Are you who I think you are? (Cait/Barrek)

[Ghost of Fire (Fëanáro)]

3074.01.26 | Armory/Smithy | Mid-Morning (around 10am)

Frustration, mounted upon frustration, mounted upon frustration. T’vax was not having a good day. He had not had a good sevenday, and for that matter, he hadn’t even really had a great month. There were, that he could see, two good highlights to the past month. One was his dragon, Slinesteth, the other was his friendship with Davquil and her dragon Niekolgoth.

Someone who didn’t know him well, but knew about him, would have been surprised that he didn’t count being at the Weyr as one of the highlights. They would have been right too, for it was a highlight, it just wasn’t an unadulterated highlight. Half the time, or so it seemed to him, it seemed like people thought Slinesteth was the herald of some kind of horrible future, and when they weren’t pointing at him, they were pointing at the little Silverlight, Azeriuth. Actually, it was more like that when they weren’t pointing at and gossiping about Azeriuth, then they started pointing at and gossiping about Slinesteth. Still though…

At least you're not still stuck with Tiberax Noixay and co., T’vax reminded himself. You don’t even have to worry about them finding out that you’ve Impressed.

He reached the entrance to the smithy even as the thought was completed, and pushed open the door. The Smith’s back was to the door, but T’vax couldn’t see the new, heavier, iron practice swords anywhere, so he cleared his throat to get the man’s attention. As soon as the Smith turned around, T’vax froze. He knew this man; every detail fell into place, from the close-cropped, unruly light brown hair, clear blue eyes, and pointed nose to the broad shoulders and narrow hips.

“Barrek,” T’vax breathed, then, realizing that the word had actually left his lips, he tried to recover his slip. He didn’t need Slinesteth’s silent warning that revealing recognition would be exceptionally dangerous if this man was who he thought.

“Weyrsmith,” T’vax said, making the word almost a question. “the Weyrling Master asked me to come fetch the practice swords, if they are ready.” He gave a slight bow as he finished, making triply certain it was a Weyrling’s bow, and not a Hold-boy’s one.

[Cait]

For turns upon turns, Barrek Malvois had lived at the Weyr. He’d been one of their few of Smiths for upwards of five turns now and while it was widely known that he was odd and a bit rude at times; no one suspected anything was out of the ordinary. He was just another Weyrbrat grown to maturity. Like so many born at the Weyr, he was the result of a Flight—though oddly enough he’d never tried to Impress his own dragon—and despite the few years spent away from the Weyr after his Father’s transfer then subsequent return fit in well enough with the rest of the residents.

He’s apprenticed to the Weyrsmith and now, very nearly a Master Smith in his own right, was more or less a trusted member of Weyr.


Barrek had a specific morning routine that he only deviated from after a night of overindulgence. This was one of those nights and so, rather than already being underway with delegating tasks where he could and starting projects that took a more skilled hand—such as weapons making and repairs—he’d only just hauled a bundle of iron rods to his workshop from the storage rooms nearby and begun sorting them while one of the Smith apprentices manned the forge that a Weyrling arrived.

The smithshop being a rather noisy place, Barrek didn’t hear his name spoken so softly but when T’vax spoke again, the older man frowned, calloused fingers tightening around a particularly thick rod. He knew that voice. Taver? What in the name of Rukbat was he doing at the Weyr?! His lip curled involuntarily as he spun around, iron in hand only to be startled by the sight of a boy that was most certainly not Taver. The scar on the boy’s face marked him as the loathed younger twin of Tiberax’s son Taver. What was his name again? Tobax…Tixar? No…Totax! Wait…ah Shards, who even cared. What was the boy doing here of all places?

The last he’d heard, the boy had gone missing when the Silverlight Weyrling had escaped and it was widely believed by Tiberax and his men that the boy had helped. For the briefest second, pure, unadulterated violence flashed in the man’s eyes before he took in the boy’s demeanor. There was a good chance the brat didn’t know who he was as he mainly communicated with Tiberax via flitter.

