savatol

   Savatol looked down at his tunic and groaned. Why hadn�t he thought to put on a better one today? He was being tested on his style after all, and this brown rag surely didn�t emphasize that any. And as if to make matters worse, this tunic had a stain on the side. A large, permanent, stain that showed it�s owner could not be expected to take proper care of it.
�Shaffit.� Savatol murmured, and rolled his eyes. The Masters weren�t going to be pleased with this. Especially Master Jeyrat, Savatol�s �father�. The man was positively adamant that Savatol become as fine a tailor as he was, better even. It didn�t matter that Savatol had no real talent with clothing, other than designing it. He figured that if he could keep Savatol on as a decent apprentice because of his ability to design, eventually the boy would make Journeyman, and after Journeyman making Master was no real trick-providing you could past the tests. Jeyrat was sure Savatol could do it.
Savatol wasn�t so sure. He knew his sewing skills were less than any other apprentice here, and that his ability to fit clothing equaled that of a drudge. He didn�t know why the other Masters were even allowing him to stay�but he suspected Jeyrat �persuaded� them. Jeyrat was a rich man, and it only took a couple of decent marks to keep some of the other Masters� mouths shut, or open in Jeyrat's favour. Jeyrat knew this, and used it to his, and Savatol�s, advantage.
If Savatol had been any wiser, he would have seen this was Jeyrat�s subtle way of keeping himself alive. Jeyrat was an old man, who had never been able to have children. His desire to have a son had controlled much of his life, and none of his three wives had been able to give one to him. When his third wife died of a disease that couldn�t be cured, Jeyrat was ready to kill himself. He believed a man�s worth was measured in his offspring, and he had no offspring! Depression settled in on the Master Tailor fairly quickly, and all who knew him became concerned.
But it was a dragonrider friend who pulled Jeyrat from his misery. Apparently there was a young lad, weyrbred of course, who needed a good place to foster. Jeyrat refused, saying that he didn�t want someone else�s child. But Y�par insisted, and finally they young Savoto came to live with Jeyrat. Savoto was only two when Jeyrat took him in, and only four when his real mother died. Although there was much arguing between Jeyrat (who wanted to keep the boy) and the Weyrfolk (who wanted him back), it eventually came around that the dragonriders just left Jeyrat have the boy. One extra child didn�t make that much difference to them, and this man was a headache to deal with anyway.
For the first time in his life, Jeyrat was blissfully happy, and he began preparing his new son to follow in his footsteps. To begin, he decided he�d take away the boy�s very weyr-like name, and give him a new one completely. The boy became Savatol, and from then on Jeyrat never mentioned the Weyr, except fleetingly, in the boy�s presence again.
Savatol remembered something of his childhood, and as he hurried up the steps to meet the Masters for his testing, he reflected on it. He knew he had been born in the Weyr, and he knew his real mother was dead. It didn�t matter much to him who his real father was, probably half of the weyrbrats didn�t know which dragonrider sired them either. Savatol thought Jeyrat was enough of a father anyway. Sighing, Savatol reached the door that would lead him to Journeyman status, providing his tunic didn�t mess it up. With a quick knock, and a voice that said �enter�, Savatol went into the room that would decide his future.
�Savatol!� A fatherly voice exclaimed. �Whatever are you wearing?!�

   Slumping in his chair, head in his hands, Savatol looked like he was almost crying. Of course he wasn�t, Savatol never cried. Crying was weakness to him, and he wouldn�t show weakness. He hadn�t made Journeyman, that much was obvious, but he hadn�t expected to have his apprenticeship revoked. What would he do now? What would his Jeyrat think of him? If only he�d applied himself harder to the written questions..studied more�listened when Jeyrat was explaining to him the fine stitching needed for embroidery�
�Savatol!� The boy looked up guiltily to see his father storming into the room they shared. Jeyrat was fuming, but Savatol could catch the look of disappointment and failure beyond the anger, and that made it worse. Savatol bowed his head again, and wouldn�t look up. Jeyrat, however, didn�t see the boy�s desire to be left alone and continued to speak at him.
