I'm Not Going Back

Writers: Estelle, Paula
Date Posted: 2nd September 2020

Characters: L'keri, Puwul, Arten
Description: L'keri continues his search for Arten at Puwul's tavern
Location: Vintner Hall
Date: month 2, day 11 of Turn 10

L'keri

***

The moment L'keri stepped into the tavern, the familiar scents hit him
like a half-forgotten dream. It was now two months since he'd had a
beer, and he could almost taste it in his dry throat. It was quiet,
no-one from the Weyr was here. He could just go up to the bar and order...

He closed his eyes, fighting down the guilt. He was here to look for his
son, not to abandon his search and get drunk at the first hint of
temptation. Reaching out with his mind, he found Rhalith's strong
presence, encouraging him. **I can do this. Just ask. Maybe they'll know
something. Maybe he'll be here.** Though he couldn't help thinking,
given Arten's disgust for his drinking, that the Vintner Hall was the
last place the boy would want to be.

**Just ask,** he told himself again, and made his way slowly and
carefully across the room, supporting his weaker leg with the cane. The
man at the bar was tall, white-haired and looked though he'd seen some
hard Turns, but burly enough that he'd still have the strength to run a
rowdy tavern. L'keri raised a hand in greeting. "Good day. Are you the
tavern master?"

"Aye. I am. Name's Puwul. How can I serve you, Dragonrider?" Puwul
replied and stopped arranging the shelves behind the bar desk. It was
quite time of the day, only few holders dining at the corner table. It
would get more crowded once the sun started to set and people would
finish their work and head to the Tavern for one..or two or more.

"My name's L'keri, rider of brown Rhalith." He tried to ignore the
associations that even the clink of clean glasses brought to his mind.
He was here to find Arten. "I'm looking for my son. He has twelve Turns,
and people say we look alike, though his hair is lighter. He went
missing from the Weyr about a month ago. I wondered if perhaps you'd
seen him, or heard of a boy like him. He has a blue firelizard."

"Hmm, what name he goes by?" Puwul asked. He did recognize the boy from
the description, the flit was dead give away. But the boy was _his
staff_ now, so he was being cautious. The boy had his reasons to run
away and Puwul was not going to hand him over to some abusive situation.
He was too protective for that.

"He's called Arten." A sudden light of hope appeared in the
dragonrider's eyes. "Have you seen him? I've been looking for sevendays,
trying all the small holds in the area. I was recovering from an injury,
so I couldn't come before..."

As he spoke, the door that led to the kitchens opened and a young boy
emerged with his back to them as he used it to push open the door, since
he was carrying a large tray of freshly cleaned glasses. The man's voice
trailed off and he gaped at the tavern boy, recognising him instantly.

"Here you are, Master P..." Arten turned and his eyes went wide. The
glasses rattled and he had to hastily set the tray down on the bar
before his shaking hands dropped the lot. He glanced, warily, at the
door as if considering whether to bolt.

"Arten?" L'keri sounded almost uncertain, but there was no mistaking the
joy and relief in his face. "Arten - I've been looking everywhere...I
thought...oh, thank Faranth. You're safe." He dropped the cane he'd been
using, held out his arms.

The boy stared at him, blinked hard, then the line of his mouth turned
stubborn and he backed up a step. "I'm not going back." He looked to
Puwul. "I'm _not_. He can't make me."

"Of course he can't, Ari," Puwul said with a resolute tone.

L'keri stared at the boy. "What do you mean, you're not coming back?" He
frowned. "Don't be so silly, Arten. You've had your adventure, and
you've worried everyone sick back at the Weyr besides. Your foster
mother thought you must have died, and your sister has been crying
herself to sleep every night. You're coming home with me. Now."

"I'm staying here." Arten folded his arms and returned his father's gaze
with narrowed eyes. "I'm twelve Turns old, out of harper classes and I
have a job here at Master Puwul's tavern. It's useful work and I'm doing
well at it." His mouth twisted in a scowl. "I've had plenty of
experience dealing with drunks."