Drawing in a slow, steadying breath through flared nostrils, Barrek tossed the iron rod aside as the boy bowed and glanced at his shoulder. Weyrling…Tiberax would not be happy about this. Not in the least. From off in the shadows came a curious cheep and Barrek sent a mental command for the firelizard to stay put which was for the most part obeyed aside from the fact that the little black poked her head out from her hidey hole.

”Of course they’re ready. They only send you?” His tone, coupled with the skeptical look he gave T’vax—a look that was dispassionate and distant as though no recognition had ever been made—suggested that he doubted that the Chrome Weyrling had enough muscle to carry a bundle of practice swords more than a few yards.

[Ghost of Fire (Fëanáro)]

T’vax had a brief moment during which he almost broke and bolted, and shard fetching the practice weapons. The look in Barrek’s eyes when the Smith turned around probably would have sent him bolting, for it was the sort of look that promised forthcoming violent accidents and unmarked graves, except for the certainty that if he did bolt, he might as well slit his own throat and have done with it. Running would be like waving his arms around and shouting “I know who you are”, which under the circumstances would be extremely stupid. Far better to continue pretending that he had absolutely no clue who this man was.

We should discover what he is doing here, Slinesteth whispered, quite as though the Chrome weyrling thought that this man might be able to hear him. Leave the plan to me.

T’vax might have sighed, except he wanted to give Barrek absolutely no inkling that a) he’d recognized the Smith, and b) Slinesteth now knew about it too. Instead, he devoted himself to dealing with the Smith’s question. “The rest of the class was busy sir, so, that is, yes, I’m the only one here.”

…and my dragon, he added silently. He hoped it hadn’t been a mistake to tell Barrek that he was the only one present, but then again, there were the apprentice Smiths and the fact that the Weyrling Master knew where he was and expected him back. He should be safe… this time. He would have dearly loved to add something about whether the Smith had expected others to come, but baiting the man would definitely be a bad idea, so he remained silent, meeting the Barrek’s eyes with nothing more than neutral respect.

[Cait]

Barrek was unable to resist looking around and found himself disappointed that there were others bustling about the smithy. If he’d been alone things probably wouldn’t have gone well for poor little Tivax, but as it was, he couldn’t just up and snatch the boy without questions being raised. His position at the Weyr had not been compromised during the last snatch-and-grab incident but should anything happen to this boy in Barrek’s workshop, he probably wouldn’t be so lucky. He could be patient though; he’d find out a bit more about the lad before reporting to Tiberax.

”Very well then, I suppose you’ll do. C’mon.” Turning, he led the way, mentally summoning Twit from the corner. The Black detached herself from the shadows and cheerfully dipped and twisted through the warm air and circled Barrek’s head before alighting on his shoulder and trilling directly in his ear, nuzzling his cheek and mussing with his hair. With a growl, the man swatted at the firelizard and immediately the Black settled onto his shoulder, coiling her tail about his neck and craning her own neck around to peer at T’vax curiously.

”So how are lessons treating you then? Looks like you’ve been slacking off during physical training.” In truth he probably wouldn’t been brusque with any of the young Weyrlings, but that this one was the reviled second son of his leader added a little extra bite to his words and picking up on her handler’s vehemence, Twitterpest hisses softly at the Chromerider.

[Ghost of Fire (Fëanáro)]

T’vax followed after Barrek, rather cautiously, though he faked almost perfect nonchalance, and at least ten feet to the rear. He covered it up with a faked startle at the Black firelizard’s hissing, but the real reason was that he didn’t want to be within easy reach of the smith, not after the look that had flashed through the man’s grey eyes earlier.

“The lessons are treating me fairly well,” T’vax replied. “I don’t know what you mean. I don’t slack off in any of the practices or lessons.” Although I don’t think I’ll be practicing alone at fixed times, or with you at any times, he added silently. He would have dearly loved to say it aloud, but the potential consequences of needling Barrek (any further than he already had) far outweighed the potential benefits.

T’vax, Mine, he is not likely to try anything. Others see you and him, to strike for you now would impair his… cover? Yes, cover.

