Avu
Weyrleader Ce'thian Rider A'emi Handler Sena Harper Matteo Weyrbrat Riaren
Posts: 2,439
|
Post by Avu on Feb 8, 2009 19:30:49 GMT -5
He had gotten over it.
At least, he'd gotten over it enough that he was capable of sarcasm again, which Corinth took to mean that he had entirely gotten over it. And since there was only one 'it' that was currently circulating the Weyr, the stories getting bigger and more fantastic with each round they made, it was obvious which one the bronze had meant when he'd commented upon it. Stupid had gotten over it, too, and the 'mandyr's continued clumsiness - he'd somehow managed to nearly drown in a very shallow bowl of soup the day before - had cheered T'rid up immensely. Neither was Mir suffering; the blue had gotten over it more swiftly than even His had. Actually, to be honest, T'rid had no idea what the flitter's opinion was, as Mir was sadly prone to vagueness in...everything. Which left only Corinth still feeling sad. The bronze was over the initial grief, but there still lingered a slight lack of life. He himself had forgotten the pain, but the sadness of the entire Weyr was more than enough reminder.
So, after a particularly distressing evening - Corinth's lack of sarcasm when it came to His' habits was disturbing, and finally T'rid had ended up yelling at the dragon, which resulted in a fierce argument - the bronzerider had started down to the Main Hall. He'd left his knots behind, with the vague notion that maybe if he wore no knots, he wouldn't be plagued by questions - maybe. And maybe, if he secreted himself in a corner of the Main Hall, nobody who did recognize him would notice him and maybe he could just eat and then bolt again - the same plan he'd followed since Shmee's death - a sevenday now. It won't work, Corinth snapped, the bronze still sounding irked by His' lack of sympathy. Who /doesn't/ know you? I'm sure you've had the entire Weyr at our door already. You exaggerate. As usual, T'rid snapped back, not taking kindly to being told his - ahem - "plan" wasn't going to work. We didn't have the /entire/ Weyr...maybe only three-fourths of it, he added thoughtfully, earning a mental snort from Corinth.
"Grumpy," he muttered - completely unaware of the hypocrisy of the statement - and plopped himself down at a table after managing to slink through most of the people. It wasn't quite the typical dinner-time, so there weren't as many people lingering as usual. Good. That suited his purposes just fine. The bronzerider all but threw himself onto a chair, and then remembered that, being stowed in a little corner meant that people were much less likely to serve him as immediately as if he sat in the usual seat at the ranker's table. Oops, did that mean he actually had to move? Good guess, genius, Corinth muttered, and T'rid couldn't repress the frown that twisted his mouth. Just because he wasn't weeping and moaning all over the place - did that honestly mean that Corinth had to take it to mean that he'd hated Shmee and didn't mind her gone? While the former was undoubtedly true, the latter was...just a little...exaggerated.
Just a little.
Anyway, if getting food meant moving, then T'rid would just wait for a Drudge to wander into the corner, because he had never been less incited to move in his memory. On the bright side, he noted absently, at least neither Stupid nor Mir were with him; the 'mandyr would probably start blaring his opinions on how slow His was to the Hall at large, and Mir would just be...impatient. And rather aggravating in his blankness. Absently leaning his chair back on two legs, the Weyrleader glanced around the Main Hall. Nobody...seemed to be headed in his direction. Was he getting paranoid? Oh, very much so. Not without reason. I can't think of a single person who /wouldn't/ want to kill you, Corinth commented dryly. Deciding to take that as a statement of fact rather than an insult, T'rid exhaled wearily, rolling his eyes.
"Thank you. Thank you so very much..."
|
|
|
Post by glamourie on Feb 9, 2009 4:12:47 GMT -5
"You're quite welcome."
Okay, so he wasn't talking to him. Ka'rys was well-aware of that. However, the bronzerider was in a foul mood -- for what could be considered extremely obvious reasons, not the least of which was his current stench which could not be missed by anyone within arm's reach. The source of the foul aroma gracing the his presence? Kalerary. The little girl was also the reason Ka'rys was more antisocial than usual (with everyone but Savitri) for she'd gotten quite ill and, in between sessions of throwing up all over his clothes, spent her time crying over the Weyrwoman being poisoned and being terrified. Needless to say, Ka'rys wasn't getting much sleep, and he was quite thankful for one very blatant fact:
No one liked him but Savitri.
That meant that, aside from a panicked R'wign showing up, a hysterical Kalerary and an icy Savitri (even to him it was obvious), he hadn't really had to deal with people. Which was just as well, really, because Ka'rys was an impatient sort, and what little tolerance he had for humanity was diminishing to the point of being startling. The more he thought about Shmee's death, the more angry he became, for multiple reasons. Primarily self-preservation. If his history was ever called into question, he would have a problem. His blatant dislike of Savitri, coupled with his lineage with Fort made him one of the prime suspects in her murder in his mind. Fortunately, no one at Fort knew the truth. No one. Not even Kale. If they ever found out, he would have a problem on his hands. And then there was Savitri. The Senior Weyrwoman's poisoning made him fuss over her to the point that it took conscious effort not to sneak into her weyr at night with knives and stab anything that moved. Hepaticath was an excellent guard. She would keep Savitri safe. So why did he not feel any more secure?
The only comfort he got came from Ciceroth, and it was cold comfort indeed; the simple phrase of "SavitriCath's won't be the next in line to be targeted." did not help him at all. Ciceroth was right, though. Logically, if someone was trying to assassinate people at Selenitas, Kaegan and the bronzeriders would be next. He wasn't worried about his own well-being (as evidenced by his ... fragrance) but Savitri was another story. The idea of anything happening to her made his blood run cold. Thus why he did not like forming attachments. Accursed female.
Ka'rys's movements came to a halt directly behind T'rid. His hands folded behind his back and he cocked his head to the side, forcing the accusing look from his face. It wasn't T'rid's fault, although a disgustingly cheerful little voice in the back of his mind liked to remind him that nothing so severe had happened when he was Weyrleader. Even he didn't blame the young bronzerider, but there were important things to be considered - things that resulted in Ka'rys shoving Kalerary on R'wign (who whined about children but Ka'rys ignored him) and forced him out of his self-induced solitude to seek out the Weyrleader. One of those major things was the woman on his mind, and her safety... and she'd be furious if she had any idea what he was up to. He'd be thoroughly chastised, but in that moment, Ka'rys didn't really care. Just like he didn't care that his smell would probably offend the other bronzerider. Let him pull rank, see how far that got him.
