To the Weyr - 29. The Consequences of Violence

It was late when Kadin got back, but Jevikel was still awake. He couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened earlier and what the consequences might be. Everyone else in the room seemed to be sleeping. Some were snoring.

It was almost a relief when Kadin shook him gently. ‘Sorry to wake you, but I’ve got to tell you all about this evening.’

‘I wasn’t asleep.’

‘It was so brilliant. They were pounding on the tables for more. Sheltegan even let me play a solo. And sing with him on “The Ballad of Moreta’s Ride.”’

‘That’s great.’

‘I didn’t see you there, though I kept looking. Did someone stop you coming in?’

‘Not exactly.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I got into a fight with Hortaimin and that lot.’

Kadin looked worried. ‘Oh no! Are you all right?’

‘A few bruises, that’s all. But D’gar had to break it up. We’ve all got to see him in the morning.’

‘He’s a reasonable man. It’ll be fine.’

‘What if they send me home?’

‘They won’t.’

‘They might. Lukodan said someone was, before.’

Kadin hugged him. ‘If they won’t let you Stand, they’ll lose me, too.’

‘No. It’s my fault. Nothing to do with you.’

‘I love you, you fool.’ Kadin hugged him harder, his hand stroking Jevikel’s back. It was comforting.

‘I love you, too.’

‘Whatever happens, we stay together. All right?’

‘All right.’

Kadin stripped off and got into the narrow bed next to him. ‘Now, go to sleep. It’ll do you no good to stay awake all night. Pretend we’re up in the high pastures, with the stars above and the herdbeasts bleating.’

He carried on talking, in a soothing tone. Jevikel found himself drifting off as his mind calmed. The next thing he knew, it was morning. All around were the sounds of people getting dressed, or ready to go to the baths. Gossip had spread, of course, even though Jevikel hadn’t been in the mood to talk the previous night.

Lukodan, Egevan and Jurrendon came over. ‘We’ll vouch for you,’ Lukodan said. ‘Hortaimin’s been acting like an idiot since he got here, whereas you’ve never caused any trouble.’

It made Jevikel feel slightly better. ‘Thanks. But I shouldn’t have lost my temper.’

‘Everyone does, if they’re pushed hard enough.’ Lukodan glared at Hortaimin and the rest of his gang, who were just leaving.

‘Can I walk with you?’ Turmevon asked, doing up the laces on his shirt.

‘Sure.’

He kissed Kadin before he left. ‘Don’t worry so much. It’ll be fine,’ Kadin whispered in his ear. ‘Remember, I’m with you.’

The walk to the barracks seemed longer than ever before. Turmevon, as usual, didn’t say much, leaving Jevikel to his thoughts again. The worst would be if they made him leave the Weyr. Anything else would be better than that, even a beating. He’d had enough of those from Vikkel over the Turns.

The others had paused outside the Weyrlingmaster’s office. The leather curtain was pulled across. Jevikel didn’t know if they were too new to know about the wooden clapper at the side. When he went forward to knock, he was jostled by Hortaimin.

‘We’re going to tell him all about you,’ he sneered. ‘You’ll be out of here and back to whatever scruffy little Hold you came from before lunchtime.’

The threat hit home, despite what everyone had said to reassure him. He kept his voice level. ‘Let’s see about that, eh?’ He knocked three times, then stood back, next to Turmevon.

‘Come in,’ D’gar shouted.

This was it. Jevikel took a deep breath and went inside.

D’gar sat at a heavy desk, which looked as old as the Weyr. Scrolls were stacked neatly at one side. A board on the wall held a list of names; all of their names, including where they’d come from. He picked out his name and was thankful to see ‘unknown’ in that column.

‘Well.’ D’gar leaned back in his chair, rocking onto the hind legs. ‘I’m very disappointed. Very disappointed indeed. Candidates fighting doesn’t bode well at all.’

Jevikel looked at the floor. He felt ashamed.

‘Now, one by one, I’m going to ask you what exactly happened…’

‘I can tell you.’ Hortaimin jumped in right away.

‘I’m sure you can, but I’ll decide who speaks first.’

That shut him up. Jevikel felt slightly happier. It seemed he would get a fair hearing.

‘Turmevon. If you’d like to tell us in your own words.’

