Trial by Fire [Bacch; open]

[Desert]

The candidates in line to stand at the next hatching had a rare span of time free. The Trial of Courage had taken place and Kendrik had been one of the ones to pass; few probably did it their first time taking the trial, but since he had gotten a much later start than most of the others in his candidate class, he was determined to pass his trials without having to redo them at a later date.

Or that was how he justified being buried up to his eyebrows in some of the older records, written in the archaic script that he had learned to interpret in his Harper apprenticeship. If he didn't admit to himself that he was burying himself in academic work then he wouldn't have to stir up the festering cesspool of emotion that had been gnawing at his subconscious over the past Turn and a half.

Kendrik gingerly rolled up the scroll he had been perusing and set it aside, reaching for another one. With one trial down, there were still two more to go, and he would be damned if he didn't pass the Trial of Knowledge with flying colors. He vaguely knew what the Trial of Will entailed, and since there wasn't much he could do to influence the outcome (however much that irked him) he was putting that out of his mind in favor of a task into which he could throw himself.

There was no reason to fret over things he couldn't affect. It went against his nature to admit that he wasn't in complete control of every aspect of his life, but it was the truth, and Kendrik did not care to delude himself about anything. The facts were not to be ignored just because they didn't please him: only fools and cowards did so.

So it was for that reason (ostenibly, at least) that Kendrik was not spending his free time resting in the barracks or socializing with the rest of his candidate class. He wasn't in the best mood to socialize, and since the majority of his peers had been given the impression that he was a perfectly amiable, friendly young man, he didn't particularly want to disabuse them of that notion by taxing his patience when he was already in a bad state of mind. Best to keep to himself and act the studious young man they all knew him to be.

For an hour or so, Kendrik managed to lose himself in the stack of scrolls he had taken off the shelves. He only pulled his mind free when he found himself hunching over and squinting to read; the glowbasket he was using was running low. He reluctantly left his bastion of knowledge to swap his glowbasket for a fresh one, and returned to the small niche of the library he had overtaken.

Just as he sat down, an unfamiliar sensation swept through him. Instantly he tensed and jerked around in his chair, eyes darting around while his hand went to the belt-knife ever at his side. Since his transfer to the Weyr he had taken to keeping the generally harmless blade sharp, and honed his own hand-to-hand skills should the need ever again arise that he needed to defend himself. Also since then, he had been perpetually on-guard, and whenever some unexpected sound or sight - or, Faranth forgive the ones who made this mistake - touch came, out would come that knife. One fellow candidate nearly had his arm sliced open before he learned to respect Kendrik's personal space.

The sensation that had sent Kendrik into this suspicious defensive mode was one he could not recognize. It felt like someone was standing behind him, almost literally breathing on the nape of his neck. That presence that was there but at the same time not was unnerving, and it was a good thing no one was around to see Kendrik plaster his back to the nearest bookshelf and brandish his knife in front of him. He knew the sensation was vaguely familiar, but it was so faint and intangible that he had no hope of identifying it.

He had felt a dragon's mind-touch before, the few times Zenith had directly addressed the candidate class, but since the contact now was so light and disconnected with his surface thoughts, he couldn't recognize it for what it was.

[Bacchante]

Deep below, something stirred. It was old, so old, despite being young, so young. Silently, invisibly, it had watched whole centuries pass without even really being born. For years it had watched and felt and searched and been denied. But now it felt the questing thought of the Wraith reaching into the back of someone's mind as she flicked from egg to egg, sweeping over them. And, at the other end, it felt...

Above, Zenith was nearly ready to break off. She thought she had felt a Shade stir in its egg, but it turned out it was just being carried to a new resting place in preparation for the hatching. This one didn't seem to have passed. A shame, after all that had... What was that? Something had just reached out and brushed against her questing thought. Not, not just brushed...

The Wraith screamed as the foreign thought moved, following the trail all the way back to her mind and stabbing at it. Pain blossomed, and paralysis quickly followed. In her Weyr, she was shaking and keening piteously. But the thought didn't care. It wasn't bothered with hurting her, particularly, it just wanted her not to see.

