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Cage and Aquarium


Date:  December 16, 2004
Place:  MBH Road
Game:  PernMUSH
Copyright Info:  The World of Pern is copyright(c) to Anne McCaffrey 
l967. The Dragonriders of Pern(r) is a registered copyright.

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Kassi's Note:  Beastcraft is hosting a Gather; trust Kassi to find 
occasion to attend.  Trust, too, for the occasion she attended to be
one which allowed gambling. ;)  Arriving just in time for the runner
race, she has a chance to catch up a little with Kegan, meet Shimshon,
get a dinner invitation from Master Learan, and talk about the cages
that one's choices can make with Cailin.

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The Log:

You wing your way down slowly.

You slide off of Lysseth's neck to land beside her easily. She rumbles,
cocking her head down at you, and you rub her eyeridges gratefully.

Kegan silently agrees to assist with the runners. He shades his eyes as he
watches a green dragon land. For once that most anyone can recall, he
actually smiles when he recognizes the rider. "Wingleader!" he calls out.

Lysseth settles herself in a place otherwise unoccupied, where the rush of
wind from her backwinging won't disturb Gather decorations or--one
hopes--animals, not to mention Gathergoers. Kassi slaps her dragon's neck
affectionately before swinging down. "Just keep in mind, and continue t'be
keeping in mind, that you ate only yesterday." The dragon snorts and holds
her head that much higher, affronted. "Hey, your fault for commenting that
the beasts smell good. Duties," she says, turning away from her lifemate
and towards the nearest group of people, "t'Beastcraft and her--hey! Kegan,
don't tell me 'tis you!"

Public announcement: Cailin passes out flyers on the sly, to any and all
interested. A cross-country demonstration is about to get underway at the
MBH. ( That's a runner race to the rest of us, just don't tell the
Craftmaster. He'll catch on soon enough. ;) The @tel #969 for those of you
who might like to join us. :)

Nepenth wings down from the sky above.

Nepenth circles down from the pond area and croons at his rider

Cailin sends word with one of the apprentices to bring out the runners as
they are saddled, leaving Kegan to greet Kassima without her, while she
sets up some final preparations to have the Road cleared where needed. Soon
enough, the first of the participants are making their way from the
stables, lead by their riders.

Kaelyn walks over and steps up to the group. "Good day and greetings from
Reaches." The rider smiles and then nods to Kassima and Kegan.

Kassima unfastens her riding helmet and unpins her braid, giving her
forelock a quick comb-through with her fingers. "Duties t'High Reaches and
her queens," she agrees amiably. "Oh, 'tis looking like they're on their
way. If'n I'd only thought, I'd have asked Journeywoman Cailin for tips
when I saw her last--or at least wheedled Kimlyn into coming with me
instead of her latest brownrider."

Soon enough, six runners are in attendance and Cailin moves about them as
she aids the riders to mount. When all is in readiness, she starts moving
them towards the line being drawn in the dirt of the road by one of her
helpers. The Journeywoman makes her way there as well, but off to the side.

Kaelyn smiles at Kassima after noticing her knot. "Reaches duties to Telgar
and her queens." She looks over at the runners and studies them carefully.
She speaks to the others, "Anyone have any idea on these runners at all? I
know I don't" She crosses her arms over her chest and watches them

[Editor's Note:  The information on the racing runners follows. :) ]


---

Cross-Country Race:
Six well conditioned runners are seen here, forming up in a row as they
approach a line marked in the dirt. Each tacked similarly, and carrying
boys and girls of like frames. The riders are all dressed in tunics of
different colors and wear numbers pinned to their sleeves.
***+detail's available***


Some hides are passed around with this list of the participants.
#1 Cloudy Day, ridden by Sr Apprentice Tracie
#2 Ray of Light, ridden by Journeyman Norris
#3Trader's Pass, ridden by Journeywoman Linetta
#4 George, ridden by Apprentice Torrin
#5 Smith's Hammer, ridden by Journeyman Ghent
#6 Wind Blown, ridden by Journeyman Nikolus.


#1 Cloudy Day: This leggy grey is one of the older runners in the field
this day. White now showing most predominate in his coat he's still well
conditioned. Sr apprentice Tracie is riding him today.
#2 Ray of Light: A refined chestnut, with a flaxen mane and tail, this
runner is clearly the eye catcher of the field. His flighty antics before
the race proving him to be handful for Journeyman Norris.
#3 Trader's Pass: This lovely mare is a deep blood bay. The darker contrast
to the #2 horse, with her points in black not blond, she carries
Journeywoman Linetta with a confident stride.
#4 George: This slightly bony, brown runner isn't much in the looks
department. The planes of his face convex, rather than concave, giving him
a stubborn appearance to match the determination of Apprentice Torrin.
#5 Smith's Hammer: The deep dappling of steel grey show him to almost seem
black through the neck and shoulders, and over his haunches. His mane is
white, while his tail is a mix of shorter dark hairs, and long trailing
white. Journeyman Ghent rides him today.
#6 Wind Blown: A solid, but small chestnut of unassuming nature and
stature. He doesn't even bare any remarkable markings to set him apart, but
Journeyman Nikolus bares up well under good natured teasing to get a real
runner.

---


Kassima offers a wave towards Cailin once the bulk of her work seems to be
done, and then nods her thanks to a person passing out hides with
information on the runners; she accepts one, and scans it over. "Haven't a
clue," she freely confesses. "I'm inclined t'be rooting for number three...
Trader's Pass? For her coloring. I love the blood bays. M'daughter says
mares are a poor bet in a field with stallions, though. And that sixth
horse, he looks so plain--compared to the others, anyway--that I'm half
inclined t'bet on him just because of it."

Kegan gives the Telgari greenrider a nod. "It is," he confirms. "Abandoned
here by an inconsiderate child/rider," he adds. "What brings you here?" he
asks. Oh, as an afterthought he gives Kaelyn a nod of recognition.

Cailin waves to the visiting riders as she passes, then waits along the
starting line for all the runners to form up in a row. she gives a slight
nod to the runner riders, watching them closely as they step their mounts
forward. But as they approach the line, it's not to Cailin they look to,
but somewhere down the line, where another Journeywoman waits to drop a
colored bit of cloth from her upraised hand.

Learan comes up onto the road from the gentle slope which leads to the pond.

"A child-rider," Kassima repeats. "Child-rider... who, that Shalyn lass?
Just the Gather--" She gestures towards her semi-finery, with a wry grin.
"Thought I'd see what was what here; and Kimlyn was here yesterday, and
found out when the race--excuse me, demonstration--would be. I've nay
watched one of these in awhile. How are the 'Reaches treating you?" Her
eyes flick towards the runners as she talks, and the hand not holding her
hide list taps her belt pouch thoughtfully.

Kaelyn nods slowly as she looks down the list. "I like the name Smith's
Hammer. Seems like a strong one, but unfortunately a strong name could also
be the opposite for the runner." She looks at the numbers and names on the
list and then back up to study the condition of the animals.

Learan arrives amongst a throng of herders all eager to see this particular
demonstration. "Beastcraft's duties," he calls out, playing the host. Upon
spying Kassima, his expression becomes thoughtful. However, he does not
approach her, deciding to remain in the background to observe.

Kegan says to Kassima, "Caritha." One might think he was cursing. "Reaches
is a fine Weyr, with a good sense of need to care for their herds." That
sounds like the politically safe answer. "Except for being abandoned by an
inconsiderate rider, they are treating me well."

That Journeyman is having far too much fun out there, waving her bit of
cloth, but soon enough her raised hand drops, and she steps back to join
the others along the roadside. With that, the race begins: The six runners
take off in a tight clump. It's not long, however, before they start to
break apart with two, Ray of Light and Smith's Hammer, moving up for an
early lead. A third, Wind Blown, is kept in tight by their haunches. They
widen the gap to half a length over the next pair, while George trails the
field.

Kaelyn lifts her head at the mention of Shalyn and Caritha. She nods, "They
are both good riders actually, Shalyn is my daughter." She seems a little
concerned. "Is there something that I need to speak to her about. I don't
mind."

