Bartering (Ja'kin)

[Requiem]

They say life is cyclical. M'ta was having one of those spells. You know, the one where everything that could go wrong would. He'd been lulled into a false sense of hope a month or so ago when the bid to keep the weyrling class he'd started with had proved successful (despite the initial answer). Not that the brownrider didn't understand why they'd be reluctant to let Behruth, whose injuries precluded him from other wings, teach flying to weyrlings. Or why they'd want to keep one of their own to make sure that the weyrlings got the proper influence. His class then kicked up a fuss - much to his dismay. And unnecessarily. Behruth's depressive state had eased, fortunately, not long after the...death...of Z'ves. But he supposed it was still important to them. The invaders to this particular class were evil. They'd killed the dragons of those who would have been their classmates. Behruth was a hero to them, and M'ta perhaps by association, because of the dragon's role in that whole mess.

So it was just powerfully ironic which weyr the brownrider had decided to take up residence in, awaiting its occupant's return. The weyrlings should have done their homework. Thieves and murderers weren't generally known for their morals. Of course, Behruth's lack of protest, his approval even, might have been more surprising.

The brown was even now addressing Despotaeth, during the few seconds it took for M'ta to jimmy the lock and slip into Ja'kin's weyr unseen. Mine has come to wait for Yours. He'd just like to talk. Didn't need to be advertising this particular visit. Picks tucked back into the band at his wrist, the man came unarmed but for one hidden blade. Less because he thought he'd need to use it and more because being completely unarmed made him unreasonably paranoid and jittery. Yes. He used knives as a security blanket.

Glancing around, he confirmed that the man who may or may not still be Weyrleader - he'd heard rumors that the position had or would be changing hands, but, being as busy as he was, he hadn't had a chance to confirm any of them - was not currently in residence. The short man uncovered the nearest glowbasket and settled into a chair to wait, the only outward sign of agitation the ring he slowly turned around his ring finger. Around and around.

Some things you just shouldn't ask a man. Though that he could have forgiven with ease. M'ta wasn't one to hold a grudge, for the most part. Except when his family - adopted or otherwise - was involved. What you really shouldn't do, though, is hold a man's son hostage. Especially not this man's. It remained to be seen how much that would end up costing M'ta's old wingmate.

[rii]

Aken awoke at the scritchy-scratching emitting from the closed door. She was sleeping just above the frame, as always, and this is the first time she had ever heard such peculiar noises. Stark white and red frill spread in curiosity, Aken looked down and waited for the source of the sound to reveal itself. She expected to see a large beetle crawl in from the key hole, not a man suddenly walking alone into the room. Not bug, She whispered to the mind of her bonded. Bug of man. Perhaps. Small, make bug. Scritchy-scratched at door.

You have a visitor, Demotaeth calmly translated a second before receiving the brown's words. Ruth's. He wants to.. talk. The bronze settled his head over one claw, inhaling deeply of the scent of the man he could pick up from where he lounged on his stone couch. His claws curled over the stone, eyes narrowing - and he merely snorted heavily in the direction of the door.

Curious and curiouser.

Ja'kin didn't quicken his pace to return to his weyr. It wouldn't be the first time Ja'kin had a late-evening visitor slipping into his weyr; but it would be a first time this particular individual to visit. It didn't take Ja'kin a far stretch of his imagination to guess at a couple of reasons what the brownrider wanted to talk about. The only part that didn't make sense was the fact H'nes was the acting weyrleader. Ja'kin was to be assumed as just another bronzerider at the weyr (regardless of H'nes and his arrangement). Anything of importance should go to H'nes - so why was this one in his weyr.

Stepping inside, Ja'kin calmly unlaced his boots and toed them off near the desk. He quietly considered his stoic company before shutting the door. "Need a drink?" Because anyone that came into Ja'kin's weyr – stole into his weyr – and wanted to talk, likely needed one. M'ta wasn't the first person to come to him in such a fashion. Others came more readily, but either or, they came with the same intentions in mind. Two glasses were set on the table. Ja'kin slid one over to a second chair before filling both with some wine. Ja'kin sat, taking his glass in hand and idly studied the spot where Aken perched – patiently waiting for M'ta to figure out where he wanted to start this talk.