"Good afternoon, Weyrleader." There was no emphasis on the title, which for Ka'rys meant it wasn't mocking. He was attempting to be polite. Leading up to his interrogation. He didn't like people much but he wasn't completely blind; he knew how stressed out T'rid must have been, and while he intended to grill him for answers, he wasn't going to be tactless about it... or so he hoped. "Hiding from the masses? -- My suggestion: Have the drudges bring meals to your weyr. Works wonders. People forget you even exist."
|
|
Avu
Weyrleader Ce'thian Rider A'emi Handler Sena Harper Matteo Weyrbrat Riaren
Posts: 2,439
|
Post by Avu on Feb 9, 2009 16:46:59 GMT -5
Voice - gah, a person.
T'rid started visibly at the sound of Ka'rys's voice - he hadn't noticed anyone close to him - and sighed, half-turning his head in order to catch a glimpse of the man. He was starting to consider never leaving his weyr again. No, edit; he was considering never leaving his bed again. Yes, that sounded like a very good idea. He could lay there and rot for eternity. How lovely. Not that Corinth would like it, but...well, Corinth could deal with it. It wasn't as if the bronze was exactly peppy nowadays anyway. Resisting the urge to slink away and hide somewhere as Ka'rys stopped directly behind him, the bronzerider bit back a despairing groan and swiveled his chair around slowly to look at Ka'rys, one brow arching slightly in a question, mouth opening to voice what was clearly going to be a polite request to go away...
Except for the smell.
The eyebrow dropped again, his nose wrinkling as he tried to keep from gagging. He quite nearly missed what Ka'rys was saying; his abrupt lack of attention had started somewhere after the word afternoon and then ended again just before wonders. Breathing through his mouth, T'rid edged away from the very noticeable smell, coughing slightly as he waved a hand before his face pointedly. He didn't usually care about smell, but this one was downright unpleasant and - couldn't he have done something about it? He smelled like...like...well, T'rid couldn't exactly name it, but it was disgusting. And he wasn't hungry anymore. Thank you, Ka'rys.
After a moment, he tried breathing normally again and managed not to contort his face. Barely. Nevertheless, his words came out in a splutter that simply could not be helped. "Couldn't you do something about - about that?" T'rid demanded, scraping his chair across the floor backwards in an effort to escape. "It's - " You /could/ try being polite, Corinth interrupted - "horrible," T'rid finished, completely ignoring Corinth's comment. "What have you been doing? Even herdbeasts don't smell that bad..." Polite, Corinth observed, and T'rid managed to stop his words. He would have inhaled, but doing so meant smelling that, and he was not about to do that if it could be at all helped.
"Er...sorry, what'd you say?" he completed lamely after a moment, swallowing as he gestured pointedly towards a seat on the other side of the table, where hopefully the scent would not reach him. "Forget I exist...how, again?" He was just that good at paying attention.
((I'M SORRY IT FAILS.))
|
|
|
Post by glamourie on Feb 10, 2009 3:28:19 GMT -5
Oh that - that was just overdramatic. Ka'rys kept his face carefully schooled to be blank, but he was extremely unimpressed by the very obvious reaction that T'rid had to his... smell. Really, it wasn't that bad. At least, as far as he could tell, but --
I think you may be immune to it, Rysmine, Ciceroth interjected helpfully. Or at least, the bronze thought he was being helpful, though the waspish response he got made him duck his head. He was lounging on the edge of his weyrledge, high up and away from everyone else. Ever since Aslath -- well, he didn't want to be around anyone but Hepaticath, and she'd seemed rather distant and upset. He didn't wish to make her more uncomfortable, so he stayed where he was sure he was welcome. Additionally, RysHis had left the hatchling in the care of Checkoth's, and he was staying to guard the Weyr while His was gone. If anything happened to RysHis's hatchling, he'd be mortified. Ciceroth would make sure they stayed safe. The Hatchling has been sick for awhile...
Yes, well, he's still over reacting!
Feeling Ciceroth mentally recoil, Ka'rys eyed T'rid. His expression never changed, though he casually draped himself into the seat next to the Weyrleader, with absolutely no regard for his stench. As far as he was concerned, T'rid could get used to it. He was a bronzerider which meant he'd probably end up fathering a child eventually anyway - especially with how often Corinth Chased. He didn't give voice to that thought, instead waiting until the Weyrleader was done speaking before leaning forward to prop his chin up on his hands. His elbows rested on top of the table.
"The smell you're reacting so vividly to is that of a seven-turn-old violently ill with a stomach virus that the healers have yet to identify. Anything she eats, I see twice. I've bathed. Three times. I apologize that you're hypersensitive to it, but I can do little short of bathing in vinegar, and the Weyr can't afford to clean me after every time she's ill. Until she's well, I will likely continue to smell this way. Fortunately for me, I don't notice it anymore. Byproduct of being around her so much," he said with utter simplicity, even going so far as to lean back in his seat. "I said you might wish to ask the drudges to bring your food to your weyr, or to your office; they are usually quite willing and it will help you to escape the curious masses with considerable ease. You really ought to listen better, Weyrleader, especially when I'm giving you advice on how to maintain your sanity. Goodness."
Okay. So he was getting facetious - slightly. Considering his smell, and the fact that he hadn't eaten properly in awhile, it was probably understandable. Probably. Despite himself, he was determined to remain mostly civil, or at least as close to it as he got without being suspicious. No doubt there were plenty of people blaming T'rid for the Weyrwoman's death. It wasn't his fault, it was Shmee's. Ka'rys knew that. He didn't blame him at all, and he was determined to avoid a confrontation.
"How are you holding up? Aside from being assaulted with stenches."
|
|
Avu
Weyrleader Ce'thian Rider A'emi Handler Sena Harper Matteo Weyrbrat Riaren
Posts: 2,439
|
Post by Avu on Feb 10, 2009 16:51:10 GMT -5
...how cruel.
How utterly cruel. Surely Ka'rys was aware that from the chair he'd chosen, T'rid could quite clearly smell him? Very, very clearly, yes he could, and while Corinth was quite amused that a bronzerider would smell like that to begin with - and that His was being plagued by the scent - he was not. It was disgusting and repelling and - well, frankly, he was starting to think that if he drowned himself in something that smelled disgusting, he could drive everyone away, assuming that people's minds worked anything like his did. Don't you dare, Corinth warned. You're aggravating enough without smelling terrible too. What happened to being polite? T'rid retorted grumpily as he eyed Ka'rys, leaning back as far as he could in his chair without quite tipping it back on two legs.
He nearly upset the chair in his haste to push it slightly farther backwards as Ka'rys revealed the exact source of the smell. What a lovely thought. Honestly. T'rid didn't like young children (or, for that matter, Candidates), and he liked them even less if they were throwing up. Some people had to have an ungodly amount of patience - cough, Ka'rys - or perhaps just the maternal streak of a gold dragon. "If it keeps coming up, then stop feeding," he suggested, wrinkling his nose. "Or, if you must try, couldn't you - you know, move? What happened to dragonrider reflexes?" T'rid knew he was being impolite, but frankly he didn't care. "Personally, I'd rather get the floor of my weyr dirty than myself." To emphasize this, he plucked vaguely at his tunic, an unconscious gesture he barely recognized.