Kassima consults her list and then looks back up at the runner roster.
"Handsome coat on him. I'm going t'go with Trader's Pass, though, methinks.
Call it m'weakness for all things red and black. Duties t'the Beastcraft
and her Masters!" She raises her voice to call this latter greeting to
Learan, with a respectful nod; that thoughtful expression might have gotten
a quizzical look, but she's distracted by the start of the race before she
can notice it. "Hey, there's your Smith's Hammer in the lead, methinks. Ah.
Caritha." Her voice shades towards bland on the name. "I've only had the
pleasure of meeting her once. I seem t'hear a lot about her, though....
Sorry t'hear she had the poor manners t'ditch you, Kegan. If'n all else
fails, I can probably give you a quick ride back if'n you need? And I'm
glad t'hear it, about High Reaches. Interesting thing: when 'twas there for
the clutching, I met a traveler who's interested in working in the stables
there if'n you need a hand."

Kegan replies, "I would appreciate that, Kassima. Thank you." He falls in
closer to the greenrider. "Did you get a name? No one has approached me
about working with the runners," he asks in a low voice. Kaelyn's comment
brings a quick shake of his head. "No, Kaelyn, I have no qualms with your
daughter. Can't really say when I last saw her." Not surprising given the
reclusive nature of Reaches' weyrherder. He then turns his attention on the
race.

Kaelyn smiles at Kegan and nods. "Well you let me know if you need
anything." She turns to watch the runners once again seeming deep in
thought now.

Cailin groans softly and murmurs something about having to talk to someone
about how *not* to drop a flag. But it's Learan's arrival that catches her
attention, so the Journerywoman moves to stand along side him, perhaps
hoping to distract the man with idle chit chat as the demonstration is
looking decidedly 'race' like, "G'afternoon, sir." So cheerful that.

The racers move off the Road at a good clip, passing through a gate to the
neighboring field. As they shift from dirt to turf, Trader's Pass, jumps
the transition, allowing the steady Cloudy Day to pass her by a neck, but
the others all hold their early placing's as they head towards the
fluttering red cloth staked out at the far side of the field.

Learan watches the demonstration with much consideration. "An interesting
way to set this demonstration in motion, Journeyman," he says drolly. "I am
sure it is to inspire excitement on the subject of cross-country riding,"
he adds, as if understanding there was more than meets the eye right now.

"Nay a problem," Kassima assures Kegan. She's keeping her eyes fixed on the
runners, bouncing a bit on the balls of her feet, but there's no absentness
present in her tone--she's paying attention to the conversation even though
she's looking elsewhere. "Dharien, methinks 'twas. He said he was
originally from the South and had been a runner-breaker for his family or
something like. Can't tell you much more than that. Mayhaps he changed his
mind, though he certes seemed sure enough then." She squints towards the
moving field, grimacing for a moment when Trader's Pass falls behind. "Go,
go, go!"

Cailin clasps her hands behind her back, "Stir interest, is the point of
the day, is it not, sir? Show case a few of their skills. A shame the water
jump is in the next field."

Kegan isn't really much for runner racing, so he turns his attention back
to Kassima. "Might we make it a roundabout trip by way of Telgar? I haven't
seen my parents since the end of the Pass."

As they round the flag pole at the far end of the field, the leaders trade
off, with Smith's Hammer coming out on top, and Ray of Light falling now to
second. Wind Blown is bumped back to a more firm third, as they spread out
farther now. The others maintain their places, just increasing the distance
between them as they head to a low hedge between them and the next of the
flags they must reach.

"Water jump," repeats Learan as he watches. "Yes, that is too bad. Faranth
knows, the need to jump over water hazards is important to messengers and
the like." He gives Cailin a sideways look.

Kassima calls out to the runners, "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon! I swear," she
confides to the Herder beside her, "methinks mayhaps wagering based on
color is nay the wisest thing. You haven't?" The greenrider blinks. "Well,
shells, a'course we can. Scarcely a problem. Mart and Kena would probably
be thrilled t'see you."

"It could happen." Cailin tells her Craftmaster with her very best wide
eyed innocent look. Too bad he knows her better than that. Might have
worked on a stranger.

Kaelyn glances over with a smile, but then looks back quickly to the
runners. She mumbles to herself as Smith's Hammer takes the lead. "Come on."

The hedge presents a problem all it's own. Smith's Hammer takes it cleanly,
but Ray of Light slides to a stop before it, causing Wind Blown to veer and
take it at an angle. Trader's Pass and Cloudy Day split to take the hedge
on either side of the flaxen chestnut. With George flashing by as Ray of
Light is circled back to make a second attempt. He, now taking a trailing
last, but not withdrawing from the field as he manages this try cleanly.
Moments later they pass the next flag, retaining their positions as they
cross into the next field. Before too long, the runners move out of sight
of those viewing from the main road.

Learan doesn't comment as he tries to watch the runners. His height is
certainly helpful. He shields his eyes from the sun as they look towards
the west. "Who is riding?" he asks. "Is your fosterling one of them?"

[Editor's Note:  Kegan had to discon here.]

"Ronal? Oh no. He's a jockey after all, and this is just a demonstration."
Demonstration, right. Cailin goes on to list, "Apprentice Torrin, Sr
apprentice Tracie, Journeymen Norris, Linetta, Ghent and Nikolus of
course." Of course.

Kassima claps her hands once when her runner of choice makes it over the
jump, and takes to standing on tiptoe--not that she's a short woman by
anyone's measure, but she's not exactly wearing four-inch heels, either--to
try and better see. "Catch 'em! Catch 'em! That grey's still in the lead,
isn't he? Shells, now I can't see a thing." Not that this stops her from
turning to the person on her other side and muttering something that sounds
suspiciously wager-like.

Kaelyn moves over to the side of the road to see if she can catch a glimpse
of them, but moves back over to the group seeing that it is hopeless. She
rolls up the list in her hands as she waits for the runners to come back
into view. She chuckles softly to herself as she speaks with someone and
nods. "I really like Smith's Hammer. nice looking runner." she responds.

It seems there was another upset while the racers were out of sight, maybe
that water jump that was mentioned, for now Wind Blown has claimed the
lead, as Trader's Pass and Cloudy Day each make a bid to catch the little
chestnut. George and Smith's Hammer vie for fourth and fifth, with Ray of
Light regaining some of his lost ground.

Learan ahs and nods, his attention still on the runners.

Kassima turns back to ask her lifemate, "Lyss, can *you* see?" Since the
dragon certainly has the edge, vantage-wise. But before the green can
answer, the racers are reappearing anyway, and Kassi forgets the question
in favor of trying to make out positions. "Watch me be right about that six
beast. But she could still close on him! Go! Go!" Like that's really going
to help.

Another hedge, to match the first, rests at a bottom of a slight hill they
descend on their way back. Each runner manages to clear it cleanly in turn,
no surprises there this time as they angle back to the gate. It's then that
George makes his move, and short moments later, Ray of Light turns to
follow as they cut across the field more directly.

Kaelyn steps a little closer and roots for her runner. "Come on now. You
can't give up after all this time." She twists the list in her hands as she
sees the runners gaining.

Cailin gets caught up in the crowd, simply cheering and listening to who
those around her are pulling for. Most picking either a rider or runners
name to call out, though she doesn't pick one herself.

Kassima continues with the yelling and the bouncing, both enthusiastically
enough that the poor person she was wagering with winces and rubs his ear
at one point. "C'mon, c'mon! They're just men! You can beat 'em! Leave
hoofprints all over their behinds!" When she notices her bet-partner now
glaring at her, she says in a slightly lower voice, "Hey, whatever might
work. Runner females could have pride too. Right?"

The leaders reach the gate almost together, as the little bay mare and the
seasoned grey close on the small chestnut. Smith's Hammer might well be out
of it, for he drops back farther, thought he gamely keeps on. But more
apparent now is that George and Ray of Light plan a short cut, to jump the
fence closer to the finish line, than the gate would take them back to the
Road.

Kaelyn sighs softly to herself and watches as her runner falls back. "Oh
well. Good try Smith's Hammer." she yells out. She looks over and grins at
Kassima and chuckles to herself.

Cailin casts another sidelong glance at her Craftmaster, but can't seem to
read anything from his expression just then. Or if she does, she gives
nothing away of her own reaction to his, "They're coming! Clear the road!"
She calls out the unnecessary reminder.

"He could still rally," Kassi supposes, but she can't keep from sounding
somewhat doubtful. "--Ach, is that allowed? Shells! If'n so, have t'give
'em points for being clever--" She's not standing on the road proper, but
she nevertheless backs up a step or two at Cailin's call, just to be on the
safe side.

