Writing on the Wall

[Kaya]

| 75.03.10 | Rilora's office | Mid morning |

I have a terrible secret...

The Weyrwoman had not slept well. She had finished reading the contents of the little black book late into the night, drawn further in to its tale of woe with each passing page. It was a terrible accident, one she couldn't look away from, or get out of her mind. Even in her broken sleep the images haunted her dreams.

"I'm sorry Lindalyn," she whimpered several hours into the dark of sleep.

She woke up screaming the next hour.

The rest of her sleep felt empty. Even with Bel curled up against her chest, the little feline did little to dispel the night's terrors.

As the light returned to the world, Rilora snagged sleep only in fragments. So when Archith felt her Rider had given up on sleep she too stirred. The distressed woman moved from her bed to Archith's resting place. She curled up between the Gold's forlegs, against her chest, and just stayed there.

I will protect you. the rich maternal voice comforted. The two sat in silence, thoughts connected but not completed. But between the pair, they knew, things made sense, enough anyway, without saying anything.

It's sufficiently morning now, dearheart. Go wash your face and get something to eat - getting out the room a moment will help. When you're ready I'll call them.

Rilora nodded, hugged her dragon's nose and gave her ridges a good rub before heading out to do as ordered by mamma Archith.

The Rider returned an hour and a half later, washed, dressed, fed and looking a good deal better if nothing else.

Back, Rilora called, moving into the weyr to be with her dragon during the request. It made her nervous, and Archith would support her in whatever way made her most comfortable.

Mosiliath, Ancalanath, my Rilora wishes to speak to Yours in her office. It is a matter of pressing importance. When will they be available?

[Ghost of Fire (Fëanáro)]

Ancalanath was halfway through a corkscrew loop, celebrating the end of a successful practice, when Archith’s voice interrupted. He abruptly leveled out, holding himself perfectly still, then winged over into a dive that would terminate on the ledge closest to Rilora’s office.

Ancalanath, is there any particular reason that we are flying back down in the steepest dive you can manage?

Queen Archith says Rilora needs to talk with you.

The abrupt unfurling of Ancalanath’s wings served to end the conversation; T’kar was sliding from the RR Flame’s back even as the massive rear feet came into contact with the ledge and Ancalanath started to settle with a powerful backwing.

Archith, my Queen, we are here.

“Rilora?” T’kar called, striding into the office. He reached up to give Star somewhere to land, transferring the little Crimson to his shoulder with practiced ease.

[Kaya]

"T'kar?" she called back to his inquiry, hurrying toward the voice. She was not in the best frame of mind, distressed and sleep deprived. "I'm so glad you're here," she said, trying not to start crying again as she lead him further into the office. She did her best to keep on a straight face until they were inside and the door was shut. D'gan could knock.

"I didn't sleep well last night," she admitted, wondering if he'd noticed. "There's a reason for that though, and you're not going to like it." She remembered Isodae's stern advice that leaders had to be strong and not let things get to them, because there would always be things. Always. But somehow, her things were worse, or they felt that way. How could anything on the scale of Lindalyn compare to Isodae's time? Not that the old Gold Rider had shared her less than shining moments, not often.

"I finally got this," Rilora announced, not waiting for T'kar's reply if he'd made one. She was so caught up in herself she likely didn't hear anything else but her own rushing thoughts. "This," she repeated herself, holding up the little black book. "It was Lindalyn's. And it explains, at least in part, why she died."

[Ghost of Fire (Fëanáro)]

T’kar hadn’t even settled Star completely on his shoulder when Rilora appeared and led him further into the office. The red-gold hair that framed her face looked wet, clearly having recently been washed, and her teal-blue eyes looked tired. Her announcement that she hadn’t slept well was superfluous.

It would be the night that I spent somewhere else, doing paperwork, he thought.

It is not like you knew this was… Ancalanath’s voice trailed off as he heard and saw, through T’kar, Rilora’s introduction of the little black book.

T’kar had started to reach for the book, a slight raising of his hand, out of simple curiosity from the instant that Rilora presented it. His motion checked at her final words, but he completed it almost smooth enough to hide that fact.

“The reason she died?” he inquired, recovering his own composure enough that it came out a simple question as he gently slipped the book from Rilora’s fingers and opened it. He’d always been a fast reader, and he wasn’t really reading the book, rather skimming it, until he got near the end.

They say that if I don’t do this…

The words continued, but T’kar hardly registered the exact words. Not that it mattered, not with the beginning of the next sentence being what it was. His vision wavered slightly as he set the book down on the table, though he managed to clear it via rapid blinking as he reached out to hug Rilora.

[Kaya]

Rilora let T'kar take the book. She had expected him to take it faster, actually. She waited while he skimmed, he wouldn't hear her while he was reading, she thought. So she shifted around in place, arms hugging her sides while he read. She was caught in relief that T'kar was here, a sleepy haze, and the unrelenting feeling of panic and terror that had plagued her since she came into possession of that book. She didn't hesitate when T'kar moved to hug her. She moved up against him and hugged him back, a heavy sigh escaping her.

"It came, with other letters and parcels, delivered by a runner sevendays ago. It took me...too long to be able to read it all. And then I wasn't sure what to do, and with everything last night, now I knew I needed to talk to you. I'm sorry. I was scared. Shards, I'm still scared. I don't want to die, I don't want any one else to die, and even with this we don't know where they are or what they want, specifically. It's got a lot of interesting stuff, actually," Rilora let out a little laugh.

"I hope it's enough."

She was quiet, her mind so full of things to say and process it had selected none of them and as a result but her interior and exterior were quiet. Then she latched on to something. Maybe it would be better to just let T'kar ask and she'd fish for the one thing, one bit of information he asked for. That could be a good place to start. She hoped. Another little laugh. She was starting to scare herself. "Questions?"

[Ghost of Fire (Fëanáro)]

T’kar continued to hold Rilora as she spoke. He listened to her words, but filtered them at the same time, listening more because she needed someone to be listening than for any other reason. After all the situation was more than a little rattling, even for him, and he’d known Lindalyn for far less time than Rilora had.

The smile with which T’kar answered Rilora’s small laugh was shaky, a smile that might have been of relief, though it was relief tempered with fear and sadness.

“Questions, yes, I’ve got a lot of questions. It’s answers that we seem to be shy of.”

He paused for a moment, his head cocked to one side, then exhaled slowly.

“There’s really two lines we can pursue here,” he commented. “The first is to figure out what, exactly, they might have been after in the way of supplies, which might give us a hint about how many or where they tend to hang out. The second, of course, is to try and follow up on the leads in Cliffside and see if the people who might be involved can be caught out in some way, especially if what she recorded about that ship was accurate.” In the back of his mind, T’kar recalled other snippets of knowledge, obtained from questioning a pair of Weyrlings, K’tar and Chantrea. The tipoff for that, oddly enough, had come from Dalonia.

He took a deep breath, made a silent gamble, then spoke again. “I can handle Cliffside, if you could go over the supply records at least.”

Please let them not have a spy here, please let them not be able to find out that we’re doing this. Because if they do… His thought trailed off and he felt Ancalanath’s snort. Granted, he answered the sentiment. We’re going to do pretty much the same thing to them, once we find out where they’re at.