Getting Ahead

Writers: Estelle
Date Posted: 27th October 2024

Characters: Ashela, J'lyan,
Description: Ashela remembers receiving an intriguing offer
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 2, day 22 of Turn 12
Notes: Mentioned: Saibra, Lanniya, R'enh, H'run

Ashela

Ashela had been smiling so much at the evening meal that her jaw
positively ached. It wasn't until she got back to her weyr that she felt
safe enough to drop down onto her bed and pummel the pillow in sheer
envious rage.

**It's not fair! The bronzeriders have all been courting her for months,
and just when her gold _finally_ rises and settles who's going to be
Weyrleader and things go back to normal - this happens!**

She could feel Aglayath's silent agreement, but it didn't soothe her
irritation. Her dragon didn't have to pretend to be delighted about the
gold egg. She could be open about her complete indifference to the matter.

**Ugh. People will be talking about nothing else until the Hatching.
It'll probably Impress to some unbearable drip of a girl like Little
Lady I'm-So-Perfect. And _then_ they'll be fawning over _her_ for the
next six months.**

}:Perhaps Anaeryth will leave. Four queens are too many for a Weyr.:{
Aglayath sniffed. Though she barely recalled having to share the Sands,
she knew that she didn't want to repeat the experience.

Ashela looked up at that, her mood lifting for a brief moment. But then
it sank again. What if Saibra chose to transfer _her_ instead of
Lanniya? She hadn't been here so long, and while she had behaved herself
- mostly - she hadn't exactly made herself beloved. How humiliating that
would be! Packed off to her fourth Weyr in less than three Turns, like
an unwanted Holder daughter.

She turned onto her back and stared up at the rocky ceiling of her weyr,
beginning to consider the possibilities as her anger cooled. If the past
Turns had taught her anything, it was to hold her head high and take
control of the situation.

Her thoughts drifted to an intriguing conversation she'd had at the
Turn's End celebration...

** Flashback - Turn's End **

Ashela excused herself from her dance partner and slipped away, seeking
her next conquest. The celebration was light on Lords, as they were
expected to spend Turn's End at their own Holds rather than dallying at
the Weyr, but the fine turnout of bronzeriders more than made up for
that. Even if they were here to pay court to Saibra and her near-rising
gold, they couldn't all mob the Weyrwoman at once. She'd decided to take
what advantage she could of the situation at Dragonsfall rather than
sulking in her weyr or pointedly going elsewhere.

Her golden-brown hair was artfully twisted into curls and pinned up, and
she'd chosen the sleek silver-grey gown, with the pearls R'enh had given
her shimmering in her ears. The outfit she'd worn for the Gather,
scarlet paired with a riding jacket, had worked beautifully, but this
evening half the crowd were dressed as dragonriders so she'd chosen a
different approach.

Elegant, feminine, but not fragile.

It seemed to be working. As she reached for a glass of sparkling wine
from a server's tray, a hand lightly lifted it and placed it in hers. He
was tall, square-jawed with sleek dark hair and the smooth, easy
confidence that came with Turns of leadership.

"Lady Ashela. I don't suppose you remember me?"

"How could I forget you...J'lyan?" The slight pause was a tease as she
clinked her glass with his. In truth she had met a lot of bronzeriders
and some were more memorable than others, but she wasn't likely to
forget him. His Gannath had been the second bronze to fly Aglayath, back
at Rising Moons. That had been a most satisfying clutch: twenty-four
eggs and a bronze, impressive for a young queen and a marked improvement
on her first.

Of course, clutch sizes had been growing for Turns as the Red Star
approached, but that hadn't stopped her feeling terribly proud and open
to Gannath flying Aglayath again. Not enough to be pleased when her
lifemate chose a Wingleader's bronze next time, but he'd won her flight
once more before her transfer, and she'd been sorry to say goodbye.
Which wasn't always the case.

"I see you got your Wing," she said, nodding to his knots. "Windswept
Islands?"

"Yes, I've been there the last ten Turns, Wingleader for eight. The
Islands had a wingleader wanting a second to train up before he retired,
so I went for it, and it all worked out as planned." His grin was as
charming as ever. "Rising Moons wasn't the same after you were
transferred out."

Ashela smiled, recognising the flattery but no less appreciative. "You
deserve it. I'm glad to see you looking so well." That wasn't a given,
in a Pass, but J'lyan had always been the type to survive unscathed
whether it was wild parties or Thread. If he'd suffered injury or loss,
it didn't show beneath that untroubled surface.

He bowed his head. "Very kind, but I can't hold a glow to you. You look
glorious this evening - not a day older than when we parted. And how is
the lovely Aglayath?"

"Very well. Her last clutch hatched this past sevenday, so we're
enjoying our freedom."

"Congratulations." J'lyan looked around theatrically. "Which bronzerider
should I be desperately jealous of?"