Taking the fence seems child's play for the enterprising two. Allowed, or
no, they return to the road in time to reclaim a competitive placing of
second and forth as they meet up with those who were holding one, two and
three. Now it's Wind Blown, by a length, with George in second, Trader's
Pass in third, with Ray of Light and Cloudy Day a close forth and fifth as
the riders each ask their runners to give a final push for the finish.

Kaelyn steps back as she watches the runners coming in so close. She seems
excited still even though hers has pretty much dropped out of the race.

Kassima gives a good-natured groan: "I *should* have wagered on the little
plain one... still. Mayhaps. And if'n he does win, he deserves it--run!
Run!" Which one she's calling to now isn't clear, nor does she particularly
seem to care; she's enjoying herself either way, although she does think to
bring up one arm to cover her nose and mouth in preparation for any
road-dust that might float her way.

Learan doesn't comment on Kassima's ragings about some of the runners being
male. He does step back so not to take the chance at being trampled, either
by an enthusiastic racer or an frightened spectator.

The final dash for the finish, brings about a few more changes in position.
Ray of Light has spent himself, and drops back to last quickly while the
rest vie for the lead. George pulls up along side the little chestnut, who
levels out to meet the challenge. Traders Pass surges on with Cloudy Day
gaining rapid ground with each stride behind the leaders -- Yet he made his
bid too late. For while it's clear he's running them all down, he runs out
of room after only gaining even with the mare's flank as she claims third.
First and second fly across the line together, but Wind Blown hangs on to
just edge out his clever challenger.

Learan remarks to Kassima, "Clearly, the better overland racer, er runner
deserves to win, Kassi." As is proven by Wind Blown's finish. "Good race,
er demonstration, Cailin. It looks like it was well enjoyed," he says,
indicating the cheering and groaning crowds. "Didn't hurt than I put a
half-mark on the winner as well."

Kassima rocks back on her heels, momentarily disappointed and wryly amused
at once. "Why did you let me go for color over instinct?" she demands of
Lysseth, who makes a show of looking as long-suffering as a dragon can.
"Ah, well, I don't regret it. I *like* blood bays. And she really didn't do
half-badly either...." Still and all, she has a bet to pay and she attends
to that business before offering the Craftmaster a rueful nod. "Aye, aye,
and I do have t'be admiring that strategy with the gate. The more
impressive given his size. I'd have thought longer legs would be an
advantage--but I leave runner expertise t'my cousin and m'daughter."

What ever Cailin was going to say, turns to stunned silence as she turns to
Learan with an open mouthed gape. It only takes her a moment to close her
mouth ,at least looking presentable again with that, but she still watches
him a long moment, as if trying to judge if he pulls her leg. At length she
grins, "Cloudy Day would have had them all, with Ronal up."

Learan clasps his hands behind his back. "A lot depends on the terrain,
when it comes to determining which runner will have the advantage. The
rider is also key, naturally." For a man with an expressed dislike of
runner racing, he seems very knowledgable. "Well, a trained jockey will
always be an asset. Except in an endurance run. Then it might be considered
a liability."

Kassima inclines her head, acknowledging the points. "What I really know
about runner racing, for all that I occasionally profit by it," she quips,
"could be stuffed into even m'riding helmet and still leave room for
m'head. Which, given the hair, is saying something. I can identify a few
signs of especially poor conformation, but beyond that... and with m'luck
Kim made a minor fortune off this one and will never, ever let me forget
when I see her next. 'Twould figure." She absently swipes at her sleeves,
dislodging a bit of that road-dust, and ambles a few steps closer to the
Herders to make conversation easier. Cailin gets a curious glance; the name
Ronal wouldn't seem familiar to the rider.

"True." Cailin smoothly agrees, Her shock in the moment fading quickly as
she engages in the conversation. "Things might have gone differently if Ray
of Light hadn't refused the first jump. He was never one I expected at the
finish, but the pace setter I expected to burn the others out trying to
catch him. Smith's Hammer quit too soon with out a challenger there with
him in the far field. Much of it is as psychological as it is training and
conditioning. But yes, an experienced Jockey like my fosterson, as appose
to randomly selected volunteer riders, would have likely had a better
chance of reading the field."

Learan manages to keep his expression to a simple smile at Kassima's
comment about her head. Fortunately, Cailin bails him out with her
comments. "Isn't he a track racer, though?" He makes a flat motion with his
hand. "A lot different than overland." He makes a waving motion.

Kassima slants the Craftmaster a half-amused, half-wary look for that
smile, but she finds the talk of runners rather distracting. "So if'n Ray
of Light hadn't refused and had been up in the lead, Smith's Hammer
might've stayed in it?" she hazards. "Pity for Kaelyn, then. You have a
jockey fosterling?"

"Aye, generally. Not all of Birta's races are over the track however. They
do bred some fine endurance runners." Cailin replies, then adds, "He'd have
had an advantage over our riders at the end regardless, as he would know
better how to gauge a stretch run." For Kassi she nods, "could have, might
have. If they ran it again tomorrow, next sevenday, a month from now? Might
have been completely different as well. But aye, I do. He -- stayed behind.
Has his carrier to consider after all."

"Cloudy Day--was that his name?--is Bitran-bred, then?" Kassima wonders,
tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "'Tis probably that which
makes the running compelling t'watch. If'n the same one won *all* the time,
there'd be nay surprise in it, would there... aye, I can imagine there'd be
more race-riding t'be done at Bitra." Nicely noncommittal, that.

Learan glances between the two women as they converse. "If you will excuse
me, I should see to the preparations for tonight's meal," he says.

Cailin takes a moment to consider her answer, "Not Bitran, per say. He's
got a fair bit of similar blood though. Another Majestic grandson, that
one. There are a few of them about, thanks to his daughters and sons. But
only so many of them a great runners." She chuckles then, "Aye. The only
ones that want races to be predictable like that, are those that want to be
certain of their marks." For the last, a simple, "Hmm, yes." She turns then
to Learan, "Of course, sir."

Kassima nods, taking this in; "Like that stud you mentioned--Fair Red? Does
he have his own children yet? Cloudy Day, I mean. I confess t'preferring
certainty when it comes t'my marks up to a point, but there's an excitement
that's missing when you bet on a sure thing rather than a probable thing
that can still delight and surprise you by coming out right." Another bob
of her head, this time to Learan. "A'course, Craftmaster. 'Twas a pleasure
t'speak with you."

Learan goes into the main Hall.

"Aye. Shards but I hated leaving that runner behind, and his one son. But
Ronal's taking care of them...As is the rest of the Lord's staff, I'm
sure." Cailin pauses a moment, then dips a shoulder in a shrug, "A few. Not
too many though. Shame, that. He's one that most certainly should be bred,
but he's mild enough in disposition that he's used a fair bit for what he
was bred." She chuckles, "Yes, well. I'm more inclined to bet on a sure
thing myself, but..."

Kassima rubs at the back of her neck. "You certes seemed enthused about him
and his breeding potential when we spoke of him. I know there are reasons,"
said with some care, "that you can't attend his breedings personally, but
d'you still give consultation or the like on which mares he should be bred
to, that sort of thing? Is it the sort of thing you can still oversee from
afar based on pedigree? Oh, so they can't really race and breed at the same
time, I'm guessing." Pause. "Nay, err, *literally* at the same time. That's
pretty obvious. And conjures some pretty disturbing mental images, I must
say; but y'know what I mean."

Cailin's reply is carefully weighted, but given at length, "I left Vorlin
with all my notes and recommendations. It's up to him if he chooses to use
them. I could oversee some, from a far, if called for." A chuckle follows,
"Oh Cloudy's not a racer. We don't race much here at the Hall. He's been
tested on the track I know, on the sly, but in truth he's a messenger
runner. That doesn't always leave him in the stables just when the mares he
could be bred to are in season."

"If'n called for," Kassima echoes, and nods. "Aye, I understand what you
mean... methinks. The more fool they if'n they don't, then, with nay
offense intended. Ah! I did misunderstand." A fact about which she looks
slightly sheepish. "Should've guessed, mayhaps. Based on what you've said
of the Craftmaster's preferences. You think though that he'd make a good
one, at least with your fosterson riding?"

Learan comes up onto the road from the gentle slope which leads to the pond.

Cailin shrugs a shoulder yet again, "Just because a runner is good at one
thing, doesn't mean that's all it's good for. Nor does it mean it has to
perform that task all the time. A fair few people might use one for a
variety of purposes. My own Rocky I used for travel, a training aid for the
youngsters, a calm presence for the skittish or occasionally to teach a
more advance riding lesson or three." But she grins, "Wouldn't have to have
been my foster, but aye, he might. Or might have."

