Doll by Dolldivine, Shidabeedagames

Name: Jaseed

Gender: Female

Age: 20

Origin: .... 'wanderer'

Height: 5'7

Build: slender, athletic, stronger than she looks and particularly stronger for her height

Skin: richly tanned

Hair: very dark brown, shaggy and long in back, stylish when taken care of

Eyes: vibrantly aquamarine

Personality: A bit snarky, withdrawn around members of the opposite sex, doesn't hesitate to speak her mind if she knows she's got solid knowledge, wary in general of any authority, confident and curious on her own. Jaseed would never purposefully kill anyone, but she has defended herself regularly enough that it's likely someone along the way has perished from the wounds she's expertly delivered. She prefers not to think on that, Jaseed thinks of herself as a thief, not a killer.

History: a wandering thief, bandit and occasional bodyguard, living with a group of wild folk until her 17th turn.

Standing: Sedona Weyr

"And you can't tell anyone! Because if the Holders found out they would bring me back, and probably kill everyone!" Helas finished his tale, and the other children were in awe. Of course, he was much older than they were, at ten to their six and seven. He led them back to their camp fire, they all looked back over their shoulders and seemed like they enjoyed being in on a very big secret. They'd been gathered behind one of the runner-carts, entrusted with the boy's words. Of course, he told it somewhat more enthusiastically than could be expected of a terribly important secret.

A few others in the camp had lent half an ear to the story but when they heard its beginnings they knew what it would be about. It was an older teen, tan skinned and very pretty under the grimy layers of unwashed clothing and messy hair, that glowered at the boy as he spoke.

Their camp fire was small, so most of the children huddled together in clumps. Since they didn't have the benefit of much body fat, they would shiver the night away in silence or they would snuggle up tightly. Jaseed did neither: she was warm enough under all that stolen clothing, and had more experience in eating on the run than they did. She would never be 'well padded', but neither would she fall into the 'skinny' side of things. There were only a few other adults around, most of the camp had 'business' to attend to a day's ride away, and would be back only if things went bad. The campers here would move on long before noon of the next day, regardless.

Thus there were few people to stop Jaseed when she stood abruptly. The children all froze, but realized it was merely another of their own number and not an intruder. But the look on her face, fierce and angry, startled them.

"And you believe that?" She spat. Helas looked at her and blinked, numbly. "You really believe that you're the son of a wealthy Holder, fit to inherit the land we've been raiding?"

"Well - of course I do, I mean," he puffed up - he certainly had that air, anyway, of being a rich holder raised among plenty. But before he could even finish his statement, Jaseed stepped around the edge of the fire pit and stood looking down at the boy.

"They tell everyone that story, you simple fool. Everyone is the 'daughter of ladies' and the 'sons of holders'. Everyone is warned to be silent about it, not because it's true, but because it's a test of will power." She ground her jaw, "you failed it."

The other children were silent, aghast, as she continued. "You were told, weren't you, that to speak of it would draw fire from all sides? That if the 'wrong ears' held those words, the whole clan would suffer dearly." The look on the boy's face began to turn from miffed arrogance to worried disappointment. "I remember when Nanima told me that story. I was your age - what a surprise." She glanced around, immune to the eyes on the younger children which had tears brewing. "They tell every one of us that we're some kidnapped lordling or lady, and they tell every one of us that if we speak of it it's death."

"Jaseed, that's enough," said one of the older members of the traveling group.

"Is it? Because as I recall, some of us managed to not blurt out secrets all our lives. The lesson to learn isn't that you're a kidnapped fortune to the clan," she glanced back to the children, "but that if you speak out of turn without thinking on it, you might wind up dead." She paused. "And that not one of the women in this clan ever wanted to raise a child, and not one man wants to admit he's a father." She gave a grumbling curse, and walked into the woods before the elders could stop her. She heard them trying to comfort the younger children, and Helas's sharp, angry voice. Of course he'd be angry - he probably still believed the line that he was a valuable victim, kidnapped a decade before and 'made welcome' in their band of thieves.

It was rubbish, Jaseed had seen him born - along with all the other younger children. She knew that all of her age-mates had listened well to Nanima before she passed away, but to her knowledge not one of her group believed it. It was a tale to produce closeness, to make it seem like this family they had was a voluntary and wonderful close-knit community. It wasn't - it was a sham, she hated being left behind when the others, all boys, were brought on those trips. She was just as good as any of them at their tasks: to locate good marks, if they were in a Hold to try and suss out the area's storage rooms, if they were at a gather, to make sure that there were no guards apt to follow when they left.

She knew why they had been keeping her behind, of course. She was too pretty to just let loose at a gather. Too many eyes would be on her - but, she wanted to insist, that was a good thing, because it meant that fewer eyes were on the boys as they filched pouches and climbed into carts. Their leaders didn't think much of her plans, but then they didn't think much of girls in general. Half the ones that had been born since her own youth had been left to die wherever they had been birthed, much to the distress of their mothers. It wasn't a good situation, the stories that were still told to the children were hardly able to keep them occupied most of the time.