The - ahem - plan to be forgotten by the Weyr wasn't exactly airtight. Truth be told, it was far from it. And it definitely wouldn't help him escape when people saw Corinth on the weyrledge and stormed up to demand exactly a) what was going on; b) what was being done; c) why the hell was he hiding from the world; and d) why wasn't he happy? (Yes, the last was a jibe at Ebolath, who had all but demanded that he be happy.) You should say 'thank you,' Corinth directed, though T'rid could tell the bronze was quite certain His wouldn't comply. And - surprise, surprise - he didn't.
"If I did, how would you find me to - to kill my appetite with your scent?" he queried innocently, waving one hand in the air to explain the scent. "And anyway, it's not just them stalking me out when I'm eating - they come and stalk me out in my weyr, too." What a depressing thought. All he wanted was to be happily isolated and antisocial (antisocial with three mindmates; was that possible?) and then Shmee had to go die, and foist off the entire Weyr on him. Lovely and nice of her, wasn't it? (He was being horribly unfair, yes, and some part of him - be it Corinth or a conscience that he wasn't aware he had to begin with - was telling him so, but his mood overruled that. It was Shmee's fault for dying.)
The bronzerider had opened his mouth to go on when Ka'rys's question came, and the words died in his throat, leaving him with a highly puzzled look. How was he holding up? That had to be one of the only questions that hadn't been sprung on him lately (the list of these included "how are you?", surprising though it wasn't), and as a result, T'rid was startled. Understandably, seeing as he kept to himself and most people didn't care about how he was doing in any case. "Other than being assaulted...?" he repeated, and then considered. "I'm...alive. Which, from my point of view, is quite an accomplishment." A slight shrug. "Oh, and being assaulted by questions. And people. And dragons, and Candidates." Yes, he ranked Candidates as totally different from regular 'people,' the difference being that 'people' were intelligent, and 'Candidates' were not.
He paused, and then - he was doing his best to ignore the scent, a very difficult task - added, "That can't be all you wanted. To make me gag because of your - " And he waved his hand again to signify the scent. " - and to ask how I was holding up?" People didn't do that, not to him.
|
|
|
Post by glamourie on Feb 11, 2009 9:39:14 GMT -5
"My reflexes are fine. It's very hard to dodge vomit when you're holding the child, T'rid," Ka'rys replied, surprisingly tolerant. Normally he was an easily-agitated individual and the fact that he hadn't, yet, thrown any punches was miraculous. Whether it was simply out of self-preservation (uppity child or not, T'rid was the Weyrleader until one of the other queens Rose and that made him the ranking rider of them) or lack of energy (considerably more likely, as he hadn't slept properly with Kale being so sick), the older bronzerider managed to keep himself completely calm. Mentally he was aware of how immature T'rid was being, but he had no desire to fight. At least, no real desire, save for the primitive urge to punch him out of anger for Savitri's current emotional state. She disguised it well, but she had to be terrified. She wasn't stupid, after all, and in her position, the only intelligent reaction was to be afraid. (And Ka'rys hated the idea of her being unhappy for any reason.) "I apologize that the smell bothers you, but I can do nothing to make her well. It isn't as if I can change time."
Silently flashing on something S'rei said to him once, what felt like so long ago, Ka'rys tensed. He needed to talk to someone about that - someone... anyone. Savitri. Not T'rid. T'rid could never know. He pushed that thought as far from his mind as he could, and ignored Ciceroth's budding curiosity.
The more T'rid spoke, the less sympathetic he felt about his smell offended the other bronzerider. True, he was being irritating, but there was no need to dwell on the subject, and Ka'rys was not someone who lingered on topics of conversation he did not enjoy. For that reason, he chose to ignore what he was sure was an attempt at baiting him. Or at least... it sounded like one. Hmm. It was possible T'rid was simply that oblivious to how offensive he was being. Most people, after all, had the decency to ask how one's child was doing, if they found out said child was sick. Most people would have at least shown some compassion. T'rid was a classic example of Southern breeding, though. Thought only of himself. Ka'rys decided he didn't care, and promptly turned off the side of his brain that was rapidly taking insult. Weyrleader or not, T'rid was still a child himself. It showed.
"The presumption that my smell is why I sought you out, while entertaining, is inaccurate. You're right though. I did have another reason for hunting you down - or rather, for actually leaving my weyr. Finding you was ridiculously easy." Ka'rys shrugged. No, he was not going to be antagonized into an argument. "What are you doing in order to protect the two remaining Weyrwomen? I assume you have a plan of some sort." Actually, he was assuming the exact opposite. T'rid did not strike him as terribly organized and he had a hard time imagining the mere boy of a Weyrleader organizing protective watches on the two remaining Goldriders at Selenitas. S'rei would've done it. Which reminded him that he needed to find S'rei and find out if he'd completely fallen apart at the seams or not. Problem was, he didn't really want to know. Seeing one of the few people he deemed bearable suddenly lose it was not his idea of a good time. "Savitri is one of the only people at Selenitas I find to be bearable company --" It was as close to admitting he had feelings to her as Ka'rys was going to get, out loud at least. "-- and I want to know what you intend to do to keep her safe, so that I can coordinate my paranoid efforts around yours."
He probably should have been embarrassed by the admission that he intended to take matters into his own hands, no matter what T'rid did. Yet, he wasn't. Ka'rys was a paranoid individual, no one who knew him had any doubts about that. Should he have been ashamed? He wasn't. He could protect Savitri far better than anyone else in the Weyr, even if T'rid put them all up to it. Hmph. He didn't really believe the Weyrleader had thought that far ahead, though.
|
|
Avu
Weyrleader Ce'thian Rider A'emi Handler Sena Harper Matteo Weyrbrat Riaren
Posts: 2,439
|
Post by Avu on Feb 11, 2009 17:54:44 GMT -5
He blamed part of his lack of comprehension as to Ka'rys's smell on his own lack of paternal urges, never having had a child -- and he didn't plan on getting one anytime soon, because T'rid just didn't care about children. To be totally honest, if he had a kid foisted off on him, he'd find the fastest way to the creche and ditch the 'brat there. End of baby-related stress. As thus, he didn't quite get why anybody -- sane or otherwise -- would want to hold a vomiting child without taking care to point the vomit away from themselves. Just don't talk. You'll humiliate yourself and you'll humiliate me. Surprisingly obedient for once, the bronzerider bit the inside of his lip. That didn't necessarily mean he didn't get his opinion across anyway, because it was clearly printed across the arch of his eyebrows, the slight quirk to his mouth. Yes, though, the smell did bother him. But...hadn't other people been getting sick, too? He hadn't paid much attention, really. Sure, he'd scribbled down notes so he could truthfully say he had done so, but Corinth was the one who'd mainly handled it -- T'rid only paid attention when people started to drop dead.