Learan makes his way along the road, Eniah running circles around him, not
quite close enough that either would collide with the other. Learan is
munching on an apple, one of those summer fruits that reach the peak of
crispness this time of the turn.

Cailin's attention is drawn by Eniah's antics, and a slow grin crosses her
face as she calls out by way of greeting to her Craftmaster, "I hope you
brought enough for everyone."

Learan looks down at his mostly eaten apple. "Sorry. There are basketfulls
back at the pond, if you are so inclined," he suggests. Eniah is finally
dizzy enough to stop his circling and stand by his fosterfather, his
attention on the green dragon nearby. "Are you staying for dinner, Kassima?
I'm sure I have a bottle of scotch you haven't initiated yet."

"'Twill keep it in mind should I ever be watching another demonstration in
which he runs," Kassima quips to Cailin, slightly deadpan and with an
amused gleam in her eyes. "Point t'you. People aren't only good for one
thing; even chickens aren't only good for *one* thing. So why runners,
after all?" The direction of Cailin's attention draws her own that way, and
after a momentary grin for the Journeywoman's comment, she calls, "G'deve
again, Craftmaster--is dinner an open affair? I'd certes nay mind staying
if'n you'd have me, and Kegan doesn't object; I'm due t'give him a ride
back t'Telgar when he's ready. But I'm nay quite sure where he's gotten off
to, so he can't be as ready as that. And I'd truly hate t'miss even a drop
of that excellent scotch." Never were truer words spoken. For her part,
Lysseth watches the young boy with a vague interest, the tip of her tail
flicking to and fro where it rests to her side.

"That's alright, sir. Wouldn't want t'spoil my appetite, eh." Cai replies
and then back to Kassi she nods, delivering dryly, "I'm sure you will." Her
grin sneaking back on after that, "Aye. Chickens have a few uses, so long
as someone else is doing the tending of them." A moment later, "I think he
was helping cool the runners earlier, but I might be mistaken. I'm sure
he's about."

"Of course, Kassima," replies the Craftmaster easily. "In fact, I'd be
honored if you'd share my table with Liah, Cailin and myself." A slight
tilt of his head. "There will surely be scotch available after dinner. It
is a Gather, after all."

"A memory for such tidbits of information is one of m'blessings," Kassima
deadpans right back to Cailin. "As for chickens, 'twas going t'say
'especially in lemon sauce,' but that does strike me as *perhaps* nay the
best idea at Beastcraft Hall." Turning her attention to Learan, she
momentarily bows her head to him. "The honor in that would be mine,
Craftmaster, and an honor 'tis t'be accepting. Nay just for the scotch,
either, although I can't deny," and here she grins, "that it further
sweetens the deal."

Cailin's hands get clasped behind her back, and she nods in acknowledgment
of the seating arraignments. The mention of the scotch gives her a
thoughtful expression, but she's distracted by Kassima and grins, "I'll bet
it is. And I quite agree to the in lemon sauce..."

Learan just chuckles. "I believe dinner will be within the hour, so if you
need to prepare." He takes Eniah by the hand. "Come along, little one."

Kassima offers to Cailin, "They serve a marvelous lemon chicken at
Boll--over rivergrains, and there's a cream-of-mushroom soup that goes
magnificently with it... I've treated m'self periodically nigh all m'riding
life. A clutchmate of mine once got in trouble for fetching the chicken, in
fact, but that's a tale." A grin for the Craftmaster follows, as well as a
warm smile for the little boy beside him. "Aye, Master. Thankee most
kindly. Hopefully 'twill nay shame Telgar too terribly in m'appearance. Do
I look terribly frazzled?" she turns about to ask Cailin, amused. "After
all m'jumping around and cheering earlier?"

Learan wanders off to do Craftmaster duties.

 Learan says, "Enjoy your evenings. Kassi, assume there was plenty
of scotch to sate your need ;)"

 Cailin grins and snugs :)

 Kassima beams and hugs Learan. You are the wind beneath my
exceedingly drunken wings. ;)

 Learan says, "I try my best :)"

"I'll have to remember that, the next time I go to Boll." That said,
possibly before the Craftmaster is out of earshot. "A tale, hmm? Sounds one
worth hearing, so long as the chicken didn't win in the end, of course."
She'd have to have a bias there. "Wouldn't have said frazzled, no. But if
you like, you can uses my place to check. I've a decent mirror and all."

"Whenever we make it to the Lava Lounge, perhaps. Or when you go with
M'rek, if'n he takes you. Better," Kassima admits, "t'be drinking the
lovely toxins there on a full or slightly full stomach anyway, if'n your
aim isn't t'be ending up unconscious on the floor in a hurry. The chicken
didn't *exactly* win...." She trails off, grimacing a moment; the
expression soon relaxes into one of rueful humor. "Though it did get its
revenge in a way. 'Twas when Meli and I were both pregnant with our first
children, aye? Her weyrmate T'lar was father t'both, and we ran him a wee
bit ragged with our cravings and whatnay. He'd really hop to for aught Meli
wanted. On one occasion I mentioned the chicken in front of Meli, and she
decided she wanted some." That can't be the whole story, but she forestalls
finishing for the moment to ask, "Could I? Wouldn't mind the chance,
sometime a'fore dinner at least. Don't want the Craftmaster thinking I
don't recognize that the invitation t'sit with him is an honor."

"Aye, sounds a fair time t'me." Cailin agrees with a ready smile. "I'd like
t'get that trip in, perhaps when I pick up my order I placed." She chuckles
lightly, "Never been so drunk as to end up on the floor, but I expect it's
better I don't go that far down the path." The downfalls of the life she's
chosen? "The chicken got it's revenge? Oh aye. I expect if she was hearing
it enough, she might be wanting it..." She nods, "Oh most certainly. I
don't mind at all. I'll probably change for it myself, not that it's apt
t'be fancy, just the runners kicked up a bit of dust."

Kassima flashes the Herder a grin. "As would I. As would Lyss, nay doubt,
who'd unduly fond of Boll. Can't be disagreeing with you on that count,
though I'd like to--'tis hard t'keep one's defenses up, drunk. Or so I've
found." From the wry quirking of one side of her mouth, one might guess
that she refers to more than one type of defense. "I'm afraid that I end up
on the floor regularly. So regularly that I really wish they'd just install
some cushions. Revenge, aye--y'see, T'lar was... he was dutiful about
tending t'Meli, and t'me too although mayhaps less so; which is what one
might expect. Too dutiful. He went t'get the chicken and jumped *between*
times t'get home, so that we'd have it immediately. He was yelled at so
*very* much for that. By me and Meli, a'course--ach, if'n memory serves, I
might even have cried at him. Bloody mood swings." Her headshake at the
thought of her then-self has a little disgust in it. "Then 'twill take you
up on it indeed, with thanks. I could run back t'Telgar and put on
something finer, I suppose... but this might suit. At least 'tis easy t'be
getting the dust off of leather."

"Aye, well. Makes a good argument for only drinking with those you trust,
eh? If your going t'drink that much. I confess that t'be part of why I
didn't drink much of the wine at Bitra. Didn't want clouded judgment for
more than work, eh?" Cailin pauses as she listens to the story, then blinks
a time or two, "He went between time to get it back? Shards." And more
absently, "Mood swings, aye." She snaps out of it to smile, "I've a brush I
use to help get it out of mine. Your welcome to use it."

"I'truth. Or only getting *drunk* with those you trust, at the very least."
Kassima pauses, then makes a face. "And in my case, given my track record,
mayhaps only getting drunk with men I wouldn't mind having children with. I
truly don't blame you. If'n you'd never got t'sample the Bitra wine--and
the golden wine is glorious--Rodric managed t'be cajoling a supply out of
Lord Vorlin somehow; he served it at Turnover, which is how I know the
taste. Harper Hall might at least be a marginally less risky environment."
She doesn't sound entirely certain of this, however; more thoughtful, as if
floating a theory. "He did," she confirms with a nod. "Nay a bright move.
He wasn't a *stupid* man, but occasionally got... carried away. Somehow I
managed t'forgive the lemon chicken for leading him astray." The smile she
gives Cailin is a touch sheepish again, but warm. "Thankee. I feel so
bloody vain worrying about it, particularly when I *did* bring extra
clothes to this one--in case of some sort of mud-intensive event, so I
could get completely filthy without worrying about wrecking the sisal. But
when things are formal, even slightly so...."