T’vax squelched the smile that tried to form on his face in response to Slinesteth being unsure of his own word choice. Not likely is not the same as will not, T’vax replied and it says nothing about tomorrow. It had been one of his mother’s favorite sayings, was still probably a favorite saying of hers, though she’d used it when talking to Tiberax about the likelihood of the Weyr changing because of his actions.

Unfortunately, Slinesteth knew the rest of it. Nor does it say anything about later today, the little Chrome intoned. Though I still say that he won’t try anything at the current time.

If you say so. T’vax actually did relax a little. There were people around, so Slinesteth was likely correct. On the off chance though, T’vax still hung back from Barrek.

[Cait]

The old saying “you can’t con a conartist” held true in this very moment. Barrek was well aware that his presence had sent the brat into a momentary panic. Something inside him—likely his ego—found pleasure in making Tivax squirm though he was grudgingly impressed by the boy’s ability to play ball and pretend that nothing was out of the ordinary. If he knew what was good for him, the Weyrling would keep it that way and not open his pathetic little mouth.

Of course, Barrek was so very sure of himself that even if Tivax said something about the Smith’s association with his father, he doubted it would be given much credence; especially since Barrek could just turn around and claim that the boy was clearly trying to stir up trouble in the Weyr. After all, Barrek had lived their almost his entire life; the boy had been there for a matter of days most likely…and just look at who his father was.

Yes, Barrek knew how to spin yarn—not literally of course—and plant seeds of doubt. “See to it that it stays that way, boy. Can’t have weakling dragonriders now can we?” Glancing back over his shoulder, Barrek curled his lip slightly as though to say that he was fairly certain that Tivax would be exactly that; a weakling.

As they exited the main Smithy cavern and into a tunnel that led to several of the store rooms, Barrek contemplated how to handle the current situation. As the brat’s dragon had pointed out—not that Barrek knew this—he couldn’t harm the boy just yet, everyone in the forge had seen him come in, not to mention that he was running an errand for the Weyrling Master. He’d have to tiptoe around this one; something he was fairly good at. Shards and Thread, he’d been living as a spy in the Weyr since before he could shave; if he couldn’t handle a situation like this he might as well off himself before Tiberax did it for him.

[Ghost of Fire (Fëanáro)]

T’vax would have sooner followed a re-born DeathWing into an abandoned cave littered with bones than follow Barrek into the un-peopled storage rooms and the tunnel that connected them to the smithy. Of course, he really didn’t have any choice in the matter; it wasn’t like he could just go to the Weyrling Master and say that he was sorry but he’d been scared of the Smith, who was an associate of Tiberax Noixay, so he didn’t have the weapons. Even if the Weyrling Master believed him, which was such a long shot that not even the luckiest man alive would take bets on it, he’d be the laughing stock of the entire class. In the most likely scenario, the Weyrling Master wouldn’t believe him, and the Weyr’s “Chrome problem” would be solved… because Slinesteth would suicide right after Barrek “disposed of” T’vax.

I don’t care if we’re not supposed to carry actual weapons yet, T’vax thought. I am getting a knife, a good knife, and wearing it everywhere, starting at the end of today’s lessons. The thoughts were hardly paranoid; T’vax knew his father, and he knew full well that any order handed out regarding him would have very little to do with “capture” and a very great deal to do with “kill”.

We should turn his watching against him by watching him, Slinesteth supplied. Then we can have evidence to take to the leaders. They will listen to us then, especially the Weyrwoman. She likes us more than others do.

T’vax forced himself to maintain neutral politeness in response to Barrek’s sneer. He certainly didn’t say, as he would seriously have loved to, that weakling dragonriders were almost as bad as weakling Smiths, nor did he state that in that case he would make sure to not ask such a bad advice source as the Smith; which he would also have dearly loved to say.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” T’vax replied, since he practically had to say something. His expression was neutral, but his eyes… there was a flash of angry fire in his eyes for a second, until the control of nearly sixteen Turns as Tiberax’s least favorite offspring asserted itself again.

[Cait]

The second the two of them were alone in the tunnel—it was a vaulted tunnel but fairly narrow—Barrek grew silent, contemplating how he should word the message to Tiberax about his son. Of course he would need to do some poking around to determine a few things before the missive was sent; dragon color, acquaintances, friends. The last drew a snort from the older man; Tivax with friends…the lad could barely manage to walk without screwing everything up, how he would’ve made friends was questionable but still something to look into.