They didn't need stories, they needed actual instruction. She'd watched as others in her age group had been weeded out by being caught in a town or cothold. The one time that one of them had spoken of their 'supposed' lineage they'd been laughed at before being stoned to death. No one in their right mind would believe a child, let alone a dirty thief child.

Jaseed wasn't paying enough attention to her path, dwelling so thoroughly on the past and the situation she found herself in. She slipped down a short embankment and wound up with her ankles in a puddle and her rump covered in mud. Rather than get up and try to clean off, Jaseed instead slopped more of the mud onto her clothing, and stood in the chill air to let it dry. Her clan was good at getting away from guards and townships, covering their tracks well enough: she would blend in with the bushes and the rocky ground when morning came.

Plus, the sticky dark mud actually made her slightly warmer. As she drifted off to sleep, covered in mud and buried under a pile of leaves and branches, she thought perhaps that the slick clay in this area was good for making pottery.

It did not surprise Jaseed when she awoke, that first she was frightfully cold, and second that she was completely alone in the woods. Her clan had moved on - that was how they did things. She knew where to go, should anyone be required to leave or split up there were always methods to decide where to head. What surprised her more was the feeling she had in her gut.

She didn't want to use those methods to determine which way to head, how long to stay away, or even... to go find them. It was just such a ridiculous idea to her at the moment, that she sat with difficulty against the nearby tree (under her now-comically stuck leaves and branches) and tried to ponder it further. Tried: there was simply nothing more to be thought of on the matter. She would not rejoin the clan, because they were fools. They were raising children without knowing their parents and without the idea that they had any kind of kinship with anyone else there - by being told they were effectively orphans, each and every one of them thought they were unique. Jaseed knew she had at least two brothers, and one dead sister, among these thieves. She could almost say she knew who her father was, as well: there was something about Rofred's eyes, their color was like hers, his jawline sharp and high.

But Jaseed knew that there were risks involved with telling your kids that they were stolen from other people: she imagined romances between full siblings could occur. It was entirely possible that if this was the way they'd been before she was born - she too might even have been from such a union, and that turned her stomach. It bothered her that no one cared about such things.

Well, there were people who did. Those holders, those citizens that were considered little more than prey to her clan. The Hall folk, craft-born. The Weyrfolk? Perhaps. She'd heard all the same stories as the holders did: that the weyrs were places of iniquity and impropriety. But she'd also heard that the women were treated more fairly, that everyone had their work cut out for them and the results were that their world was kept safe from harm.

Her clan's leader would have chastised her for speaking such a thing of course: who cared what the rest of the world did, their own safety was the only concern.

And that was why she couldn't go back. She knew better. They'd been stuck out during Threadfall, numerous times. They had lost both young and old to the dangers of the world, and she thought less of them for ... thinking less of it. Jaseed chuckled. You had to be smart, to be a proper thief. She was smart. It was thievery and banditry that she didn't think twice about - those came so naturally to her that it was impossible not to be looking over people as marks, or not to look a a structure and think how best to get in it if not through the front door. Inside it was safe from the harms that the world could bring.

She didn't much care for being inside for too long. She'd pretended to be part of a drudge family in order to scope out one rich Holder family's home. No one even questioned her, they assumed that like the rest of the nearly-mute laggards dressed in rags, that she couldn't reply coherently anyway. And the dull witted man in charge of arranging their tasks never bothered to follow up whenever he sent people out to do their duties, the only time anyone thought to ask was if something actually didn't look clean. She spent three sevendays there, and it had nearly driven her mad. Well, that and the fact that she couldn't speak to anyone for fear of them learning her secrets. They wound up cleaning that place... Cleaning it out of goods, riches and the like.

Unfortunately, not more than a few weeks after they had, the plague struck their intended dumping grounds. They had to take the long way around a large Holding, and plenty of other disasters shortly followed. Two runners wound up broken and dead at the bottom of a badly-covered excavation pit. An elder and a newborn both succombed to the plague - thankfully no others fell ill. Because they had goods to trade from the direction of those plague-ridden Holds, they could hardly get rid of things for any reasonable price, let alone find anything new to replace them. It was thin pickings in the Holds past the desolate roadways they travelled with their loot.

Of course, the clan leader blamed Jaseed. She'd spent so much time there, he claimed she somehow 'tainted' their efforts, just as any given fence blamed them for the plague that had preceded them.

The only thing tainted about it, she thought, was that she didn't tell on them and collect a sizeable reward for their capture, in the town where they did finally dump most of those stolen wares. She wouldn't turn on them, Jaseed resolved herself; even now as she was trying to clean some of the solid clay off of her clothing, she would not betray those who brought her into the world.

But what would she do now? Well, there were always options for a thief. Plus, she wasn't harmless: she could heft her knife better than all the boys, and nearly all the men in the clan. She knew how to travel, she knew ... well, she knew the secrets of roadside bandits! Who best to protect folk from them, than one of their own kind?