"Oh don't get me wrong, I had the wine. Just only if it was being given by
the wine steward t'Himself at the same time. Or it was the more common
serving variety off the table." Clever that, "The last turn I was there
however, I spent most my time drinking teas or the juice. He can find the
most wonderful juices." Cailin considers, "Harper might be alright, I
expect." She gives a chuckle then, "Aye. See. I was right to say chickens
are trouble all these turns." A nod with the last, "Aye. It's hard t'be
ready for every circumstances. But I wouldn't worry about feeling vein."

Kassima seems to think so: her nod is altogether approving. "Oh, clever
that. Assuming the wine steward is trustworthy; but what person of caution
would employ one that wasn't? The Lord does seem t'keep an excellent
cellar. I wonder whether the gold might be served at the Harpers' concert,
if'n the Masterharper wins that bet...." She's musing there, and hopeful.
"You did mention a special kind of juice. I've nay had much chance t'pester
M'rek t'tell me where 'tis from, more's the pity. And they are trouble, but
at least a very *tasty* trouble--nay kidding on that one. It doesn't help
that I like t'compete in Gather events, y'ken. Naught like trying t'run a
three-legged race in a floor-length skirt."

"Better the wine steward than that wanna be." Lets place bets on who she
means, or not, "The Lord does keep an excellent cellar. It makes me wish I
knew my wines better-- at times." Cai chuckles, "I never think to ask
myself. I'm sure they told me a time or two, but it hadn't seemed as
important at the time." The chuckle becomes a laugh, "No I'd not try any
gather events, especially here, dressed as such."

Kassima tries to keep a straight face, but some of her amusement is visible
anyway. "I can't imagine what would ever make you think *that*," she
drawls, then lets a grin escape. "I'm nay an expert either. But
knowledge--basic knowledge--is easy enough t'pick up, at least. The Benden
Tasting Hall's the place t'go for that." With a laugh of her own she
agrees, "Absolutely nay! There was a rodeo here some Turns agone... 'tis
the last Beastcraft celebration I recall attending. Anyway, *such* messes.
Methinks there was only one event 'twas in where I didn't end up a muddy
and-or battered wreck. But that's nay a complaint; I loved it."

"I'm sure you don't, of course." But her amusement reveals her lie for what
it is, "Benden, eh? I expect maybe I should. I wouldn't mind picking up a
few things, at least so long as it's not like a big deal." Or Elinore
knows? Cailin brushes back her hair and chuckles, "I've always maintained
that all I had t'do was step into a barn for a speck of dirt t'find me. And
here? Well, the Hall is is like stepping into one, where ever you go."

Kassima lets one eye close in a quick, small wink for the first. For the
second, "I'd nay think 'twould be. I stop in there now and then. They'll
serve you samples of this or that in small glasses, and a'course they're
professionals--'tis technically more the Vintners' Tasting Hall than the
Hold's, but Benden's still where 'tis--so they're used t'answering
questions about Turns and names and what-all. That's another place you
could easily talk M'rek into visiting, I should imagine." Gee. A whole Hall
of liquor. You think? "Nay going t'deny that. 'Tisn't dishonorable
dirt--the dirt of work and Craft rather than sloth, y'know--but all the
same, dirt. I really didn't think for more than a moment about wearing
something too dressy. Has Beastcraft ever had that sort of formal event,
d'you know?"

Ahh, well. Could Cailin do anything but laugh in open agreement? "Aye. I'd
imagine it'd be one of the trips he'd be most thrilled t'make. Can't say as
I'd mind his company for it either. He is generally most amusing at such
times." Drunk, surely. "Aye. Good dirt to be sure. And dirt I've never been
afraid of." So she fell for mr neatness counts? "Aye. We've had a few.
Hosted the Craftmaster's wedding for example. And their baby shower." Yeah,
Herder's idea of formal.

"Is this where 'twould be just terrible of me t'mention, offhandedly, that
I'd nay mind being invited along on such a trip either?" Kassima's tone and
dancing eyes suggest that she does know it's terrible, and really doesn't
care. "Everyone could use more drunk M'rek in their life. I don't love dirt
enough t'be actively seeking it or aught, but aye, there's little t'fear in
it. The wedding! Oh, I remember. I heard mention of it. Thought of
attending," she confesses, "only decided against. I don't know the
Craftmaster so well, but I knew Liah a wee bit when she was a lass at
Bitra. A baby shower? Truly?"

Shimshon comes up onto the road from the gentle slope which leads to the pond.

Shimshon walks down the road counting marks carefully.

Cailin chuckles to Kassima as they stand together, chatting still, "If or
when M'rek takes me, I'll be glad to nudge him the invite should of course
be passed along. Any such gathering should at least be of three, no?" The
next gives her pause, "Most everybody. Saw one last night that I'd be just
as happy if she kept staying clear of him." She nods, "Aye, well I had the
revers. Been posted with Learan before then, but I hadn't know Master Liah
before then."

Shimshon flips a mark into the air, snagging it mid-flight with one hand,
chuckling to himself. He spots Cailin and meanders her way, sideling up
near the other journeyman with a casual air. "Wonderful races, Cailin,"
drawls the young man.

Kassima's grin to Cailin is appreciative. Her lifemate lounges somewhere
behind her, some meters from the road proper. "Too kind, too kind; I do
appreciate that. Nor are you going t'hear me disagreeing--at least nay when
'tis against m'better interest t'do so. I'm pragmatic that way." There's a
note of amusement there. "Ah... now that does raise speculations. Hmm-mmm.
You said that one was banned from the Hall, so it can't be her... 'twere
posted with Learan? He was at Igen, aye, a'fore?" She goes silent for the
moment when the other Journeyman approaches, nodding amiable greetings and
glancing automatically towards the mark piece.

Cailin casts Shimshon a grin as she notes him beside her, "You think so? I
think Learan almost enjoyed the event as well, though of course, I never
-said- so." And ruin the man's image, never...Much. "What've you been
getting into?" She looks back to Kassi then in time to reply, "Hmm. I'd
rather noticed there were no no's involved when a good beverage was needing
sampling." A gentle rib, delivered with a smile, then the other wipes it
away with a wrinkled nose. "No, not the banned one. The child. That
greenrider brat that thinks she had to keep him leased for his own good."
She nods, "Aye, I was at Igen for a spell. Wasn't a full posting. Six
sevendays there, six sevendays here, and back again for a time."

Shimshon holds up a nice four-mark peice between his index and middle
fingers, folds his hand around it and then shows an empty hand, "Gambling,
Cailin, nothing new. Made four clean off the races today." Parsing out the
end of Kassima and Cailin's conversation, he politely, if a bit smarmishly,
introduces himself to Kassi after a fast look to her knot, "Don't let
Cailin's defamation of me stand, Wingleader. I'm Journeyman Shimshon."

Kassima wonders of Cailin, "Didn't he say something about placing a bet on
the outcome? That rather surprised me, nay that I'm one t'say one
*shouldn't*. If'n aught, I'm envious that he won and I didn't." The ribbing
only causes her grin to broaden, and she gives a small bow as if accepting
plaudits rather than censure for such. "Let's see. Child-rider. Funny how
I've heard about two of those today. Was that one Caritha, too?" She might
ask further about Igen, save that the denomination of the four-marker has
rather caught her attention. She whistles, appreciative. "Good profit. Have
nay worries; getting into things isn't much defamation as far as I'm
concerned--I'm Kassima, green Lysseth's." She jerks her thumb back to
indicate her lifemate. "Or Kassi, whichever. Pleased t'make your
acquaintance, and envious of your gambling fortune."

Shimshon follows along with Kassima's torid gossipy tale and reaches back
to pull his mark out of his own ear before tucking it away on the inside of
his vest. "Wingleader Kassima, now your reputation preceds you." Before
Kassi can get a word in on that, he explains with, "My family's mostly at
Benden Hold. And 'child' riders fully covers a third of the planet, if you
think on how many kids impress between 12 and 16 turns."

"Oh you did very well then." Cailin exclaims as she lets her gaze alight on
the mark, "Very well indeed." Then a sly grin, "And what's my cut of the
action then? And would I ever speak ill of you, Shim?" Maybe the last was
rhetorical. "Aye, he did win something off of Wind Blown. I was surprised
he had bet at all." She nods, "Aye, Caritha. We exchanged a few words about
her treatment of people in the past and she seems t'think I need her pity."
Oh that had to go over well.

