"Say something quiet kid! C'mon kid, say something!" Gleven's back was turned to his taunters, but he could still picture the smirk on Trechel's face and those of his group. He tried to ignore them, concentrating on the lesson his mother had given him. He wished he could turn around and yell at them, yell at them and every other person who had ever teased him about his speech in his entire life. He wanted to scream at them in a normal voice that he was just as good as them, that they were no better. But if he did, he'd have to say some word with an "s" in it, and then they'd laugh. He'd learned that lesson well as a young boy, and had spent the entire night in his room crying over it. He would not cry over it again.
Someone jabbed him in the back. "What's the matter, quiet kid? Don't want us to know you're a freak? Too late!" Gleven fought back tears that threatened to fall. He was fourteen. He couldn't cry anymore. "You'll have too talk one day, quiet kid!" Trechel called back to him amidst the snickers of his companions, then left, his foot-steps thudding as he walked. Don't cry. Don't Cry, Gleven told himself sternly. To cry is to admit that that they were right. That he really was a freak. Gleven hiccuped. No use. The tears came anyway. Ashamed of himself, Gleven put his head down on the table and and crossed his arms in front of his eyes until he felt the sobs slow down and then cease altogether.
Gleven raised his head and smiled to see the worried face of his flit, Dilao. With a smile, he reached out and scratched her eyeridges. The little gold crooned happily while sending feelings of contentment and comfort. Mixed in was a picture of Dilao attacking Trechel and his friends. Gleven smiled and replied with feelings of wistfulness and a caution that Dilao was not allowed to attack them. Dilao replied with a snort and another image of her attacking them, this one more vivid, along with a feeling of justice. Gleven chuckled at his gold's sense of "justice".
Putting a hand out, Gleven beckoned for Dilao to climb up to his shoulder, which she did with a pert chirp. Settling into her usual place on his right shoulder, Dilao crooned softly as he finished his lesson, conjuring more rebellious images of revenge against Trechel, from attacking him to stealing his food, the latter of which Gleven was half-tempted to give Dilao leave to do simply to see the look on Trechel's face.
Finishing his lesson, which had been copying a few scores of various ballads, for he had remarkable pen-manship, Gleven gathered his things and left his little table in the musty records room, waving good-bye to the elderly librarian before he left. Managing to avoid most people by taking little-known backways through the hold, Gleven made his way to his mother's study, knocking quietly and waiting for her to invite him in. Gleven put the stack of hides on her desk and said quietly, "Hereth the thcores you athked me to copy." Geradi didn't look suprised that he had spoken, Gleven was actually talkative around his family. It was people who would taunt and tease and fear his difference he would not speak around.
Geradi pulled the stack to her and took a hide off the top. "Let me see here," she murmured, scanning the hide from top to bottom, seeming to meticulously examine every line Gleven had made. With a sigh, Geradi put the score down. "Perfect as usual, Glev. And I trust the rest are as well. I swear, it's no fun when you get it right every time," she scolded him, grinning to lighten her words.
"Thorry for not making your life more interesthing, mother," Gleven replied with a grin of his own. "I thall try to be leth perfect next time." Gleven wished he could talk like this around everyone, not just his family. He wished he had friends to talk with, too. Family was nice, but they wouldn't understand problems a fourteen-turn old faced. But then, Gleven reminded himself bitterly, he wasn't like most fourteen turn olds.
His mother must have read his expression for she frowned and said,"You know, Gleven, you don't have to let your speech bother you. Plenty of people in this hold would be glad to have you as their friend, I'm sure, if you'd just open up and show them that you're a person too, and a very witty, caring, and charming one at that. Forget about your speech, and others will too. It's like an accent, Gleven. Like the accent people from far away holds have. Just a different way of speaking. Once you get to know the people and start talking with them, the accent sort of fades away, it doesn't matter. If you stop distancing yourself from people, Gleven, you'll find it much easier to make friends."
Gleven felt his cheeks turn hot. How could his mother even think those things? He had tried to be friends with tons of people. All it had gotten him was a fake friend for a few weeks until it gave way to taunting. He'd tried to open up, tried to be like the other children his age, but it wasn't possible. He was just too different. Somehow, this seemed to have escaped Geradi. Gleven felt like screaming this at his mother, sitting there, with that teacher look on her face. She'd explained it, now he should run along and do it. He opened his mouth, but all he managed to say was, "You can't underthand," before angrily stalking out, slamming the door behind him.
