The Hand that Holds the Knife

Writers: Yvonne
Date Posted: 1st September 2025

Characters: Ketlyn, Kemmin
Description: Ketlyn breaks the good news to her brother.
Location: Barrier Lake Weyr
Date: month 8, day 17 of Turn 12
Notes: Mentions: Thiseta, Jayzine, Ketlyn's friends
Follows 'BLW: The Proper Channels'

Ketlyn

"I can stay?" Kemmin's knees wobbled. He sank onto the edge of Ketlyn's bed with an enormous grin. "You did it!"

**No thanks to you.** Ketlyn kept the thought to herself. "I'll take you to see the Headwoman in two days' time and she'll find you a place of your own."

Her brother leapt to his feet and swept her into a hug, twirling her around until her feet flew from the ground. "Thank you thank you thank you!" He set her down and planted a wet kiss in the middle of her forehead. "Best sister ever!"

She rubbed the kiss off with the back of her hand. "Yeah, well. That's just step one."

"What else do I need to do? I'll do it!" Kemmin said eagerly.

Her lips quirked in a sour smile. "You need to talk to our parents."

"No. Oh no. Absolutely not." Kemmin's bright grin faded. "They're going to be so angry with me. You do it for me-- they listen to you."

"No they don't! And this is your decision, not mine. You need to tell them." Ketlyn crossed her arms and glared. "You are not dumping this on me."

"Ketlyn, I can't. Please?" He clasped his hands in front of him to plead his case. "You know that if I go back there. Father will break my feet to make me stay. He'll tie me up in the barn."

"He's not going to tie you up in the barn," Ketlyn scoffed. "I convinced the Weyrwoman to let you move here, _for_you_ because you were too scared to do it yourself. Now its your turn to convince our parents."

But Kemmin shook his head. "I won't go back there. I can't. If I go back they'll just trap me somehow. How about this: you take a letter from me."

"I'm not your mail runner!"

"Please? I'll tell them that I made you let me stay. They'll be mad at me, not you. But I'm not going. The only way that you could get me back there is by force, and I don't care how strong you think you are but you aren't going to be able to throw me over Varinth's back if I don't want to go." Kemmin's cocky grin reappeared as he returned to his seat on the edge of Ketlyn's bed. The green coverlet she'd so neatly tucked into the mattress before she'd left rumpled beneath him.

Ketlyn indulged in a daydream involving Varinth swooping down from the sky and plucking her brother from the path to the Dining Cavern like he was an errant ovine. Or having a group of her friends jump him in a dark hallway, stuff a sock in his mouth and tie him to Varinth's straps like he was a firestone sack. But she'd get into so much trouble with the Weyrleader, and that was assuming she could convince Varinth or her friends to do it in the first place.

Instead she rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands and wished she'd never agreed to take her siblings to the Weyr at all. "Why are you doing this to me?"

"Why am I doing what? I need to grow up and leave the cothold just like you did. I have been begging to be fostered for Turns and Mother and Father ignore me. They don't even want _me_, they just need another field hand and I'm convenient." He grinned as she glared at him. "I'm serious. I'm not going to go back."

He was leaving her to face her parents' wrath alone. Ketlyn wilted at the thought of her mother's sharp tongue and her father's pointed silences. "What about our brothers and sisters? If you disappear on Mother and Father, they'll never let anyone else go."

"They already don't want to let me go because of _you_. Oh, don't look at me like, Ketlyn. You know it's true." He gestured at the weyr, with its battered wooden furniture and tiny bed. "I overheard them trying to convince you not to accept the Search token, but you did it anyway and you didn't think _once_ about what it would mean for the rest us."

Guilt twisted in her gut, sharp as a knife. "That's different. I was _Searched_."

"You still left, and they never forgave you for it."

"Which is why you need to talk to them. Don't make the same mistake I did," Ketlyn begged. "Please. You tricked me into bringing you here--"

"Which I wouldn't have had to do if you had just talked to the Weyrwoman like you said you were going to!" Kemmin was glaring back now. "I _waited_ for you, but I am not going to wait forever. I'm tired of waiting. My entire life is passing me by. If I hadn't tricked you into taking me here, can you honestly look me in the eye and tell me that you'd have arranged for a transfer for me yourself?"

Ketlyn reeled back, stung. He was right. She _had_ put off applying for a transfer for her brother. She hadn't felt like she had the authority to ask the Weyrwoman, and she'd been too scared of how their parents would react to losing another child. And other things, darker thoughts about somehow preserving the family she'd left behind like a diorama in a glass bubble, something to pull out when she was nostalgic. "That's not fair. I was a weyrling--"

"So? Varinth isn't even a turn old yet. You had _plenty_ of time before that to advocate for me, or Milyn or Tris, and you didn't do it."

"I _couldn't_--"

Kemmin cut her off. "I'm not going back there, Ketlyn. I'll write a letter for our parents and one for our siblings, and you can deliver them yourself if you're so concerned about what they think. But I _don't_ care anymore. I'm not going to live my life doing what Father wants."

"At least talk to them. Don't make me do this alone," Ketlyn begged.

"I'll have the letters ready for you by tomorrow afternoon. I promise this is for the best." He held out his hand. "Please just be happy for me. Lets go down to the Dining Hall to celebrate. I'm moving here to be with you, Ketlyn. Like we talked about!"

**But at what cost?** She hesitated, then slipped her hand in his. Her stomach roiled unhappily at the thought of handing those letters to her parents, but Kemmin was nearly twenty turns. He had the right to leave their family home if he wanted to, and she could have made it easy. She was selfish. Self-centered and manipulative, to let him hope when she did nothing.

She wilted. "All right." Her voice was heavy with defeat. "You win."

"Come on, sister-mine." He pulled her into a one-armed hug, then stood. It looked like a weight had lifted from his shoulders. "Let's get some wine and you can help me write these letters."

The greenrider let him pull her into the hall, only half-listening as he talked about moving into his own weyr and his dreams of learning how to use a sword and sail a ship across the lake and into the sea.

Last updated on the October 3rd 2025

Welcome to Triad Weyrs!

The Hand that Holds the Knife