�Of all the�Savatol, how could you manage to get thrown out!? You must be the first apprentice to ever be stripped of his title in ten turns or more. You could have at least studied last night instead of working on those drawings of yours, at least then you�d have been prepared. And you could have at least put on a decent outfit.� Jeyrat wrinkled his nose up in digust and shook his head. �We�re trying to get you to Journeyman on your ability to design, and to be stylish and fashionable. It doesn�t help when you show up dressed like a stable boy.� And Jeyrat wrung his hands together worridly. �Whatever will we do now?�
�We?� Savatol asked meakly, wishing his father would just go away. But as Jeyrat had been talking, Savatol had been getting this indignant feeling, that maybe his father didn�t have the right to lecture him like this.
�Yes son, we. It�s not just you that got thrown out, I have to find a way to get them to change their minds. If you don�t apply yourself harder next time, that will make me look very bad indeed. Of course you�ll have to start all over from the beginning��
�What?� Savatol interrupted, growing more and more upset as his father kept talking. It had never bothered him before that his Jeyrat planned the Savatol�s future in detail, down to who he would marry and when. But now something was bothering Savatol about the way Jeyrat was acting over this whole apprenticeship thing.
�I said..�
�I heard what you said, father, I want to know what you mean by it. Getting me back in? They just kicked me out, I�m not going back in. Father, you and I both know I�m horrible at this Craft, I�m not suited to it at all. I tried. I tried for you, and that�s it. I couldn�t make it, so now what I have to do is decide what I'm going to do now.� Savatol paused, and looked up at his Jeyrat, who looked very shocked. �I think I�d like to find out who my mother was.�
�Why?� Jeyrat burst out, obviously upset that he was losing the upper hand in this relationship. �Why would you want to know that now? I�m you�re father, I have cared for you as I always will care for you. Your mother is dead, Savatol, it doesn�t matter who she was.�
�But I think it does.� Savatol said calmly, rising from his chair. �I want to know what type of person she was, I need to know my roots better I think.�
�You�re a bastard born son of a mating flight Savatol!� Jeyrat spat out at him, and then sighed. �There�s no roots there my son, you�re roots are here, with me.� And Jeyrat hugged his son then, and soothed the boys hair. �Don�t worry. I�ll get you back in. If I have to take you as my own private apprentice, I�ll get you back in.�
And Savatol didn�t know whether surrender or seethe.

It was later that night, after Jeyrat had gone off to sleep, that Savatol silently put a few things into his pack and left his room. He would never be able to live his own life if he stayed near Jeyrat, he loved his father too much to argue with him. No, the only way Savatol would ever find out what his life was about would be to leave without Jeyrat�s knowledge.
As he was sneaking out the door of the Craft Hall, Savatol was filled with an overwhelming sense of adventure and daring. He�d never felt quite so brave, or quite so himself before, and the whole thing excited him tremendously. He�d left a note of course, telling his father he was safe and all, but didn�t want to be followed. Maybe, if life allowed it, he�d find Jeyrat again one day. Savatol had no desire to make his father proud of him, but he did want to let Jeyrat know he was fine, that the �family line� wasn�t a failure.
Where was he going? Savatol didn�t know, but he thought he might as well journey to the Weyr of his birth for a start. He could find out who his mother was, and maybe what she wanted for him�..No, Savatol told himself. If I won�t do what the man who raised me wants to do, I surely won�t do what the woman who didn�t wanted.
   But was my mother a dragonrider? Savatol asked himself. Jeyrat said I was the son of a mating flight, did he mean it? Or was he just elaborating?   Well, I suppose I�ll worry about that once I find my way to the Weyr. It�s not as if it�s all that far away anyhow. At least father didn�t bother hiding which Weyr was mine from me. And Savatol grinned as he left the Hall�s grounds for the first time on his own.