[Requiem]

M'ta's eyes didn't leave the ring, though they took in the faint movements of the two creatures. He hadn't known Ja'kin had a salamandyr - Sneak naturally wanted to come the moment the brownrider noticed this, but the weyrlingmaster knew how to distract his brown when he didn't care to have the 'striped sausage' constricting his bicep - or perhaps he'd merely forgotten. A green, hm? They seemed to like bronzeriders. Perverse sense of humor, maybe?

But just as he didn't regard the 'mandyr directly, he didn't shift his attention to Despotaeth when the bronze made those soft huffing noises. It meant little to M'ta beyond the fact that his presence was known. Given his own dragon had announced that already, unimportant details. Eyes flicked up upon the entrance of Ja'kin, though, regarding the man with a certain laziness that was neither paranoia nor disinterest.

"I've water." The response came without thought. Alcohol was something M'ta avoided. No doubt after that drinking contest not long after R'wign's death, in which he'd broken his long-standing promise to himself not to imbibe, was explanation enough as to why he didn't typically drink. Not that Ja'kin's question necessarily meant something alcoholic. It implied it, though. And, sure enough, wine.

It had been a long day, that was certain. His eyes traced over the glass for a moment, before he shrugged and took it, though he didn't drink yet. Something to occupy his hand. "This may be out of order," the brownrider admitted after a moment, when it became clear that Ja'kin was waiting for him. "I'd heard rumors, but was too busy to verify the validity." Eyes drifted to those knots which were mandatory now, the glance significant. The other part of that truth was M'ta didn't really care terribly much...which of the bronzeriders led. It hadn't seemed important enough to pursue at the time.

"Maybe it doesn't really matter, though," he added, clearly mostly to himself. M'ta didn't know much of Ja'kin. That he'd orchestrated this insurrection...or, rather, organized the elements into a whole and given them the direction that resulted in Selenitas under a sort of house arrest...made the transferrance of power curious. And suspect. But then, M'ta was inherently paranoid. Nor was he likely to mention such thoughts to anyone. It remained that one of them was just about as good as any other, right? They all spoke to each other. Presumably. He at least had a face to go with Ja'kin's name. H'nes just drew up a blank.

H'nes. Had he been here this whole time?

"I thought it might interest you to know that one of the riders from Burimyu approached me with an invitation earlier, to rejoin them." M'ta had never tried to pretend he wasn't part of the wing that had managed to escape. He sipped at the wine. The tremble in his hand likely went unnoticed, as small as it was, and it certainly wasn't Ja'kin causing the slight tremor. Eyes regarded Ja'kin curiously over the rim of the glass. Looking for any reaction he could dissect and interpret. "And to bring the Desert weyrlings with me."

[rii]

Ja'kin's dark blue eyes followed M'ta's to the knots, a smile quickly appearing to fade into something more polite. That answered that curiosity. He made a vague motion with his fingers and one shoulder. The brownrider was not there to discuss politics, so Ja'kin didn't comment on the shift of title from himself to H'nes. M'ta was welcome to leave and go seek out the older bronzerider if he so wished. Either way, the information would eventually come to be known by Ja'kin.

The bronze rider took a drink from his glass, divesting the information from the simple words. Burimyu, so that's what the outcasts were calling themselves. Ja'kin had heard talk of certain ghosts showing up at Selenitas; hadn't done anything about it up until this point. The shadows were starting to get brave, overly so, to try and steal an entire weyrling class. "They want the gold," Spoken thoughtfully with a faint motion of wrist to swirl the wine in his glass.

Now why would Burimyu want to do that? They had Jingth - who was still capable of producing a gold of her own. If Selenitas lost the young gold it would the beginning of the end of the Selenitas Weyr, but did the outcast realize if they took the little gold it would shift Ja'kin's attention (which he'd been happy to ignore the nuisance rebels in favor of more pressing matters) directly onto them to wrest back not only the young gold, but Jingth as well. He had wanted that gold from the start, not Millieth. The bloodlines had been important, and Millieth's offspring were..