B'ach, Weyrleader, was running. He had his knife in hand and was sprinting the corridor that led to the ledge of the Fifth Level. As he neared the edge, opening up into the shaft, he dived forward feet first; sliding across the smooth stone. His hand grasped a metal rung tightly and he went off the edge and into the abyss. Falling, at speed, metal in his hand and rope trailing from it. He'd had the system installed recently. Ghosts weren't allowed by custom to stay on the Fifth level which meant he either had to walk down or call one. That wasn't fast enough for today.

The questing thought, having sealed away the watching Wraith, found what she had been looking at. It danced around the mind, poking at the edges, feeling it. Perhaps, perhaps. Best just to leap right in. Without undue ceremony, the strange mind dived right into the deepest reaches of the candidate. It overrode all the senses and turned it in on itself, moving to the blackest, darkest corner from where it could see everything. Yes... This one was absolutely perfect.

Turning to face the boy's own avatar of thought in this dark plane, the strange spirit shone brighter than any star. In a tone so silky, so soft, so sultry that it could bewitch with but a word it whispered to him.

Kendrik...

And then it was gone, retracted to its hiding place far below. Mentally, it smirked. That little sojourn had cost it much of its strength. But it had finally found one. Finally, it had what it was looking for.

Meanwhile, B'ach had swung into the open space above the Fourth Ledge. He released the metal rung, tucking and rolling into the fall so as to come up on his feet and running yet again. He shouted at the waiting Ghost, jumping as he reached it and spinning off its leg and on to the creature's back. He was already tied on before the rider could even ask where to. "Third Level, Library, maximum speed!"

He didn't need to be told twice. His dragon gathered her muscles and calculated: Distance, trajectory, direction. She ran forward, further into the ledge, and spun on her heels. The massive muscles in her forearms and back legs bunched as she went back the way she came. Mighty legs launched her outward and sideways, her claws stabbing into the rock as she dashed down the vertical surface to come to a screeching halt on the ledge below.

B'ach had already dived clear, before she'd even stopped. He was through the doors and into the library. He saw Kendrik at a table, the Weyrleader had been chatting with Zenith as she gave the Trial and she had mentioned the boy they both remembered. He was face down on the table, unmoving. The green-eyed rider shouted at the librarian to fetch a healer, then ran over to check the boy's pulse, and give him a shake for good measure.

[Desert]

Once the initial rush of wary suspicion had been reined in and controlled, Kendrik could take a step back from his emotions and analyze this alien sensation. It had changed, and gotten more intense. Now, at the questing thought prodded none-too-delicately at his mind, he could recognize it for what it was. Zenith's practiced mind-touch had barely registered, but this new mind was unconcerned with subtlety and, after a few experimental prods, it plunged.

Kendrik had experienced a draconic mind touching his and linking with him only enough to speak a few sentences. He was not accustomed to a draconic mind invading the inner sanctity of his thoughts with something just this side of brutality, for it only sought answers and not to harm. Nevertheless, as this unfamiliar mind engulfed his in its seeking talons, he was only aware of the fact that this entity was searching through parts of him that he shielded away from everyone. As the strange mind delved into the memories that even Kendrik did not care to re-explore, he was spurred into resistance.

When this entity first exerted its presence upon him, he had been too shocked and unprepared to do anything. But now that his mind was being violated, essentially, and old wounds called up afresh, it jogged a flashback to when it had been his body that was being ravaged. Now, his muscles paralyzed by shock jolted into action. He dropped the knife and brought both hands up to his head; though essentially a useless gesture against a purely telepathic force, the physical counterpart helped him summon a mental shield.

He tried pushing out the foreign presence, but it only strengthened its grip. He staggered, blind now and deaf to the physical world, and stumbled over the chair he had inhabited before. He flopped sideways into it with the table to support him, while in his mind's eye a bright, scintillating light appeared.

