Breakfast with the Enemy

Writers: Estelle, Devin
Date Posted: 17th December 2024
Series: Guarding Gil

Characters: Gilbek, Tr'vel
Description: Tr'vel accompanies Gil on his second trip out of the cliff weyr
Location: Dolphin Cove Weyr
Date: month 10, day 28 of Turn 11

Tr'vel

As soon as the first rays of morning light shone into the cliff weyr,
Gil was awake, dressed and out onto the ledge, looking out for dragon
wings. He'd spent the evening going over the events of the previous day,
trying to make sense of them. The heat and the noise, the strange
bathing customs, the women crafters...and the hope that there might be
healing for him. As confusing as the Weyr had been, he was even more
eager to be out than before.

Eboroth touched down on the small ledge, his one eye showing more green
than orange. Tr'vel dismounted and gave Gil a brief, assessing look.
"Breakfast, exercise, and then a bath. After that you'll have a few
candlemarks of work."

The man relaxed. He'd been half afraid they would decide
not to let him out again. He didn't mind what the work was - even
shovelling dung or scrubbing floors would be worth it for the time out
of his prison. "Thank you. Good morning, Eboroth." He nodded at the
dragon, then noticed that the rider wasn't carrying the basket of food
that was usually brought to him at this hour. "I won't be having
breakfast up here?"

"Nope, dining cavern. Enjoy the stares." That was mean, but Tr'vel still
didn't trust Gil.

Gil froze, all his enthusiasm for the day vanishing. "Ah... I'm actually
not very hungry this morning."

"Not getting off that easy. You're going to the dining cavern even if
you just stare at an empty plate for half a candlemark."

Gil's jaw tightened and his expression turned distinctly mutinous at the
thought of being paraded around a crowd of gawking weyrfolk. He briefly
considered retreating into the weyr and refusing to come out, but he
suspected if he did, they'd simply stop the food deliveries and starve
him out. He couldn't stay up here for ever.

His shoulders slumped in resignation. "Fine. Let's get it over with."

Despite his gruff attitude, Tr'vel was mindful of Gil's back both when
getting him strapped in and when dismounting in the Weyrbowl. The
bluerider gestured toward the entrance to the dining cavern. "After you."

Gil glanced at him as if hoping for a reprieve, then sighed and
reluctantly followed his direction. Now he'd experienced it once before,
the noise and activity of the Weyrbowl wasn't quite as much of a shock
to him as it had been the first time. He'd been able to take in more of
the layout, and committed every detail to memory, since he'd not yet
given up on finding a way to escape. Although he appeared to be safe
enough for now, if the Weyrleader changed his mind or was replaced by
someone less merciful, he'd need a backup plan.

The dining cavern was busy at this hour and filled with the inviting
scents of klah and fresh bread. To his relief, it didn't fall silent as
soon as Gil set foot inside, but he still hesitated in the entrance,
unsure of what to do or what these people would think if they knew who
he was.

Tr'vel pushed him, not hard, just a firm nudge toward the serving area.
"Go on."

Gil followed after a pair of young riders who were lining up to serve
themselves. There was a generous selection of food on offer, more than
he remembered seeing in Turns, with kitchen staff bringing out fresh
trays of sizzling sausages and bacon, eggs, toast and pastries and large
jugs of fresh klah. The dragonriders ahead of him were heaping their
plates, but as delicious as it looked, the thought of being the subject
of hostile stares had ruined his appetite.

If he was going to exercise and work later, though, he knew he ought to
eat something. He took a small helping of porridge and fruit and poured
himself some klah, then stepped away from the serving tables with his
tray and waited, not sure what the arrangements were for seating.

Tr'vel kept one eye on Gil as he piled food on his plate, then he led
the way to a table that was empty except for a small group at the far
end. He didn't want to make anyone sit next to the prisoner. "Here's fine."