Gleven stood outside of the door for a time debating on going back in. Trechel and his group suddenley appeared around a corner, laughing at some joke. Gleven abruptly turned around, hoping they wouldn't remember his back from the morning's encounter. They must have, for Trechel's voice called. "Where you going in such a hurry, quiet kid? Why're you running away from mommy? She's the only one who'll ever love you, freak! In fact, I'm suprised even your mother loves you, quiet kid!"
Most taunts, Gleven could ignore, could brush off, could say it was fear of the unknown and strange that was speaking. But this one was too personal. Whirling around, Gleven turned to face Trechel, who had caught up to him by now. Trechel was taller than Gleven by a few inches but Gleven, more muscled from runner-riding and swimming, looked much more formidable. Gleven smirked as he saw a bit of fear creep into Trechel's eyes.
"What did you thay, Trechel?" he asked in a dangerously silky town, forgetting, for once, that "say" came out "thay". Trechel's old sneer returned again at the use of the word, Gleven's intimidation a moment ago forgotten.
"I said that you're such a freak it's amazing your mother loves you, that she didn't throw your sorry carcass to the spit canines the moment she learned you couldn't talk," he snarled, and, as if his remark hadn't been scathing enough, spat in Gleven's face.
That did it. Without a word, Gleven launched himself at Trechel, knocking him down while punching all the time. Trechel, as soon as he realized what was going on, began punching as well and kicking at Gleven, who, to all outward appearances, was attepting to push Trechel into the floor. Dilao was also doing her part, slashing at Trechel whenever she could get in around Gleven's punches. Trechel struggled one arm free from where Gleven had pinned it behind his back and hit Gleven so hard in the nose that he was sure he heard a crack and bright red blood spurted onto his tunic. Gleven flinched and backed away at the pain, giving Trechel time to aim a kick at his belly. But the kick never landed, for suddenly someone was between Trechel and Gleven, and he was holding Trechel's foot.
"What in Faranth's name do you think you two are doing?" the man growled, releasing Trechel's foot as though it were something disgusting, making Trechel topple to the ground. "Goin' at eachother like queens rising at the same time," he scolded. "I'll have to find a healer for you two, then I guess someone'll talk to you." He glared at each one of them in turn. His piercing glare was the last thing Trechel saw before blackness began to crowd his vision. He shook his head to clear his eyes, but the blackness closed in. Dilao's shriek echoed in his mind as he slipped from conciousness.
Gleven slowly focused his eyes on the blurred face above him. "He's awake!" the face announced, the words stinging his head, each letter echoing painfully against the inside of his skull. Gleven's mother's face came into view, a smile of relief on it. Gleven did hid best to smile back, but it hurt to do so. Geradi nodded anyway, understanding. His vision had nearly cleared now, and Gleven tried to sit up. He wished immediatly that he hadn't. His head began to thud again and his vision whirl. "I wouldn't try that just yet, young man, you got hit pretty hard in the head," the healer's voice cut through the darkness as gentle hands laid him back down.
"Gleven," his mother's voice again, he tried to focus on her face, but it kept dancing around, so he just closed his eyes. No use in making himself dizzy. "The man who stopped your fight, P'mir, is here with us. If you feel up too it now, he'd like to ask you a few questions. Can you talk, or does it hurt too much?"
"I can talk," Gleven replied, though each word hurt. He was much more interested in what P'mir had to say, and so ignored the pain.
There was a scuffing of chairs on the infirmary floor, and a new voice spoke to him. "I'm not sure if Siyeth still finds you so acceptable as he did before your fight, but he's scolding me for not talking to you, so I'm going to tell you anyway." Gleven opened one eye experimentally and was delighted to see a face not dancing around. He opened the other and smiled up at P'mir. "First," he continued,"I guess I ought to tell you that I'm from Falas Weyr. We have a clutch on the Sands, and we're in need of Candidates. Siyeth, my blue, and I are Searchriders and you, my boy, have been Searched."
"Thearched?" Gleven couldn't help but exclaiming, which came out as a tortured squeak, but P'mir must have caught the amazement in his voice for he grinned.
"Searched. I know you're not in much of a position to act on any decisions at the moment, but do you accept the Search?"
"Of Courth!" Gleven replied, beaming with pride, his broken nose and sprained joints forgotten. He had been Searched! Let Trechel see him now. With a smirk on his face, Gleven dozed off, just missing J'tovan's chuckle.
