Night Out

Writers: Paula
Date Posted: 24th February 2009

Characters: Tamah
Description: Tamah leaves the weyr to get drunk.
Location: Elsewhere on Pern
Date: month 1, day 7 of Turn 5

Tamah watched the dragon who had given him a lift to disappear, before setting out towards his destination. It was a place where he frequently visited, when the mood struck him. And now he was on the mood. It was a port tavern, called The Dark Pit. It was not a respectable, hall-managed place, where you could take your wife and children to a dinner. No, Pit was a dim, dirty and noisy place, where sailors came to get their head full and pouches emptied. It was a place where you get your throat slit open if you angered the wrong guy. Tamah knew the Tavern keeper. Puwul was former pirate and smuggler. He was probably still involved in smuggling, Tamah mused when he entered the tavern. The only reason why locals tolerated the place was because Puwul had some sort of hold over the Lord. Blackmailing perhaps, or just plain old bribery.

Tamah wasn't sure why he came here from time to time. Everything was well in his life. He had a beautiful weyrmate, adorable children and respected job as a River Bluff Weyr's harbour master. Maybe that was his problem. He had things too well. He missed his times on a ship. The excitement of facing a storm front, seeing new places and new horizons, the camaraderie of shipmates and even the long, boring days when they hit a dead calm. Nowadays the most exciting thing was to make the cargo manifests match with the actual cargo. So he came here to get seriously drunk.

"Hullo, Tamah! I haven't seen you around for a long time!" Puwul greeted him with loud, booming voice. He was a large man, already past his prime, but still strong looking with his sun-tanned skin and weathered face. His hair was white as snow and he had large goldrings in his ears.

"Hi there, Puwul," Tamah replied with a grin. "How's the business been?"

"The usual," the tavern keeper said with a shrug. "What can I do for you?"

"The usual," Tamah said. He put a handful of coins to the bar desk. "I take the corner table and you keep the grog coming until the marks' run out."

"All right," Puwul said, the marks disappearing from the desk in to his large hand. He poured Tamah his first drink.

~*~ much later ~*~

Tamah sat up from the mud and gingerly touched his nose. No blood, but it was sore and swollen. He tried to remember what had happened. He had been drinking quietly in his corner. There had been entertainment for the evening. A man, who sung, (with surprisingly good voice for he was not a harper) did juggling and simple acrobatics. The place had been packed full. Oh, yes, then there had been a brawl. There almost always was. When they started to break the furniture, Puwul had decided that it was the closing time. He and the strapping lads he employed had simply throw out everyone, even those not involved in the fight.

Tamah staggered up to his feet and started to walk unsteadily towards the port. His flits appeared, giving him what sounded like scolding chirps. "Yeah, yeah, I know. You could leave the reprimands for Ondia, by the way." He sat down on the dock, tangling his feet over the water. "Instead you would get me a ride home," he said. The bronze one, Zenit, disappeared.

He wasn't sure how long he just sat there, not really thinking, just staring the sea. He heard the dragon landing near-by and the approaching steps.

"Tamah, what a sorry mess you are," a frosty, female voice said.

Tamah turned to look and peered drunkenly his weyrmate's face. Zenit was sitting on her shoulder, looking as smug as firelizard can. "Hullo, love, nice for you to come to fetch me."

"Why do you do this, Tamah?" she asked, sounding sad.

"Dunno?"

She gave out a resigned sigh. "Get up, you drunken dimglow. You are going to regret this tomorrow, you know."

"Well, that's for the tomorrow," Tamah said stoically and managed to get on his feet without toppling into the water.

Last updated on the February 24th 2009

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Night Out