Chapter Text
Gr’lin sat at his desk, drinking klah while K’thael sipped on some warm sweetmilk. It had been a long day of popping into and out of various holds and meeting dozens of Candidacy-aged boys. “I told that one at Sattle, gently, that we didn’t expect he’d Impress, but I invited him to the Weyr anyway. If Sprilth’s right, and he’s not safe, he’s better off here, even without a dragon. I’m sure Jurnatan can find a purpose for a young, willing set of hands. As for the girl…” he sighed, “I took down her name, but I can’t let her on the sands without a gold egg.”
“Why not? I Impressed Sprilth, and he’s not gold,” K’thael replied, using their dragon’s earlier argument. “Hardly anybody here even noticed. The Weyr’s not old-fashioned like that.”
“Eh…” Gr’lin creaked. K’thael looked up at him, interest piqued. He was about to say something bad, and they knew it.
“People noticed, K’thael. And a good number of them weren’t happy about it. But we couldn’t exactly kick you out once Impression had been made, could we?” He shrugged. “You don’t realize how different things would’ve been if you’d had a different weyrlingmaster. A different Weyrleader, even. And that’s my fault for protecting you. For not telling you sooner. People were calling for… all kinds of things.”
“Like what? Like killing Sprilth? B’gual told me that once… I thought he was just being cruel!”
“Eh…” he hedged again. “It was mentioned, honestly… but T’bor wouldn’t let it go that far. Most of the talk was about making you a permanent messenger pair or having you ferry people and cargo rather than fight Thread.” K’thael stared down at their sweetmilk, watching the patterns spin around. How could anyone be so closed-minded? To shuffle them permanently to some weyrling duty rather than letting them have a chance? “I insisted you be trained like any other dragonrider, but now…” he trailed off.
“Now I’m done training.”
“After talking to all of the wingleaders about shadow month… no one wants a woman in their wing,” he spat it out quickly, like ripping a bandage.
K’thael’s eyes widened then narrowed, taken off guard by the term. Gr’lin had never called them a woman, and thankfully no one at the Weyr called them a girl, either… but had they all been thinking it? It was such a tired, old argument in the bluerider’s mind that a person should be stuffed into a box because of the shape of their body parts. It was an argument that had lost them friends, and respect, and one they never wanted to have again.
“Listen… those were the wingleaders’ words, not mine,” the weyrlingmaster said, realizing he hit a sore spot. He took a slow sip of his klah, giving K’thael a moment to calm down. “Regardless, they won’t take you. Even T’bor can’t force a wingrider on a wingleader that doesn’t want them - won’t, rather. They’d be resentful and possibly reckless, which could put you and your dragon in danger. No.”
“So… I could be in T’bor’s wing, then? He doesn’t hate me, right?” K’thael suggested.
Gr’lin shook his head. “Positions in the Roldoff wing have to be earned. T’bor doesn’t tap weyrlings. And if he started now…” he shook his head. The rest of the Weyr would resent K’thael more than they already apparently did.
“So… what, then? Permanent cargo duty? Working for tips? You know Sprilth is the fastest flier in his clutch. You know he has… other great and useful qualities.” They gripped their empty mug with a force that felt like they might break it, holding on with both trembling hands. “He’s just as good as the other dragons! Better! He deserves to fly in a wing!”
“This isn’t…” the weyrlingmaster drained his own mug, refilling it with wine. “It’s not about skill. And it’s not about people hating you… not as a person. It has everything to do with…” he waved his hand at K’thael, from head to toe. “If anything… they think it’s bad luck. Or that you should be protected.”
“That’s even worse!” K’thael stood up, furious. They leaned over the desk, trying to loom over Gr’lin, but their height made this ineffective. “I’m short, but I’m not some delicate flower! I can do the work! It’s not my fault I’m this shape, and I shouldn’t be punished for it! Sprilth shouldn’t be punished for it!”
“It’s not about punishment. It’s…” he motioned for them to sit back down. Reluctantly, they did. Storming off wouldn’t make this go away. “It’s not fair, ok? I know that, you know that, but it’s reality. Reality isn’t fair. And so we’ve… T’bor, S’dok, and I… we’ve decided to put you in the Vixton wing.” He leaned back from the desk, just in case they blew up again.
They furrowed their brow, giving the idea some thought. “The Queen’s wing? With the old and the injured? That’s… embarrassing,” K’thael answered quietly.
“It’s safe - for a rider with a known tendency to self-destruct and a dragon with unique abilities. High Reaches needs Sprilth in one piece, which means it needs you, whether anyone will admit to that or not.” Gr’lin sighed. “And with a permanent assignment to the Vixton wing,” he steepled his fingers together, “no one will think twice if you become the Weyrwoman’s personal assistant. Or the Weyrleader’s.”
“What are you saying?” K’thael held their head up with their fingers. Sprilth could go into other people’s minds, sure… they were sometimes self-destructive… that wasn’t flattering, but it was true… but what did that have to do with being anyone’s assistant? “You’re doing that thing… that Harper thing… you know I don’t get hints. Just say it out loud.”
Gr’lin chuckled, taking a reluctant sip of his klah-tainted wine. “It’s called subtlety. You should learn it some time.” He put the glass down and looked directly in their eyes. “With an assignment in the Vixton wing and as a known personal assistant to the Weyrleaders, no one would think twice if you accompanied them to meetings. Important ones.” Seeing that they still weren’t getting it, he sighed. “No one would think twice if Sprilth accompanied Yasith to meetings. Where he could listen to things. Like he’s done before. For Masterharper Robinton.”
“Oh!” K’thael’s eyes finally lit up in understanding. “That makes sense! But people will think I’m in the Vixton wing to stay safe and protected.” They nodded, thinking it over. “Ok… Sprilth and I would probably rather fight Thread, but… it beats cargo duty.”
“I’m glad you approve,” Gr’lin replied. “Really. Now get out of here, because I have a lot of files to fill out for the archives before any of you can be tapped for wings. And you have a dragon to talk to.”