Like an aurora it swirled with colors, nearly blinding in intensity though he was not seeing it with his physical eyes. The presence of this other being in his mind was all he was aware of; its mind-voice swam up out of nowhere, immediately stilling his resistance with a single word that caressed his mental ears. Unconsciously his muscles went slack to sprawl him across the desk.

Then, as suddenly as it had come, the presence was gone. It left his mind in a complete daze, reeling from the sudden stress of having that second, alien presence sharing a space that had only originally been meant for one mind. He was fully stunned, senses reeling and thoughts scattered to the four winds.

That was, until two hands gripped his shoulders and shook violently. His sensed had restarted enough to feed their input into his brain, and with the entirely unexpected and unwelcome contact, Kendrik's instincts kicked in. He jerked back and away, lurching away from the perceived threat that was attacking him in such a vulnerable state. He fell out fo the chair again and landed on the floor, scrambling back with his lips peeled back into a silent snarl. His eyes darted about for his knife.

Thankfully, rational thought returned before he had grabbed for the blade. Instead, Kendrik grew very still, all his muscles locking down until he had fully reimposed control over himself. Then, he finally looked up at B'ach and the other people gathered around. His lips thinned in displeasure at having so many people witness to his moment of distress, but there was nothing for it.

With as much aplomb as he could muster, he stood. His muscles trembled, but when he opened his mouth to speak, his voice was steady and emotionless. "Do you know what happened?"

[Bacchante]

Only when Kendrik reacting so animatedly did B'ach recall his hang-ups about physical contact. Which is why he decided to overlook the fact that the young candidate had obviously been about to try and go for his knife. "Stay down, boy, and let the healer take a look at you." He motioned her forward, the Master Healer. She wore the traditional white robe of her order, with the red cross on on the left breast. The woman was somewhat elderly, a kind, gentle and above all skilled soul.

"He's not hurt. Seems perfectly healthy. No clue why he collapsed." It seemed like she was almost insulted by his perfect condition and the look she flashed at B'ach spoke volumes about exactly how neccesary it was to call the Master Healer for things like this. He met her eyes equally, without backing down, and she smiled, snorted in a fashion most unladylike and then strolled out while muttering about 'kids these days'. For his part, the Weyrleader pulled out a chair for Kendrik, and then one for himself. He didn't even try to offer the boy a hand up.

"What happened? Well, Zenith was administering the Trial of Will to you when suddenly she started thrashing about and screaming. I come running down here at breakneck pace, quite literally, to find you passed out on the table." For a moment he cocked an ear, listening to the groggy mumbles of a pissed Wraith pulling herself out of a shock. <Tell him that if he's responsible for my headache I will be removing something precious.> B'ach whistled his amusement, "And you should be extremely thankful that she is fine, and that the tunnels down here are too small to accommodate an angry Wraith. So you tell me Kendrik. What the shard happened to my dragon?"

[Desert]

Kendrik eyed the Master Healer with the gaze of a wary animal as she gave him a brief one-over. "I am physically unharmed; there is no pain." Other than a headache that would soon reach migraine proportions, but he wasn't interested in going to the infirmary.

Thankfully, once the Healer was gone, B'ach was respectful of his space. Kendrik grabbed the back of the chair he was offered, spun it so that the back was to B'ach, and sat curtly to cross his arms over the back. Under most circumstances he would have preferred to remain standing, but since his muscles were still quivering and his equilibrium slightly unsteady, he didn't quite trust himself not to fall over.

As B'ach finished speaking, Kendrik's expression shifted into what, for him, was a look of frustration: lips thinned, brows furrowed, and jaw clenched. It was a fairly subtle change, but he wasn't the type to react much to many things. "If I had any idea, I would not have asked you." He tried very hard to suppress the sour tone from leaking into his voice.

"Perhaps the wraithqueen herself can explain her experience? For my part, I felt a mind-touch, and then a presence that I did not recognize took over my mind. It blocked out my senses and rendered me unable to resist. It projected an image of swirling light into my mind, and said my name before vanishing entirely. When you shook me, I had just been released and was not entirely in my right mind."

