Whatever It Takes

Writers: Eimi, Yvonne
Date Posted: 31st January 2006

Characters: K'far, Firsa, Nineba, Parna
Description: K'far goes riding again, but is confronted by Nineba in the stableyard before he can leave.
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 9, day 23 of Turn 3

"I bet you were surprised I brought him back in one piece the last time." K'far smiled as he leaned over the stable door and watched Firsa at work.

The Journeywoman sighed, steeled herself, and turned around, wrench in hand. The plumbing system that brought the runners fresh, cool water in their stalls had plugged up again and she was taking it apart to fix it.
She was also, unfortunately, soaked. "Perhaps a little. What can I do for you, brownrider?"

"Can I take him out again?" he asked, resting his chin on his arms.

Firsa hesitated. "To ride?"

He lifted a shoulder lazily. "Actually Torth is a bit hungry..."

The stablemaster's expression grew stony. "It happens," she snapped, and set aside the wrench. Losing her runner to a passing bronze dragon was still a sore spot. "Do you want to ride, or not?"

"Yes please," he said, standing back up to his full height. He was surprised to realize that even at his height she could look him square in the eyes.

Firsa threw the wrench into the water basin where it landed with a clatter. "Fine. Wait here." She wiped her hands on her overalls and stalked out past him into the stables. An apprentice poked his head over a stall door when she gave a low whistle. "Vernault - take Leaf out and groom him. The dragonrider's taking him out for a ride. And check the bite on his neck, please."

"Yes ma'am." The apprentice abandoned his pitchfork and, casting a curious look at the dragonrider who still rode runners, went to find brushes for the runner in question. He returned a moment later and slipped into Leaf's stall, where the old buckskin was contentedly munching on hay left over from his breakfast. "So... you ride?" he asked, taking out the curry comb and setting to work. "Not many dragonriders come here."

"Yeah, it's just a hobby of mine. It, uh," he leaned closer to the apprentice and lowered his voice, "it seems your Journeywoman there doesn't like dragonriders much."

"Naw." Vernault shrugged. "She's just like that with most everybody, unless she knows them real well. I mean, she used t' be good friends with the late Weyrwoman, so it's not just dragonriders. What did you say to her, anyway?"

K'far chuckled. "I just mentioned I have a big hungry brown dragon. I don't think she was impressed."

"Probably not." Vernault shrugged and moved around Leaf to brush his other side. "'Bout two months back, she was working in the food pens when her riding runner was snatched up and eaten by some bronze. They never figured out whose dragon it was."

The brownrider chuckled. "Well, it certainly wasn't mine. But I can understand why she's not pleased to see a dragonrider in her stables." He watched the young man work for a moment before asking, "It's been a long sevenday. I need a quiet trail, not a lot of people. Which way should I go, you think?"

"Uhhh..." Vernault's forehead wrinkled as he thought. "Um.. try heading out towards the main road, but instead of turning right after you go over the bridge over the creek, turn left into the hills. There's a bunch of game trails there that'll take you in and out of the canyons and gulches. There's a few lakes up there, too.. pretty isolated, all in all.
There's even a frozen waterfall if you head north along this ridge," he said vaguely, before remembering that he was supposed to be brushing Leaf.
The fact that the stablemaster had padded up behind them and cleared her throat hadn't hurt, either.

"How's he coming, Vernault?" Firsa asked.

The apprentice looked sheepish as he vigorously brushed the runner.
"Almost done, ma'am."

He was as good as his word, and Leaf was quickly brushed, his hooves picked, and his saddle and bridle buckled on and led out of the stables by the apprentice. He eyed K'far skeptically as the dragonrider mounted up.
"You sure you know how to ride?"

"Yes, face the snout end and hold on," the brownrider replied sarcastically as he rolled his eyes. He gave the apprentice a smile though, to soften his tone. "Yes, boy, I know what I'm doing."

"Okay then." Vernault didn't look convinced, so he adjusted K'far's stirrups for him. "Right. Remember - turn right towards the mountains once you're over the bridge. Away from the main road."

"I remember. It's all up here," K'far said with a tap to his head. **Over the bridge and right towards the mountains... Away from the main road...** "Don't worry. If I get lost my dragon can come find me."

}:Hmph. I'm not going out in that cold.:{ His dragon informed his lazily. Torth was much to comfortable lounging on his heated couch to follow his silly rider.

**Not even if I'm lost?**

There was no reply. The brown was lost deep in sleep.

K'far held in a chuckle. "Well, in any case, I have a good sense of direction. I'll get Leaf back."

"Okay then." Vernault stepped back and glanced toward the stable's entrance, where he was surprised to see the stablemaster leaning against the door, her arms crossed against the cold. "Just don't be too long. Leaf's old, and-"

"_K'far_?!" "Shards," he hissed through gritted teeth. K'far knew that voice. "Leave me alone, woman!"

