The Dragonriders of PernŽ is a trademark, Registered U.S. Patent & Trademark Office, of Anne McCaffrey. This is a recorded session, generated by Harper's Tale MOO on Sunday 11 January 2004 for the benefit of members unable to attend. Logged by Wyn.
The Quarantine is Lifted
Living Caverns
Emberi comes out of the kitchens, the smell of fresh baking following just behind.
Wyn is seated over at her usual table, near the back and out of the way. The weyrsecond looks hard at work drafting something on fine parchement, and hasn't bothered to put her knot back on after bathing in the morning. Consequently, while she's obviously a dragonrider by her flight jacket, she doesn't look terribly important to those who don't know her for what she is. Suits the little woman just fine, mind you, as she scribes neatly, and with her spare quill poked through a twist of dark brown hair, keeping it out of her eyes.
With collected flakes still melting in hair and on shoulders, Emberi makes a rather wet entrance into the caverns. The scent of crushed herbs and roasted meat trails the older woman's path from the kitchen, but her only accessory seems to be a tall cup of aromatic tea. Eyes flicker from table to table, her steps angling her away from the younger clusters and flamboyant conversations. Wyn looks to be a respectable age with a respectable amount of responsibility, and Emberi is always content to hold company with that sort. Pausing beside Wyn's table, she taps the chair across from the rider with a tacit tilt of one brow.
Wyn glances up slowly at the sound of the tappings, gray eyes taking in Emberi with a steady look, soon followed by a silent nod, and the nudging out of the chair with her foot. The wordless exchange made, she nods a second time, and then returns to her writing. Sociable, isn't she?
Emberi isn't particularly inclined to speak either, so the two will settle in silence for the present. She takes the seat and turns away from Wyn, so as to observe the bustle of the caverns. Green eyes are nearly obscured behind hooded lids as she sips her tea and mulls over one thought or another. It's a long time coming, but eventually, Emberi angles in to the table and sets down her near empty glass. Eyes pass briefly over Wyn's writing, but they don't linger. Unlike the bulk of people in this Weyr who have curiosity in spades, she has no qualms about leaving other people's business, other people's business. "Tea?" Is offered into the quiet, as she slowly stands to fetch the pot.
If Wyn is grateful that she's not immediately being called upon to provide small talk within seconds of someone else sitting down, it shows only in her stance, a slight easing of tension along her spine, and perhaps a similar ease in her movements. Still precise as she dips her quill in her ink pot and continues scratching out what looks like a formal statement, she nods slightly, and replies "Please. Ambersap rather than sweetener, thank you."
Pyrene stalks in from the Central Bowl.
Emberi turns towards the Kitchens and promptly disappears within its bustle. Time passes, ambersap is added to the blackberry tea, and Emberi leisurely returns, a plain pot held in one hand and a spare mug in the other. It takes a moment for the older woman to place the table, but once re-found, she silently sets the pot and spare glass in the center and takes her seat. Once again silence folds over the table, but there is nothing in Emberi's presence that suggests she's at all uncomfortable with mutual quiet. The only sounds currently emanating, that of tea being poured into her own mug.
By the time Emberi returns with their tea, Wyn has finished with drafting her declaration, and is now dusting the ink with a powder of ultrafine sand, sprinkling little pinches with miserly efficiency and then giving the parchement a shake before blowing the excess sand off onto a blank sheet of hide underneath. "Thank you." Wyn breaks silence again to repeat, before leaning over to take the teapot and pour her own cuppa.
Pyrene hesitates at Emberi's presence, but heads on over to Wyn, nonetheless. "Can I have a word?" she asks the Weyrsecond, flicking her eyes at Emberi in a rather ominous This Is Classified manner. Parchments and such are ignored. Wyn should already be ready to drop everything in order to see her.
Emberi nods in response to Wyn while pulling a draught from her mug and lightly adjusting in her seat. Pyrene's sudden incursion into the quiet is observed with noticeable discomfort, and at the Weyrwoman's request, black brows trail upwards. Moving not a favorable option for the newly comfortable Emberi, she regards Pyrene with a steady gaze before shifting her sight to Wyn, and eventually back to the caverns. If the two women would like to have a moment, they're more then welcome too, as long as it doesn't include the ousting of a stubborn middle aged resident.
