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. . . stats . . . . . . candidate . . . . . . adult . . . . . . Beach Shards . . . . . . Quinalt . . . |
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"Tell me again, bluerider," Thodorim snarled, "why you think you can just show up and take away a valuable trader." A valuable, trader, that's all he was, Zeverlan noted glumly. Not even imoportant enough to call him "step-son". Well, he certainly wouldn't miss Thodorim. "I am on Search, which gives me the right to take any young man or woman who my blue finds acceptable back to Beach Shards with me," Zaera repeated calmly, obviously used to dealing with irate parents. "Well you may not take Zeverlan," Thodorim told her. "Right or no right, I refuse to let him go." Because you want a trader, or because you care about me? Or because you want to ruin any chance I have at doing anything good in life? Zeverlan wondered. "Sir, I don't want to make this into an argument. Zeverlan has accepted his Search and unless he changes his mind he is now a Candidate and no longer under your control," Zaera cautioned, still calm and composed, though it was obvious that she was losign her patience. "Well Zeverlan? Do you go along with this Searchrider to the Weyr or do you stay where a son of mine should?" Thodorim asked, turning to confront his step-son. "I'm not your son," Zeverlan snarled. "My blood-father would probably be very happy that I've been S-" Zeverlan's mother chose that moment to walk in, and Zeverlan choked on his words. Thodorim smirked. "Go on, Zeverlan, tell your mother what great honor has been bestowed upon you," Thodorim said in booming voice. "Averlan, your son has wonderful news for you, love!" "News?" Averlan asked, eyes flicking to Zaera, who looked ready to strangle Thodorim but was seated calmly in a chair. Zeverlan opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. How could he tell his mother that he had been selected to become one of the men who had abandoned her and him when he was just a babe? What would she think of him? "I... I've been Searched, mother," he said, avoiding Averlan's eyes. "Searched," Averlan repeated. Zeverlan looked up, suprised at the harshness of her voice. Her normally expressive gray-blue eyes were snapping with fury. "And do you accept?" Zeverlan flung a helpless glance at Zaera, who gave him a little nod of encouragement. "I have." "So Thodorim was right, you are going to be just like your father," Averlan hissed. She whirled away from her son and stormed over to Zaera. "You bed-hopping little wher!" she screamed, and looked ready to slap the Searchrider but instead broke into tears and slid into a chair. Zaera's hand left her belt knife's hilt and she moved away as Thodorim came over to comfort his wife. "If you accept," Thodorim warned, "you will be breaking all ties with your mother and I and the entire trader caravan. If you are a Candidate, leave now. We do not want to see you." Zeverlan looked at his mother helplessly. Averlan nodded and then looked away as fresh sobs started. He wanted to go and comfort her, but Thodorim gave him a warning glare as he took a step forward. Seeing that Zeverlan was close to breaking, Zaera got up and put a hand on his arm. "Come on Zeverlan," she said in a quiet voice. "Let's go. Amenth is waiting for us." "Go Zeverlan, go with your Searchrider and become the same kind of man your father was," Thodorim taunted. Zaera sent him a look so deadly that he shut his mouth before he said any more. With a last look at his mother, Zeverlan turned his back on the first eighteen-turns of his life and followed Zaera out to her blue. |