Off on a bit of a tangent, wasn't he.

Still, something must have happened to of forced Burimyu into such a desperate ploy. Ja'kin didn't like to think that the rebels were just foolish. Ja'kin tilted his cup, eyes dropping to the dark wine inside the glass before shifting back to M'ta. "So what is you want or.. " There was a faint narrow of eyes, thoughtful again as he made a guess at what the brownrider was holding as leverage. "..you'll go with the weyrlings?" Which, again, wasn't a wise choice. It wasn't much of a card to hold either, since it was already on the table between them.

[Requiem]

Some of the curiosity left M’ta’s eyes, watching Ja’kin, though he did try to keep his focus on the man. Did. Any other time it might have been easier. Benden bronzeriders earned no love of the brownrider’s, for myriad reasons, and his paranoia normally would have been enough to merit close scrutiny. But the pains were sharp and raw enough still that he found his interest fleeting. Ja’kin was sharp. Not an idiot, and not trying to woo M’ta into some misguided sense of friendship or camaraderie and that, for the moment, was enough.

His eyes had drifted back to the glass. Perhaps in search of words when the silence drew on, or perhaps simply contemplating the contents. The temptation certainly was there, as it had been in the past, to drink himself into a state of numbness. M’ta blinked, eyes coming up to Ja’kin’s. There was no denying the surprise behind them. A quirk of a half-smile that held little humor, then, for it occurred to him that he could have used this notion of Ja’kin’s had he not now just demonstrated his surprise at the idea. Might still. Perhaps the bronzerider would think it surprise at being discovered. Instead, he laughed, a humorless sound that had more of pain in it than ought else, though it was a subtlety.

“You’ll forgive me if I am plain. I’m not a political creature. Hardly understand it, and I know that I should keep things close to my chest, but…I haven’t the patience to bumble through a dance I don’t know the steps to.” The glass was set down before it could tempt him further. “If I come to barter with you, it is not for anything you would not already give. The gold, Nitrath, she is not merely wanted. She is needed. I have taken no pains to hide my connections. Still, I doubt you care overly much to investigate. Jingth’s Meira had a child by my weyrmate, and was a dear friend. Riaren is as much a son to me as R’wign would allow. I have been informed of her death and enjoined to bring them the gold they desperately need in practically the same breath, Riaren held hostage against my compliance when I rendered them my answer. No doubt they thought it would be enough.” No doubt. M’ta’s heart, much as he guarded it, seemed to be known by all too many. The betrayal was keen. That they would use his weyrmate’s son against him, who had flown with them, who had risked much to see them safely away when they could not know the intentions of the invaders…that they would use him thus…was painful. But not so painful as Meira’s death.

He took the skin from his thigh, drunk the water instead of wine. Collected himself, before emotions could mix into something more volatile. “I confess I do not know you. Or really care to. But I am not blind. You are not one for needless killing as some seem to be, so don’t misunderstand me. I know you would not kill a child no older than three. All I want…is if…when they are found, a promise to take pains to be careful of him, so I can have the child of my two friends brought safely to me.” M’ta did not fix his eyes on Ja’kin. Did not trust in any sympathy the man might have. He had no weyrmate and no children that he kept close. Perhaps didn’t know the emotions at all.

“I’ve no intentions of bringing them Nitrath. I cannot put my daughter in such hardship and danger. And I will not lead a bunch of naïve children enflamed with some misguided sense of patriotism to their deaths. If you must have reason for my coming here to trust me, then I shall tell you: I have no love for you or the men you brought with you. It is true. But you must hunt down Nitrath if I steal her from you. Millieth’s spawn are weak. She cannot support a Weyr by herself, much less a Weyr at war. Giving in to their…manipulations…would just bring you down on their heads. There are still too many there who I love too well to do that to. Wingmates. My sister. In that perhaps you can trust. I see no help for it but to endure your presence and take up your war. What use would there be to try to thrust you out, when it would only weaken us for the next to take advantage? We are destined or cursed for subjugation by some power or other, and I dare say you and yours are kinder masters than Fort or Benden would be. If I don’t love you, I do love these people, and I am pragmatic. You will make me the promise? To deliver my son safely when you find them? I won’t ask for anyone else; I know that if they fight you there is little choice in the matter, and I trust…that you would not deplete yourself out of spite.”