"Please, Pyrene." replies the knotless weyrsecond, probably giving away her standing with the lack of a formal title for the senior weyrwoman. "I've just finished my final statement about the quarantine," A wave at the formal parchement as she busies herself with rummaging around in her satchel until she comes up with a small wooden box. Opened, it reveals sealing wax, a stamp and a ribbon in black and blue. The bluerider begins heating the wax over the flame of a candle that's been sitting at the table ignored until now, and wonders "Is it for weyrfolk ears as well?"
Kh'ryn walks in from the Central Bowl.
Pyrene blinks, successfully sidetracked. "Final statement about the quarantine? You're lifting it?" She stretches in relief. "Thank Faranth that's over. That means we can call in harpers and prove to Adel just who should be Weyrwoman around here!" Namely, Pyrene. And fortunately for Kh'ryn, she hasn't noticed him.
Sadira arrives from deeper in the Weyr.
Emberi certainly has no part in this conversation, but as the quarentine is mentioned, she turns mildly interested eyes on the statement.
"Yes." confirms Wyn somewhat absently as she watches the utterly fascinating progress of melting wax. "I should have had it down the day you delegated it to my handling, but one must work with the weyrhealers, rather than against them, and that ancient and retired old Master Ydia chose -now- to make her presence felt. She finally bowed to logic, though." Pouring a dollop of wax over the two ribbons, now artfully arranged, Wyn waits for it to cool just a little, and then presses the stamp to emboss the seal of High Reaches Weyr leadership on it, offering it over to Pyrene for approval. "And yes, I've been in contact with Harper Hall. They'll send their legal expert, as well as that apprentice of theirs who was yanked through time by Ista."
Having snuck in beneath Pyrene's radars, the bluerider leaning casually against the wall near the Living Caverns entrance is glad to hear what he just overheard. A lift of the quarantine, mere days after he returned and broke it, should mean that he won't be in as much trouble as fist suspected with the goldridre. Then again, Kh'ryn was never one to assume anything, so rather than get excited about this news, he treats it as though it were nothing important. "Weyrwoman Pyrene," he greets respectfully, after clearing his throat to announce his presence. "Zylpheth and I are reporting for duty." A few steps forward and then he bows to the two women. "And hello to you, Wyn. Glad to see that the information you picked up in Igen was helpful after all..."
Pyrene nods. "Fasulkad, wasn't it? I remember him from when he was older than me, although I've not seen him since his... well... return." She looks boundlessly relieved though until Kh'ryn appears, at which point her brows lower and her eyes darken. "Oh really, you and... oh, shells, Zipheroth." And Kh'ryn is forgotten again. Nothing like that warm Reaches welcome. "Wyn, have you heard anything from any of Cloudburst since Zipheroth died?"
Emberi's expression reveals none of the amusement she holds for bowing blueriders and Weyrseconds who are capable of handling ruffled Weyrwomen. The only place she has is as the unobtrusive observer, seated by chance at the table where all the hubbub seems to be collecting. It would figure that the table she chose for respectable quiet, would end up producing the most noise. In-between sips of tea, the older woman continues her observations, though makes no move to join the conversation.
"Hullo, Kh'ryn," Wyn greets, giving the man one of her rare genuine smiles, rather than the faint twitches of her lips that suffice for most social interactions. "Shall I send you over a kitten for your weyr?" Concerns of Weyr politics and cute, fuzzy animals, they're both of equal import as she sips at her tea and lets the others chat a moment, before her interest is returned at the mention of Cloudburst and Zipheroth. "Yes, actually... The Cloudburst riders seem to regard me as a neutral in the situation, so they'll talk to me quite freely. I spoke with Thiern and C'radoc in the baths this morning." she reveals. "L'vek... does not fare well. There was some discussion that he might be helped to go join his lifemate, but I shan't write him off until I've had a chance to see him. And if he is truly a man who cannot live, then I shall fetch the fellis myself."