Ashela laughed and gestured. "Over there. R'enh, rider of Mnoranth. But
he's the Weyrwoman's weyrmate, so there's no reason for jealousy."

He glanced over with a mock-scowl. "Ha. He ought to be over here, if had
any sense, fighting off other bronzeriders with the temerity to approach
his mate. But his loss, my gain."

"As you can see, there are more tempting golds to chase this evening."
She followed his gaze to the Weyrwoman and her admirers. As charming as
all this was, she didn't doubt J'lyan would be with them if he thought
his Weyrleader would give him the chance.

"Idiots. This wouldn't happen at Windswept Islands." The bronzerider
turned back to her, his voice still casual, but there was an
undercurrent she picked up on at once. "Have you thought about it? A
transfer?"

"To your Weyr?" Ashela raised an eyebrow.

"Perhaps you haven't heard. Our junior queen was grounded. Not
Threadfall, an accident in drill. Trying to turn too fast and strained
her wing. Xindaith should know better than to try green's acrobatics,
she's not as young as she was," he added, a hint of spite showing
through that smooth exterior. "She'll be flying down to the southern
beaches to heal up once she's recovered enough. So there'll be a spot
open at Windswept Islands."

Ashela's thoughts raced. She didn't know or care about the junior
weyrwoman, but the senior, Weyrwoman Udari, was an elderly lady. She
couldn't be more than a few Turns from retirement.

Of course, she knew perfectly well why J'lyan was telling her this. He
was approaching forty, and an experienced Wingleader. He and his dragon
were in the prime of life and undoubtedly longing to exchange those
knots for the Weyrleader's. A gold his bronze had flown before, twice,
would give him his best chance yet.

"Windswept Islands. The name is not promising," she said, buying herself
time to think. "I'm picturing bleak expanses of stony beaches and icy rain."

"You haven't visited? There's parts of the island that can be like that,
but the Weyr's on the sheltered side. Even in the middle of winter it's
remarkably clement, unless you're in a high cliff weyr, which as a
goldrider you certainly wouldn't be. Snow's confined to the central
peaks. And in the summer it's lovely. With a dragon you can island-hop,
find a place that suits you. I know a secluded cove or two..."

It _was_ tempting, even without the prospect of a senior goldrider so
close to retiring. She'd forgotten quite how persuasive J'lyan could be.
Ashela turned the wineglass around between her fingers, imagining a
turquoise sea, gently lapping waves, a small boat drawn up on the sand.
A sanctuary for a busy Weyrwoman...

There was one problem. "Won't every other junior goldrider on the planet
be vying for that spot? Given the prospects."

"Probably. But you've been a Weyrwoman's Second, with plenty of valuable
experience. Aglayath is coming in to her own; her last few clutches were
all over thirty eggs, and you've led the Queen's Wing plenty of times
while Chioneth was on the Sands."

"You've been checking the Records."

He winked. "They make interesting reading."

A tiny frown creased her brow. "Then you'll know that my record is less
than perfect."

He waved a hand. "Oh, everyone makes mistakes, and your behaviour has
been exemplary ever since. And - strictly between you and me, there are
some bronzeriders who think that incident showed spirit, even if it was
foolish. Udari is sprightly enough but if she ever did anything _that_
interesting, it's lost in the mists of time. We'd be open to a change."

"It's hardly your decision," she pointed out.

"We bronzeriders aren't without influence, and as for the rest? I have
confidence in you to charm the Weyrwoman, my dear. If she's willing to
time her retirement to your advantage..."

Ashela let his voice trail off. "I can promise you I'll give it some
thought."

"You'll have a little while. They won't bring in anyone new until
Xindaith's well enough to fly south. Perhaps a couple of months? But as
far as making your case, the sooner you begin, the better."

Hearing the harpers strike up the opening to a new dance, J'lyan drained
his glass, put it to one side and offered his hand with a bow and a
flourish. "Enough intrigue for now. May I have this dance, my lady?"

** Present day **

At the time, she'd been amused and pleasingly flattered to have been the
preferred choice of the bronzeriders of Windswept Island. If, indeed,
she was their choice. J'lyan might have been sounding out more than one
goldrider. As charming as he was, she had no illusions that he was
devoted to her in particular. He was as ambitious as she was.

She hadn't heard anything more since Turn's End, and oddly, she hadn't
been drawn to seek out more information. There were disadvantages to
leaving. Moving was a chore, there was the risk of Xindaith returning to
reclaim her place, and she'd miss H'run's gossip, and... perhaps
Dragonsfall was growing on her, after all?

Now Ashela wondered if she hadn't left it too late.

She rose and went to her desk, picked up her pen and dipped it into the
ink. She could start with a little note, thanking a certain bronzerider
belatedly for their interesting conversation at Turn's End, and
suggesting a visit, so that she could see the purported beauties of
Windswept Islands for herself.

Last updated on the October 29th 2024

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Getting Ahead