The Human Condition

Writers: Eimi, Yvonne
Date Posted: 10th January 2006

Characters: U'kaiah, Firsa
Description: U'kaiah returns a book that Firsa loaned to Jaela
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 9, day 12 of Turn 3

U'kaiah had almost felt as an intruder in the Weyrwoman's chambers as he gathered up his few belongings from her rooms. He tried not to think what it all meant. His eyes stayed fixed, and he refused to look around at the tastefully decorated room. If he let himself look around the room, he would notice just how empty it was now, how hallow and lonely the room suddenly felt without her presence to fill the space with life and energy.
He picked up his little pile and moved out of the room quickly. As he dropped his armload on his bed the feeling of overwhelming solitude had not left him. He gritted his teeth, pushing from his mind the knowledge that this was the spot where he and Jaela finally, consummated their relationship after months of dancing and sparing around it. He picked up his shirts and began throwing them onto a pile of dirty laundry haphazardly.

A book tumbled to the floor as he threw a pair of pants over his shoulder. He bent down to retrieve it. It wasn't familiar, and books were usually as recognizable as people to the archivist. "An Account of the Voyage of the Inquisition," he whispered as he read the title aloud. Curiously he opened the flap and found a name carefully written in front cover. It certainly wasn't his, nor did it belong in the Record Room. He must have picked it up in Jaela's room by mistake.