She set off opposite the direction that she knew her clan had taken. The last thing she wanted was to be in proximity to them. Other bandits and other clans were out there, Jaseed would surely come across those. Perhaps by then, she'd be hired on as a caravan guard or personal guide. She knew there were none in this direct area, they'd just passed through here and the place was clean. She decided to take a route through a low and dry valley, seeing a narrow pass which if it had been up to her clan, would have been where an ambush awaited. There was none. But there were bodies, old and long-decayed, with a few arrows still visible in their skeletons. Someone knew what they were doing, she pondered, when they prevented these thieves from stealing from them.

The trail she took was narrow, but wide enough, she estimated, for a good sized caravan to roll through it. It was reasonably clear that none had done so in the last few seasons, but there were old tracks deeply worn into the ground. She didn't know the names of any of these cotholds or major Halls, but she did recognize the signs of wealth and prosperity when she got to the other side of that scary, narrow pass. On the other side of the hills, there was a deeper valley, and on its far side, a tall set of mountains scarcely visible from the pass. And dragons - there were dragons in the sky, she realized that was a Weyr up there. A real Weyr.

Though she'd been taught since being a toddler to fear the dragons, to flee if they were spotted... There was nothing in the world like seeing a dragon in flight. Her heart caught, skipped a beat or two. From her view in the scrub-like trees on the side of this hill-turned-mountain, she could see so much. The valley stretched greenly below, farms and cottages out in the open - dangerously? Well, not if there was a Weyr within sight! Even if it was a sevenday's worth of galloping on runner-back away, the idea thrilled her, suddenly, that she was in such proximity to a Weyr.

In fact, she couldn't stop thinking about it, even when she lay, exhausted, to sleep in the nest she'd built on the hillside. The stars were brilliant, the Red Star above but not close enough to cause Fall. Her instincts for Threadfall were good, she knew that - she'd long associated a particular... feeling... to the hours or perhaps days before a Fall. As she drifted to sleep, she recalled or perhaps dreamed of the day when they'd lost Oulak. She'd tried to warn them, she had. But she was just a child, no one took her seriously.

Her dreams were fitful, but fanciful. Jaseed never ascribed any significance to them, they were hopes and aspirations, or worries and anxieties. They were not here and now, though if the faint memory she was left with was to be trusted, she wanted very much to have them here-and-now. For in her dream, she'd been on a dragon's back, flying over this brilliant land.

Her travel was getting less comfortable: the mud left over from her stay in the woods many days before had continued to chafe between layers of her half-rotted clothes, and the only source of water she had found was a meager stream. Not nearly the size to wash clothing in, but enough to keep her from being thirsty. She saw a waterfall in the distance, it led down into the valley as well. She would follow the stream, either way, for it clearly led into the nearer farm hold.

When she was 'found', by a farm hand and his companion dog, Jaseed put on her best 'I've been traveling and was accosted by bandits' routine. It was natural to her to disguise her true nature, though she knew that this time, it rang of truth in a way. Shortly, she'd convinced herself of her victimization - she didn't have to either elaborate or manufacture. Some of the things she'd been through, as related to the kind family that ran this farm, had happened if not to her, then to others in the clan.

The farmstead was open, airy, comfortable. Crops would be rising - there would be work, if she would or could do it. She declined, citing lack of knowledge in the field. Could she cook? Well... she'd had to learn to use a camp fire. Could she sew? If the clothing that they removed from her was any evidence, they gently suggested some other activity and tossed the rotting rags away. She was good with a knife: and that knife was a very fine one indeed. It alone, perhaps, lent creedence to the story she'd told them of having been travelling and accosted. The irony of having broken up from her clan over a tale such as the one she told them now was not lost on her. Only a wealthy family might have access to such a good knife. Only the daughter of a Holder might take such care of his child that she hardly knew how to work for herself...

She did know how to work, though. She told them that she enjoyed skill games, that she'd been raised in competition with her many brothers, and her few sisters who would be getting a much better dowry. It was known, they told her, that wealthy families with many children often doted upon their youngest, because there was little else for those children. And now she was alone in the world? By now her family's wealth and land would have been squabbled over and split up among the locals, there would be nothing left for her even if she could make it back there some day. Such a pity.

Such a pity.

She spent two sevendays with these farmers, falling into a pattern of waking early and working in as much as she could with whoever would need help. They didn't ask, if they suspected anything. Watching her tie knots or dig for roots, or throw unerringly to kill a small tunnel-snake... If they were perhaps a bit dull as a group, that was fine with her. Let them bask in the generosity they'd shown her. They were good people and she told them as much. By the time she was bidding them farewell, she genuinely believed that they were too good to her. That fortune should shine on them. She left with her knife, and what clothing they provided her, along with some fruit and bread and cheese. They had no meat just at the moment, but that was fine. She'd manage without that.

How she'd kept her secret stash of marks and extra trade-able goods from them, that was her training. Jaseed did not steal from these people - they had really nothing she could redistribute anyway. They were farmers, plain and simple ones. Guileless, they'd be the ones at a gather that would be overlooked, because they had nothing to take.

But they'd given her so much.