Turmevon was silent for a few seconds. Last night he’d been shaken enough to speak up; would he be able to in morning’s cold light? ‘It was… Well.’ He paused. ‘Sorry. I’m not one to say much. But ever since we got here that lot,’ and he pointed at Hortaimin and the others, ‘Have had it in for me. I don’t know why.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Anyway, last night I was out for a walk on my own, to look at the stars. I saw them all hanging around so tried to avoid them, but they followed me. Next thing they had me surrounded. They were pushing and calling me names. Said I was too quiet to Impress a dragon and that I’d get sent home if I didn’t. My family’s poor. They couldn’t afford to have me back.’

D’gar just nodded his head occasionally. ‘Then what?’

‘Well, Jevikel came along and asked what they were doing? I told him I wasn’t hurt or anything.’

‘Yeah and then he just hit me for no reason.’ Hortaimin rubbed his jaw.

‘I didn’t ask you to speak,’ D’gar said firmly. ‘You’ll get your turn later. Turmevon. Did it happen like that?’

Turmevon shook his head. ‘Not exactly. Hortaimin was pushing him for a fight.’

Jevikel watched Hortaimin’s expression. It could only be described as thunderous. His friends were mostly staring at the floor, or shuffling their feet uneasily.

‘Did you hit him first?’ D’gar asked.

‘Er, yes. I knew it was going to come to blows and when you’re outnumbered, it’s the best thing to do.’

‘Outnumbered or not, you did some damage.’

Jevikel couldn’t deny that. ‘I can fight when I have to.’

‘Hmm.’ He turned away from Jevikel again, addressing Hortaimin’s little gang. ‘Madrail, Jifet, Narrirec, Zanethur. Anything to say?’

Zanethur’s eyes were almost shut from the swelling. His nose looked as if it would be permanently crooked. ‘He bit me.’ He pointed at Jevikel. ‘And broke my dose.’

‘Yes, I can see that. Anyone else?’

The others shook their heads. Hortaimin glared at them, to no effect.

‘I understand what it’s like to end up in a new place, where things are different to home. It’s easy to stick with people who are from the same area, or who think the same as you. Easy, but not always the best move. Hatchlings tend to favour people who think for themselves, rather than follow the crowd. Hortaimin, you don’t strike me as a follower, but a leader. Would you agree with that?’

‘Er, well, I suppose.’

‘Leading other people into trouble is never a good idea. Inciting violence isn’t either.’

‘I didn’t…’ he protested.

‘I don’t want to hear it. And I don’t want to hear your name in connection with any of this kind of behaviour in future. Got that?’

Hortaimin nodded.

D’gar turned to Turmevon. ‘If anyone threatens you in any way, I want you to tell me. Think you can do that?’

Turmevon gave a nod.

‘Right. Off you go.’

Turmevon left reluctantly, glancing back at Jevikel. He felt glad the lad wasn’t going to get punished for something that wasn’t his fault.

‘Now, as for the rest of you, I can’t let this just drop. As Weyrlingmaster, I’m accountable for your behaviour. The Weyrleader will want to know what’s been done to stop this happening again. So I’m going to assign you all to a punishment duty. One which I had to perform a few times as a weyrling.’

Shovelling firestone, probably. It was a dirty and tiring job.

‘You’re probably aware of the kitchen waste bins. All of the stuff in there has to be barrowed to the main midden pile, every day. Normally, the kitchen staff are rostered in turns, but they’re always glad when someone else has to do it. Those leftovers and peelings smell a bit ripe in this weather. All of you will report to the kitchen supervisor and tell her you’re on midden duty for the next sevenday.’

Jevikel heard a few groans. He didn’t say anything. It couldn’t be as bad as mucking out the barn at the end of winter.

‘Just be glad there aren’t any weyrlings in the barracks, or you’d be taking all the hatchlings’ dung to the midden, too. I expect to hear from Tidula you carried out your tasks efficiently and without grumbling. Now off you go.’

Jevikel let the others go first, aware of the looks they were giving him. If they were in front of him, they couldn’t take him by surprise. He wasn’t entirely sure they’d take D’gar’s warnings to heart.

‘Not you, Jevikel. Stay behind, please.’