The dragonrider flinched visibly. "All right, that's enough. Go outside.
Rhalith is waiting." He turned to Puwul. "I'm very sorry that he's
bothered you, Tavern Master. Thank you for looking after him until now."

"Ari's a good lad and good worker," Puwul said, his eyes narrowing. "If
he doesn't want to go, he doesn't have to. He's more than earned his pay
and his keep. Besides my wife's taken a real liking of him." He was
starting to get the picture now and he was all on the boy's side, Ari or
Arten or whatever his name was.

"You and your wife can like him all you want, but he's my son." L'keri
shifted uncomfortably, aware that he was in the tavern master's
territory and he'd be in even more trouble with his Wingsecond if he
tried to drag the boy away and started a brawl, even if he'd wanted to -
or been capable of it, with his weak leg. The small group of holders in
the corner were already giving him hostile looks. He looked to the boy.
"Arten, please. You can't really want to waste your life scrubbing pots
and cleaning up after farmers when you could live at the Weyr. You used
to want to be a dragonrider."

"Not any more." All the bitterness of the past Turn filled Arten's
words. "I don't want to end up like _you_."

"But I've changed," L'keri realised he was pleading, that he'd lost
control of the situation, but there was little else he could do. "After
my accident, I promised not to drink for an entire Turn."

"Right." Arten made a contemptuous sound. "You could tell Eluri I miss
her...if you don't get drunk again and forget you have children." He
turned to Puwul, and there was a catch in his voice, as if the hard and
resolute words he'd spoken to his father concealed the fact that he was
a young boy on the verge of tears. "C-can I go now, Tavern Master?"

"Yes, you can go. Check if Helere needs help and ask if the dessert pies
are ready," Puwul said with a gentleness on his voice.

"Thank you." The boy started to turn back towards the kitchen, his
shoulders slumped in misery.

"Wait - Arten..." L'keri called out to him, desperately. "At least let
me come and see you. I could bring your sister, and we could talk."

Arten hesitated, then reluctantly looked back over his shoulder. "I
can't stop you coming here. And I would like to see Eluri." He glanced
at Puwul. "If that's all right with you, sir. She's my little sister."

Puwul nodded. "Sure, but when you're off work," he said. "You're free to
do what you want or meet who ever you want on your own time. As long as
you don't break the Hold's laws. You're no drudge, you're hired help,"
he reminded the boy.

"Thank you, Tavern Master. I'll go and see about those pies." Arten
opened the door to the kitchens. At the last moment, he looked back at
L'keri, his young face resolute, but less angry than he'd been before.
"Safe flight back," he said, then let the door swing shut behind him.

L'keri let out a breath, stricken, looking at the door where his son had
just disappeared. The boy had rejected him, and he'd never felt more
like a failure, even in the worst of his withdrawal from alcohol in the
infirmary. He'd wanted Arten to follow him, to be a dragonrider, but
he'd done nothing to make that seem like a life the boy could be proud
of. Now it might be too late.

"Please...take care of him," he said to Puwul. "If you need anything for
his keep, I'll do my best to provide it."

Puwul could understand the father's torment too, he hadn't been exactly
model of a fatherhood to his children. He had been absent for most of
the lives of his older children. Only for his youngest one, he had been
a real father.

"Don't worry, the boy's safe here. Every one likes him, even those big
brothers I employ as bouncers, they won't let anything to happen to
him," Puwul assured the dragonriders. "He's been treated like family.
He's been earning his on keep, so no worries."

"Thank you. If he needs anything, a message to Dragonsfall Weyr will
find me." The dragonrider looked for a long moment at the door where
Arten had left, as if hoping he might reappear. When it remained closed,
he sighed heavily. "Well, I suppose I'd better be going." The longer he
stayed, the more tempted he was to order a beer, but the thought of how
his son would react held him back.

Last updated on the October 13th 2020

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I'm Not Going Back