Jaseed cried as she left them, but did not look back, nor did they see her tears. Those tears were dry by the time she got to the next cothold, a much bigger place built of cut stone and professional-looking mortar. A place like this would withstand direct Threadfall, unlike the smaller farmstead. It was well-traveled and had carts outside waiting to be hitched to their burden beasts. She heard a good number of those near by too - this was probably an auction house for cattle and beasts. Yes, as she neared it, it started to give off that particular smell she associated with too many animals in one place.

Her clan had never been horse-thieves, like those gypsies that would sometimes cross their paths. They were a breed apart, really, those people had such a rich culture all their own, but one that was quite insular and never opened to people like her own clan. Hers were thieves and bandits by choice, not necessarily by blood and culture. She'd been told, as she began to blossom into womanhood several years before, that she needed to watch out for gypsies - they would steal her, rape her, perhaps keep her as a pet because she was beautiful. There had been times when she knew those words to be true, she'd seen the look in one gypsy dancer's eyes, she'd seen how their men looked at the women as they passed through neutral trading grounds.

Jaseed wondered which of their people were lower on the list of citizens. Base thieves and road bandits, or gypsies who'd always been given a hard time but seemed to live up to their mythos?

Neither of them would fare very well among this Hold, that was certain. Jaseed dug out her coin purse, knowing that her marks would spend here no matter their origin. If this place was like every other beast market, they'd have marks from literally all around the world, every craft hall and hold would be willing to take and give here.

She just wondered what she wanted to buy, if there was anything... All she really wanted was some fresh meat, but in truth she'd be better off buying a goat or...

How domestic was she thinking of becoming? Jaseed felt the mark between her fingers, it was a Healer's mark, she remembered when she found it among the goods from the last caravan they'd raided. Those people had goats. Goats were loud, annoying, they were things which gypsies kept in their camps, but stole frequently enough from others. Jaseed had no place to keep a goat, and didn't want to fight one or drag it along just for the milk it might give. Nor did she really want to buy a burden beast and cart - even a cheap one - because they would easily be tracked. She knew far more about how to erase her own foot prints, but not much could be done about the deep imprints that a hoof and wheels dug.

She was quite torn between these worlds. Jaseed knew the ways of thievery so well, they were so ingrained, but... What she wanted was something else. She decided that she should, in fact, invest in a runner. She didn't need one that was big or hardy - a sprinter would work best for her needs. In the time that it took to look over the four runners that this auction house was selling, she'd decided what her current course of action would be. Buying a runner and then finding some more supplies, a bed roll and change of clothes, a winter cloak and whatever else would make her fit for the job, she'd become a guard. She knew that she was pretty enough to capture the attention of any man, and smart enough to keep his affections at bay long enough to get what she wanted at a good price.

Thus she bought herself a mottled grey-colored gelding runner, its tack, and that bedroll that they happened to have on hand - all for less than that one Healer's mark. Jaseed knew that if they had had a woman in the place, it would have been twice that amount - but she plied her looks and charm on, and every man in the place was smitten by the time she left. She laughed quietly to herself, as she mounted up and began a more official looking journey into the Holding beyond - if she'd really worked at it, she might have gotten back most of that mark, just by the way the men wanted to make her feel comfortable and felt pity for her situation. But that would probably have been pushing her luck, and luck was something that a thief always had to have in plentiful supply!

For the next few days, Jaseed got used to riding again. She didn't really care much for runners in general, but this gelding was nice enough. He was a bit skittish, but then that was all right by her. She could learn to use his senses to help her on the road. He was quick on his hooves, easily reaching a good gallop and though he tired out after half a mile or so, she figured that she'd catch up with most thieves during his run. She would have to teach him how to handle better in woods, dodging quickly wasn't one of the grey's skills. But she rewarded the runner with praise - he loved being talked to, apparently. By the time she was actually wanting that guard job, she was confident that he could handle it as well as she could.

Now... to find one.

That didn't take long. Jaseed heard there was a gather soon to form, and within a day there were numerous takers. Perhaps it was the way she held herself, or more likely her eyes that caught attention, but she was able to hold her own among other more burly or seemingly-experienced male guards. Vying for her spot, though she was smaller than most and certainly not looking as grizzled or mean as some of them, Jaseed found that a few words could work wonders.

"But they're scarred because they keep getting hit. I bear no such scars because I'm good enough to pick out the right trail and keep myself safe." Now, that wasn't entirely true, but it was certainly truthful enough - she didn't have scars, she hadn't really been involved in too many scuffles with guards just like the ones she competed with now. "I can show you how to spot a good camp ground," she suggested to the couple that were going to be heading deeper into the territory than they'd ventured before. They already had one guard, but he was, as they put it, 'only there for show'.

They meant it too: the guy was huge, but Jaseed immediately recognized that he was poorly trained, as well as physically impaired. He lacked two fingers on his dominant hand, and though he was burly and could clearly stand his own in a one-on-one fight, people like her clan would have him torn apart in moments by speed alone.