It was more than M’ta was wont to speak. But he did want Ja’kin to understand, if only because the man’s trust was important. Not to trust the brownrider, but his motives. The weyrlingmaster well-knew how strange this betrayal of Burimyu must seem, particularly coming from M’ta and Behruth.

[rii]

Ja'kins brows rose just a touch at M'ta's second of bewilderment. Oh. Now, loyalty is not a word Ja'kin would pin to the men that followed him. A man could very well detest him and still follow orders through because they knew the end, most oft than naught, justified the means. Such as the men that were picked to kill the hatchlings (which had not gone absolutely awry) they did not enjoy killing, did not relish it and hated him for picking them, but they knew why it had to be done. These caliber of men were not in abundance and Ja'kin had always done well to try and recognize these men (women were often too involved with their emotions to be such) when he met them.

M'ta was apparently one of these individuals..

The brownrider had come to him, not out of loyalty, but because of the reality of the situation. If Burimyu did kidnap the weyrlings, it would force Ja'kin's hand to turn his attention onto the exiles. The retribution would not be kind. Eventually Burimyu would be found and dealt with, but it had not been a pressing matter, and the terms of their surrender (they were too weak in numbers and experience to ever hope to make a stand) could be done without a drop of bloodshed than compared to what would happen if they stole Nitrath. History was ever doomed to repeat itself. It made Ja'kin want to laugh. The whole war, the very thing Selenitas natives hated, had been stared by that exact act of desperation. Stealing a gold from another weyr – it seems that Burimyu forgot their history lessons.

It was a shame that M'ta didn't understand how bartering words. The man had ben driven by his concern for the child to come to his weyr. In truth the brownrider could have just taken measures on his own to prevent Burimyu from taking the gold – because yes, it was inevitable that the exile weyr would be found, and yes Ja'kin saw no use in slaughtering children. He liked to boost his numbers, not thin them. All M'ta had to do was to prevent it from happening and let the events unfold as they would. Instead he came to Ja'kin, and now he owed Ja'kin something to ensure the safety of a child.. who's life was never at stake.

"I can promise you Riaren's safety," Spoken by a man that kept his promises. Yet there was that slightest lift on Ja'kin's tone, along with the raise of a brow as he - for the first time - shifted his gaze to study the brownrider seated across from him. The if hung on the air between them. "Your little bird. She'll be back." She. Ja'kin had a good idea of who, out of all the exiles, would be so brazen to risk returning and try to convince a weyrlingmaster to run away with the entire class. "Even if you detour her, she will return - maybe not to you - but because they need that gold. They won't stop. Fort stole a gold from Benden all those turns ago. They were desperate, too, and against all common sense they still did it." Ja'kin's hand lifted and gestured to the room - the weyr- around them. Saying and look what happened because of it, a war that won't end. "It is in your best interest to steer your students away from being swayed by a bird's sweet words."

Even though he voiced the words, laying down the base work of what M'ta had to do - he was certain the brownrider already knew all of this, and would do it; even if he hadn't yet acknowledged it to himself. "I do not want to start a blood bath with Burimyu, far from in fact, but if they force my hand there will be little to be done about it. Your bird will be caught. I can't allow her to find someone else more willing to lure the weyrling class to Burimyu. How that plays out, however.. I will leave entirely up to you."

He took a sip from his drink, settling back into his seat, breaking his gaze from the brownrider and in a silent release to allow him to leave. "I trust you'll do the right thing." The right choices were never the easy decisions to make and act upon.