And as of yet, nobody but Shmee had. So, he paid little attention.
"Um." He paused, head cocking in a slight, unconscious gesture. "Wait, what've you been feeding her?" Come to that, what had people been getting sick of -- ? Wine. Definitely wine. And...And breakfast. Some get sick after breakfast, Corinth broke in helpfully. We don't know what, exactly. They eat everything like a normal breakfast, and they get sick. And some get sick after they eat fruit -- grapes. Maybe other things, too, but those are the reports I remember. Which didn't necessarily mean much, given the short memory span of the bronze dragon. Breakfast -- that didn't help much. Lots of people gorged during breakfast (and who could blame them? One did need a lot of klah to incite movement).
Entertaining. Right. Not what he'd been looking for, but okay. Wait -- ! It'd been easy to find him? T'rid managed not to slump over in his seat. Scorch it all...apparently he'd really need to put Ka'rys's suggestion to use and start making Drudges bring up his food. Corinth didn't generally like speaking to people, but maybe if he bribed him with constant spoiling and oilings, and somehow making Stupid shut up so the bronze could sleep in peace, maybe he could ask Corinth to make arrangements with some Drudge who wouldn't start gabbling at him and demanding answers to questions...? "Uh?" With that intelligent, ever-so-coherent statement, he was brought back from his plotting at Ka'rys's question. Wait -- what? Protect -- goldriders? But they didn't need protecting. Not really. If the sicknesses were anything related to Shmee's death -- didn't it clearly show that there was no particular pattern of poisonings? They might as well have official poison-testers tasting everything before it was served up.
Actually, that was a good idea. Surely he could find some idiot who was willing to sacrifice his own comfort...
Well, maybe not. T'rid blinked, trying to figure it out, and then bit his lip. "Um, actually, we haven't done...anything. Not yet...haven't you heard? People getting sick..." He shrugged. "Anyway, the point is, there isn't an actual...pattern." He waved one hand vaguely to emphasize. "Of people, I mean. Obviously there's a pattern to what's been poisoned...though we haven't figured that out exactly yet, either." What a talented speaker he was. T'rid didn't even quite register Savitri's name, too busy trying to think of what exactly they should do. Corinth was -- naturally -- agitated about the potential death of another queen, but then, the bronze had been fretting over the potential loss of any lives recently, so there was nothing new there, but one eyebrow arched slightly at the other bronzerider's comment. If he was determined to guard the younger goldrider, T'rid wasn't going to stop him. "You can act like her personal poison-tester if you want," he answered, shrugging. "Well..." Ask him, what does he want to be done? Corinth pressed, and T'rid didn't argue, mimicking the bronze's words. "What do you want -- or need -- done so that you won't be paranoid?"
See? He could so be reasonable.
...slightly.
|
|
|
Post by glamourie on Feb 12, 2009 10:33:47 GMT -5
"Whatever I can scrounge up. Usually fruit from the kitchens and some bread. Neither she nor I eat red meat," Ka'rys replied with a half-hearted shrug. He felt certain that what he was feeding Kalerary wasn't the problem, though, but it was interesting T'rid thought that first. No, the reason she was sick was because she had a stomach bug, as evidenced by her fevers and complaints of muscle pain. R'wign could diagnose the difference between poisoning and illness, considering it was the healer's specialty. He didn't trust many people, but when it came to healing, he trusted R'wign explicitly. Overly fluffy and friendly teenager though he was, the brown weyrlingrider knew a ridiculous amount about healing for his age and he took his craft very, very seriously. Ka'rys could respect that... considering he'd never been led astray where R'wign was concerned. Not that he would admit it to the journeyman's face... or aloud to anyone, actually. Ka'rys hated admitting he liked anybody.
T'rid saying there was no pattern amused him, though. He leaned back and stared at the ceiling, letting the other bronzerider speak uninterrupted. For all of his flaws (of which there were many), being intentionally rude and disrespectful weren't on the list. Yes, he could be condescending, but he didn't usually pick at people if he could help it. That was more R'wign's style. He was simply ... a natural at alienating others, as clearly evidenced by his record of people who disliked him. Sigh.
Once T'rid was through speaking, Ka'rys patiently curled his fingers together and gazed off into space. However, his mind was working double-time. Paranoia at its finest, he was already trying to figure out the best way to explain to someone who wasn't used to dealing with sneaky figures what his thoughts were. And so far, he was having little luck. Like trying to explain to the blind what it meant to see. T'rid hadn't grown up in the same world as him. He didn't understand what it meant to deal with people who had no problem killing a large amount of individuals just to get at a single person. It probably never even crossed his mind that someone could do such things. He envied that naivete. Very young, any traces of innocence he had were destroyed.
"There's a pattern: someone poisoned something here. And there's a good chance there were targets, that it wasn't just a random act. Think about it. If I wanted to poison you, without anyone realizing I was trying to poison you specifically, what better way to do it than put the poison in something I knew you'd eat or drink, and then let a bunch of others also fall? You have no idea how many times that tactic was discussed when I was growing up," Ka'rys said with a light sigh. Actually, it wasn't discussed at all when he was growing up, at least not the way he implied it -- but Ka'rys wasn't stupid. He was very good at covering his own tracks and so were most of the northerners. He would have killed to talk to someone who was as cynical as him in that moment. As it was, there was only T'rid. He glanced at the other bronzerider and added softly, "The term for it, in war, is 'collateral damage.'"
As for there being no pattern to what was poisoned, he doubted that was very true, either. "Something was poisoned, even if it was just one ingredient being overlooked. What you should do is find out what everyone who has gotten sick has been eating, source it out ingredients-wise, then find out where those ingredients came from, and how it became contaminated. In the mean time, I'd recommend having the vast majority of the foods in the kitchens disposed of, and gather fresh fruits from the nearby jungles and meat from the nearby beastcrafter halls. Fresh supplies aren't in any way tampered with. If anyone gets sick off of fresh supplies, the person doing the poisoning is here in Selenitas. If not, you can find out the source and approach where the food came from. You should also talk to some of the healers about poison resistance and their theories on what would be best to be poisoned. R'wign is a poisons specialist. That is what I would do. In the mean time, I'm going to procure fresh food for myself, Kale and 'vi, because I don't trust anything here anymore. I'd suggest you do the same."
|
|
Avu
Weyrleader Ce'thian Rider A'emi Handler Sena Harper Matteo Weyrbrat Riaren
Posts: 2,439
|
Post by Avu on Feb 13, 2009 17:33:03 GMT -5
Fruit didn't automatically signal red alarm, and neither did bread. It depended on the type of fruit, really. He considered pressing, but it didn't really matter. She was already sick, and the healers should know -- and did, from what Corinth said -- how to take care of the people who'd been poisoned anyway. He distinctly recalled that the bronze had been anxious as to Ebolath's being poisoned, but the exact details were blurred by now. But anyway, Ka'rys didn't seem too worried about it either -- T'rid would have been frantic if someone he shared his weyr with decided to start throwing up on him, mostly because he didn't need his clothes smelling like -- like Ka'rys's did. Oh So Compassionate Weyrleader, what say you drop the topic? Corinth suggested neatly. You're clearly displaying the reason why you /don't/ share your weyr with anybody. The bronze dragon huffed softly. And besides, the healers know.