The couple that hired Jaseed did so quietly, and asserted by pressing another full mark into her hand, that she was not there 'as a guard', officially - she was 'traveling with them'. They didn't want to hurt his feelings? He must have been with their family for quite a while, then. As they finished their gather duties and tucked away their goods - they were cloth sellers - Jaseed decided that buying something at a gather would be appropriate. She found herself a long slender belt - it would wrap around her narrow waist and add to her allure... And give her another weapon, should she need it. She was good with ropes, a belt was that much better.

They roamed the outskirts of the holdings nearby, and stopped at two more gathers before declaring their sales a success. On their way back, lightened from their sales, but bearing far more important money, was when the attacks started. Jaseed suggested that they'd been followed, which they had, but also that she could take care of things quietly. She left her runner with them, pretended to head to sleep for the evening, and snuck out the back of the caravan she was in. Their guard didn't even notice her, poor form. Poorer though, was that she knew she hadn't been spotted by the bandits on the road.

Within minutes, she counted five mounted thieves, and two on foot slightly up the road. They would be there if anyone tried to escape - and they were the ones she needed to take out first. Opening their exit strategy was important! In the quiet darkness she could hear the other thieves - their horses were mostly silent, but made enough sound that she knew when they would start their attack. But she also heard the distinct whistling chatter that this clan used to communicate among themselves. They sounded like bird calls to anyone else, but to her, they said volumes.

She slipped her belt around one of the foot guards throats, rendering him unconscious and quietly lowering him to the ground. The other was a little more troublesome, but since they were far enough from the mounted group his grunt and thud went unheard. However, she heard the call on the wind, waiting for the all-clear to start their attack.

She whistled back with confidence, to hold up a moment, that something felt amiss. Then - then, she smiled to herself as she set up a fine cord at ankle level, she whistled an emergency call!

Jaseed heard three of the mounted men immediately move into action, sprinting along their hidden woodland paths. Two fell prey to the hidden cords, their runners tripping and throwing the men into the bushes. The third nearly collided with one of them, spun, but by that time the other runner on the ground had kicked his own mount from under him! Jaseed had to resist laughing out loud at that!

It was quite dark, but she could always see well enough by starlight to know the motion of a runner from the swaying of a tree. The other two were quieter, that's for sure. Jaseed gave a cut-off whistle of 'help me!' from past one of the fallen runners, even as she fled to a tree limb above. She heard the soft voice of one of the men chuffing out a query, the other replied in kind that he hadn't seen where anyone went.

Now, Jaseed knew that these men were experts, they had enough sense to be very cautious and use their skills in the woods. But they had been expecting an easy mark - prey that they'd spotted with the big burly witless guard on the open trail. Jaseed had made herself scarce while on the roads, for just such an occasion: they would have thought such a pretty girl wearing a nice outfit like hers was yet another woman to prey upon, not one that would be dropping from the tree branches above, to knock them off their runners!

As one of the men who had been knocked off his mount earlier began to rouse, he was abruptly covered by one of his friends, who with a thud put an end to any wakefulness he might have had. A pile of them, all dragged by this small young woman from the spots she'd conked them out, and surrounded by their runners. She used their own ropes to bind their hands - to each other's, in no particular order. And then, to their runners hobbles...

She sort of wished she could be around for them to wake, just to see the chaos erupt.

She sort of wished that they'd known what they were in for. Knowing that they would have to prey on others later on, to make up for their loss tonight... Yes, she looted their own bags. Perhaps they would learn not to carry their money on the runners they used to raid others? That would be a hard lesson for them. But one she'd learned as a youth.

Jaseed returned to the caravan and urged the crafters to leave the area while it was still dark. Quietly, she and the man discussed what had happened, and he put it to their guard that it would make better time, since they weren't all that sleepy and the runners were well-rested.

They made it to their craft hall in record time, with no losses. Jaseed was proud of herself. Oh if only she could tell the tale of how she bound those men! But it would fall on too many ears. It wasn't just those mysterious 'important Holders' that could learn too much if she spoke of things like that. Other thief clans, raiders, bandit tribes... They were all deadlier by far with the knowledge. If they knew that one of their own had turned on them? She would wish she'd be killed, but she knew what would happen if they caught her. Or even caught wind of her.

So she put on airs as merely a traveling Lady - she knew how to spot someone who needed her aid, all she really had to do was look for other thieves watching them. Jaseed began to enjoy this routine quite a bit. By night, she was a kind of avenging force. By day, a Lady too pretty to do her own lifting. In the turn that followed, she and her grey gelding became much more adept at running through the woods, even dodging arrows as they flew! She kept her working gear separate from her daytime garb, leading two lives.

This went on without incident for another turn, but then something else happened that caught her entirely off her guard. While she was at another gather below that great mountain, looking for the next needy caravan, she spotted one of her clan.

Her blood went cold, and her stomach tightened. It wasn't that she caught sight of someone in the process of picking their mark. She caught sight of a group being led to a gallows.

Jaseed made her way closer, trying not to listen to the shouts and taunts. The gallows had been there for some time, they were old, they were a part of the scenery to most folk here. She hadn't gotten the impression that anyone would tolerate thievery in these parts, after all the roads were littered with the signs that this was a difficult place for weak thieves. Bandits and roaving troops might stand a chance of fighting back or getting away. But subtle thieves? Not here.