Logic dictated that the foreign presence's assault was connected to the Trial. If Zenith had also been negatively affected, then it was not the wraithqueen's doing, and another entity altogether. Perhaps one of the eggs? He hadn't been aware that during the Trial of Will that one's mind was overtaken by the unhatched dragonet. That presence was quite gone from his mind, so it had not been the bonding of Impression. That was what perplexed him the most. Why had the other entity just let go of him again, after having him completely open to it?

[Bacchante]

B'ach sighed. This was the second strange event to occur during the Trial of Will. "What you describe... It sounds like another mind, probably one of the dragonets, overwhelmed both of you. Which should be impossible twice over. She is the Queen, and her mind is more powerful than any lesser dragon. Not only that, the eggs are meant to be asleep. The point of the Trial of Will is to briefly connect the minds of candidate and dragon. Normally the reaction is minor." The word normally is what did it. There was the unspoken implication that something else weird had happened.

Abruptly, the Weyrleader stood. "Come." Was all he said, before striding with intense purpose into the back of the archives. He reached the back door to the sealed, stone with four levers on the front. "Turn away." As soon as Kendrik had done so, he pulled them down in a specific order. The door snapped open and the levers snapped up. If the order was wrong, the door would have been sealed and had to be reset from a chamber below. "I had reason to go and read over some old records, from Weyrleaders past."

The sallow-faced man moved into the archives, running his fingers along the shelves. They were labelled in the Old Tongue, and indication of how far back the Records here went. "This one. These records are engraved into stone tablets as they age, to protect them. These are from a Weyrleader some four hundred turns back. Hold that light closer." Cursing silently the boy's penchant for antisocialism, he ran his hand down the tablet. "Here. I had occasion to skim through these, looking for anything about strange incidents during the Trial of Will. 'And it came to pass that as Caleianth Touched the Mind of the Candidate, there was a great Cry, and she did Scream her Pain and thrashed so mightily as to Shatter the very Armour of her mate where he lay. The Candidate was found to have been on the Stair, and had fallen to his demise. Whenceforth he did so, and his experiences, I cannot say but it may be related to...'"

Sighing, he slid it back into place. "That's where it ends. His diaries were damaged, incomplete. Most notably, all Hatching records were gone as was any further mention of the Trial of Will. The timekeeping for that period shows he died a year after that entry. Any ideas, Kendrik?"

[Desert]

Kendrik listened to B'ach's response with no change in his expression. It was as he had expected: the unhatched dragonet had reached through Zenith to capture his mind. How it had happened was, indeed, the vital question. The thought that his experience was one all candidates who took the Trial had only occupied his mind for a split second before he dismissed it; indeed, B'ach's statement proved that false. That meant that there was something unusual about the particular dragonet.

When B'ach beckoned him, kendrik grabbed the glowbasket and followed, obediently averting his face while the Weyrleader opened the heavy stone door. Had he particularly wanted to, Kendrik might have listened closely enough to the sounds of the levers being pushed down to identify the sounds of each individual lever being manipulated; with enough chances to listed and observe, he could have learned how to open them, but at that point he didn't feel like being underhanded. B'ach had given him no reason to undermine him, and several reasons to cooperate with and respect him.

When B'ach pulled out the tablet and called him closer, Kendrik took a step forward, and held out the glowbasket to better illuminate the tablet. From his vantage point, if he craned his head, he could get a good enough look at the tablet to read the script. It was slightly more difficult upside-down, but he managed to keep pace with B'ach's voice by reading to himself. The direct translation was subtly different, but the message was the same, and it cut off just before any real clue could be provided.

With the tablet replaced, Kendrik put the glowbasket on a shelf nearby and crossed his arms, frowning in thought. "Most of the records from that time period are here, so the little I had access to at the Hall said nothing about the candidacy Trials. It could be a coincidence that the records are destroyed or absent, but I do not believe in coincidence, myself. I suspect it was deliberate, for whatever reason."