...had the other bronzerider zoned out? It looked like it. T'rid eyed Ka'rys warily, wetting his lips as he waited for the undoubtedly forthcoming response. When it came, the bronzerider leaned his chair back absently, eyes narrowed slightly in concentration as the older rider explained the concept. It wasn't totally alien to him -- he'd heard of it before, vaguely. There were always Harper tales and stories to cover any given event. It was just a concept that seemed too great and too thoughtlessly cruel to ever actually be put into action. Apparently not, because not only was it realistic (for Benden), but he could see the sense in it. He exhaled, letting his chair fall back with an audible noise onto all fours again, running one hand through his hair and cocking his head slightly in thought, before he nodded slowly, resisting the urge to bite his lip in a gesture that would seem extremely childish.
The plan of action was a highly drastic one, in T'rid's opinion, what with the entire dispose-of-entire-kitchen-supplies idea -- the Drudges would probably have a problem with that, and so would some of the more food-obsessed Weyrfolk. It was necessary, he supposed. They'd already gathered a very incomplete, generalized idea of what was poisoned, and the top "suspect" -- wine -- was definitely a tithe item. From which Hold the original bottle of wine -- the one that had killed Shmee -- wasn't exactly known to T'rid yet, but he doubted anybody who had heard the story of Shmee's demise would be drinking much wine anyway. It had been white wine, he recalled, but that was all he remembered of it before the two Healers that had come, Dorava and E'rro, had -- done something, to it. "We've got some," he defended himself automatically, though he was too busy trying to remember to sound very convincing. "Wine -- that's not from the Weyr -- " He paused, and then shrugged. "The rest isn't really -- really much. Some people get sick after breakfast, and some people get sick after they eat grapes. If grapes grow near here, and are picked, they're probably just mixed with those that are tithed anyway -- nobody's cared before now.
"I hate the Infirmary," he added in a mumble, to himself, twisting his mouth disapprovingly to one side, and then, as another thought occured, he arched one eyebrow curiously. "Assuming we do bring in fresh supplies -- and the poisoner is inside Selenitas -- wouldn't they be smart enough to stop the poisoning? I certainly wouldn't keep doing it if we cut off tithes. That's just plain stupidity. And then we won't be any the wiser." He was slightly surprised that he'd actually thought of that (and not just a little proud); his wasn't a mind made for plotting and attacking. Fresh food, though -- that wouldn't be too bad. T'rid didn't generally abhor vegetables -- he didn't mind them -- and he didn't think he'd meat enough to make much of a difference. And if he did, he could just hunt Corinth out and snag a wherry or something. "And," he finished after a pause, wondering if he could suggest such a thing to the Headwoman and still have his head intact, "I'll talk to the Headwoman about disposing of the foods. Wines, too," he added. There would definitely be some Riders on his case about that one...
They could live with it.
|
|
|
Post by glamourie on Feb 14, 2009 1:13:40 GMT -5
. . . . ?
"Do you know what goes into making wine, Weyrleader?" Ka'rys asked, voice deliberately gentle to avoid sounding accusing. He was sure he knew the answer, though. Typically, for wines to be made properly required extensive vineyards with wineries on the compounds. As a result, there were only a handful of major wineries on Pern that he knew of: Benden Hold was by far the most prolific, but Blossom Hold also had a vast supply of wine. Southern too... There was no way the wine itself could be made at the Weyr, but it could have been contaminated there. Poisoning wine wasn't particularly difficult if one knew how to get the cork out. More likely, though, was it that the wine was poisoned before being sent. Which begged the question of where the wine came from. "Shmee's poisoning came from wine, right?" He wasn't there and, to be honest, hadn't thought about it much. "Grapes aren't something easily poisoned. Fruit in general isn't, but grapes are among the hardest. Wine would be easier, but it wouldn't have come from the grapes used to make the wine because the wine would've been made at a winery. Which means you can probably eliminate the grapes, and locate another common source."
Poisoning fruit didn't work very well because fruit bruised, and left marks. It couldn't simply be dipped in poison because it would be washed off. Poison had to be put into prepared food. Like pies, or the wine itself. Bread worked if it was mixed with the wheat before being prepared. Hmm. He leaned back in his chair, making it creak lightly. His mind went back to everything he'd learned back at Fort. He felt sixteen again, except that he had considerably more experience. T'rid didn't. Funny, he was the one giving the advice. Whether or not the Weyrleader would listen to him was another story, though. Selenitas riders had a habit of not listening to him just out of spite. Like Shmee.
Oops. Mustn't think ill of the dead...
"Fruit and vegetables - prepared fresh - are among the hardest to poison. They bruise, leave marks on the fruit, and it looks suspicious. So fruit would be something to keep. We can also get massive amounts of it from the forest nearby. Basically, things in their raw form are hard to poison. Fish is like that. It's easier - and more efficient - to poison ingredients going into something. Like with the wine, one could put poison into the bottle, recork it and no one would ever know. Or the grains going into bread, because after it was baked it would look exactly the same. We know the wine was poisoned from Shmee - if we locate the Hold it came from, I'd recommend separating any 'ingredients' coming from there." He quirked his eyebrows, then looked back. "I don't think grapes are the source though. It seems so unlikely. If I was going to poison someone, I would've settled for grains. No one would deduce that. Grains or flour."
Actually, he'd have poisoned the water with fellis and wiped out all the dragons, which in turn would kill most of the riders. Ka'rys was brutally efficient, though, and he didn't give voice to that thought. It immediately alarmed Ciceroth, and he silently soothed the bronze. He'd never do anything like that, but it was something he would've expected. "I think your best bet would be to try to use supplies from here at Selenitas. The poisonings are recent, so it probably came from the most recent tithe. You could try eliminating supplies from that. The drudges and Weyrwomen keep excellent records of what is from what tithe. Savitri or Kaegan would know what could be tainted. You could keep fruit and vegetables, have them cleaned thoroughly, but everything else -- well." He shrugged. "Just a suggestion."