They were all the way around the Weyr's mount, not in that lush valley which she'd first seen. Here, the pickings were harder.

The people were harder.

But she had been among them for a while, now. She knew what she could do. It was just a matter of steeling herself to do it, if it was what she really wanted to do.

"Hang them high!" Called out a young man near her. "Should burn em! Dirty thief!" Yelled another. They weren't at a fever pitch, as she got closer it seemed that the guilty parties as well as the slighted ones were more or less trading hostile glances and growling insults rather than begging for their lives or insisting it go any faster.

Jaseed only recognized one of the thieves. She'd never seen the others before - who were they? There were three, including the one she recognized. All men, they didn't know her from any other person in the crowd. As they were led up the stairs, one of them balked and had to be struck with a spear butt to keep him in line. Jaseed bit her lip.

The charges were read, a quick list of goods stolen and attempted to be resold, caught red-handed, the lot. If this was their idea of a trial, Jaseed wondered whether her plan would even work. Well, she drew in a breath, it would either work or she'd hang with them, out of spite.

"Hold your hand, executioner," she called out loudly. There was a moment when everyone went silent, including the ones in the back who had resorted to spitting (and getting yelled at by those that spittle landed on). The older but healthy-looking man running the gallows lowered his hand, she could see his other clench into a fist.

"And why would I do that, missy?" He said, but he knew as well as any that it had to be done - whoever called needed to be a law giver or a concerned party, that's what she'd been told anyway.

"I wish to preserve the life of that one," she pointed to the one in the center, "the others I have no interest in."

They shrieked at that, but were nudged into silence by the guards.

The elder, however, beckoned her to the wooden stage. "State your claim," he said sharply.

"Because he is my father," she said, staring at the man in question. The crowd took in its collective breath, when she added, "I know he's a thief, and probably not a good man, but he is my blood, and I wish to keep that blood intact within him."

Jaseed saw those eyes of his shoot toward her, after scanning the crowd and the sky and anywhere else. They were her eyes, it was absolutely clear, even to the lawman.

But before any statement could come from the law-giver's mouth, a skinny, tall man in the closer part of the crowd chose to shout, "what of my losses?! They'd stolen goods and already gotten rid of them leagues away before we finally caught the bastards!" His voice was followed by cheering and more taunts.

"I will pay for them," Jaseed said. That quieted the crowd yet again. "I've got earned money, not stolen, here," she held up a small pouch, "that says you give him to me."

She was not used to there being so many eyes on her, but Jaseed took them with grace. She focused on the executioner, then her father Rofred. By her dress, by her demeanor, it was clear that she meant what she said. Several in the more distant crowd began to back her up - muttering turned to her having been an exceptional guard, even one or two had seen her fighting with men twice her size and winning, staving off other brigands.

"Don't do this," Rofred muttered. "I don't deserve this."

"You don't deserve a chance to live?" Jaseed said, not surprised. "I know why you'd say that. Because," she seemed to be more explaining it to those onlookers than conversing with her sire, "you'd rather die a thief, than face the unknown, and be indebted to someone other than yourself. I know that feeling. I know it too well. But look what I've done with my life - I'd known only what you gave me, and here I am."

"You think I'd become a respected businessman, then?" He shouted, angry, but his eyes held fear. "That any Hall or Hold would have me as a guest?"

"No," she replied, "but there are plenty of cotholds needing good strong workers, sharp eyes, protection as I've given people here." She waved her hand, and took a quick glance at those gathered. She recognized at least four Holders and three craftsmen that she'd been employed by in the past turn, they nodded and were first among those to give her a look of support. "You fear what you don't know - but you do know these things. All I want is to give you the chance to make your own way. Whether it's back to the clan, or on to a farm - that's your decision."

"And how do you know these people won't just pick me off while I'm running? The road's littered with corpses!"

"Of bandits and brigands, father," Jaseed said carefully, "things must have been difficult these last few turns, if you've come to this place to take what little is here. They mean to keep it." She raised her voice and her face again, "and I mean to keep you alive. My money says he lives, what you do with them," she tossed her hand at the other two, "is entirely up to you." Her deft fingers felt through the cloth of the money pouch, "there are fourteen marks here, far more than any carpet you'd have lost is worth."

"Just leave me to my fate!" Rofred yelled, surprising most.

"Your fate is foolish," Jaseed said flatly. "You'll come with me, I'll lead you away from here, and you'll go on with your life knowing more than you had before."

Though he grumbled, Rofred glared more than anything. Another voice cut through the chatter.

"You should heed the girl," he said, "she's wise, particularly if she came from a thief clan."

Jaseed looked around but didn't immediately see who had spoken. Rather, she turned to the elder on the gallows and looked him in the eye. He nodded, glanced toward the carpet seller. "If he's fine with it, we'll cut them down. Trade isn't my finer point, but it seems fair to me."