Cailin adds then to her fellow Journey, "But how many still act about five
after graduation?"

"I should've known. 'Tisn't the first time it's preceded me here. I don't
suppose," Kassi wonders, more amused than actually hopeful, "that you plan
t'break out a bottle of good scotch after saying that too? *Too bloody
many* Impress at twelve, 'twill agree. 'Tisn't supposed t'be allowed,
but... ach. I have t'presume the dragons know. I'm afraid t'ask what kin at
Benden Hold would have said of me." Cailin gets an appreciative chortle
when she asks after her cut; then, "Were you giving out tips? Oh, shame!
You couldn't have given me a tip too? Sigh. Sigh. What's the world coming
to. And... why on Pern would she think you need pity?"

Shimshon counters cheerfully, "How many journeyman act like children five
turns after promotion? Idiocy and immaturity are not restricted to riders."
While smiling, Shim's tone carries a bit of snarky 'common sense'. After
all, can't everyone figure that out for themselves?

"You still got the scotch, even with the reputation." Cailin helpfully
points out. "And Learan already promised you that tonight." Also helpfully,
but with a wink, then she ask, "Are there really that many at twelve? I
know my sis always says they are all kids, but she never gets so specific
to me." A dip of the shoulder, "No. I gave no tips today. Most mine were to
that little chit last night and had nothing t'do with runners. Though I
suppose I should have told her the Hall wasn't the place t'be if she was to
get sick at the sight of one. But I gather she thinks for my relationship
with Cain's father and the current life I lead. Funny. I wasn't thinking it
pity worthy." She does relent to nod, "Point, Shim. Good point. But they
doen't always go to her extremes, or think they have the right to get away
with it, based on parentage."

Kassima tosses in with a certain droll humor, "Idiocy and immaturity know
few restrictions at all. And as someone who can still occasionally be an
immature idiot--hopefully I don't flatter m'self with the 'occasionally'
part--I should, arguably, know. Truth, I don't think Caritha's that young."
A grin goes to Cailin. "True. Very true. Very, wonderfully true. I guess
there aren't that many who *Impress* at twelve... some few, but nay so many
as get Searched it seems. And really, that's nay so many either. It may be
more that they stick in the mind. D'you know, I get the feeling you may nay
like Caritha." The greenrider delivers that statement in a deadpan tone. "I
could imagine elements of it could be sympathy-worthy, mayhaps, depending,
but pity does seem odd."

Shimshon cants his head to the side to listen to Cailin's tale of woe.
"It's all about how folks are raised, you know. Weyrs are a steaming
cesspool of over indulgance," he drawls, with an aloof air. "I wasn't aware
we were supposed to pity you, Cailin. I was just told not to ask leading
questions." He gives the fellow Herder a wink.

"Aye, well. She claims t'have grown up since she was doing all the foolish
things I know of, but..." Cailin dismisses that with a wave of her hand,
"As to not liking her? She nearly got M'rek killed a time or two." That'd
be enough for Cai right there. "And no," this to both, and with a smile,
"No pity here. I've nothing needing that." She arches a brow though, "You
were told not to ask, eh?" Then adding, "I hadn't rated Weyrs so bad as all
that, but I'll take your word if you both say so."

"Is *that* what we're steaming cesspools of?" Kassima drawls. "I'd
wondered; you hear the term so oft, but they always neglect t'say cesspools
of *what*. Though I'd like t'be protesting for the record that I'd have
pulled up one of m'spawn by the hair if'n they got airs about being a
Weyrleader's child." Now she casts Cailin a glance that's openly startled.
"Nearly got him *killed*? That's a piece I hadn't heard yet. She was
personable enough the one time I met her, but.... 'Twouldn't really say
we're that bad. Spoiled children are spoiled children anywhere."

Shimshon glances at Kassima, giving her a curious look of agreement, "True
that. Still, I always find it helpful to be exactly with my denoucing of
places." He looks a little more curious hearing the 'Weyrleader's child'
comment, but makes a face of quiet amusement. "Spoiled. Huh."

Cailin chuckles at the bit on cesspools, but it's light and short lived.
She comments softly on the other instead. "His story to tell if he wishes,
I expect, but aye. I can't say as I've ever seen her being personable.
Maybe that's my luck. I see her doing stuff like abandoning Kegan to find
his own ride, be cause runners smell." She pulls a wry expression then,
"And them some spoiled. As if that chance of birth gives her rights above
all others. I've seen goldriders and Lady Holders with less airs about them."

Kassima inclines her head gravely to Shimshon. "That exactitude is
appreciated. And better overindulgence than some things, I should imagine."
As an afterthought, to--perhaps incorrectly--clarify, "Acting Weyrleader's
child I should say, in the case of two of mine. And Caritha is the daughter
of Matheny and S'rist. Hearsay would suggest she... perhaps has some slight
sense of entitlement because of it? But I have t'be admitting that I've nay
seen it in her for m'self." Another nod, this one Cailin's: "'Twill add
that story to the list. It does seem impolite, running off on Kegan; he
certes didn't seem thrilled about it."

Shimshon ehs very softly, "Having met Kegan on a pair of occasions, I
wouldn't hold that against her. And this Caritha's just another rider.
Can't see any entitlement there. Everyone knows no one can buy you a dragon
or inherit one. Just as many children of weyrleaders never impress as
children of holders not inherit."

"Not that Weyrs hold the market on over indulgence either." Cai replies
quietly, then her gaze alights on Shimshon before flicking back to Kassi,
"She takes it past the level and then some I'm accustomed to from one of
that line of birth." She shrugs, "Shouldn't matter how Kegan is. To have
abandoned him was turning her back on her assigned duty. I'm certain she
didn't bring him of the kindness of her heart. She is just another rider,
and yet she thinks herself more. I'm not sure if we should feel sorry for
her parents or shake them, based on her attitude."

Shimshon just grins a feral grin, "You wait until her parents aren't the
Weyrleaders, and watch the fall out, Cailin."

Kassima's head-bob to Shimshon this time is one of real agreement. "I'm nay
arguing that point; there isn't entitlement, and she's just another rider,
and furthermore that's naught t'be ashamed about. If'n Impression were
hereditary Pern would be swamped with dragons... she's nay the first I've
heard of--or met--though who mayhaps believed otherwise. Knew a Candidate
who thought having Weyrleader parents meant he was *destined* for a bronze;
that sort of thing. You don't get along with Kegan?" she wonders, curious,
eyebrows rising slightly. "I do believe you," she tells Cailin then. "At
the very least that she was like that once. I couldn't say now. But am I
horrid for admitting that if'n 'tis true what's said of her, then I'd bet
that fallout could be sort of darkly entertaining?"

Cailin grins crookedly in return, "Now that would be something. And
Matheny...She's been Sr for some time now, hasn't she?" She glances then to
Kassi, nodding along with her comments until Kegan, and then she grins,
"Well... He's not the most friendly of us herders. Not that I've ever had
trouble with that in him." Then she shrugs, "She lcaims to have the love of
some new bronzerider now, and that she's different. But she was awfully
defence to me last night. And claiming I put words in her mouth. Now I'll
admit, I gave as good as I got, but I wasn't doing that other."

Shimshon rubs his lips, keeping a smile from spreading rather effectivly.
"Journeyman Kegan and I clash," he demures. "I'm hardly the friendliest
herder, Cailin, and Kegan makes me look downright politic."

"Rather awhile," Kassima confirms, "though I'd nay be surprised if'n
Jenryth has plenty of clutching Turns left. Mayhaps as well for the
'Reaches if'n so; I've never heard aught particularly bad about her regime.
'Tis so?" Surprised, she subsides into a moment's musing. "Odd. Nay that I
recall him as the most outgoing and polite lad I'd ever met or aught, but.
His father's one of m'best friends," she adds, ostensibly to explain how
she knows him. "His mother a dear friend too. I haven't seen much of Kegan
since he came to the Hall. Some new bronzer, is it? Well. Love can wreak
great changes and all that--mayhaps 'twill do that for her, if'n it hasn't
yet."

