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. . . stats . . . . . . candidate . . . . . . adult . . . . . . Beach Shards . . . . . . Quinalt . . . |
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"Now boy, listen closely," Thodorim growled. "We're going to a very important Hold, one that will supply us with many things we'll need. Now I need every trader in the caravan to be bargaining. And that includes you, Zeverlan." Zeverlan only raised an eyebrow at his step-father's demand. He didn't need to say anything, Thodorim had already made his decision. What else needed to be said? "Well? Will you?" Thodorim thundred, clearly annoyed and puzzled by his step-son's silence. "I need an answer from you!" "Do I have a choice?" Zeverlan asked. It was as much as a yes as Thodorim was going to get out of him, and the trader knew it too. "I swear Zeverlan, I don't know where your mother went wrong with you," Thorodim sighed and then left, not sparing a word of farewell for his odd step-son. When Thorodim had first married his mother, something like that might have hurt Zeverlan. By now, ten turns later, he had learned to ignore that sort of comment. He'd never live up to any of the other traders' expectations, he simply wasn't a trader. Zeverlan tried to block out all thoguhts of his mother and step-father and returned to his hidework. He'd been assigned to taking a count of supplies and it was no easy job. It didn't take a lot of brain-power to do it, but it was incredibly boring. "Zev!" Zeverlan looked up to see Reinick standing there, looking flushed and very excited. "Grab your bathing cloth, we're going down to the beach!" Zeverlan raised an eyebrow. "What's so exciting about that? Plus, I'm stuck in here doing hidework, I can't leave." "Too bad for you, we're all going down there. A big group of holder girls are down there and word is they want to meet us exotic trader men," Reinick grinned. "Sure you want to stay here with your hidework? Zeverlan only spared his hidework a moment's wistful glance before jumping out of his seat and following Reinick. Thorodim could punish him later - if he was around later to be punished. "Let's go meet some holder girls." As Zeverlan and Reinick were walking from where the trading caravan was stopped for now to the beach, Zeverlan saw the one person who could make him feel guilty about not completing his hidework: his mother. Arevlan had always been honest with her son about his lack of a father. He knew that his father had been a brownrider and that his mother was willing to admit it but he still got the feeling that his mother was slightly ashamed of him. Here she was, a happily married woman with two kids and a loyal husband with a son who obviously was not the son of her husband to remind her and everyone else of her younger, more adventurous days. To make his mother less ashamed and more proud of him, Zeverlan tried to be a good trader. If she knew he had not finished his hidework... well, she wouldn't say anything, but she would be so dissapointed in him that he'd slink back to the caravan and finish it. "If my mother finds out I have hidework to do, I'll never get down to the beach," Zeverlan told Reinick in a low voice. "Is there another way down to the beach?" Reinick nodded. "Through the woods, I think. Might take longer, but at least we'll both get there." The woods were definetly rougher going and took much longer than the path would have taken, but when they made it out into the bright sunlight of the beach, it was all worth it. There was indeed a big group of holder girls, some swimming, some sunning, some flirting with Zeverlan's friends and a few other boys, probably holder's sons, that he didn't recognize. "That was definetly worth it," Zeverlan remarked, pulling off his trousers and shirt and tying his bathing cloth a little tighter around his waist. "I told you it would be," Reinick replied. "Are you just going to stand there and drool over them like a dimglow? Come on!" Reinick took his friend by the arm and started dragging him down towards the beach. A group of three girls called Reinick's name and, giving Zeverlan a "aren't I wonderful?" look left to join them, leaving Zeverlan alone on the beach, a bit overwhelmed and not sure what to do first. "I don't see why they're all going for Nick," Zeverlan turned to see another trader's son who he had known since he could speak,Deswil. walking up to him. "They've been all over him the entire morning." Zeverlan grinned. "Worried that you've got competition?" Not that Deswil needed to worry about competition. Zeverlan's