The Warp and Weft (1/2)

Writers: Estelle, Miriah
Date Posted: 18th December 2020

Characters: R'ayl, Wacilla
Description: Furayl is Searched, but he has a secret...
Location: Emerald Falls Hold
Date: month 8, day 18 of Turn 10

After the noon meal was over, the Master Weavers filed out of the dining
hall and one of the senior journeymen stood to read out the chore
assignments for the afternoon, accompanied by whispers and groans from
those unlucky enough to get the least pleasant chores. Then they were
dismissed to their work, and the hall was filled with the scraping of
chairs, bustling activity and loud chatter.

The youngest apprentice, a small, dark-haired boy, hurried after the
others in his group to the kitchens to collect a bucket and scrubbing
brush. Furayl felt his heart start to beat rapidly as one of the older
boys shoved him aside to get ahead. There was supposed to be a junior
journeyman supervising, but he was leaning against the kitchen door,
chatting to a pretty drudge, and that left the boy at the mercy of his
classmates.

Sure enough, they left him alone at first, but when he'd finished
scrubbing his corner and he headed back to the pump for a fresh bucket,
someone tripped him and he stumbled, sending grubby water slopping over
his ankles. Furayl bit his lip, feeling the tears prickling at his eyes.

"What's wrong, mama's boy?" The boy who'd shoved him earlier moved into
his path, grinning maliciously. "You wet yourself?"

They hadn't left him alone since the first night, when he'd been so
miserable and lonely, missing his mother and sister, that he couldn't
keep himself from sobbing in the dormitory. Some of the classes weren't
too bad, but others, he'd missed so much of the last Turn of lessons
that he couldn't keep up. And then when the talk had reached the Hall
about Grevan, it had only got worse.

"Looks like he did." Another apprentice, a friend of the first, snickered.

"Leave me alone." Furayl tried to speak up, but he couldn't make his
voice sound much above a whisper.

"Ooh, he's scaring me." The second boy nudged the first. "What if his
big, bad brother comes to beat us up?" He shuddered in mock fear. "Oh,
no. Wait. Big brother isn't coming."

"Big brother tried to kill a dragonrider and ended up underground with
the other criminals. And then... Squish, splat!"

Furayl's hands clenched tight. Suddenly, without thinking about it, not
caring about how he'd promised to work hard and be good and make his
family proud, he lifted the half-filled bucket and slung the contents
right at the older boy's face. For one instant, it was worth it, as the
boy spluttered in sheer astonishment, spitting water. Then he snarled
and advanced on Furayl, raising his fists.

"Hey! What's going on over there?" The journeyman, belatedly realising
that a fight was about to break out, started over towards them, glaring
at them. "Who threw that water?"

"It was him, sir!"

Furayl started to shake, but he couldn't deny it, standing there with an
empty bucket and the two older boys confronting him. But then, as the
journeyman was drawing breath to speak, someone else spoke, a senior
apprentice looking in from the outer doorway, out of breath.

"Journeyman Olvis, all the apprentices have to report outside. There's a
dragon. A Search dragon!" His message delivered, he turned and hurried
back out, clearly wanted to be first in line to be looked over by the
dragonpair.

The journeyman raised his eyes to the heavens. "All right, you heard
him. Out to the courtyard. We'll deal with this when the dragonrider's
gone."

The two apprentices pushed past Furayl in their haste to follow the
others out, but he hung back. A dragonrider. His feet felt as thought
they were rooted to the ground, and he felt a sour sickness in his
throat. What if they knew? Shards, what if it was the one that Grevan had...

"Sir?" he said in a soft voice. "Can I stay in here?"

The junior journeyman, Olvis, was half on his way out when he turned,
exasperated. "No, you can't. I'm not leaving you in here on your own to
make more of a mess." His lip curled. "You of all people ought to know
your duty to the Weyr, Apprentice Furayl."

Furayl tried to speak, but no words would come and besides, the young
man was almost gone. He forced himself to walk across the hall, down the
passage and then out into the warm afternoon light, his thoughts racing
with panic. **Maybe if I stay at the back, they won't even see me.**
All he could think of was the last promise he'd made to his mother, more
important than being good or working hard. Never, never to have anything
to do with the Weyr.

Wacilla and Fusith stood patiently as the young folk of the Hold
gathered. Some looked nervous, but some showed excitement, nearly
bouncing on their toes as they tried to jostle their way to the front
of the group in hopes that the green would notice them. This was
Wacilla's favorite part of her duties, the excitement she saw on the
faces and the hope. The less pleasant was always the disappointment
and a few tears when Fusith showed them no interest. But with a clutch
on the Sands and only a few days before the clutch was due, it was
vital that the eggs had everyone with potential they could find.