He sat down, keeping his head bowed so that his face was partly hidden
by the loose strands of his hair, and breathed gently on the klah to
cool it. The people at the end of the table glanced at them, and one
gave him a curious look as though she was trying to remember where she'd
seen him before, but they didn't show any sign of recognition.

Even though his presence seemed to have gone unnoticed so far, in a
large cavern with so many people a threat could come from anywhere at
any moment, and eating in silence under Tr'vel's watchful gaze didn't
make him feel any less conspicuous. Gil stirred the porridge with his
spoon, not having managed more than a few mouthfuls, then cleared his
throat, trying to think of something ordinary to say. "Have you always
lived here?"

Tr'vel shook his head. "Thayan Peak, before it was destroyed." Sometimes
the memory was still fresh, and he had much sympathy for those who'd
been at River Bluff.

Gil winced at his own thoughtlessness. "I'm sorry." He'd been a boy when
it had happened and their farm had little to do with the old Weyrhold,
but he did know there had been terrible losses. "I should have asked if
you were weyrbred."

Tr'vel narrowed his eyes. "You sorry about the poisoning too? My
daughter Impressed in that clutch."

He looked up sharply, his own eyes wide as he met the dragonrider's
gaze. "Yes, of course, I'm sorry. I didn't know until the Weyrleader
told me... Is she all right?"

"She's fine, no thanks to you and your friends." It was all too easy to
remember the sharp panic when Eboroth told him the meat was bad and one
of the dragonets was sick. And _this_ man was partly responsible.

"They're not my friends." There was an edge to his voice for a moment,
but then he slipped into the same hunched, shamed posture as when he'd
had to show his scarred back. "But I'm sorry. I never meant to be
involved in something like that."

Tr'vel gave him a hard look. "Do you swear you never meant to hurt any
hatchlings?"

"Of course!" Gil looked up, sounding almost indignant. "I swear it. I
would never have anything to do with hurting hatchlings, or children
either. I had no idea what they were planning. They didn't tell me
things like that."

Tr'vel supposed if Gil had lied to the Weyrleader, he'd just lie to him
too. Gil sounded earnest, but . . . "If you're lying, or if I ever catch
you doing something shady, the only reason I won't throw you from the
Heights is because the Weyrleader will want that privilege for himself."

"I'm not lying." All the frustrations of the past month trapped in the
cliff weyr, surrounded by people who mistrusted him at best and thought
him capable of harming newly hatched dragonets, suddenly rose up in Gil.
His voice tightened in defiance. "But if I was, I'd like to see you try."

The bluerider gave him a cold, assessing look. "You think you can take
me, with that bad back of yours? I'd like the satisfaction of making you
_really_ sorry."

Gil returned his stare unconcernedly. "Yes. I think I could manage it.
Even with my back." He shrugged and took another spoonful of his
porridge. "But since the Weyrleader would have me killed for harming a
hair on your head, I wouldn't risk it unless there was no other choice."

"And I'm under orders to let you make the first move. So I guess we're
at a stalemate." Tr'vel stabbed at his scrambled eggs.

"I suppose we are." As satisfying as it was to respond to a threat in
kind, Gil immediately wondered if he'd made a mistake. If he wanted to
stay out of his cliffside prison, he couldn't afford to antagonise his
guards, and he could hardly blame the dragonrider for not trusting him.
"Look, I don't want to hurt you, or anyone else here. I just want to
keep my head down and work and...try to make amends."

Tr'vel had a few mixed feelings and he sighed. "The Weyrleader explained
your situation. He hopes you're telling the truth and that you can build
a better life here."

"That's all I hope for," Gil said, though he wasn't sure yet whether
he'd be better off staying or running away. For now he didn't have much
choice. "I know I can't prove it, though. I expect that's why you're here."

"Yep," Tr'vel said between bites, determined not to let this man's
presence ruin his appetite. He was honored by the Weyrleader's trust in
him, but he couldn't wait until someone else took over playing creche
worker for Gil.

"I see." They focused on their breakfast in silence for a while, though
Gil spent more time pushing his spoon through the porridge than eating
any. Finally, he looked up. "If we're stuck with each other, we
could at least talk. It might be easier."