A few sevendays later�
�You really shouldn�t let the sleeve fabric overlap like that.� Savatol told Testa, a weyrbrat who was interested in the Tailor Craft. She had formed a close attachment to Savatol (and his connections with the Tailor Hall) as soon as the boy had arrived. Now she was asking him about a gown she was designing for the upcoming hatching day. Of course, she had expressed her idea that maybe since Savatol had been a dragonriders son; he might like to stand for the clutch? Savatol had flatly refused, not believing that he�d be able to Impress a dragon. Of course, it was a nice idea�.
�My mother knew your mother.� Testa said suddenly, and Savatol looked up from the gown at his companion. He was helping her finish it, and he hadn�t expected her to say that, of all things.
�Did she?�
�No.� Testa, ever the wherrybrained, giggled. �I was trying to get your attention. You�re so silent lately, it�s almost as if you don�t like spending time with me.� And Testa laughed to herself while Savatol rolled his eyes. He should have known that was coming.   He liked Testa, she was funny and talented, but she wasn�t the smartest girl he�d ever spent time with. She definitely had romantic intentions, where Savatol had nothing other than friendship in mind. He felt he was too young to get involved with someone, especially with someone like Testa. He always thought his type of girl would be the witty, tomboy type-strong and hardworking. Savatol sighed. Maybe he was reading her wrongly. Maybe she didn't want romance. She seemed the type who wanted an adventurous, daring mate-not the quiet boy Savatol was.
�You really shouldn�t say things like that.� Savatol told her, and Testa just shrugged and picked up her needle to get back to work. She dropped it readily enough, but Savatol didn�t. �What if I took that very seriously?�
�You already are.� Testa complained, and set her end of the gown on her lap. �You take everything too seriously. Cripes Savatol, this is a Weyr, not a mine, and you�re only seventeen!� Testa shook her head and took up her gown, mumbling to herself. �What you need is a good joke Savatol, or a dragon!�
Savatol glared at her, silently fuming. What made her think she knew what was good for him? He didn�t even know what was good for himself, and she didn�t even know him!
�What you need, Testa, is a good��
�Savatol!� A voice called from the doorway. �Here you are. A�bern told me I�d find you holed up in here.� Brenna, the greenrider, smiled as she talked to Savatol. When Savatol had first arrived, he�d had a little crush on her. She was, after all, the first dragonrider he�d ever really known, and her enthusiasm interested him. Now that he�d been around the Weyr for awhile, met all the dragonriders, he�d gotten over it.
�A�bern?� Testa asked curiously, a slightly hinting note in her voice. �Why would A�bern know where Savatol is?� Testa played innocent, but Savatol knew what this was about. She wanted to push him to the dragonets, make him Impress. Why didn�t she just but out?
�Well�� Brenna began, but Savatol interrupted her.
�A�bern picked up his cuffs from me this morning. He saw me here, and obviously realized this is where I�d be all day.� Savatol spat out at Testa, who was getting on his nerves. �He must have realized you�d keep me here for eternity to help you sew this ridiculous gown.� And Savatol stood up, giving the needle and patterns back to Testa before storming out the door.
He was walking down the hall when he realized what he�d done. What was the matter with him? Why did he just do that? Especially in front of Brenna? Especially to Testa? Something was bothering him, no doubt about that. But what? Savatol shook his head and turned back to the Testa�s working room. He might as well apologize now, before Testa could think to get angry.

�I don�t care what you have to say!� Testa roared at him the instant he stepped back in, and Savatol grimaced. Obviously she had already thought to get angry. Brenna was still there, looking uncertainly from him to Testa. Obviously she thought the two were an item, and didn�t want to get caught in the middle of a lover�s spat.   Oh how wrong she was! Savatol thought bitterly. What I would give to never have to deal with Testa again! But she�s the only friend I�ve got in this place. I just don�t belong without a dragon�..That thought caught him off guard, and he could swear the room began to spin. A dragon? Why would he, Savatol, want a dragon? His parents were riders, did that leave some sort of trace in his blood, some desire to do the same?