Hortaimin flashed a glance of triumph that he’d been singled out.

Once the curtain had closed behind them, D’gar got up. Jevikel had to force himself not to flinch away, despite the fact D’gar had never threatened him physically. It was an instinctive response. But all D’gar did was to go to the curtain to check the others weren’t hanging around, then came back to his chair. ‘Herebeth will be keeping an eye on them,’ he said. ‘Now, as for you…’ he sighed. ‘I used to know someone who hit first and never mind the consequences. It got him into a lot of trouble as a weyrling and meant most Wingleaders were reluctant to take him on. He was held back for that reason. I’d rather not see that happen to you.’

Jevikel felt he had to defend himself. ‘I didn’t want to hit them.’

‘No, and I doubt they’ll want to take you on again. Just try not to get yourself into those kind of situations, all right? Once you’ve put on some more weight and muscle, you could do some real damage. S’brin never took his own strength into account, either.’

S’brin. He was sure he’d heard the name before from one of the Fort riders.

‘Another thing, while you’re here. I’ll be telling this to everyone who Impresses, but I believe you and Kadin are the only two who are currently in a relationship. Tradition says that weyrlings have to abstain from sexual contact with another person while the dragons are young. Remember, young dragons are like children. They don’t come out of the egg understanding everything about humans and strong emotions can confuse them. So you need to keep your hands off each other for a few months. We were always instructed that it wasn’t allowed until the dragons had flown between, but you’ll get to know your own dragon well enough before then. Any questions?’

‘You think I’ll Impress? And Kadin?’

‘You’ve a good chance, if the right eggs are on the Sands. But we’ll go over Hatching tips over the next sevenday or so. And visit the eggs again. Now, don’t get into any more trouble. I don’t want to see you in this office again.’

‘No, sir.’ D’gar wasn’t insistent on the formalities, but Jevikel felt the need to acknowledge he was taking the reprimand seriously.

He stepped out of the office feeling slightly relieved and very hungry. As he walked across the Bowl, he hoped he hadn’t missed their breakfast sitting.

Kadin - and Turmevon - were waiting just outside the dining hall. ‘What happened?’ Kadin asked anxiously.

‘We’re all on midden duty for a sevenday.’

‘Anything else? Hortaimin came in crowing that D’gar asked you to stay behind.’

‘I’ll tell you later. Let’s get some food first.’

Turmevon stopped him as he was about to go inside. ‘Thanks for sticking up for me. I really appreciate it.’

‘It’s fine.’

‘I thought they’d get me sent home.’

‘Well, they didn’t, did they? Hortaimin’s used to getting his own way, but that isn’t how it works here.’

Jevikel picked a couple of meat rolls and some slices of wherry egg. Lukodan and the rest of the Weyrbred candidates made a big thing of coming over and congratulating him. He had to take one of the meat rolls with him as their time was almost done. ‘Tell Bavi I’ll be a bit late. I have to report to the kitchens first.’

‘Tidula’s a bit stern, but if you work hard, she won’t give you a problem,’ Kernam advised.

He made his way to the main kitchens. A wall of heat hit him in the face; not the steamy heat of the laundry. It was as if an oven door had been opened. The kitchen was well ventilated, but you couldn’t keep the space cool when temperatures outside were already rising. After asking a couple of workers, he was directed to Tidula’s office.

He’d expected her to be as plump as Bavi - many of the folk in the kitchen were, for obvious reasons - but she was thin, with grey hair pulled back severely into a bun. ‘Yes?’ she asked imperiously.

‘D’gar - er, the Weyrlingmaster - asked me to report here for midden duty.’

‘In trouble already and you don’t even have a dragon yet.’ She shook her head, tutting. ‘First bay. Last night’s leftovers need to be gone to make room for the breakfast and lunch waste. You can come back again this evening to clear what’s built up during the day.

It was good to be outside again, not so good to have to face the task at hand. There wasn’t a huge amount of wasted food - dragonriders and weyrfolk had healthy appetites, after all - but lots of kitchen scraps, peelings and gristly bits from the carcasses. It smelled bad. Hundreds of buzzing insects rose up in a black cloud at his arrival.