Tr'vel ignored him for a long moment as he ate. Finally after a sip of
klah he said, "Trying to get on my good side?"

Some of the tension in Gil's body eased, and he smiled, tentatively. "It
seemed like a wise move."

"Butter up your guard so you can get away with things?" Tr'vel asked
with an arched eyebrow. Or a man with a troubled past tired of being
treated with suspicion all the time? If Gil really _hadn't_ known they
were going to poison the weyrlings . . .

"I'm sure you're more than capable of keeping me in line," Gil replied.
His lips twitched with the faintest hint of irreverence. "I'd really
just like to know more about the Weyr, if I'm going to live here. I've
heard a lot of stories, but I can't say I entirely believe them."

That made Tr'vel's icy demeanor crack a bit. "Tell me the wildest thing
you heard."

There had been many dark rumors at White Hollow about dragonriders
abducting maidens and feeding babies to their queen, but Gil didn't want
to offend Tr'vel by repeating those. He thought back to earlier days at
Emerald Falls, and a faint flush rose to his cheeks. "Is it true that
when the Weyrwoman's gold rises to mate, everyone at the Weyr - um, has
to do the same? I once heard that you drop everything and run out to
have a big naked party in the Weyrbowl..."

Tr'vel snorted. "Not in the Weyrbowl. And not everyone. But a Queen's
lust is a powerful thing." His voice lowered. "A lot of people get
caught up in it. I enjoy myself sometimes."

The holder's eyes widened, as if he couldn't quite decide whether to be
curious or alarmed. "You mean, you and your wife - partner, I mean." He
did at least know they didn't usually get married here. "You just stop
what you're doing and...join in with the flight?"

'Shock the Holder' was a fun game. "No partner," Tr'vel said. "But yeah.
I just grab someone I fancy, as long as they're up for it, and we find
somewhere to get sweaty with each other."

Gil's color deepened. He'd expected to find that the salacious tales
about the Weyr were mostly made up; he hadn't counted on some of them
being real. The bathing pools, the flights - what else was true? He
wanted to ask if everyone was affected, or just dragonriders, but didn't
quite dare. "I thought, since you mentioned a daughter, that there must
be someone..."

"Ah. She's the result of a flight -- a lost flight to be specific. Her
mother and I are still good friends." With a sly smile Tr'vel added, "We
'reminisce' once in a while."

"Oh. Right." Gil looked hastily down at his tray, inwardly cursing his
helpless embarrassment. As if he hadn't heard much worse in the guards'
barracks... Perhaps it was because that talk had so often been lewd and
disrespectful that he'd simply ignored it or laughed it off. Tr'vel was
different, open and unashamed (and, he suspected, rather enjoying his
charge's discomfort) which made it harder to dismiss him as a typical
dissolute dragonrider. "So - uh, this exercise you mentioned. What would
that be?"

"Jogging around the Weyrbowl, then push-ups and sit-ups." Tr'vel
shrugged a shoulder. "If you know how to swim, you could do a few laps
in the lake."

"I can swim." As soon as the words were out, Gil wished he'd kept quiet.
It was bad enough having to show his scars in the bathing room without
revealing them out in the open for any passer-by to see. "It's been a
long time, though, and I haven't got any spare clothes, so perhaps I'd
better not."

Oh, this was too easy. "You don't need clothes here." Humor glinted in
Tr'vel's eyes as he took a sip of klah.

Gil fought to hide his discomfort and keep his expression neutral. "It
was the same in the hold, but the swimming places were away from where
women might see."

Tr'vel laughed. "You're so fussy about bodies. People go around naked or
nearly so all the time here. It's not just a Weyr thing, it's _hot_."

"I'm not fussy!" he retorted indignantly. "I just prefer to keep my
clothes on in public, if it's all the same to you."

Tr'vel snorted and rolled his eyes. "Holders."

Last updated on the March 5th 2025

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