"He's young," Pyrene murmurs. "According to the records, that works in his favour. It's the older riders who don't recover. But... don't give him the fellis without talking to Adel and R'meld first, alright?" She actually looks rather relieved by Wyn's answer. That's two consecutive actions by a bluerider that she approves of. Who would have thought. However, third time's the charm and accordingly, she turns on Kh'ryn. "The fact that the quarantine will now be lifted is redundant. What in Faranth's name are you doing here?"
The Weyrwoman's cold stare is dully noted, but Kh'ryn figures that it has more to do with present Weyr politics than it does with his return. Because, why should he be worth such disdain? He's about to answer Wyn's offer of a feline with a positive reply, when Pyrene finally does grace him with her attention. "I thought maybe that you could use my help," he states easily, shrugging like it was no big deal. But Khor's never been one to bluff for long, and so, eventually, he relates to the truth to his return to the Reaches. "Actually, it was Wyn here who convinced me. She looked me up while in Igen and ... after a bit of persuasion ... Here I am." Of course, there's a lot more to it then that, but a public place is not the perfect area to air someone's personal problems. "If this L'vek is seriously in need of some... help ... Perhaps Zylpheth and I could be of assistance." Though they've never experienced the pain associated with losing a lifemate, they still can relate to losing a loved one.
Emberi lifts the teapot, pouring a little more into her own mug before offering to pour a little more in Wyn's, were she so inclined. Pyrene and Kh'yrn get occasional glances, but for all appearances, it seems Emberi has effectively detached herself from the conversation.
"Naturally not. I'd rather not have to defend myself from accusations of killing off the competition." Wyn opines with a bit of macabre humour. "And no slipping fellis to Adel, hmm? Although there's a few other herbs that work far better and are less traceable... but no." she lifts a hand, and reins in that bit of unsuitable humour to lift an eyebrow at Kh'ryn. "Yes... yes I did... although you'll also note that I told you we were under quarantine." she points out, although still more amused than censuring. The private laughter is switched for academic consideration and a nod to Emberi, holding out her teacup. "Actually, that might well work..."
Pyrene looks almost tempted at the idea of slipping fellis to Adel--how much easier that would make life! But alas, no threatening dragons and riders etc. Instead she looks weary. "I know you didn't think a great deal of the quarantine Wyn, but how do we expect anybody to follow our policies if we break the rules for certain people?" Wyn should have known Py's approval was too good to last. "Kh'ryn, your transfer will be on the understanding that we knew the quarantine was over and just hadn't put through the official papers yet. Understand?" Her eyes include Emberi in that as well. No tongues will be set wagging, if you please!
Kh'ryn didn't meant to land Wyn in hot water, but he has enough faith in their friendship and the bluerider's way of dealing with Pyrene to know that his words won't be held against him. "I meant that she convinced me to return -eventually-. The timing was all my idea." Actually, it was Zylph's - but no blaming things on your dragon now. A nod is given in return to the Weyrwoman's deal. "Understood. In the meantime, I'll return to hiding out in my weyr. There's a lot of cleaning to be done if that place is to be liveable anyway... I wonder why no one took it over while I was gone...?" But his questions are to be put on hold for now, as he decides to press the matter about L'vek. "Seriously though... When the time comes, let me know if there's anything that I can do."
Emberi pours what remains of the tea for Wyn, before setting down the pot and turning her attentions to Pyrene. She doesn't give any hint that she's particularly inclined either way on the subject of Kh'ryn, but then, considering how quiet she's been through this exchange, chances are that the confidential information will remain just that.
Wyn 's way of dealing with Pyrene, such as it is, seems to revolve mainly around repenting not at all when she thinks she's done nothing wrong, and always keeping evidence on hand to support her claims. The day that the little bluerider actually fouls up but good should be an interesting one. She favours Emberi with a smile and a toast of her tea, takes a sip, and then notes to Pyrene that "Well, as he said, his choice to break quarantine was all his own making... I merely pointed out that he ought to try coming home again some time. And is there anything else you'd like appended to this?" she wonders, pointing out the patiently-waiting parchement again. "I assume I should probably stand on a table and proclaim it before nailing it to a suitable wall."