Fusith was not a quick Search dragon. She studied potentials with
gentle eyes, never immediately making a decision on who might have
caught her attention. Wacilla, after twenty turns of Searching, was
used to Fusith's process. **So, have we wasted our time?**

Fusith's eyes lingered over the crowd, sweeping it again. }: No. There
are two that would be good for an egg, but one is very very good. He
must come. { Her eyes searched again. }: The girl there in the green
dress. I like her.:{ Fusith locked on to a small, slight boy who was
attempting to hide behind a taller young man. }:Him. :{

**Are you sure? He looks so young.**

}: I am very sure. :{

Wacilla turned and followed where Fusith looked, pointing first to the
girl, gesturing her over. "Fusith says you have potential if you would
like to come." There was a squeal of excitement as the girl hurried
over, staring up at the dragon with wide eyes. Wacilla turned to the
small boy. "And you, young man. No, not you. The boy behind you. How
old are you?"

The junior journeyman in front of Furayl stepped out of her way with a
groan of disappointment, and suddenly there was nothing between him and
the greenrider and her dragon. He stood frozen in terror and awe. He'd
never seen a dragon quite so close before, close enough to see the way
the color of her hide shaded from her back to her belly and her wings,
the soft rise and fall of her sides as she breathed, the glittering
facets of her eyes.

Someone poked him painfully in the side with an elbow and he managed to
speak. "T...twelve. Ma'am."

Seeing the fright in the young boy's eyes, Wacilla's smile was gentle.
He was so small for his age, but he was old enough. As envious eyes
turned towards the young boy, she approached and bent to a crouch,
speaking softly. "I'm Wacilla. My green's name is Fusith. and she's
not going to hurt you. Fusith would never hurt you. But she thinks
that there's a dragon on the Sands for you. She's very certain." She
offered her hand. "Would you like to meet her? She'd very much like to
meet you." The green stretched out her neck, crooning softly in
counterpoint to her rider's voice.

The young girl piped up, scorn lacing her voice. "He's a nobody,
greenrider."

Wacilla turned, her eyes sharp and her response stung like a whip.
"Say such a thing again and I'll leave you here. He certainly is not
and he has more potential than you." She turned back to the young boy
and kept her hand out. "Don't listen to her. Fusith says your
potential sings in her. There's a dragon of your own waiting for you."

Furayl looked up at the green dragon, mesmerized by the glowing colours
whirling in her eyes, the note of her croon vibrating through his body.
For one moment, all of his fears vanished, the other apprentices, the
journeyman's anger, the dragonrider were all forgotten. He'd never seen
anything so beautiful before. He felt safe in Fusith's presence, as he
hadn't since he'd left home. And to have a dragon of his own... Before
he was aware of it, he'd taken a step forward, started to reach out with
his hand.

Then he hesitated, his mother's words returning to him like a knife to
his heart. His father and his brother had gone to the Weyr, and it had
been the death of them. She couldn't lose him, too. But if he just
greeted the dragon?

Summoning his courage, he spoke, in a small voice. "My duty to you,
Wacilla and Fusith. My name is Furayl. I..." He bit his lip. "I have to
ask my Master." The Master Weaver who'd sponsored him to the Hall knew
his story. Surely he'd say no, and then Furayl wouldn't have to explain
why he couldn't go to the Weyr.

Fusith lowered her head, breathing a warm breath over Furayl. Her
faceted eyes whirled gently as she offered her eyeridge to the young boy
to stroke. Wacilla was just as gentle, recognizing the fear, but
thinking it was simply the presence of her green and the enormity of
what was happening. "Of course, Furayl. We'll be here for a while
longer and we'll wait for your decision. I do hope you'll come. "

"Thank you, Greenrider." Furayl reached out, looking at her for
permission, then lightly touched Fusith's eye ridge. Her hide was
marvelously soft and warm under his fingers, and he felt as much as
heard the rumbling note of pleasure in her voice. Suddenly, the thought
of leaving her and going back to class was very hard to bear. The others
would make his life even more miserable than it had been after this. At
least he'd have the memory of her.

He bowed and took his leave, following the last of the other young
people back into the Hall. Taking care to keep out of the way of his
classmates, he darted through the crowd, ran up the stairs to the floor
where the Masters had their studies, and tapped on one of the doors.

Last updated on the January 13th 2021

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The Warp and Weft (1/2)