As for whether or not they were smart enough to stop the poisoning if they were someone at Selenitas -- that would depend entirely on what their goal was. Ka'rys chose not to reply to that. T'rid had a valid point, but his utter pessimism did not allow for any loose ends. If they stopped, it would mean they couldn't catch the person responsible, and that was unacceptable. The guilty party needed to pay.
|
|
Avu
Weyrleader Ce'thian Rider A'emi Handler Sena Harper Matteo Weyrbrat Riaren
Posts: 2,439
|
Post by Avu on Feb 15, 2009 11:19:49 GMT -5
Did he -- ? T'rid looked momentarily blank, and then shook his head in the negative. He'd never particularly cared what went into wine. Actually, he didn't generally drink a lot of the stuff to begin with, which perhaps marked his lack of interest. It wasn't that he didn't like it -- he just didn't care enough about it to go out of his way to get it, and that was just fine by Corinth, who disapproved of the idea of T'ridhis being drunk strongly. (He did quite enough damage when he was awake, after all.) In any case, he -- probably like most others -- associated wine with vineyards, and therefore with grapes. And that was basically all he knew. Making wine had never interested him in the slightest. Shmee's death was, yes, due to wine. "Benden white, if I remember correctly." He was fairly certain that was right, though he wouldn't be laying bets on it, seeing how he had a habit of being -- as Corinth called it -- selectively capable of memory.
He needed a -- a piece of paper, or something. Something he could write on. There was absolutely no way he'd remember all this. I'm remembering, Corinth assured him, and T'rid resigned himself to making sure the bronze 'heard' everything that he did. After Ka'rys finished his...lecture? Rant? Instructions, T'rid decided in a moment of generosity (it sounded better than the other two), the bronzerider pushed his chair back on two legs again, unaware of it as he did so -- it was more a habit than anything else, and he had yet to fall backwards and bash his head open, fortunately -- and repeated what he considered to be vital points back to Ka'rys. "So -- keep fresh vegetables and fruits, check the wines, grains, flour, spices, etc.; try to stick with Selenitas' supplies; make sure nobody's stupid enough to gorge on tithed items that haven't been checked; possibly get a poison-tester...I didn't miss anything, did I?"
Actually, he kind of liked the poison-tester idea. The poison wasn't fatal most of the time, unless there was more than one type of poison going around, but there were effects -- cramps being the most common, according to the various reports from distressed dragons -- so maybe he should pay someone to sip a bit of wine, wait for a few hours, and then move on to the next wine. Or something like that; T'rid wasn't -- and didn't proclaim to be -- an expert on poisons anyway. Perhaps they could recruit everyone to sample just a bit of everything, and ditch what was poisoned...(not that he had ever considered being the poison-tester himself.)
Savitri or Kaegan or the Headwoman. T'rid definitely preferred the idea of talking to Kaegan as opposed to the...other two. The Headwoman had been the bane of his life during Candidacy and Weyrlinghood, and he was convinced that she still (a) hated; (b) liked taking advantage of; (c) both a and b -- (take your pick) -- him. Savitri he didn't know very well, but from what he remembered, she was much less inclined to cooperate than Kaegan was. And besides, he actually kind of liked the latter goldrider; she'd rescued him from the Hatching Feast and that was good. Rubbing one temple wearily -- he didn't like to analyze this so much; it was far too complicated -- T'rid nodded. "I'll see if I can catch Kaegan later," he agreed.
And that reminded him. "Speaking of goldriders...you mentioned wanting to protect them. How exactly were you figuring to do that? I really, really doubt that either Kaegan or Savitri -- though I'm not certain -- would like some random dragon sharing their weyrledge while their rider skulks around the weyr while they sleep...or a bodyguard. And I don't think it'll be too easy to recruit personal poison-testers, either." Maybe that was just him, personally, but it'd drive him crazy. "Aren't their dragons enough protection? Millieth and Hepaticath do have some sense of self-preservation, don't they? Most dragons do. That's probably why Corinth keeps me alive."
|
|
|
Post by glamourie on Feb 16, 2009 5:04:20 GMT -5
"That would be my suggestion. You will, of course, do whatever you see fit," Ka'rys replied with a light shrug. "You are Weyrleader, after all." That was a fact he hadn't forgotten, and honestly, he didn't expect T'rid to listen to him. People from Selenitas had a habit of viewing his habits as too northern, too paranoid. It was funny, too, because northern and paranoid or not, he had survived. He was alive. That thought soured him, though. He couldn't scorn Shmee in her death, not really. Some part of him felt guilty for her, as if it was his fault. That wasn't entirely stemmed from the Goldrider's death. His sister had died. Killed. She was replaced immediately, too, and it.. bothered him. As if no one mourned her passing. Well, he mourned, and he would not replace Shmee in his mind. Until one of the golds went up in flight, there was no Senior Weyrwoman in Ka'rys's mind. He wouldn't treat either of the remaining Weyrwomen with that position. He found it disrespectful to Shmee's memory. He didn't like her. Not in life and certainly not in death. But she didn't deserve to be all but forgotten as soon as she was gone. Without her, Selenitas would be a completely different place, and he strongly suspected most of its inhabitants forgot that. He didn't. He'd met Sera, and of the two of them, Shmee was more bearable. Slightly. He closed his eyes and sighed. If she'd listened better, maybe she would have been alive. If she'd been a little more paranoid. 'If' wasn't right to dwell on, though...
Ka'rys took a deep breath, leaned back in his seat, and sighed. He caught a slight hint of his smell, but managed to avoid making a face -- thankfully. T'rid did not deserve to be vindicated by the idea that it bothered him. Let the other look like a fool. Ka'rys preferred that he look like what he was. That thought was slightly cynical, but justified in his opinion, considering that he thought he was being mocked. He probably was, but while he was sure that the southern-born bronzerider saw his ideas as extreme, he at least recognized it would work. To eliminate a plague involved isolation and burning of the bodies. Extreme but efficient. Poison worked the same way.
Maybe he was irritated because T'rid wanted to talk to Kaegan, though. Savitri seemed more on the ball with things like that than the Benden-born woman was. He always thought Kaegan was little more than a mostly-broken individual, the product of Benden breeding, and he didn't like to think of her in charge of anything. He didn't dislike her, but he had no respect for someone who was spineless. Ka'rys respected strength. He was also extremely biased in Savitri's favor, for better or worse. While on a personal level he was fine with Kaegan, he was typically very critical of goldriders. It took someone special to get past that for him. Savitri had to work to even make him treat her with any level of humanity. Often times, he slipped up and offended her, too. Still, he thought it was more appropriate to go to her than to Kaegan. He did not voice that. T'rid was Weyrleader, he could make his own decisions, and he didn't need Ka'rys second-guessing everything.