Perhaps this was the distraction he needed. He clutched the book to him and walked purposefully towards his door, pausing only to grab his jacket.
Maybe if he kept moving he could leave the loneliness behind.

~~~~~~*~~~~~~~

People came, and people went. It was a fact of life, and no one was immune. She'd left her family for the Weyr, and Daremek had left her. Her first mentor had died of a bad heart, and Leyandra in a fall from a runner that snapped her neck like a twig. Firsa was well acquainted with loss and although her heart ached for Jaela, there was no sense in self indulgent mourning. There were runners to be fed and exercised, wood to be hauled and sleds to be driven. She lost herself in the mundane routines that shaped her life at the Weyr to forget.

A broken buckle on a bridle occupied her into the evening, and Firsa found herself working in her office in the stable by glowlight, squinting at the leather and the awl in her hand as she put the final touches on her stitchery. A runner snorted nervously, bringing her out of her reverie, just as someone knocked lightly on the door. The Stablemaster frowned. She wasn't expecting visitors, and felt irritated by the loss of solitude.
"Come in."

"Excuse me," U'kaiah said as he ducked his head into the office. "Are you Journeywoman Firsa?"

"Yes." She glanced at his shoulder - a dragonrider, then. "Forgive me for disturbing you, but..." Shards, this was a bit more awkward than he thought it would be. "Uh, this book has your name in it... and I thought maybe you would like it back."

Firsa stood and silently crossed the small room, her hand outstretched. When U'kaiah put the book in her palm she smiled slightly and ran a finger down its spine: 'An Account of the Voyage of the Inquisition'. She could almost feel the book tremble at her touch. "I'd forgotten I'd lent this to her. Thank you."

"Your welcome," he said with a slight smile. This was all very new to him
- all this sadness. Weyrwomen had died before, but Jaela had always been... special... to everyone it seemed. "You were good friends?"

Were they? The Stablemaster gently opened the book and flipped through the pages as she thought. "Of a sort," she said finally. "And you?"

He wasn't sure either. They were lovers, but the bronzerider would never know how Jaela had actually felt about him at the end - whether he had just been another lover like Kavlyn, or something deeper. He could only hope. "Perhaps of a different sort." He finally replied.

She glanced at him to reassure herself that he wasn't mocking her, but his expression brought a wry smile to her face. "I'd hope so.
What's your name?"

"I'm U'kaiah, Cyan's Wingleader."

She nodded and gently closed the book. He sounded... lost. "I think Jaela mentioned you, once, to me. But not by name."

"Well, I suppose there was a time when she would have rather forgotten my name," he said with a nostalgic smile.

Firsa wasn't too sure what made her say it; perhaps it was that the bronzerider looked so lost. "I can't say that everything she said was _nice_, but I think that she cared for you more than she'd have liked to admit."

"Well," he said as his eyes lowered slightly, "I don't know how she felt about me, but... its good to know."

Suddenly it just became too much; U'kaiah's grief and her own sense of loss made the walls seem too close, and Firsa desperately wished that she was outside, and alone. She turned the book so that it's spine faced her and slowly re-read the title, letting the silence lengthen between them.
"Thank you for returning this."

"The Inquisition. I've heard of that vessel," U'kaiah finally said to break the silence. "You're interested in the history of the Southern Continent then?"

"I feel I should know something about the place that I live."

"I seem to remember that particular vessel also traveled to the third continent, did it not?" History was so much safer to talk about than more recent events.

"Yes." Firsa turned to lay the book gently on her desk, next to the awl and scraps of leather. Now she'd never know what Jaela thought about it.
"They tried to circumnavigate it, but sank half way around."

"In the greatest storm of that generation, if I remember correctly. We'd never have known there story if the dolphins hadn't come to the rescue." It would have been the kind of story that Jaela would have liked, U'kaiah thought with a smile. "She was never one for Harpers romances, was she."

Firsa crossed her arms, but eyed him with a little grudging respect. Not everybody would know that. "Neither am I." The bronzerider's lip curled into a slight smile. He recognized the look in her eye. "I'm a Journeyman Archivist. History is one of my passions."

"Ah." She glanced at his shoulder again - his Journeyman's mark was half hidden by the bronze Wingleader knots he wore. Why hadn't he gone yet? "I can't imagine there's much time for that anymore."

In truth, he dreaded the Record Room. There were too many memories of Jaela there. When he thought of the Record Room he thought of her dressed in only her silly boots and that see through shift. He smiled apologetically. "No, not recently." "Mmmm." She looked away, tracing the path of the bridles and other tack hanging on the walls. They cast odd shadows by the light of the glow, and the lantern in one corner needed to be wiped off. The glass was dusty. The silence lengthened. "Thread interrupted a lot of us."

"Yes, it did." Although he had never thought of it as an interruption. It had been a challenge. But so many riders died. So many needlessly, so many before their time. "So how did a beastcrafter become interested in history?"

She shrugged. "I told you: I like to know about where I live."

"Have you read any other books by that author? If you like him, I know of a couple others he's written."

Firsa hesitated, not wanting to encourage him, but also not wanting to pass up the chance at a good book. The book won out. "No. I haven't had the marks to send to the publisher, and I haven't seen any copies in the Gather stalls. Does the publisher have any copies left?"

"It would be easy to find out now that the publisher is bound to Dolphin Cove Weyr." In fact, U'kaiah had hoped to meet the publisher at the Harper Hall Welcome, but he had very little time for pleasantries that night. She shrugged again. "I don't get out much." Especially not to another Weyr- did he honestly think that a Crafter like herself would have the time or inclination to be flying around to all sorts of different places?!

"Yes, but I do." And lately the urge to be elsewhere had grown stronger and stronger. "I would be happy to take you. Or at the very least to see if I can't find the publisher the next time I'm at Dolphin Cove."

Firsa eyed him with a hint of alarm. "Perhaps that would be best. I'm not much of a flyer," she said with a tight smile.

"I'll be sure to do that, then, the next time I'm at Dolphin Cove."
U'kaiah sighed as he looked at the bridle she had been working on. It was about time he left her to her work. After all, he had to face his room eventually. "Well, I will let you know what I find out next we meet."

"That would be fine." Hopefully he'd forget, but Firsa had the nasty feeling that the bronzerider was as tenacious as a puppy with a meaty bone and nothing better to do. She watched silently as he took his leave before picking up the awl and leather she was working on. The awl fit snugly into the palm of her hand. Outside her office a runner snorted, and beyond that she imagined that she could hear snatches of conversation and the gentle snick of playing cards. Bright lights and company. **Maybe he's not the only tenacious one,** she thought darkly, and bent her head to her task.

The book she shoved into the bottom of a drawer. If she was lucky, she'd lose it.

Last updated on the January 10th 2006

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The Human Condition