sister was in love with him and, according to her, so was every trader's daughter in the caravan. "Course not," Deswil scoffed. "Just annoyed that these girls are too dumb to recognize a handsome guy like me when they see one." "Maybe they can't see you past your ego," Zeverlan suggested. "Look at that one, she's looking like she'd like to meet you. Go talk to her." Deswil gave an indignant snort. "I don't go up to girls. Girls come up to me." "That could be part of the reason you're not meeting anyone and Reinick is getting all the attention," Zeverlan suggsted. "If they want to talk to me, they'll come up to me and talk to me. Why should I go to them?" Zeverlan chuckled and shook his. "You're hopeless. Now, see that girl down there, the one talking with the two red-heads? I'm going to talk, and I doubt I'll be coming back, so you'd better go find yourself some company." "You won't be there long," Deswil scoffed. "I'll be here when you get rejected." "You'll be standing there for a long time," Zeverlan warned, and then started off down the hill towards the beach and the girl. As he was walking, his flit Paori appeared in the air before him, her golden hide shining from the oiling he'd given here earlier that morning. "Decided to come afterall, did you?" he asked the flit as she settled on his shoulder. Paori just chirped and rubbed her head up against his cheek. When the girls he was walking towards saw him coming, they all seemed to be inspecting him. One wore a sneer of distaste, the other looked indifferent, and the girl he wanted to talk to had a mildy interested look on her face. Well, interest was better than disgust or indifference. "You're another of those trader boys, aren't you?" the disgusted one asked, still sneering. Maybe she just always had a sneer on his face, it was nothing about him personally. "Born and bred," he replied with a grin. "You're all from the Hold aren't you?" "Zaera's from Beach Shards Weyr, just here visiting, but Chemli and I, I'm Demeram, by the way, are from here," the indifferent one replied, indicating the third girl. Zaera smiled. "Merry meet to all of you," Zeverlan said. "I'm Zeverlan." "Merry meet, Zeverlan," Chemli replied. She was obviously the leader of this little group. Paori, who had been watching the introductions take place, gave an indignant squawk and nipped Zeverlan's ear to remind him that she was there. "And this is Paori, my brat of a firelizard." The eyes of all three girls lit up at the sight of the little gold. He knew what they were thinking. He must be someone important if he owned a gold firelizard. Not just a trader boy. But Zaera seemed to be interested for a different reason, though Zeverlan couldn't place a finger on exactly why. Zeverlan talked with the three about every topic under the sun and he feared he would never get rid of Chemli and Demera. Suprisingly, it was Zaera who got him his chance to talk to her alone. "Girls, I'd like a moment alone with Zeverlan, if you don't mind..." she smiled at them and they both gave her a "you win" look and, with last smiles thrown over their shoulders at Zeverlan left.  Zeverlan's father's brown chose that moment to appear from Between, bugling angrily at Zeverlan. Paori whirled on him and gave him the worst scolding he'd ever heard a flit give. The little brown, terrified and not wanting to risk the queen's wrath, gave a chirp and winked between again.
Zeverlan chuckled and flashed a grin at Zaera as Paori returned to his shoulder, still chittering angrily. "That is one good reason to have a gold flit." "Now that we're completely alone, we can really talk," Zaera said, suddenly very business-like. "Don't try to flirt with me, I'm much too old for you. You're what, seventeen?" "Eighteen," Zeverlan corrected, slightly hurt. "How old are you?" Zaera gave him a wry smile. "Way too old for you, cutie. But you'll do well at the Weyr." "Huh?" Zeverlan stopped walking. "What about the Weyr?" "See, I'm not just a grown up weyrbrat, I'm a Searchrider for Beach Shards. Flirting with potential male candidates gives my blue time to size them up. And Amenth tells me that you would make a very good Candidate," Zaera explained matter-of-factly, as if it were the most normal and every-day thing in the world. "I'm Searched?" Zeverlan repeated, still struggling to believe his ears. "That is what I said," Zaera replied. "Now close your mouth, you look like a dead fish with it hanging open like that. You're a young one, so I suppose I'll need to talk to a parent before I drag you away. Come on, unfreeze your feet and let's go." |