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"Ah, good morning!" a woman sang cheerfully. "I was beginning to think you'd never wake up! Slept nearly half the day, you did!" "I what?" Ahote mumbled sleepily, trying to remember where he was and why. "Taeigan? Is that you?" "Fraid not," the woman bubbled, "I'm Frissa. Are you comfortable? Oh, those little wherries! Skimping on the pillows again! When I get my hands on them..." Frissa noticed he was staring and smiled. "Anything I can get for you?" "A... uh... some uh... klah," he stammered, more than a bit intimidated by the strong looking woman. "And uh, can you tell me where I am?" "Tiynarea Weyr, of course, where else would you be?" Frissa scoffed. "You rode in here looking half-dead last night, remember? That poor runner of yours nearly was too. Treating such a runner like that," Frissa clucked dissaprovingly as she fluffed his pillows. "I'll be back with your klah," she told him and then strode out of the room. Ahote breathed a sigh of releif as soon as she was gone and took his first look at his surroundings. He was in an infirmary, there was no doubt about that. Medicines and plants were strewn over countertops on the opposite wall and there was a row of cots which Ahote was in the middle of. Few of the cots were filled and their occupants dozing. Ahote felt very alone. He loved it. Ahote heard steps and looked towards the door, preparing himself for Frissa. Instead, a woman in riding gear walked through the door. "Good morning," she greeted him, her voice and manner much less threatening than Frissa's. "I hope Frissa didn't scare you. She does tend to come on a bit strong." "I noticed," Ahote replied with the barest of grins. "Tell me, you don't happen to have a greenrider named Arlateema here, do you?" The woman frowned. "No, I don't think we do. But I'm sure there's someone here who knows where to find her." "No!" Ahote exclaimed, catching himself as the woman raised an eyebrow at him. "I mean, no, I don't need to bother her. It's nothing important. I didn't really think she was here, I just..." he stopped and shrugged. "I see," the woman nodded. "I don't think I've introduced myself, have I? I'm Quara, Searchrider with green Dimenth here at Tiynarea. Dimenth seems to think you'd make a good Candidate. I'd like to know a bit more about you before I tell Sarilyn. Like your name, for instance." "I... uh... well, this is a suprise," Ahote stammered again. "Well, uh, there's not much to know about me. I'm Ahote, I'm from Taralez hold. I was just heading back there and we took a wrong turn and we ended up here." "You don't seem like the kind of person who takes wrong turns," Quara remarked. "Yeah, well, I did," Ahote said with a forced chuckle. "Stupid of me huh?" Quara gave an exasperated sigh. "Ahote, I'm very busy. Would you please tell me your real story so that I can decide if you really are a Candidate or not?" Ahote regarded her for a moment, not sure if he could trust her. He'd never told anyone his real story before, and he had promised himself he never would. But something about the Searchrider told him he could trust her. So he took a deep breath, and he told her. He told her everything. He hadn't meant to, but it all spilled out in a gush of words and emotions held back for too many turns. He told her about Failel's death, and then Kirijo's suicide. He choked on his words when he told about his father's death, but Quara's understanding nod encouraged him on. Then he told her of all the places he'd been, and then of the night before, when Arlateema had found him. "I couldn't bear it," Ahote told her, fighting back tears, "what if she found out? What would she think of me then? Not only did I kill my father, I ran away after doing it! I couldn't tell her, so I did what I've been doing: I ran. And then I was here." Quara's face softened. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have made you tell me." "No, no, you should have," Ahote assured her with a smile, the first real one in turns. "I feel better now. Strange. You know, every time I thought about it, or something reminded me of it, I'd just run. But it feels good to finally tell someone." He sighed. "But I don't think there's a dragon for me, Quara. What dragon would want a rider who killed his father and ran away?" "Believe me, there might even be one on those Sands right now," Quara told him. |