"I didn't mention wanting to protect all the goldriders. I am concerned for Savitri's safety. To be totally blunt, Kaegan is not my friend or my responsibility. Let someone close to her fret over her. I don't have the energy to." It probably sounded cold, but it was honest nonetheless. "I'm merely pointing out that I think that -- that Shmee's death was a deliberate assassination attempt." It hurt to say her name, what in Faranth - Why did it bother him? Probably because, despite all appearances and his dislike of her, the death of any goldrider was a tragedy. He'd stammered, too. He hoped T'rid wouldn't notice or call him on it, or he might have hurt him. "And should be treated as such. That's my opinion. Like I said, you're Weyrleader, you'll do what you see fit. I asked what you intend to do, mainly so I don't get in the way. You're right though. 'Vi wouldn't like people in her weyr, and their queens should be enough to keep them safe. That doesn't mean I don't intend to keep an eye on 'vi myself."
Poison testers. That got him thinking. Ka'rys frowned. "Most poisons can be absorbed by activated charcoal. I don't know the details, but the healers would. You actually could get some poison testers from adults, with the promise that they'll be taken care of. In the meantime, I'd like to point out that the wine that she was poisoned from came from Benden and take this moment to suggest you consider removing anything else from the same tithe from our stores. Benden Hold is highly tied to Benden Weyr and we know they hate us."
|
|
Avu
Weyrleader Ce'thian Rider A'emi Handler Sena Harper Matteo Weyrbrat Riaren
Posts: 2,439
|
Post by Avu on Feb 16, 2009 17:19:01 GMT -5
Yes, he was Weyrleader. This was the ideal time to say something like, "Why, yes, I /am/ Weyrleader" or something along those lines -- dramatic and commanding, etc. However, T'rid looked far from excited or at all happy with it. Truthfully, he was considering asking Ka'rys if he wanted to take over again. He'd been meaning to, ever since Corinth had Caught Aslath, but he hadn't seen Ka'rys, or wanted to take the effort to stalk him out. You're being ridiculous, and now is far from the ideal time. If you're determined to hand over the Weyrleadership -- untraditionally, I might add -- you might as wait until it's less -- less chaotic. Ciceroth's is going to think you're trying to give him the problems. Corinth had missed the point. I /am/, though. The bronze dragon snorted mentally, and a twinge of annoyance flicked to T'rid, who, far from smirking as he usually wound, merely bit his lip, staring at Ka'rys consideringly.
He wasn't sure he could come up with a good argument to convince the other bronzerider to take over, frankly. Who would ever want to be Weyrleader? Actually, who would ever want to Impress bronze? Temporary insanity, it was, the insanity that came with the desire for power -- or the desire to be better (which was why he'd wanted to Impress bronze to begin with). Clearly bronze-hopefuls didn't know the strings that were attached to said dragons. He felt Corinth shift in his mind again, and almost argue, but fortunately for both Bonded and dragon, the bronze chose to keep quiet. Could he order Ka'rys to take over Weyrleadership, he wondered? And then flee before the other could turn it around on him? Because he would. "You're Weyrleader now. I order it." He wanted to say it, he really did. Corinth huffed mentally again and T'rid did smirk this time, mostly to himself, as he leaned back in his chair, determined not to be plagued by the other's smell.
His thoughts were stopped abruptly at Ka'rys's statement on goldriders, and one eyebrow arched in surprise. Just Savitri, was it? His explanation made T'rid bite his lip again, reconsidering foisting off the Weyrleadership. Oh, it was still tempting. "Fine, let's say it's assassination," he agreed after a pause. "Say someone did mean to kill Shmee, specifically -- wouldn't Kaegan be the next in line to be killed, then? Technically, she is Acting Weyrwoman until one of the queens Rises -- and Hepaticath and Savitri just graduated out of Weyrlinghood. Millieth is next in line to Rise, isn't she, as far as queens go?" He wasn't certain about that; he'd have to check. "Anyway -- whatever. You can take care of ''vi,'" and yes, he was deliberately mimicking the other's nickname, "and I'll ask Kaegan about what she wants done." T'rid shrugged absently. "And make sure she doesn't die as far as I can control." Not that it was his fault Shmee died to begin with.
Oh, seriously? Poison-testers? He did like the idea, but he simply couldn't think of anyone who would actually risk their lives and health. Or anyone whose dragon would let them. I would let you, Corinth commented quietly, making T'rid jump visibly. It is for the good of the Weyr. I am willing. And Ciceroth's says that you will not die. How touching, the bond between dragon and Rider. "Activated charcoal?" he echoed -- he'd never heard of that before. But then, T'rid reminded himself, he'd never actually tried to deal with poison, either. "Fine -- who's the poison specialist? I'll need to make a list of people I need to hunt down..." If only he could just talk to Dorava -- at least she was standable (most of the time) -- but she wasn't a specialist in poisons. Or really anything, from what he'd heard. So that wouldn't do, more's the pity.
"I do need a list," he remarked after another pause, trying to organize his thoughts again. "Get rid of Benden tithes, get more fresh foods, get rid of potentially poisoned...things, talk to Kaegan about tithes, talk to her about how she wants to survive, since you've got Savitri covered, see who wants to put life and limb on the line acting as poison tester, track down this poison specialist of yours...and, oh. Ask about vinegar for that bath of yours. It's really disgusting..."
|
|
|
Post by glamourie on Feb 19, 2009 3:28:04 GMT -5
"It is likely Kaegan would be next in line, yes," Ka'rys agreed softly. The pause that followed was, in his mind, cold. Ka'rys was not an overly emotional being (ha ha) and most people knew that about him. No longer was it his job to worry about the safety of Selenitas as a whole and, by proxy, he was refusing to think in terms of the general public. Let T'rid focus on protecting Kaegan and the rest of the Weyr -- that was his job, his problem, his responsibility. It wasn't Ka'rys's anymore. He cared about his wing (because he was of the opinion that a wing was as family, and that meant defending one another from all harm), Savitri, R'wign and Kalerary. Everyone else could go up in smoky flames and the bronzerider would not have cared one little bit. He was apathetic toward the general public sometimes to the point of being frightening. Some part of him (the part he liked to blame on Ciceroth) was worried... but he couldn't get up the oomph to focus on it when his attention was elsewhere. Tunnel vision was, at times, a benefit, no matter what certain individuals (read: women) liked to think. "However, Kaegan is northern-born. She's from Benden Weyr. For all of the woman's meekness and blatant spineless behavior, she's from Benden: she knows how to stay alive. She's on the short list of people you probably don't need to worry about."
An incredibly short list that was, indeed. It consisted of, in Ka'rys's mind, Kaegan, himself, Aliscia, R'non and E'rro. He didn't trust anyone else to have sense to take care of themselves. Maybe that was condescending of him, but he'd long-since accepted that he had a superiority complex most others found offensive. He also didn't care. Let them be annoyed. It wasn't his problem. He hadn't stayed alive as long as he did by being stupid. It took something special to live past twenty at one of the northern Weyrs, especially growing up there as a child. Selenitas was easy - soft. Most of the riders there didn't realize just how soft, but he did. He only trusted those as paranoid as him. There were other northerners, but they weren't paranoid, weren't so concerned. S'rei would probably eat a bowl full of poison and it would never dawn on him. He didn't think like that. Ka'rys was betting Kaegan did -- because a queenrider at Benden wouldn't have had much choice.