So he was an executioner but not a murderer, Jaseed thought, respecting that decision. She tossed the pouch of money at the crafter, who was still looking a bit bewildered by all of this. The elder unbound the trio, Rofred last, and at spear-point they exited the gallows stage.

"I don't know either of you," Jaseed said to the younger men, "and I don't want to know you. If he vouches for you, you'll stay together. If not, you're on your own and I hope you've learned form all of this."

"They'll just run," Rofred said, miserably. "It's best if they stay under your watchful eye."

Jaseed thought a moment before speaking. "Tellhed and Joarma were never ones to take in strays, what happened?"

Though the other two looked imploringly at their elder, Rofred spoke quietly. "They died in an attack, we all happened to be in the same location. Two clans, and half of both were slaughtered."

"Why?" Jaseed saw a man coming near, with purpose, and she guessed correctly that it had been the man who spoke up encouraging Rofred to follow her lead.

"One of those damnable important holders got wind of us... That boy Helas had always been a problem after you left us, got it into his head that he really was a Holder's son, turned us in. He got an arrow in his gut from that miserable holder's thank-you guards. He always was a headstrong boy. Took too much after his mother."

They stood in uncomfortable silence for a while, as the other men and Rofred glared at the ground, and Jaseed pondered what to do next.

"I can't leave you anywhere near a Hold," she muttered, "you'll just get into trouble again - now that people know your looks, they'll be watching for you. I can't trust that you'll stay with any good cotholder, and I don't know you two well enough to trust you with an honest job." She sighed. "I'm not sure where you'd be safe and useful."

"I know," the stranger said, simply butting in and standing near the foursome. "A Weyr would be able to put them all to use and keep a sharp eye on them as well. If they've been thieves all their lives, they'd be paying a debt they never got caught for."

It did make a certain amount of sense, but Jaseed kept shying away from the man's eyes. They were a pretty hazel color, why did she keep looking away? It seemed that the man was also a bit disconcerted by this, and he gave a little quirk to his eyebrows and continued.

"After all, if you're going to be there, you'll be able to keep track of them too...?" He suggested, and apparently it was the younger of the strange thieves that caught on first.

Jaseed's stomach twisted. Something was going on, and she wasn't at all sure what to think of... "Did... you... just search me?" She finally asked, and the blond-haired man nodded enthusiastically. At least now she met his eyes once more, and said, "are you serious?"

He looked around, then back to her. "Uh.... yes?"

Her dream, long-forgotten, came back to her. Flying on a dragon? With the wind in her hair and the world below?

"I'll... think about it..." Jaseed said, and looked away again. This man, this search rider - a rider! - was quite handsome and had a good speaking voice, and apparently he knew a good bit about how people behaved if he was able to keep a trio of thieves from wandering away just by saying a few words!

"Think about it on the way there," he suggested, draping his arm over the much-shorter girl's shoulder. She looked somewhat horrified at that, but even her father gave a bit of a chuckle. "My name's I'ris, and that," he pointed upward, "is Toroth. He'll be bringing us all back, it's not that far, and it's no trouble for him to carry us all. Being a bronze and all."

He said it both flippantly and with the expectation carried with it: a bronze rider had just offered to take three thieves and a potential candidate to their Weyr.

The dragon itself, himself, was quite big - but then again not one of them save his rider had ever been this close to one. I'ris guided them around the back of the gather grounds, and over to where the dragon, and another, a blue, had settled themselves. Gathers often meant collecting tithes, after all, they might have been there for that reason, or any number of others. But for the time being, Jaseed and the others were carefully arranged once the great bronze landed and offered his paw for them to climb.

She noticed that I'ris arranged for himself to sit behind her, and the other three trailing behind him. That made a good amount of sense: they would have difficulty leaving the dragon's back over the wings, and would cling for dear life since they weren't connected very snugly to the harness. It offered her a view, particularly spectacular, of the wide metallic bronze neck and then the gather grounds as he turned to take off. She saw numerous stalls and flags, a group dancing to enthusiastic drummers, and a small runner-race course. That triggered a thought.

"I'll have to get my runner!" Jaseed tried to say over the wind, as they were just about to rise, but she didn't bother completing the statement, the wind all came out of her lungs in a joyful shout.

***

Jaseed knew that her father and his 'friends' were up in the stands, though they were hardly the type that would normally be invited to a proper hatching. It was always best to keep an eye on those two younger men, but for the moment, they were all just as happy to attend a hatching as anyone. Who wouldn't be? After all, Rofred was now watching his daughter stand for a dragon! Jaseed could see it in his eyes, those eyes that she bore, he was so proud. He wouldn't return to his old ways, not now - and the other two weren't important at all just at this moment.

The hatching went by in a blur, to Jaseed at least. Greens, blues... She was so hungry, though she'd always kept that sensation at bay (thieves were meant to be a bit hungry, weren't they?) there was something else: an itch, a desperate need. She hardly noticed that it was the golden hued egg that had started to break, distracted slightly by the bronze that came out before it fully hatched.

