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The Ista Liberation Army was beginning to grow, and the effects were beginning to be noticeable. There was nothing blatant about its presence, of course. It was the small things - like steadily-growing mess around the Weyr as people were clumsier and lazier than they really needed to be, or the packed tables at mealtimes as folk lingered, depriving others of comfort.

O'asis himself was finishing lunch in his weyr that day, satisfied to find that there were no seats available for him (and if his new rank as a bronzerider gave him any voice around this place, the complaints he would make later were certain to be heard!) "What do you think, Uktenath? We've been doing good?" he asked the dragon distractedly, nibbling at the burnt meat roll he'd gotten for his meal.

The little bronze had been working his talons over a piece of wood, maneuvering them with a delicacy that his clumsy youth could just barely manage. He'd learned it by watching O'asis; how the ex-Trader would whittle to keep his hands busy when he didn't have other things to occupy himself with. Uktenath hadn't quite uncovered the secrets of woodworking yet, normally succeeding only in reducing lumps of unrecognizable wood to smaller lumps of unrecognizable wood. It didn't much matter; for him, it was satisfying enough to watch the strips of wood curl away from the tips of his claws - and besides, it made His happy to see him attempting the craft, so it made him happy as well.

At O'asis's question, though, the Death Adder bronze set down the wood. You think that we have been, Uktenath observed, baffled. Why would His ask a question, when His already knew the answer?

O'asis grinned cheekily and shook his head. "I mean, do you think we've been doing good enough? We've made a bit of a difference. Do you think it'll do anything?"

I do not know. It was the only answer Uktenath could give honestly. Human affairs, the politics of the Weyr, were beyond him; they were what His knew, and Uktenath only helped as best he could, still young and weak and infuriatingly ignorant as he was. The dragonet thought a time, then amended: But if we can do better, than we are not doing well enough.

"... 'Zat so...?" O'asis answered, mulling it over. Uktenath seemed confident, and he was right; if there was anything more that they could do, but were not doing, they were not doing enough. O'asis had it pretty good right now. With Uktenath at his side, they were important enough that they could pull a lot of crap without facing any real consequences for it. They had the responsibility to use that immunity to help the Weyr, however they could - and they'd decided to use it to save it from itself, protect it from the consequences of its growing population. Thus far, they'd been very careful about how they went about their mission. But maybe, just maybe, it was time to start taking a few more risks....

Uktenath was on his feet before a word had been explained to his partner. Mouth stuffed full, O'asis stood also, his face contorted with confusion as he chewed hurriedly, trying to get enough room in his mouth that he could ask what was....

Cheoth's has called for you, Mine. Young as he was, Uktenath knew that using any more passive language - asked, requested, inquired - would be false. When a Weyrwoman desired the presence of a rider, the rider was in no position to refuse. They didn't even have to agree. They just had to do as they ought, and forget about the rest.

O'asis might not have that exact same philosophy, but in this instance, he was amiable enough. The rest of his meatroll disappeared in an instant and, with muffled swearing, he raced to get his boots on. Uktenath was waiting at the door for him by the time he'd pulled himself together, slightly less patient than usual - You know where, Mine?

"Not a clue," O'asis replied cheerfully, "so I hope you have some idea?"

Naturally, Uktenath did; he was the observant one that paid attention to such things, and even if he weren't, it would have only been a few quick questions around to get the directions they needed. And so very quickly, the pair found themselves outside the Weyrwoman's weyr; both as perfectly composed as they ever were, but at least fifty times more nervous than they were letting on.

Maybe fifty-one times, for O'asis. Because he had a good idea what this was about already, and had a feeling this was going to be a chance to justify himself - or else, a trial in which he'd have to. Who was to say if Favan appreciated the existence of the ILA? She'd be just as affected as anybody else by their actions, after all. If she told him to break it up, would he? What would Uktenath want; shards, why hadn't he talked this over with the little bronze while they walked? It was too late now. They were already here.

