Post by Shhasow on Mar 19, 2011 6:34:32 GMT 10
Title: Voice Lessons (6)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 460
Pairing: Jon/Zahir
Round/Fight: 1/A
Summary: Zahir listens to a heated discussion. Minor swearing.
Previous Chapter: Chapter Five
The air felt oddly heavy. It pressed against his head and body, to the tips of his fingers and toes. Zahir fought to open his eyes, but it require energy, too much, and at the sound of raised, angry voices, he ceased his futile efforts and reserved his limited resources to listening.
“What do you mean, you told him to jump?” That was Lord Wyldon; he’d recognize that voice anywhere, but Zahir had never heard him sound this angry. When the man was livid, his voice dropped dangerously low.
“I didn’t expect the little bastard to actually do it!” That was the king, sounding equally flustered, angry, and upset.
“You endangered the life of one of our finest pages.” Zahir felt a rush of warmth at those rare words of commendation from the strict training master. “You appointed me as training master to produce loyal knights.” Wyldon’s soft voice was steel. “Loyal to you. Are you now complaining that I’ve done so?”
“Not at all, you’ve done a magnificent job at a thankless task, Wyldon,” the king said placatingly.
“Then I shall not tender my resignation over such a gross miscarriage of honor. Provided, of course, that Page Zahir is properly compensated.”
Pause. “Your majesty, what did he want?” That was the healer, Duke Baird, and the voice came from right above his head.
Another lengthy pause, then a disgruntled, “He asked to be my squire”
Another voice spoke up. Zahir thought it might be the prime minister, Gareth of Naxen, one of the king’s cronies since their years as pages. “I don’t understand the problem, Jon. Your last squire just underwent his Ordeal, and I know you had no intention of taking on Roald.”
“He wants to be the next Voice.”
“That’s an interesting thought. It does remove the power from the throne, but places it in the hands of a loyal knight. A Bazhir, no less.”
“You can’t just decide to be the Voice,” replied the king irritably. “Either you have the potential or you don’t.”
“I suggest,” added Wyldon, “that it would be appropriate for you to test him by taking him as your squire. If he still wants to, after this.”
A disgusted sigh. “I’m sure he does.”
“I do.” Zahir forced the words past numb lips, a burst of adrenaline at his revived chances giving him energy to open his eyes. He saw everyone he expected, but his eyes fixated on the king.
Duke Baird’s old kindly face filled his vision. “Sleep now, page. You shouldn’t even be awake yet after your healing.”
As emerald-wreathed fingers reached for his face, Zahir got out the final word before the Dream God claimed him and filled the darkness of his mind with fantastical images.
“I will be the Voice.”
QC: by Cassandra
Rating: PG
Word Count: 460
Pairing: Jon/Zahir
Round/Fight: 1/A
Summary: Zahir listens to a heated discussion. Minor swearing.
Previous Chapter: Chapter Five
The air felt oddly heavy. It pressed against his head and body, to the tips of his fingers and toes. Zahir fought to open his eyes, but it require energy, too much, and at the sound of raised, angry voices, he ceased his futile efforts and reserved his limited resources to listening.
“What do you mean, you told him to jump?” That was Lord Wyldon; he’d recognize that voice anywhere, but Zahir had never heard him sound this angry. When the man was livid, his voice dropped dangerously low.
“I didn’t expect the little bastard to actually do it!” That was the king, sounding equally flustered, angry, and upset.
“You endangered the life of one of our finest pages.” Zahir felt a rush of warmth at those rare words of commendation from the strict training master. “You appointed me as training master to produce loyal knights.” Wyldon’s soft voice was steel. “Loyal to you. Are you now complaining that I’ve done so?”
“Not at all, you’ve done a magnificent job at a thankless task, Wyldon,” the king said placatingly.
“Then I shall not tender my resignation over such a gross miscarriage of honor. Provided, of course, that Page Zahir is properly compensated.”
Pause. “Your majesty, what did he want?” That was the healer, Duke Baird, and the voice came from right above his head.
Another lengthy pause, then a disgruntled, “He asked to be my squire”
Another voice spoke up. Zahir thought it might be the prime minister, Gareth of Naxen, one of the king’s cronies since their years as pages. “I don’t understand the problem, Jon. Your last squire just underwent his Ordeal, and I know you had no intention of taking on Roald.”
“He wants to be the next Voice.”
“That’s an interesting thought. It does remove the power from the throne, but places it in the hands of a loyal knight. A Bazhir, no less.”
“You can’t just decide to be the Voice,” replied the king irritably. “Either you have the potential or you don’t.”
“I suggest,” added Wyldon, “that it would be appropriate for you to test him by taking him as your squire. If he still wants to, after this.”
A disgusted sigh. “I’m sure he does.”
“I do.” Zahir forced the words past numb lips, a burst of adrenaline at his revived chances giving him energy to open his eyes. He saw everyone he expected, but his eyes fixated on the king.
Duke Baird’s old kindly face filled his vision. “Sleep now, page. You shouldn’t even be awake yet after your healing.”
As emerald-wreathed fingers reached for his face, Zahir got out the final word before the Dream God claimed him and filled the darkness of his mind with fantastical images.
“I will be the Voice.”
QC: by Cassandra