But she wasn't distracted when the gold did hatch. Though she wasn't one of those girls that rushed up trying to catch her attention, Jaseed watched the gold - a large one, by any estimation, as she pushed the more impatient girls aside. The dragon didn't even bother growling at them, or snarling or even looking at them.

She had only those red, whirling eyes intent on Jaseed. No wonder she was hungry.

Well? It's time for you to get your Rocorith some food. The dragon announced, and Jaseed could only comply!

***

"You really don't need to be so snippy with them, they just want to learn their lessons too." Jaseed chastised Rocorith. "And when the Weyrling master says to be quiet, you be quiet."

There was a distinct air that the gold gave off, when she believed she was being punished for something she hadn't done. Or at least, didn't deserve punishment for.

"And don't give me that, either," Jaseed said, catching it before the dragoness could even utter a mental word. "I know we already know those turns and formations, but the others don't, and so when he tells you to hush, you hush." Jaseed sent a mental feeling, that she should know better, after all, she was a gold. A queen-to-be, really, shouldn't she treat herself with a little more respect?

I am no gossipy green! I simply cannot help it if they are told over and over, and we've already learned! That is a failing on their part not mine!

Jaseed sighed, and put down her quill. From her table, she could see the weyrling gold pacing on their ledge, angry and agitated. "Rocorith, I know. I know. But that's how they are." Jaseed stood, walked to her dragoness and scratched behind one of her head knobs, "just imagine what a pain in the rump they are to the wing leader?"

The dragoness gave off a creeling laugh, rolled over to get a more proper angle on the sun to bask in, and left the subject to drop.

***

Jaseed held the hide in her hands, reading it over and over. It gave a set of coordinates, which she read easily enough, but it wasn't the star chart that had her rattled. It was that she was to be transferred to a Weyr which had all of one other gold at it. She'd discussed being transferred with her father, and they had decided he would go with her, leaving the other two behind. They were set up well enough now that while they weren't exactly trusted by anyone who knew their origin, they could be relied upon to work at the Weyr without fear of running away or stealing too many things. Their dorm was the first that anyone ever visited when something went missing...

You worry too much, Rocorith bespoke. You and I will be fine. We will meet these other dragons and riders, and we will make our way. It is not so difficult.

"For you maybe," Jaseed exclaimed. "But... I mean..."

We will see what happens when we get there. Give me the image again. And find out whether that runner of yours will survive the trip.

Though Jaseed could be said to be the more practical of the team, Rocorith had it in her head that she would love to be transferred and that Albion was to be their best adventure yet. Distracted, worried, Jaseed decided her dragon was right, there was really nothing more for it than to accept and move on. She liked it here at Sedona, but... But it would be time for the dragon to fit in properly at a Weyr which needed her. And Albion was small, new, established well enough that they knew a bigger fighting force would eventually be required. Threadfall had only just begun, and...

And Rocorith was to be a queen, after all. Was Jaseed suited to the task of being a Weyrwoman? Well, once they got to Albion they would find out.

***

"It's the dragon that chooses," Uleinah sighed, "and I can't force her to change."

The pair of golds hardly circled one another with anger - the slightly smaller and brighter-colored Phanymeth deferred instantly to the larger, solidly-shaded Rocorith. Their riders were definitely not polar opposites, and that fact was probably more important than any posturing that could have been done by either dragon or human.

The young women related to one another at first at arms length, but then warmly as they realized that their situation was going to work out in a rather interesting way. Uleinah took to the tasks of running a Weyr in a very particular manner: she knew that there was paperwork to be done, that there were people to tithe and organize. Jaseed, while capable of such tasks, hardly relished them. Their dragons, too, took to very different aspects of life. Phanymeth was shy and withdrawn, Rocorith assertive and strong willed. It was clear that Rocorith, even though slightly younger, would be the Queen of Albion.

Hl'ver, the wing leader and rider of bronze Ayekanth, was far more suited to living with Uleinah as a weyrmate than with Jaseed! She was no Lady, she was as strong as he - and as good at most things as he was. Including swordplay, aerial maneuvers, and the like! He'd commented once that Jaseed might have made a great bronze rider. To that, Rocorith snorted and nearly smacked his bronze out of the sky.

It would be expected that Rocorith and Ayekanth would mate, of course, but whether that left Hl'ver and Jaseed together? Not... so much. Surely, for their flight? They enjoyed that rush of emotion and physical sensation as much as any who'd ever been impressed. But after, after that initial situation, they agreed that Hl'ver and Uleinah had far more in common than the thief would ever aspire to. They were very well suited, in fact. And though Uleinah would be the 'junior' weyrwoman that handled all the paperwork and official daily tasks, Jaseed kept her role as Weyrwoman close at heart.

It would be her that met up with officials, or took care of problematic cases and complaints. Also Jaseed that would interact on an official basis with other Weyr leaders. Her innate charm and personality was matched by the junior 'woman, but once more it was the dragons that largely decided the tasks they were suited to.

Both golds would be queens, in time, but for the moment, they had settled in and were glad their human partners weren't the type to argue about it. Now if only they could get Hl'ver's bronze to stop talking about them...