Cailin inclines her head to acknowledge what Shim says, but adds, "Aye.
Mayhap you aren't. But we've never been at odds either, that I'm aware of,
now have we? Maybe you and he just are too alike when it comes to such."
And maybe Cailin saves her claws for those that give her a reason to
unsheathe them. Wanna be lady holders, wanna be queenriders that sit on
greens. "Mayhap she does. I hardly claim expertise in the matter of
dragons." She said her peace on Kegan already maybe, for she skips on to
say, "Someone from Igen or something. She thought maybe I was acting on
behalf of someone jealous of her catch."

Shimshon, who would make a lousy goldrider, opines, "Well, bronzeriders
aren't all that, in my mind. Blowhard and bluster. Still, I'm off to take
my round in the tent, Cailin." He tilts his head with a looking that is
patently meant to be 'dashing' and lands squarely in smart arse,
"Wingleader, nice to have made your aquantiance."

Shimshon carefully makes his way along the straw path leading into the
BeastCraft Gather Area.

Kassima comments with a nose-wrinkle of confusion, "That's a bit strange.
Unless she didn't know 'twere a friend of M'rek's? Oh, but you did mention
being posted--sort of--at Igen; mayhaps she thought of that, if'n she knew
the fact." She has to grin at Shimshon's sentiment. "They aren't *all*
bad," she says, but there's laughter under the words; then, called after,
"Likewise a pleasure! --Good t'finally be able t'put a name t'his face.
I've seen him about a time or two, but I don't think we'd ever formally
met. Does he act thus every time he meets someone?"

Cailin laughs as Shim makes his parting remarks, watching with sparkling
eyes as he heads off, "That one is pure devilment." A fond complement,
that. "Well, not everyone. He's downright rude on occasion, but usually
this is more like it." She returns to the other with a sigh, "As I told
her. I don't keep tabs on her, unless she's getting into something that
causes me to feel the ripples of her actions. I'm not sure she'd known I
was ever at Igen until last night. but I wasn't at my most diplomatic last
night. Didn't sound like it was as a friend of M'rek's she expected me to
be reacting to jealousy. Someone from Igen there again. I wasn't fully
listening."

"He seems a potentially entertaining sort," Kassima says with a grin. "The
sort who's probably popular. I'm nay complaining. Does
she--Caritha--*often* do things that cause ripples for you?" The question
had to be asked; her curiosity wouldn't permit otherwise. "Nay, wouldn't
thik she'd expect you t'be *jealous*. She thought 'twere jealous? Faranth.
All I know is, if'n I'd had a messy break-up with someone--and I gather
theirs was mayhaps nay clean?--I'd expect that person's friends t'mayhaps
nay be so keen on me."

Kassima thinks about this a moment after saying it, however, and admits,
"Or perhaps nay. I like t'be thinking so, but I don't think I ever
*expected* anyone from Igen t'glare at me on Ev's behalf after our mess or
the like. Who knows."

"Popular." Cailin sounds that out, looking again in the direction Shim left
in, "Memorable at least. And I suppose he is in some circles. I let him get
away with a fair bit when he'd visit Bitra as an apprentice, I admit." Who
was spoiling then? "Not since my move here, not really. -- Jealous that
things were so well for her now, I expect. since I've had no 'relationship'
since Vorlin." And that amuses Cai too, "But she thought me listening to
those that didn't approve or were jealous of her now. Not so much that I
was jealous, I think."

After sinking to a seat on the roadside--a move she explains with a wry,
"As long as we've been standing, m'back is killing me"--Kassima decides,
"Memorable might be better. In its way. Is there a story there? Sounds as
if'n there could be." She draws her knees up to prop her chin on them.
"Hah. She has a relationship with an Igenite, and yet is thinking that
distance means a relationship's ended? Strange lass. Well, but aye, 'twill
give her that then. Unless you're implying she thinks *M'rek* is jealous."

Cailin follows suit, with no protest, "Of letting him get away with things?
Oh, nothing glamorous. Just never let Learan know I was letting his
apprentice drink wine from the Lord's table." She chuckles then, "Well, I
didn't correct her. It's no business of hers what I do, or who I'm involved
with. Just as I didn't care who she was. I only said I minded that she
thought to interfere in what M'rek does. If when they were together, she
wanted to fight with him, fine. But following him to Bitra. Having dinner
with Vorlin and telling him things M'rek wished private. Those sorts of
things. Fighting with him in the great hall there for all to see... She
should have respected his choice in that regard, even if she didn't in her
heart." The last a shake of the head. "If she's having a rough time of it
at Igen. It's know concern of mine. Most of those I spent time with when
there are no longer so. Learan back here. Alex Impressed at Reaches.
Terrilia is still there I reckon though."

Kassima has to drolly agree, "The Craftmaster might nay approve of that.
I'm guessing he didn't get drunk and wreak havoc, given that he's still
alive and assuming Learan hasn't heard about it. Does she still interfere
with M'rek these days?" Her brows both take a jump upwards, and it's a fair
bet she forgets all about that just-asked question in favor of asking in
something like incredulity, "She... are you saying she spied on M'rek for
Lord Vorlin? While she was *with* M'rek? Fighting's uncouth but nay beyond
the pale of comprehension--nay saying 'tis a good locale for it,
mind--but... but...." She just seems entirely nonplussed by this.
"Faranth," she finally settles on saying. "Terrilia? Aye, I saw her at the
last Igen Hatching. Her daughter Taliene Impressed a green then, Zielith;
had you heard?"

"Aye. He'd not approve. But aye, there was nothing there t'have a concern
over. He enjoyed the wine, he wasn't working, and I was there t'keep an eye
on him." Cailin shrugs, "He's a good ld, in some ways." And maybe Cai has a
blind spot where her 'boys' are concerned. "I'm not sure if she does. She
says not. He says nothing, so I have no reason to doubt. But spied for
Vorlin. Well, mayhap not on purpose. But she told him of Sria, when M'rek
didn't want him to know. I know that much. That it was that little chit's
doing. I know she was somehow involved with when M'rek drunk himself into
near oblivion and passed out in the Lord's sitting room. Not always
directly, but still. She could have caused far more harm than occurred, but
she came so close to costing me my protector." Where protector seems to
always mean so much more to the herder than the word implies. She pauses at
the last, Her daughter did? In truth? No. I didn't know."

"I tend t'be a stickler for the wine rule m'self, but--hard t'be refusing
wine from a Lord Holder's table," Kassima admits. "I didn't say aught about
it when the Weyrlings were offered wine at Bitra either, even though I half
thought I should. How often does one get a chance t'taste something of that
quality without paying through the nose for it? I've nay heard aught about
Caritha in *present* terms from him either, for what that's worth, but I'm
scarcely as close t'him as you." A rather slow nod follows. She looks
thoughtful. "M'rek didn't want him t'know... that makes a kind of sense.
One would like t'think 'twas some unknowing slip of the tongue, but the way
you put it makes me think 'twasn't? She really doesn't sound as if'n she
was healthy for him on any level. Even if'n *'twas* accident. You weren't
exaggerating, then, when you said she might've gotten him--protector and
friend, I'm guessing--killed?" She lifts brows again, but there's concern
to war with curiosity. After, "Aye, and she seemed thrilled about it. As I
certes understand. I hadn't even known the lass was Standing until I got
there."

"It was just the once, for the wine." A special occasion, or a treat maybe,
in her eyes. Cailin shrugs, "Not sure many others it would have occurred to
me to even offer. But I gave Shim his first riding lesson, back before he
was even an apprentice. He offered the weyrlings wine?" She asked, amused. 
"Oh surely he knew. That was a wicked tease. I'm glad you let them sample 
the delights. I do hope none of them got in over their heads." She nods, 
"I suspect she is trying to move on. I probably shouldn't have goaded her 
when she clearly wasn't setting it aside. But I so wanted to say far more 
than I did last night a turn or so ago." Another nod, "Not then. Not when 
they were still new. But no, it was no slip of the tongue. Vorlin can be 
overwhelming for those not used to him." She's not so blind to who and how 
her own lover is. "I wasn't exaggerating, no. M'rek walks many fine lines 
in order to, well. Lets just say keep the peace and leave it at that. He'd 
not appreciate me saying too much." And a smile with the last. "Then I'm 
happy for her. She was kind to me during my time there. And I had few I 
was even remotely friendly with." Not so surprising.