[Bacchante]

"It gets worse. Come, let's get out of this tomb." B'ach led the way out of the archives, pulling the door closed behind them. He went back to the table, sitting and brooding for a time. "My first instinct is to forbid you from standing at the upcoming Hatching. However... You saw the meaning behind the Trial of Courage immediately, I know you've been studying heavily for the Trial of Knowledge and I think that this counts as a, rather extreme, pass of the Trial of Will. If you don't want to stand, it will not be held against you."

The Weyrleader rapped his fingers against the table for a while, obviously thinking hard. "But I won't force you not to, either. That's the last I'll say on this matter until after the Hatching, understand?" Standing, he went to leave. But before he was even halfway to the door something seemed to come to him. He turned, a smirk written all over his face and dancing in his deep green eyes. "There is, however, another matter. Something you might be able to help me with."

Standing there, the light caught the Wraithrider's face in an odd way, casting shadow along his scar. It looked as if part of his face was just completely missing, shrouded as it was in darkness. "There's a candidate. A girl. Already, there's been an attempt to hurt her by other, more jealous, candidates. They were planning to ravage her, Kendrik." That right there would cut straight to the core of the young man's being. As would the next bit.

"She came here as... A refugee, of sorts. To escape quite terrible abuse at home. It seems unfair she should face it here. You can pretend to be friendly enough. Find her, keep an eye on her. Oh, and talk to her. Something strange happened in her Trial as well. You're smart. Probably smarter than me, in truth. Maybe you can figure out the mystery. The door is four-two-one-three this month. Let me know if you dig anything up. Agreed?" He stood, stock still, waiting for an answer. It was quite obvious what he was doing, to both of them. Playing on the debt owed him, the young man's own convictions and his pride. Truly transparent. Not that B'ach cared in the slightest.

[Desert]

Kendrik grabbed the glowbasket and followed B'ach, rather relieved to be out of the deep archive room, since the walls were beginning to feel as if they were closing in on him. Back in the open, illuminated space of the library, Kendrik forced his shoulders to relax, and went to lean one hip against the table at which he had been before.

At B'ach's comments about the Hatching, Kendrik merely nodded. He had surmised, as B'ach had, that he had passed the Trial of Will, and he was already assured that he would pass the Trial of Knowledge. Only time and the inevitable was keeping him from the Hatching sands a sevenday hence. After the assault by what appeared to be one of the unhatched dragonets, he was now at a point where he was considering whether or not he wanted to stand or not. "I will consider both options," he told the Weyrleader simply.

B'ach made as if to leave, and Kendrik watched the wraithrider go, rather glad to get time alone. But then, B'ach paused as if struck by a sudden thought. The Weyrleader turned back around, and Kendrik found himself curious as to the meaning of B'ach's interesting expression.

Ah, so the man thought to play off his own past experience. It was a good try, and had Kendrik been a more empathetic man, he would have fallen prey to the skillful ploy. But, it seemed that B'ach hadn't quite pinned Kendrik down entirely; he hadn't had the opportunity to notice, perhaps, that Kendrik looked out for himself first and foremost, and wasn't the kind to let emotions sway his decisions.

"You mean Riki, your favorite for the wraithking," Kendrik commented, smirking slightly. "I wasn't aware that Kali's petty plotting had managed to get far. Either she was lucky that she picked a few idiots for cronies, or she's a better manipulator than I gave her credit for." Of course Kendrik had been keeping up with the internal squabbling for prestige among the wraithking candidates; one of those women would be his Weyrwoman eventually, and he wanted to get a read on all of them. Thus far, Riki was in the fair middle of his list. Then again, he was a much more pragmatic person than many were bred to be in Skrull. He was just good at playing the moral moron.

"She might not want to talk to me about what happened, so if you or Zenith could ensure that she'll explain, I'll do what I can." He nodded firmly. "If I find anything in there, I'll take it right to you."

B'ach was fortunate that Kendrik saw an advantage in this little deal. Having access to all those old records suited him quite well, and he wouldn't mind getting a better read on this girl that B'ach was so sure would get the wraithking. Presumably, if B'ach liked the girl so did Zenith, and Kendrik was more willing to trust the decisions of the wraithqueen on the matters of her future mate's rider.