When they had reached the proper door, Barrek took the basket of glows from the alcove above the etched metal plate that designated this as storage room: XIV and sliding a ring of three keys from his pocket he unlocked it. “Wait here.”

After the snippy command, Barrek slipped into the dark chamber and quickly found the bundle of weapons he was looking for…well there were two bundles really but that wasn’t noticeable as the man came out of the room and returned the glows to their alcoves. Pulling the door shut, he locked it and turned to face T’vax. Swinging the hide-wrapped bundles from his shoulder with ease, he raised a brow. “You sure you can handle these?”

[Ghost of Fire (Fëanáro)]

T’vax was perfectly willing to remain in the hall–tunnel while Barrek entered storage room fourteen. He could feel Slinesteth looking out through his eyes, and could likewise tell that the Chrome was marking both which pocket Barrek had taken the keys from, and which key it was that unlocked the storage room.

What are you doing that for? T’vax asked. His mental tone was reminiscent of the hissing whisper that he would have used to ask that question of another human, had there been one nearby, under the circumstances.

It will be useful. He might be hiding something in there and we will need to know what the key looks like in order to get in.

He probably keeps it somewhere else when he’s asleep.

If he is distracted enough, we should be able to obtain it without him being asleep.

“Of course I can handle it,” T’vax replied. He wasn’t certain how well he could handle it, but he was stronger than he looked. His tone, despite all his effort, was on the sharp side. Which was, admittedly, not the wisest thing under the circumstances, which of course made him even more nervous once they were in the air and couldn’t be taken back.

That was not a good idea, he told himself, forcing his face into a kind of deadpan neutrality. Act like nothing’s wrong. He’ll never leave you alone if you do not. He could feel Slinesteth’s agreement with the sentiment, and in truth, he wasn’t completely sure if it had originated with him or with the Chrome. Not that that mattered. It was a true statement, of that T’vax was certain, and so he reached out to take the weapons from the Smith, stepping a little closer so that he could swing them up onto his shoulder.

[Cait]

Barrek hardly looked convinced but let the lad take the bundles of weapons. They were blunted and therefore post no threat as far as ripping through the heavy sack material. Their only threat was in an unblocked swing; if given by a strong enough opponent it might cause severe bruises or even fracture though he highly doubted any of the Weyrlings, most especially Tivax were capable of such feats.

Though the boy had had a bit of an edge to his words, he didn’t follow them up with anything else but merely hefted the bundles up onto his shoulder. Alright then, so the boy was going to continue to play dumb; that was perfectly fine with Barrek. It would raise fewer questions about how he; a man who had lived most his life inside the Weyr, knew the a boy who had apparently been involved with the escape of the Silverlight Weyrling.

“If that’s all, get out of here!” Barrek snarled in what the Weyr knew to be his typical show of surliness. “I have better things to do than coddle some scrawny sprout of a boy.”

[Ghost of Fire (Fëanáro)]

As it happened, nothing pleased T’vax better than the thought of getting away from Barrek and out of the tunnels. He knew it was completely illogical, he was no safer in the open air than in the tunnels, but he had conceived a quiet irrational desire to be out of them. Rather, at the moment, he associated being in the tunnels with being near Barrek, and since being near Barrek was likely to be detrimental to continued good health, he wanted out of that place which he associated with Barrek’s presence.

Acting on that desire, the youth turned and walked away. He stretched his stride out a little, the smith might not be any taller than him, but the man was far broader of shoulder and having received permission (after a fashion) to leave, T’vax was only too glad to do so.

Once he made it out of the tunnels, T’vax shifted the bundles onto his other shoulder. His legs were shaking, and he knew it was only partly due to the weight of the practice swords. It didn’t take him much longer to reach the open area where the Weyrlings were practicing, and it was with poorly disguised relief that he rejoined his classmates.

Let’s hope I don’t have to do that again anytime soon, he commented to Slinesteth as he set the bundle down on one of the benches.