Better to just keep going forward, he decided, and sort out the fallout when he knew how much there was of it. Glancing at Uktenath, who was watching him closely, O'asis smiled and nodded to the bronze, then rapped his knuckles twice on the door.

So his suspicions had been correct - this was about the ILA. And Favan was a supporter - unless she was trying to lead him into some sort of a confession. But he glanced at Uktenath, and found himself unworried. What could they really do, if they learned that it had been his idea that had started so much trouble? Reprimand him? Make him run laps? They wouldn't be kicking him out of the Weyr. The moment he'd Impressed, he'd become too important to be discarded, and if he was going to do something that would compromise his status, it would have to be something far worse than causing an inconvenience in the Weyr's daily life for a good cause.

Uktenath was being silent, as was only natural. He would speak when he had something that was worth saying, something that would be valued; it was O'asis's job to come up with the filler in the meantime. Fortunately, it was a job that he was very, very, very good at. The fact that he was fairly certain he already knew what Favan wanted to hear didn't hurt, either.

"Of course I have plans," O'asis began, only half telling the truth, "but there's only so much that a Weyrling, even a Weyrling with friends, can do. I'm sure you can appreciate the feeling of being too easily ignored, Weyrwoman; everyone who becomes great has felt it, or else they would have never cared to go so far. But my plan only seeks to call attention to the people who are dismissed, and give their words weight."

O'asis was never shy about his goals. He had broad plans, some of which were probably impossible to accomplish. He wanted to see the world turned upside-down and back again, fixed into an order that was sustainable, something that wasn't dependent on the threat of Thread for all the cogs to work as they ought.

He could go on endlessly about it; but somehow, he didn't think that Favan was looking for the whole story. So he found a more simple answer.

"Change," O'asis replied. He stood naturally straight, meeting with the Weyrwoman's gaze, speaking thoughtfully. "The sort that lasts, because it's good enough to the people that find it. To be able to affect that, to pick out the goals, and to work towards them...."

Which all boiled down to one thing, and it was something that he had no doubt, Favan already understood. There was a power that allowed these changes to be controlled. Uktenath knew the need, O'asis knew the shape. Between the two of them, they were poised to take whatever they could, with the fanatic need that could only come from a true believer.

"A new Weyr means new opportunity. Uktenath and I will have as much chance as anyone else there. It's not the goal of the ILA... but if the ILA succeeds, it will be one of the benefits."

More, Uktenath predicted confidently. He and His were destined to great things, and that meant they would need great station. The title Weyrleader was superfluous, and whatever respect or power it granted was meaningless - except that His needed it, and His deserved it, and he would help His to achieve it, at any cost.

Had she.... there was no way that she'd have... really? REALLY?

There was no hiding the surprise in O'asis's eyes, and the silver-tongued trader was left momentarily speechless. Here he was, his dragon not even half-grown, and she'd just offered him a Weyr. One that he'd have to earn, perhaps, but by not half so much effort as he should have.

Something felt wrong about this. Like he ought to know better. Bitrans didn't sell Benden wine for half-marks, and goldriders didn't offer Weyrleader positions to Jr. Weyrlings. But what idiot would turn down such an offer, when it was a gift for undertaking what he'd already committed himself to?

"... I think that you're right," O'asis answered, his tone wondering and musing, clearly still absorbing the situation. Uktenath observed his uncertainly, perhaps not yet understand the connotations of what had transpired. "I'll do my best then, until that times comes. For the good of the Weyr and the future." The line came off corny, not at all as smooth as he usually was - but shards, he was just a bit shellshocked, give the lad a break!

With a stiff bow, he turned from the room, escaping into the hallway where, hopefully, he'd remember to start breathing before he passed out. From the dazed way that he exited the room, however, that might have been in doubt. But one thing was for sure - he wasn't going to let up on the Weyr now for anything. Whether Favan was serious or not, O'asis was going to see that the Weyrwoman got her new Weyr, even if he had to pay the price for it along the way.