He found a barrow and shovel and started piling the stuff in. Disturbing it caused another flurry of insects and stirred up the smell, too. He wondered where the others had got to. There were three other barrows, so if he had help, he reckoned it wouldn’t take too long to clear. For obvious reasons, the main midden was situated well away from the kitchens. In fact, it was around half way between the barracks and the main part of the Weyr. D’gar had mentioned shovelling dragon dung, something he’d never given a thought to before. Presumably, mature dragons took themselves off from the Weyr to do their business, whereas the earthbound hatchings didn’t have that option. Still, he’d shovelled enough beast dung in his time. Caring for your own dragon couldn’t be any worse.

After his third trip, he was sweating. Some of the more oozy muck had splashed over his boots and trousers. He reckoned there were another six barrowloads to be moved. Still no sign of the others.

His arms ached from the weight of the barrow by the time he dumped the last of it. All the equipment had been clean when he started, so he found a bucket, filled it at the pump and cleaned off the barrow and shovel, leaving it where he found it, then headed to the baths. He wasn’t going to go to the laundry sweaty and smelling vaguely of rubbish.

‘Afternoon,’ said Bavi, when he arrived.

‘Sorry I’m late.’

‘Kadin explained the reason.’ She examined his face. ‘You don’t look as if you came off too bad in that fight.’

‘Not really. Although shovelling garbage is definitely not my favourite job.’

Bavi smiled. ‘You can help Kadin sort through the socks, Probably can’t smell anything by now.’

He settled into the familiar routine, separating socks that needed mending from the sound, but grubby ones.

‘How were those others?’ Kadin asked.

‘Didn’t see hide nor hair of them. Did it all myself.’

‘That’s not fair.’

‘Maybe Tidula told them to do the lunchtime shift, or something. It might have been a good thing, really. If one of them had thrown any of that stuff at me, I’d have been tempted to bury them in it.’

Hortaimin and the others were at the table for lunch, sitting in their usual cluster. They seemed quieter than usual, whispering among themselves. Kadin beckoned Turmevon over to join them and in between chewing, he even said a few words.

After a day’s work in the laundry, Jevikel just wanted to go to the baths with the others, fool around and relax until meal time, but he went back to the kitchens as Tidula had asked.

‘I thought there were some others,’ she said. ‘Takes more than one to fight, after all.’

‘There are. Er, five more.’ If they hadn’t reported so far, that was just being stupid.

‘You can tell ‘em if I don’t see their faces tomorrow morning, I’ll find something even nastier for them to do. You can carry on as normal.’

There was both breakfast and lunch waste piled up in the bays. As he was already tired, it took longer than in the morning to move it all. It helped to think of it as another sort of fitness training. Maybe his arms and shoulders would get bigger from the extra work? Kadin had already built up some muscle. Jevikel supposed that as he was taller and skinnier, it would take him longer. At least he couldn’t see his ribs any more, thanks to the plentiful and tasty Weyr food.

After a quick wash and a change of clothes - he was going to be using the laundry a lot more over the next sevenday - he joined the queue outside the dining hall. Now was probably the best time to speak to Hortaimin, with everyone else around.

‘I’ve a message from Tidula, the kitchen supervisor. She said if you don’t report for midden duty tomorrow, she’ll find you something worse to do.’

The shortest lad looked uneasy. ‘I said that’d happen.’

‘Shut up.’ Hortaimin said. ‘They can’t make us do anything. We’re candidates. We’re special.’

‘They can. You think Tidula won’t report back to D’gar? He couldn’t believe Hortaimin’s arrogance and stupidity.

‘He’s right.’ One of the others - Madrail, Jevikel thought - piped up.

‘And he doesn’t even need to check up with her. His dragon watches what’s going on. You’re just making it worse for yourselves.’

Hortaimin glared defiantly. ‘Listen, I don’t care if you take any notice of me or not. People have been sent home before. Ask any of the Weyrbred lads. If you want a chance to Impress, you have to follow the rules.’

He went back to Kadin and Egevan. ‘I don’t believe that lot. They didn’t turn up at the kitchens today. Tidula asked me where they’d got to.’

Egevan shook his head. ‘That’s bad news for them. She won’t tolerate that.’

‘Why would they do that?’ Kadin asked.

‘Hortaimin thinks he’s special. That he’s above having to obey rules.’