Pyrene's jaw drops at the mention of timing, then she twigs what Kh'ryn really means by that turn of phrase. "You should be glad it's free, considering Cloudburst have been put up wherever we can squeeze them. Fortunately, your Weyr wasn't large enough to host most of them. As for L'vek, I'd rather that you left him to his own wing. We've got enough conflict without forcing more." Thus is Pyrene's opinion. "Standing on a table and proclaiming is good. Would you like me to get Cadge to announce it as well." Not that Pyrene's keen on reaffirming her place as /The/ senior queenrider around here or anything.
Kh'ryn is glad, even though the memories within that weyr are going to be hard to face come nightfall; when he's left to deal with then on his own. The response to L'vek's situation is nodded at once again. "Will do. Well, I suppose that I should be heading along now. Let me know if there is anything that I can do... About anything else." Bobbing his head respectfully to Pyrene, he then nods towards Wyn and the woman at her side. "Be nice to feel as though my return was for some good reason, other than making Wyn here happy." It's meant as a jest, but the truth is, Khor is always willing to help out.
Emberi drains her tea and parts with the cup. She inches the pot and adjoining dishware to her end of the table. Clearing the way for Wyn's feet, should she choose to leap onto this table. A crinkle of amusement can be found about the eyes as Emberi glances towards the Weyrsecond.
Wyn follows Emberi's actions and divines her intent from them, allowing dryly that "I think I should probably pick a more central table to go act like a demagogue... your tea is safe, weyrfolk." A solemn wink, and she then returns to other business with her own drink in hand. "By all means, Pyrene. After all, Cadgwith -does- hold the dragons' alleigiance here and now. Incidentally, are you free to drop by my weyr later? On the topic of alleigiance, I think we might want to compare notes..." But Wyn says nothing more than that, albeit with a twitch of an eyebrow suggesting that it's not relations between herself and the weyrwoman she's talking about. Kh'ryn just gets a smile. "While you're a delight, Kh'ryn, I think that your children are the ones who'll be made truly happy by your return."
"If there's enough room on your ledge for Cadgwith," Pyrene replies, a touch loftily. She's still irked about the quarantine-breaking, however academic a transgression it's proved to be. "And welcome back, Kh'ryn. Just don't bless us with any more children until you've got yourself reacquainted with your current offspring." Personally, she'd rather he'd shipped them out to Igen to help her, but you can't win them all.
Vorkoroth senses that Cadgwith rumbles suddenly, woken up and sleepy as she passes on a message to the dragons of Pern. << Quarantine's lifted. >> A pause as she collects her wits some more. << Healers have cleared High Reaches Weyr of any suspected illness. We may again come and go as we please. >> There's a hint of cynicism in that, which suggests she would personally prefer some warning considering their most recent unexpected guests. But she makes no addendum, settling back into sleep again. Regular programming is resumed.
A small smile raises the corners of his lips at the mention of making his children happy. "We'll just have to see about that," is all he says though, about the subject. Kh'ryn bobs his head one last time towards the goldrider, though his smile slips as he replies with, "You can rest assured on that, Pyrene." It's not something that he intends on doing anytime soon, that's for sure. Again, he repeats, "I'll be going now. Just came to get some fresh klah..." And with that said, the bluerider moves off to do just that, striding off towards the kitchen.
Emberi collects her teapot and cup regardless, before standing and slipping past the Weyrwoman. Her steps lead her towards the kitchen, where she'll find a bit more solitude. Demagoguery aside, Emberi isn't much for public announcements and the burst of activity that follows them.
Emberi heads north into the redolent depths of the kitchens.
Wyn flicks a hand dismissively, noting that "I -did- manage to pick out a weyr meant for a bronze, since my own clutch only had Ringwraith of that particular persuasion. Cadgewith will fit, so long as I don't have any other company show up at the same time." A smile is briefly in evidence as the weyrsecond gets images of trying to throw a party with gold dragons in evidence, and the lifemates of the guests having to take turns parking. Nods to the departing are given, and Wyn glances around the suddenly quiet corner again.
Pyrene nods. "Well, I'll come across later, but for now, I need to scoot. You've got the quarantine paperwork in hand, I trust?" She doesn't really wait for an answer, heading out the door instead. Consider it a token of her trust in Wyn's good management skills?
