didn't have any news. Namusk chose that moment to stretch out and lay on the ground between her handler and her lord, her lantern eyes reflecting her concern for the young lord.
"Either he knew he wasn't going to be chosen as Lord Holder, or he got over being rebuked a lot faster than I gave him credit." Ketke started, and pat the green's head. "Everything that's missing, and there's a lot actually, isn't anything that would force me to go after him - he didn't take the Store keys, he didn't choose the breeding stock when he stole two runners, nothing of the things he did take have a great deal of intrinsic value or- or sentimental either, except maybe to him - which is, well, honestly, completely out of character with his behavior up to now." Ketke looked from Namul to Fulsa, hoping he was making sense. Namul nodded, having a good idea of what he was trying to get at.
"He wasn't bein' an ass." Fulsa stated with a faint smile. Ketke nodded. "He was terrible about keeping a journal, so, I have no way to know what he was thinking, or where he might have gotten off to. And, surely, he has to have a destination in mind, correct? One doesn't put that much preparation into going somewhere, without some place to go, do they?" He asked.
"That's a good question. " Namul admitted. "I wouldn't, but I have a family." He gestured at Namusk and Fulsa. "What about you? Did you have any plans, had Kestket been made Lord Holder?"
Ketke looked down, a guilty expression crossing his face. "I was going to run away to the WherHold." He replied in a low tone. "You know Mother and Kestket would never have let me go otherwise. I was going to escort Mistle to HealerHall, and hire myself out on ships' crews until I made it to the WherHold."
"Iffin' you and Mistle had that sort of plan, even vaguely in mind, Kestket must have considered it once too." Fulsa suggested, as Numal pat the younger man's shoulder. "Didn't he and your father have an argument about an apprenticeship once?" Ketke looked up, surprised that anyone had known about that.
"Yes. Journeyman Dafal wanted to take him on as an apprentice in Far Cry. My father refused, because he wanted him to go to Nerat for fostering." Ketke's expression turned thoughtful. "You know... that's the only time he argued with father. After that he just did what he was told." While being a jerk to the rest of them, Fulsa mused. Telgarsk must have shared that thought with Namusk, because Namul gave her a funny side look.
"Do you think he would try for Far Cry?" Namul asked. Ketke frowned, sipping his wine. "He could've just asked, if he wanted to leave. I wouldn't have told him no." Telgarsk snorted, causing Namul and Fulsa to smile. "Telly says his pride might have stopped him from askin'." Fulsa explained for Ketke's information.
"That I don't doubt." Ketke sighed deeply. "Do you think that's where he went? To Journeyman Dafal and Far Cry?"
"I think that would be a reasonably guess." Namul said as Fulsa nodded. "If I might make a recommendation? Let SmithHall know you granted leave for him to join the Craft if he does show up, but not to make a big deal about it, particularly if he's decided to use a fake name. That way if he does show up, he'll have a way to reinvent himself within the Craft, without any of the baggage of being a lordling."
"A way for both of us to save face..?" Ketke smiled, somewhat resigned, but warming to the idea. "I like it, thank you. I see Master Cetric tomorrow, I'll have a word with him. " He reached over and gave Telgarsk a fond rub. "I just hope he stays out of trouble. He's got enough on him to identify him as looking to Telgar, the last thing I want is someone complaining that he's been abusing his birth privilege."
"I can't return without evidence." Bukset said, rapidly trying to reclaim his calm. As surprised as he was by Regeaj's unwillingness to pursue the boy's attacker further, he didn't blame the hunter. There were many in Pern who drew the line at hunting people - problem animals were fine, but other humans, especially if they didn't know what lead up to a fatal encounter, not so much. Regeaj studied him for a moment then sighed. "I can get you proof that you need, but we'll have to scare off those tunnelsnakes." Bukset grimaced, realizing that meant they were going after the rotting sheep carcass.
"How do you recommend...?"
Char bit her lower lip and tried very hard not to cry. Outside the Healer's weyr Vaeth ran in panicked circles, stopping only when Mirrth sat down beside him, and crooned softly as the cast was sawn off. Zandur was good, no harm came to Char during the process, but sawing through the cast did put pressure on still tender skin and of course the sound was more than a little terrifiying, despite her utter confidence in the Weyrhealer.