A moment later a plain looking woman with brown hair came around the side of the stables, followed by an older woman carrying a basket covered in a blanket. Nineba smiled and batted her eyelashes at the dragonrider. "I never knew that you rode runners. I love runners!"

"Nineba, don't bother." Her companion gave her an exasperated look. "We're needed back at the laundry. Let's go."

K'far's voice was as cold as the wind that whipped the sound around. "My life is no longer your concern. Go back to the laundry where you belong and give me some peace."

Nineba hesitated, obviously unsure. Her friend tugged at her arm ineffectually until Nineba managed a tremulous smile. "Perhaps we could go riding together. We could talk. I... I have something to tell you."

"I don't care to hear anything more for you, now leave me alone." K'far could tell Leaf was beginning to feel the tension in the air, and the brownrider leaned forward to stroke his neck and whisper soothingly.

"But it's _important_." Nineba glanced around at the little group that surrounded them, then took a step closer to K'far. "I could borrow a runner too, and we could go somewhere private...?"

The other woman shifted her basket on her hip. "Nineba, we have to _go_!" "Then _go_, Parna! This is _important_ to me!" Nineba snapped, then turned her smile back on for the brownrider. "Please?"

The brownrider fixed her with a steely gaze. "Go away, Nineba. Leave me alone and don't come near me again or so help me..." The runner laid his ears back and took a few steps away from the persistent woman, sensing that she was the cause of the uneasy feeling. K'far shot Nineba one last look and shook his head in warning before spurring Leaf forward. The runner started out at a quick trot, seemingly as happy as he was to be as far from the woman as possible.

"K'far! Don't go! I'm _pregnant_!" Nineba screeched.

**Where did I hear _that_ before...** The brownrider didn't even turn to glance at her.

"It's true! And I'm _not_ going to lose the baby this time!" Parna grabbed Nineba's arm, but she shook her off. "We're going to be a family!"

"Nineba! Stop it- you're making a scene!" Parna hissed, giving poor Vernault a poisonous look as she did so. "You're _married_!"

Nineba shook her head. "No. I'm in _love_. And he loves me too- give me a runner." She broke free of Parna's influence and grabbed Vernault by his arms, pleading. "I need to go after him. If he'd only _listen_ things would be okay!"

"Nineba! Stop it!" Parna hissed as Nineba left the bewildered apprentice to take up her cause with Firsa. "You're embarrassing everyone!"

"I'm not! Please, Journeywoman. I just need a runner," Nineba pleaded, holding her hands out beseechingly.

Firsa gave her a cold look. "No." The single syllable held all the finality of a death knell. Nineba went white, looking as if she'd been slapped. "But he's my baby's _father_- I need to speak with him!"

"I said no, and I meant it." The Stablemaster straightened up and looked down her nose at the dowdy drudge, who backed up a step nervously.
"And I'm going to ask you to leave now. You're upsetting my runners, and my apprentice."

"Nineba, let's _go_," Parna hissed.

Nineba paused, looking lost and heartbroken standing in the icy stableyard. The bottom of her skirts were splattered with mud and her hair had come loose from her bun to hang in limp strands around her face. "I-I can't. I'm sorry Parna," she said, backing up a step, then another. "I have to go after him. I have to find him. I'm sorry!" "Nineba!" Parna looked appalled as Nineba turned on her heel and ran down the trail that the brownrider had taken, chasing after a figure that was already disappearing behind the trees in the distance. "Come back here!"

The drudge never turned, her eyes fixed on a man she would follow until the ends of the earth if she had to. Firsa watched impassively as Parna stamped her foot, then whirled and headed back toward the laundry.
Vernault looked toward her for reassurance, but she couldn't give him any.
"Some people are simply strange," she said.

"What do we do?" he asked.

The Journeywoman shrugged, then put a hand to her temple. The dramatics had given her a headache and left a bad taste in her mouth.
"Continue on with what you were doing, Vernault, then finish fixing that water dish for me. I'm going to do some work in my office, and I'd rather not be disturbed."

"Yes, ma'am." Vernault went back into the stables to put away the brushes he'd used to curry Leaf, then picked up his pitchfork again. Firsa gave him a small smile as she headed into the back and closed her office door behind herself. People _were_ strange. You could never tell what they were thinking, unlike runners who were as easy to read as a book as long as you knew their language. **Maybe I don't know the language people speak,** she thought irritably. Maybe that's why Daremek left. Maybe that's why she disliked K'far so much - he reminded her of Daremek. And maybe that's why Nineba's frantic search for something that wasn't there touched a chord within her that left her feeling off-balance and sore.

Outside, the scrape of Vernault's pitchfork on the stone of the stable floor stilled. A woman asked him something in a low voice, to which Vernault replied with a 'yes'. Firsa stared at the door, glad of the knots that let her retreat from the world whenever she wished.

Last updated on the January 31st 2006

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Whatever It Takes