‘Stupid of him.’

‘That’s just it. If he was really stupid, surely a Search dragon wouldn’t have picked him.’

‘No,’ Egevan agreed. ‘I’ve seen the type before. Spoiled rich boys who’ve never had to work. They think it’s the same here. He’ll realise soon enough he’s got no special influence.’

The following morning, Jevikel wasn’t alone. Madrail and Zanethur had turned up, as well as the short lad whose name he still hadn’t learned. Tidula set two of them to scrubbing filthy grease off the grilles where meat was cooked. ‘And when you’ve done that, there’s more grease to be scraped out of the flue.’

She’d been right. There were worse jobs than shovelling rubbish. The other lad joined him at the midden, screwing up his nose at the smell. He didn’t speak to Jevikel, for which he was grateful, but did his fair share of the work. Afterwards, they both went to the baths, albeit staying as far from each other as possible.

It was a lesson morning, so Kadin was waiting outside the barracks. He’d brought a mug of klah and some food. So had several of the others. He was grateful, but it was too much to eat alone, so they shared it, washing greasy fingers under the pump before going inside.

‘What’s that lad’s name?’ Jevikel asked Kadin, pointing at the short one.

‘Jifet. Has he caused any more bother?’

‘No, he came to help this morning. Three of them did.’

D’gar came in and everyone fell quiet. ‘Good morning, everyone,’ he said. ‘After we’re finished this morning, I’d like Hortaimin and Narrirec to stay behind.’

Most candidates shuffled round to look at them. Jevikel noticed the three who’d come to the kitchens had chosen to move slightly apart from the other two. That was probably a good sign.

‘Today, we’ll learn about what happens at a Hatching. Now, I’m sure the Weyrbred lads have told everyone else how gruesome and dangerous it can be, but we’re aiming to make this Hatching as uneventful as Ramoth and Prideth’s last. Hence our visit to the eggs, as that was one of the things that seemed to make a big difference. You’re probably aware that for the Hold and Craftbred candidates, families are invited. If you haven’t already, let me know the names of your parents and whereabouts they can be found. As soon as we know the Hatching is close, dragons will be sent to pick them up. Over the next few days, several of the Search riders will be informing them of this, so they can be ready.’

Ullanton’s hand went up. ‘How long until the Hatching now?’

D’gar shrugged. ‘Only Ramoth knows that. But based on when she laid her eggs, I’d say probably early in ninth month.’

Ninth month! That was only two sevendays away.

‘We’ll be visiting the eggs again after next Fall has passed.’

A murmur of excitement went through the room. Kadin gave him a quick smile and squeezed his hand.

‘Now, you Weyrbred lads have seen a few Hatchings. Can you tell the others what happens when a Hatching is imminent?’

Kernam’s arm went up before anyone else’s. D’gar pointed to him.

‘The dragons start flying to the Hatching Ground. And they make this humming noise. You can hear it everywhere.’

‘That’s right. We have a rough idea on the day, so we make sure you’re either here at the barracks or doing jobs you can leave at any time. Once the humming starts, you’ll get undressed and put on your Hatching robes. No shoes or boots allowed either.’ He held up a simple white garment with a hole for the head and a slit for each arm. ‘This is a Hatching robe. There’s not much to them, but you’ll be glad to hear the seamstresses make them in different sizes so the taller candidates don’t end up showing anything they wouldn’t want their mothers to see. You can try them on later, so there’s time for alterations.’

‘Why do we have to wear those stupid things? They look like a dress.’ It was Hortaimin’s petulant tones. Jevikel reviewed his previous opinions. Either he really was stupid, or perhaps he was trying D’gar’s patience? Everyone swivelled around to look at him and there were a few tuts.

‘Tradition,’ D’gar replied in the same even tone as before. ‘Hatchlings find it easier to spot you if you’re dressed in white.’ He grinned. ‘It shows up blood pretty well, too and the Healers can get it off easily to tend any wounds. But remember, so long as you keep your eyes open and don’t panic, it’s a lot less likely anyone will be hurt. Can anyone tell me what you shouldn’t do?’

Egevan got in first this time. ‘Don’t try to stop a dragon that’s trying to reach someone else.’