"Good, good. You're doing well, Char." Tress said, as Char clenched the table she was sitting on so tightly her knuckles were white. Char bobbed her head, afraid to say anything - it was hard not to vocalize the fear and bewilderment Vaeth was projecting. "I'm almost done, Vaeth." She finally said aloud, as Zandur carefully pulled the cast open to look at the top of the sutures.
"Those are going to have to come out." He wheezed, then returned to his sawing. Char closed her eyes and thought of her favorite fishing spot along the switchbacks of the river that rolled by her parent's home. Under the wide spreading leaves of a a black juglans tree, where the molted light gave refuge to small fish- there was a tremendous crack as Zandur yanked the cast open, and stepped back to survey the entirety of the limb. Feeling faint, Char sagged against Tress.
"Scissors." C'bay, pressed into service as Zandur's assistant handed him the angled scissors. Char winced and a whimper escaped on the first snip, but she kept from further noise as the long line of sutures was clipped. When the last stitch was cut and the dangling suture material pulled free (Char really didn't enjoy that sensation) Zandur stepped out to locate a salve for her firey looking scar.
"You okay, Char?" C'bay asked, as Tress gathered up the bits and pieces of debris for the rubbish heap.
"That hurt a lot more than I thought it was going to." Char managed, then looked out the window. "Is Vaeth okay?"
"Mirrth says he's fine, she's taking him to get some water." C'bay replied, as Zandur returned with a red, waxy salve. "Here, you want to apply this after every bath and when you get up in the morning for five days."
"That's it?" Tress asked, her hands on her hips. "You're not going to ask her to stand up first?"
"Of course I'm going to. I was waiting for her to catch her breath." Zandur snapped, as Char gingerly applied the antiseptic salve to tender skin. Bemused C'bay watched Tress fuss at Zandur and the Weyrhealer fuss back at the Headwoman. Balance restored in the Weyr, he mused.
"Can I stand up now?" Char asked after taking a deep breath.
"Please." Zandur's voice leaned towards the sarcastic, but Char gave it no heed, slowly sliding off the table until she was just barely standing on the floor. It felt so strange, putting weight on that leg after months of being in a cast. She started to take a step and was stopped by Zandur, thrusting a walking stick into her arms.
"Baby steps, blue rider. You'll be running no races for a while yet. You're still on restricted duty, no heavy lifting and you are to report here before breakfast every morning. Do you understand?" Something about his attitude suggested he rather expected to hear that she got in a race within moments of leaving his weyr.
"Yes sir." Slowly Char hobbled around, then sat back down by the entrance. "Thank you Zandur."
"Thank me by not coming back in here injured again." He grumbled, as Tress put her hands on her hips and glared at him, which he ignored. The Headwoman helped Char get her things, and hobble out of the weyr.
"Is she going to be okay?" C'bay asked Zandur's back, once they were gone. Zandur paused, washing his hands with sudsing sands.
"No. At least, not for half a year, maybe longer. She's young, those bones will heal in time, but I worry that it won't heal up as fast as Vaeth will grow. She may be not be cleared to fly by Gl'tek." He replied, not turning around, submerging his hands in warm water.
"You think he's going to do the same thing to her he did me?" C'bay asked, his voice harsher than he intended.
"Yes." Zandur turned and faced the greenrider. "You know I'm not given to false praise. I've told the Weyrleader you are being held back unfairly. And I haven't pushed the issue because you and Mirrth are more useful to me as assistants than as Thread fighters." He grimaced, knowing how bad that made him look, but he was nothing if not honest.
"B'ton needs to be told." C'bay said, clenching his teeth.
What's wrong? Mirrth wanted to know. Vaeth and Char might be getting the same treatment as us.
"I plan to at dinner. I need to talk to both him and Jurille." Zandur nodded.
"Jurille? Why?" C'bay queried.
"Because queenriders generally train queenriders. Gl'tek is going to foster Char off on the queens as quickly as he can, because she's a lass, and while the queens won't have any trouble teaching her the finer points of flying and betweening, they won't know the first thing about firestoning." Zandur explained, drying his hands on a towel.
"And you will talk to them tonight?" C'bay demanded.
Zandur quirked an almost smile. "If I have to tie them down myself."
Notes:
jaglan - walnut