Kendrik couldn't deny that he was curious. He considered that perhaps the hiccup in the Trial of Will wasn't such a bad thing after all, considering this new development. B'ach evidently trusted him more than Kendrik had suspected; either that, or he thought himself a good manipulator. Either way, he had proved himself to be quite clever enough to earn Kendrik's respect.


ooc; PM me if you want him to actually find anything.

[Bacchante]

"Former favorite. And she's not talking to me right now. Nor I to her. You aren't quite as abreast as you might think." B'ach kept his face neutral, calm, even bored. It was an intellectual game of Chicken. Kendrik's antics amused him to no end and he was quite sure the boy would go far. But it wouldn't do for his pride to overwhelm him. Knowing his boundaries, his limits, would help him go even farther. He was a valuable asset, if a damaged one. But he needed to understand. Bad things happened to everyone, but the world didn't revolve around him.

Time to prove that, even if the boy was more intellectual than B'ach, the Weyrleader always had a trump card. "Oh and, by the by, if I believed that you knew of Kali's plans to have Riki raped and murdered but said nothing to a Guard about it... I would have completely valid reason to have you permanently stood down from the Sands. Exiled, even. To East Steppe, most likely." A place well known for being the most absolutely boring hold on the face of the damn planet, especially if one was put in charge of a herd. Nothing interesting ever happened.

It was a relatively idle threat. But that wasn't the point. The point was that B'ach could follow up on it at any time he liked. His father was notorious for digging into cases which had gone unsolved for long turns, until he found an answer. Kendrik's attempt at being smart had essentially given the Weyrleader something he could hold over his head for the rest of his natural life. "You're good, boy. We'll need people like you, in the coming war. I have high hopes for your progress. Just don't forget that there is always someone better eventually."

And as B'ach strode out, the smirk vanishing as soon as he was facing away from the candidate, he couldn't help but think about the person who was better than him and couldn't help but wonder if, eventually, it might be the young man sitting behind him.

And, beneath it all, the watcher laughed...

[Desert]

Former favorite? Well then! Kendrik's eyebrows rose in an uncharacteristic display of surprise. From the tone of boredom in B'ach's voice, something significant had happened between the two of them that the Weyrleader did not want to speak of. What could have happened to knock Riki off the pedestal he had built for her in his mind? At that point, Kendrik wished that he could speak to Zenith directly, and see if the wraithqueen herself would give him any information. He couldn't, and that was too bad.

And with the way B'ach was hanging that thread over his head, Kali's little plot had gotten further than he thought. He hadn't held much interest in it, knowing that it wouldn't get as far as assassination before the perpetrators were caught and dealt with. Few of the candidates were canny enough to be that covert about it. The rape was a new thing though - he rather suspected that aspect had been a last-minute addition by the boys sent to do the job. Most teenage males were hormonal idiots with their brains in their testes.

Still, though Kendrik knew B'ach had too much to lose at this point to demote him from candidacy, the threat had done its job. Kendrik allowed his stance to loosen in as close to a gesture of submission as he'd allow when both of them were so much on their guard. If B'ach was as good at reading people as he liked to think, he'd get the hint that Kendrik understood the warning.

Once the Weyrleader was gone, Kendrik got up from the chair and began to pace, arms crossed and lips pursed in thought.

This was definitely an interesting turn of events. He would have to track down Riki - wouldn't be hard - and speak to her; as much for his own satisfaction as B'ach's assignment. He was dearly curious as to what had happened to depose Riki from her spot as B'ach's favorite. Perhaps that event and the hiccup in her own Trial of Will were related; certainly, if he knew about neither of them, they can't have happened long ago.

Was it that she had not passed the Trial, and fell from favor? No. B'ach wasn't that petty. Even if his favorite did not elicit a reaction from the wraithking, that wouldn't make him shun her. He felt too strongly for her cause to cast her aside for that reason.