He�d been in the Weyr long enough to get comfortable with the huge beasts that protected the planet. He�d felt humbled in their presence, but not overly awed. He knew he wasn�t very understanding, and even though he�d secretly tried, he couldn�t even get the Search dragons to hear him. Or, if they did hear him, they didn�t answer.
�I�� Savatol began, and then stopped. He slumped up against the wall and stared out from under his long hair at Testa. She was busy with her gown, and she looked quite angry. It didn�t matter much, that she was angry, but he wished she wouldn�t be that way in front of Brenna. How was he ever going to get himself Searched if he played the bad guy?
Get myself Searched, ha! Savatol thought wryly. That�ll be the day. Then there�ll be the day where I�m left alone on the Sands. Too bad there�s not a dragon who�d want someone like me. It�d be wonderful if there were; then I�d never have to worry about my future again. It�d already by planned out�.a lifetime of fighting the Threads.
�You need to grow up Savatol.� Testa said finally, and her blue eyes met his brown ones. �I can�t believe�.�
�I can�t believe�� He mimicked her fondly, and smiled at her. She glowered for a moment before snuffing and turning away again.
�Do as you like Savatol, or should I saw Savoto, but you�ll see it my way eventually.� That sent Savatol reeling, and he didn't know whether to shake an answer from Testa or run away screaming. He hadn't remembered his birth name for a long time, only remembering that it'd been something different than what it was now. Testa's easy calling him of that name frightened him. A wave of childhood memories came back on him....there was an older girl....Savatol's thoughts were immediatly interrupted.
�Your way?� The until-then silent Brenna queried, and looked at Savatol. �And Savoto? That sounds like a Weyrish name to me.�
�It is.� Savatol replied calmly, and wondered how Testa had known what his birth name had been. He was about to ask when Brenna spoke up again.
�Savoto..hmmm. That sounds familiar. I think..Hey! You�re Savine�s lad aren�t you! Oh sure, I never knew your mom, but I�ve heard plenty about her! I thought you went to live with your father though�� Brenna�s voice trailed off, seeing the shock in Savatol�s eyes.
�Savine? That was her name?� And he looked helplessly at Testa, who nodded warmly. Savatol felt a tear come to his eye. He hastily brushed it away. He had no time for weakness, he knew his mother�s name! Now he could�No, he wouldn�t let her wishes govern his life. She obviously hadn�t cared that much for him, seeing as how she fostered him so far away to a stranger. Or, maybe she had known Jeyrat? No. No person who had known Jeyrat would have willingly given a child they cared for to him. Perhaps his father was right, perhaps he had been the son of a mating flight, and he meant nothing to his mother.
�You�ve got siblings, Savatol.� Brenna said quietly, and tried to get Savatol to look at her. Savatol shook his head, disbelieving, and did search for Brenna�s eyes.
�Who are they?�
�I�m not sure, I only know she had three children altogether. They were all fostered, but I think the boy, Tamarin, became a dragonrider.�
�A brother?� Savatol said, still in disbelief. �And?�
�A sister.� Testa said finally, and sighed. �A sister named Testa. Oh Sav, I wanted to tell you, but I couldn�t be sure how you�d react, or what would happen�.� But she stopped; Savatol was freely tearing now, trying to wipe the wetness off his face. Brenna was smiling wildly, and coughed a bit to get attention drawn back to her.
�As much as I hate to interrupt a family reunion, and what a reunion!, I�d like to ask Savatol a question.� Savatol turned back towards her, a mixture of anger and happiness in his eyes. �How�d you like to stand for the next clutch?� Brenna asked him, and he could only nod, as the words wouldn�t come out his mouth without a laugh. Oh, how he had misread Testa indeed! What a witty girl she really was, and his sister! He�d never have guessed, but why didn�t she tell him�.?