‘Good. Give them space. Stay in loose groups, so there’s room for them to get past…’

The lecture continued. Jevikel wondered how much of it he’d remember in all the excitement and tension of the day. That was probably why D’gar had repeated the same information so often in different ways, so it would stick in their minds.

‘You’ve probably been thinking about how to contract your names if you Impress,’ He went on, once the Hatching protocol had been covered. ‘I know it’s supposed to be unlucky to say them out loud, so I won’t ask any of you what you intend. However, there is a rule that no two riders in the same Weyr should have the same name. This is to avoid confusion, particularly when we’re fighting Thread. I’ll be double checking all your names to see if there are any obvious clashes. It’s sometimes a case that a candidate doesn’t like any of the ways his name can contract. It might be hard to pronounce, or sound silly.’ He grinned again. ‘Or even rude.’

That brought a chuckle.

‘So I can offer a few suggestions if that’s the case.’

Vel held up a hand. ‘My name’s too short even now.’

‘Good point. There are ways round that. Sometimes a rider combines his name with that of the dragon he’s Impressed. Or you might want to add a few more syllables from your father or mother’s name.’

Jevikel was already reminded too much of his father’s name and Jemina hadn’t been much better. He wanted to forget Pinnacle Hold utterly; to start afresh with a new identity. Well, if he was lucky enough to walk away with a dragon, that is.

‘Right, that’s the lectures over for this morning. H’rek is going to take you for a run round the lake.

Jevikel hadn’t noticed H’rek in the doorway behind them. He was wearing lightweight trousers and had stripped to the waist. Most of the lads gave an admiring glance; either they fancied him, or wanted to be like him. Egevan sighed like some lovelorn maiden in a ballad.

They set off at an easy jog. It was a warm day, but overcast. Only a few dragons were lounging on the heights, or in the lake. Most of them had probably gone out to the southern beaches, as it was the last free day before Fall.

If anyone had thought H’rek would take it easier on them than D’gar, they were wrong. After the run, they lifted sacks of sand and had to make a circle to throw them to each other. Rioth flew overhead as H’rek demonstrated how he could throw them for her to catch in her teeth. ‘Not much use in Fall, but I found she really likes doing it. Some greens like playing with leather balls, too, although they tend to chew them up a bit.’

They jogged back to the barracks to pick up any belongings. There was no sign of D’gar, or the two candidates. On the way back to the Lower Caverns, much speculation went on.

‘I reckon they’ve been sent home,’ Lukodan said. ‘Not just for what they did, but for disobeying orders.’ He put on a deep, resonant voice. “A dragonrider who can’t obey orders is no use to anyone.” Old C’gan said that, last time something like this happened.’

‘You mean they won’t even get the chance to try and Impress?’ Madrail asked.

Lukodan looked grim. ‘No point in someone like that Impressing.’

‘Hortaimin said his dad would kill him if he didn’t get a suitable dragon. If he’s sent home…’ Madrail shook his head.

‘Serve him right,’ Kernam said without much sympathy. ‘He’s been a pain ever since he got here.’

Jevikel felt a slight twinge of sympathy. If Hortaimin’s father was anything like Vikkel, it wouldn’t end well. Maybe that was why he felt he had to cultivate a little group of cronies; people to order around.

When they returned to the sleeping room, Jevikel expected to see Narrirec and Hortaimin’s niches empty, but they weren’t, although there was no sign of either of them. It wasn’t until that evening, when he reported for midden duty, that he found out why. They were both leaning over the huge sinks, scrubbing pots. Madrail and Jifet went over to speak, although only briefly, as a glare from Tidula sent them scurrying away.

It was Egevan, inevitably, who found out most of the story from one of the other kitchen workers. D’gar had wanted to send Hortaimin home, although he was prepared to give Narrirec a last chance, as he wasn’t the ringleader. Apparently Hortaimin had cried and pleaded to be allowed to stay. D’gar had agreed on one condition. Both of them would be working in the kitchens full time and their places on the Sands depended on how they behaved. It was a big change from the relatively cushy maintenance work they’d been set to when they arrived and Tidula wasn’t giving either of them the easy jobs. They sat, alone and exhausted at the evening meal, shunned by former friends and the other candidates. It was as much as they deserved.