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Taleran
“Tal, you feeling okay?” she said from the doorway, concern wrinkling her brow. “My life is a shambles. I can’t bear to face anyone,” he said, turning his face away from the door. “I’m sure it’s not all that bad,” said Piliana, moving farther into the room. “It is. I can’t bear to go on here now.” Piliana frowned, unused to seeing her foster son so discomposed. He was usually such a stable young man and this was very unlike him. “Does it have to do with that girl?” Taleran made no reply, but the choked sound that he tried to muffle in his pillow gave him away. “Would it be easier for you if we sent you to a different Weyr? As much as I’d hate to lose you, you are old enough to Impress now, and well, perhaps it’d be best if you got away for a while.” “Really?” Taleran asked, rolling over and sitting up, his eyes red. He sat there, frowning for a while, thinking it over. “You’ve got dragonrider blood in your veins, I’m sure you could Impress. Why don’t I talk to Xalia about it?” “No, I’ll talk to Xalia,” said Taleran, squaring his jaw and setting his mind. “I’m a man now, no longer just a boy. It’s time I started acting like it.” It wasn’t until the next day that Xalia could find time to talk to the young man and when she did it was only because Frinaith was insisting that Xalia watch her eat. Taleran met her on the Feeding Grounds, the Weyrwoman sitting on a rock, looking stressed but glad of the chance to just sit and watch her dragon. She smiled at Taleran as he walked up; Xalia was the type to know every person who lived in her Weyr and weyrbrats were no exception. “Taleran, there you are. What did you want to see me about?” Xalia asked as he walked up. “Weyrwoman, I-” he started but was cut off. “You know better than that Taleran, call me Xalia and have a seat.” Taleran sat down quickly as if it had been an order and continued. “Xalia, I wanted to ask you if there’s a chance you could find me a candidate position somewhere. I’m old enough to Impress now, and...” “How old are you now?” “I’m seventeen, W-Xalia,” he replied, catching himself in time. “You are old enough, my how time flies! Why don’t we just have you stand for the next clutch here at Tripaldi?” “I, that is, well, I’d hoped to get away from Tripaldi, Xalia.” Xalia frowned at him, “Why is that? You were born here, I can’t see you wanting to leave so soon.” “If you must know,” started Taleran, stopping and swallowing hard, “there are certain people I’d rather not run into anymore.” Xalia’s eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in suspicion. “Like who?” “Jyxa,” he replied with a sigh then adding under his breath, “and not to mention the Weyrleader.” Unfortunately for him Xalia’s hearing was sharp and she frowned at him. “Why wouldn’t you want to run into your Weyrleader?” “I-I’m sorry, Xalia, it’s just that, surely you see how unworthy of you he is?” Taleran gulped and looked away, his face reddening in embarrassment, but at least he had not told her of his indiscretions. Xalia laughed and winked at him. “If he were unworthy his dragon wouldn’t have caught my Frinaith, though he’ll have to try awfully hard if he’s going to do it again.” Xalia jumped down off the large rock she’d been sitting on and patted Taleran on the head. “Pack your bags, Taleran.” “Then you’re sending me to another Weyr?” Taleran asked in shock. “That I am. You have dragonrider blood in your veins so I’m sure you’ll make a decent candidate and Dark Moon could use some more candidates right now. So go start packing, I’ll send for one of Dark Moon’s Searchriders to come pick you up in the morning.” With that Xalia walked off across the Feeding Grounds to where Frinaith had just finished her meal. The Weyrwoman stood there for a while with her dragon, but Taleran didn’t wait around to watch. He dashed off, first to the kitchens to tell Piliana. That done he rushed to his rooms, recklessly throwing things into a bag until he realized he had all day to pack and he’d be better off if he didn’t let all his things get wrinkled before he even wore them. He slowed down, folding things neatly and packing everything carefully, not believing that he’d lived in a Weyr all his seventeen years and now only after he left would he finally have a chance at a dragon. Continue... |