"I will be forthright with you: I don't much care what happens to Kaegan. She isn't my responsibility. She's yours. She also isn't my friend or anything special to me. She's a goldrider who merits protection, but she is bound to have quite a collective of people wanting to make sure she is safe. My motives are purely selfish, and my focus is on the goldrider I do care about." He shrugged, not remotely abashed. Anyone else he might have been concerned over that admission, but T'rid seemed to think mockery was a good course of action, from his tone. Which meant he was probably not smart enough to realize what a gaping weakness Savitri was. Anyone who did recognize it, wouldn't have called attention to the admission so blatantly. Not that he was doing a very good job of hiding it anyway. "Ciceroth would be most displeased with me if I didn't go out of my way to see to it that Savitri and Hepaticath have constant guards." A hint of dryness entered his tone. "He doesn't meet very many golds that he likes to be around. Or any ranking dragons for that matter. Overgrown snob..."
Trailing off, he quirked an eyebrow at the other bronzerider. He didn't know about activated charcoal? "Activated charcoal is standard poison treatment. The charcoal absorbs the chemicals that make up the poison's toxicity - that's how it works. It's a black powder without a smell or taste, and it's ingested. I don't know how efficient it is in terms of numbers. R'wign is a specialist in poisons." And why did Ka'rys know that? Because he'd considered poisoning Shmee himself. It sounded horrible, but the woman absolutely infuriated him. That and he spent a lot of time with the raven-haired healer and got to hear quite a bit of ranting. "I'm not sure if that's what their using or not though, as R'wign mentioned that it's only effective within a candlemark of the poisoning itself, and they're not sure what the source of the poison is. Some things don't work. He was ranting and I wasn't really listening. But he's a poisons specialist, and most healers near Journeyman rank or above know standard treatment for poisoning. He'd know who you should talk to though. Him or Savitri, they're both pretty... attentive..." Translation: Obsessive.
Leaning back in his chair, Ka'rys rolled his eyes at the mention of 'vinegar.' Then - despite himself - he reached up and smacked T'rid across the back of his head. It wasn't hard enough to hurt, but definitely enough to jar his attention. "Grow up, Weyrleader. There are enough children here without you acting the part of one."
|
|
Avu
Weyrleader Ce'thian Rider A'emi Handler Sena Harper Matteo Weyrbrat Riaren
Posts: 2,439
|
Post by Avu on Feb 19, 2009 17:30:36 GMT -5
He didn't care.
T'rid couldn't help the look of genuine surprise that flickered over his face. It was obvious that Ka'rys didn't care about Kaegan one way or another, and he was torn between amusement and irritation. On one hand, he would have killed (and might well have to, he noted wryly) to be able to not care. But he had to, didn't he? Until she died, or until Hepaticath beat Millieth to Rising, Kaegan was Senior Weyrwoman and therefore demanded to be protected with the lives of the Weyr if necessary...or something like that, though T'rid for one would much rather have himself survive and Kaegan die if he had to make the choice. Knowing their luck, they'd probably both be killed. What a cheerful thought. T'rid wrinkled his nose absently. Meek and spineless. So kind, Ka'rys was, though he had to agree. "Convincing though your argument is, I don't think the rest of the Weyr will agree...at least if I ask her, I can say I did and they can't start yelping about it. And besides, knowing how to stay alive won't do her much good if she gets stabbed. Last I checked, nobody's immortal when it comes to cold steel." That was only applicable if there was someone in Selenitas...or if they were attacked.
Oh, yes, this was just the conversation of epic cheer, this was.
And, yes -- did Ka'rys want to be accused of poisoning? You didn't outright say that you didn't care what happened to a goldrider. Golds represented the future; golds represented the Weyr's future. Without a queen, there was no future. It was as simple as that. T'rid exhaled wearily. Responsibility. What a horrible, horrible word. "Fine. Then I'll get a hoard of over-paranoid friends who can stab everything and anyone that goes near her." He shrugged. "Whatever she prefers...actually, I'll get her to pick her bodyguards." The bronzerider didn't know Kaegan well enough to pick out who she thought of as a friend, and neither did he care to find out. Do you want me to contact Millieth? Corinth asked simply; evidently the bronze didn't think it was worth arguing the point as long as what needed to be done got done. Mm. Not yet. You'll have to talk to her /soon/, the bronze pointed out. 'Soon' and 'now' are entirely different things.
"Right...so I'll talk to Kaegan, and you can stalk Savitri around. That's fine by me." Despite the I-don't-care-about-Kaegan attitude, T'rid didn't really consider Ka'rys to be the poisoner. He'd been Weyrleader; if he'd wanted to kill the entire Selenitas population, it would have been ever so easy, and there would have been little to no chance of his failing. Trying to kill off everyone now...was not intelligent. Therefore, he wasn't the poisoner. And he knew he wasn't, and he doubted either Kaegan or Savitri was. Four whole people out of the hundreds the Weyr supported, no longer suspects! Yaaaay. Actually...he supposed it could be Kaegan, but it wasn't likely. You are assuming, then, that the poisoner is a dragonrider within Selenitas, Corinth pointed out quietly. Which is not necessarily true. And just when T'rid had been hoping he'd been getting somewhere, Corinth promptly tripped him again.
Charcoal. For poison? (Yes, he was so knowledgeable when it came to poison, he was.) He blinked, still pressing his back against his chair in an all-too-futile attempt to invade the smell. And to be fair, he tried to pay attention and understand, except that...he knew only the very, very basics when it came to Healing, and that was the stuff that had been learned in Weyrling lessons: First aid for dragons and Riders both. Which had been five Turns ago. "Uh...sure. Right...well, anyway, as long as someone can explain that -- in a way that sounds more convincing than you do -- to the potential poison-testers, charcoal sounds fine by me." I think I understand. Yeah -- you would. I'm convinced you've been trying to poison me into stupidity... I have n--
Smack?
His first instinct was to glare. His second instinct was, too, to glare. However, what with Corinth rumbling his amusement in the back of his mind, T'rid decided that yes, he probably deserved that. Hence the lack of glare. That didn't mean he would stop talking, though. Little short of a death threat would make him shut his mouth voluntarily when he had something he wanted to say -- and even that was doubtful; at least when you were dead you didn't have to worry about being poisoned -- and he merely smirked, cocking his head slightly to one side. "There's a difference between immaturity and a valid protest to smell," he commented sweetly. "It's really offensive, you know..."
|
|