Only an interview with the girl would tell. If he admitted to himself, he was also curious to see what the girl's experience had been during her Trial that was so unusual. It couldn't have been the same as his, or else someone would have known. At the very least, he would have noticed Kali take her cretins aside and scold them for not taking the opportunity to do their assignment while Riki was unconscious. Never mind that B'ach would have reacted the same to her as he had for Kendrik and rushed to the scene; Kali was just one of those.

That thought settled for now, Kendrik moved on to another one. B'ach's behavior during the last part of their exchange.

At the very least, the Weyrleader acknowledged that Kendrik was a useful person to have on his side. They had been playing intellectual games; granted, Kendrik had started it, and with that threat he stood chastened. He wasn't in a position yet to go poking at the wraithrider like that.

It was a damn good thing for both of them that, though Kendrik was proud, he knew to swallow his pride. He returned to the desk and sat, bracing his elbows on the surface and steepling his fingers together. Soon, he might just be in a position, if not to completely flaunt B'ach's authority, then to be on a more even playing-field. He would get to that point by Impressing a dragon of sufficient rank or power to bring him into a position of authority in the Weyr; that was really the only way he could. Males couldn't Impress the wraithking, and Zenith had Hatched even before Kendrik himself had been born.

That spawned two separate thoughts, but the more immediate one was that which he followed. What to do about the Hatching? There was nothing, honestly, keeping him from the Grounds but his own decision. B'ach had said as much, and the Weyrleader stood by his word, so Kendrik would hold him to it.

Since all the evidence pointed to one of the unhatched eggs being the source of the assault earlier, did he want to go down to the clutch and bring himself closer to that entity? If the dragonet's mind was that powerful still in the egg, what would the result be if he brought himself closer to it? Would it assault him again?

The real question was, what had the entity's purpose been in its actions. If he managed to ascertain that, then he would know whether or not it was prudent to stand. The main chance for that would be searching through the old records, and seeing if this centuries-gone Weyrleader had made a mistake in his systematic erasure of parts of his records.

There wasn't much for that at the immediate moment, so now to the secondary notion that had cropped up. His thoughts had flickered across the possibility of his Impression, and they had touched on the impossibility of getting a wraith.

He had to step back, then, and analyze that mental slip. His purposes in coming to the Weyr, at first, had been the pursuit of justice for the crimes against him. He knew that, if he wanted the punishment the Law entitled him to be meted out swiftly and effectively, the best place to go to appeal would be the Weyrleader of Skrull Island. B'ach had a strong conviction concerning the Laws, along with empathy toward his fellow humans. Kendrik had known that even then, and taken advantage of that fact to get what he wanted.

And, since he was already in the Weyr, why not chase that hare until it went to ground? He had been excelling in his Harper training, but he didn't see himself going anywhere with it. Harpers had this infuriating tendency to put much more emphasis on musical talent and inclination that Kendrik simply did not have. The life of a Harper was bound to be unfulfilling for a personality like his.

Originally he had planned to transfer to the Weyr after walking the tables, but he had arrived earlier than planned. Still, he had adjusted his plans accordingly, and accelerated through the candidate training as planned. So. Now, he was on the brink of fulfillment of this stage of his plans, and it was time to evaluate again.

What manner of beast he Impressed had never really come up before. Since he would be unable to stand unless he finished training and passed the Trials, he had put that mostly out of his mind until a time in which such contemplations were appropriate. And, now that they were, he was faced with an interesting notion.

Was he unconsciously seeking for authority and power within the Weyr? Well, it seemed logical, since the life of a wingrider was essentially just as useless as that of a Harper. It was impossible for him to ascend to Weyrleadership - a notion that he entertained briefly, but the set aside. He couldn't do it so there was no point. He didn't particularly lust after power like some had accused him, and thus far, B'ach was doing a perfectly good job. Now that Kendrik and he had had their little heart-to-heart, Kendrik was more sanguine. They could work together.

The glow was beginning to dim again. Kendrik gathered up the scrolls he had been reading and returned them to their shelves before taking the glowbasket back to the front desk and exiting. He could leave those nebulous musings for later; right now, he had a task in front of him. he needed to talk to Riki.