Kassima's smile is more amused than the comment would seem to call for, an
inward-directed amusement more than one that's clearly for the Herder.
"There's something special about the bond with someone you've taught,
sometimes," is all she'll say. "He didn't take advantage of the offer
t'drink too much and go overboard, so it sounds as if'n your choice of whom
t'be offering it to was sound. And aye, he did--did he know?" Now her
amusement is definitely turned outward. "I shouldn't be surprised. I'truth
'twas probably more the Assistant Weyrlingmaster who allowed it per se, but
it all went well--if'n any drank themselves lightheaded, they hid it
grandly. I don't know what t'say about that," 'that' being Caritha
apparently. "If'n she's trying t'go on from it then that may be t'her
credit; on the other hand, mayhaps you needed t'say what you said. Keeping
anger penned and never expressing it doesn't always lead good places. Nay,
if'n you'll forgive me for saying it, that I'd lay heavy wagers on you and
she ever being dearest friends in this lifetime anyway." She gives an
unsurprised nod. "That's what M'rek has said. Useful trait in a Lord
Holder, in a way. Shells. If'n he was with Sria then--so this was after he
and she had broken it off? What was it, spite? Shells. That's... fair
revolting. 'Twill nay press on the other. I guess it doesn't really
surprise me that he could get himself killed, truly could, but more that
someone who'd been involved with him would consciously put him in such a
place." For a moment, her disgust is clear in her tone. Just for a moment;
she drops it in favor of a quick smile as she says, "Terrilia's always
seemed kind t'me, insofar as I know her. I don't spend much time at Igen.
Haven't for Turns."

Cailin shrugs again, but smiles, "Perhaps so. Maybe that's why I've always
seen Shim more amusing than annoying." Or again, she more tolerant where
most guys are concerned. "Well I don't know for certain, but I would assume
so. He -did- reside at Reaches before he was named Lord. But good if they
managed." The next brings out a light laugh, "No I don't reckon that we'll
ever be friends, she and I. Not that I would mind it. Funny the three
greenriders I'd be happy t'never again see are all from that Weyr." She
nods, "Many of the things I hear people say they dislike of him, are a
solid part of his success." She pauses, "Maybe spite. Maybe a misguided
hope for, well, something to change. She became a pawn in the game that was
played, without ever seeing it." Cai's voice more careful and more tired
then, "He's not so easy to kill, our M'rek. But there are often risks when
the stakes are high." Maybe She just toys with a fine line herself, "I
shouldn't talk of these things." Then a nod, "Aye. A fair few were just to
busy to give one such as me notice, but she gave me the time of day."

"Or he might just appeal t'your particular sense of humor," Kassi suggests,
a hint of teasing there to match the Herder's gentle ribbing of her
earlier. "Good point. As Steward, too, so he'd presumably have a clue who
was and wasn't drinking the wine. I'm certes nay complaining in the end.
After all, it allowed me--who was just schlepping along on the trip--t'be
drinking the wine, too." A brief, impish grin; a chuckle of agreement for
not-friends, and then a curious, "Three greenriders? Two more, then?
Mayhaps 'tis that you've met more 'Reaches riders because of how they do
seem t'get involved with Bitra. But nay, you've surely met Igen greenriders
too, so... funny. Aye. Huh; well, aye, I could see that, depending. There
are some traits good for getting things done that win only grudging
admiration." Although she makes a face again when the topic shifts to
Caritha, it softens, slightly, as she says, "Something t'change... well.
Still a fool and still revolting, but love... it doesn't always inspire the
best behavior." No kidding. "Agreed. And agreed. And you don't have t'speak
of them. I'm curious enough t'always ask questions, I know, but I don't
want t'push you--or him--into saying aught you'd rather nay or shouldn't.
Was it that way?" She starts to make a second face, but drops it
mid-scrunch and exhales a long sigh. "I can't pretend I know all of our
Crafters even by sight either. I just don't see some of 'em. Especially
since I half like t'get *out* of the Weyr when duties are done now, either
that or hole up with m'children--still, if'n they saw it as 'one such as
you' then a trio of fehs t'them. Crafters," here she smiles, abruptly, "can
be wonderful people t'know. People of any station can. Everyone has stories."

"He might." Cai replies quick enough. And judging from the company she
keeps as a preference, not far off base. She chuckles, "Just along for the
wine shocks me not." Then a nod, "Three. The child. The pretentious Trader
princess and her towering droll 'mate I think he is." No names for them
all? At least not now. "No. I only think I know one other greenrider from
Reaches." Her sister, surely, "I suppose it doesn't. it brings out the best
and the worst of our natures." Another nod, to cover the next, and she
picks up with, "Well. I was never the most approachable in those days. That
young upstart made Journey before me, then I was posted in his care. My own
fault for tardiness in my studies, but it stung enough I just worked a lot."

Kassima outright sticks out her tongue at the other woman. "Oh, 'twas nay
just along for the wine. What you think of me! 'Twas along also for the
*food*." After a beat she grins and promises, "Kidding. I like spending
time with Weyrlings, more like, and 'twas an excuse t'be visiting, which I
welcomed. 'Tis what wrangled me an invitation to the dinner, too. You've
heard of it? The one where M'rek sat Vahara in the Lord's chair? Assuming
he doesn't do that regularly." The nicknames would not seem to be
particularly enlightening for her. "Those descriptions don't match anyone I
know.... I don't know many of the 'Reaches, though. Don't often visit. I
just met Sria formally at the clutching, in fact, and likewise Josilina. I
should hope you'd know one other greenrider." Since not knowing one's
sister might be odd. "Aye. Love *found* can bring out the best. Love lost
or yearned for--nay so much. In m'limited experience with the emotion. I'm
guessing somehow from your phrasing that Learan Apprenticed somewhat after
you, aye?"

Cailin laughs in return, "I'm so sure." Then nods, "I would have liked to
have met this group as well. I always enjoyed those visits. Weyrlings are
so much more respectful than Flock." She blinks then, and shakes her head,
"Vahara in Vorlin's chair. Shard no, not regularly at all. Never before is
more like it." Then she gives a little shake of her head, "Caritha, the
child. Rylla." And that name given with such distaste, even for the saying
of it, "And Ny... Oh shards. I've forgotten his full name. Surly creature
I'd prefer never to cross paths with." She relaxes though, "Aye. The
sisters are nice enough." And then a grin for her own. "True. So many ups
and downs there. And I'm the elder of us. For all that he grew up here, of
course. I made Sr before him, then he outstripped me from that point on."

"You're still welcome t'come by Telgar any time t'meet as many of 'em as
you can catch," Kassima promises, idly toying with a small stone she's
picked up from the ground. "Or you might meet one of 'em at least if'n you
should go t'High Reaches t'see your sister or aught--V'lano's Volath caught
Lhiannonth; I can't recall whether I ever mentioned that. It didn't seem
like a regular event." She seems rather amused by the memory of it. "The
Lord came in late--something detained him early on, so M'rek was playing
host until Vahara arrived. He gave himself the Lady's chair, and then when
the Lord did come in, that's the chair he gave Vorlin. He sat by Emilly and
me after and just could nay stop laughing about the whole thing. I don't
know either of those names," she confesses, of the greenriders. "Nay
offhand, at least. Mayhaps I should be grateful. That had t'be
peculiar--does it have aught t'do with that thorn-in-his-side position you
told me about, or with his loading on the hidework now?"

"Aye. Maybe at that concert." She watches the toying with the rock, as she
goes on, "Aye. I should go, and mayhap I'd see him. Not seen many clutches
in truth." Cailin raises a hand to cover her mouth then, "He didn't move
her. No. Of course he didn't. Oh naughty M'rek!" But her own eyes are
filled with mirth, and surly that hands covers a smile. A nod for not
knowing, and that's all. "Peculiar at the time, but it was my own contrary
nature that held me back while he soared. I don't begrudge him that, now at
least. A little then, maybe. And he's asked me not to call myself that
anymore. Though he says I am a pain just the same."

Kassima agrees, "Mayhaps, whenever it ends up being. I'm nay sure. Haven't
asked Rodric about it lately--but I'd certes encourage going t'see the eggs
if'n you haven't seen many. It might just be the rider in me, a'course, in
which case feel free t'discount it, but eggs... they don't fascinate or
enthrall me as much as they used t'do, but there's still something special
about them. The moreso when you know and like the dragon who sired 'em,
mayhaps. I rather had the feeling it was something naughty." Her eyes have
a suspiciously merry sparkle. "Going by the laughter. Only M'rek, I swear.
It certes made his night." As for the subject of begrudging, she can only
offer a helpless shrug and a wry, "Would you be human if'n you hadn't,
once? 'Tis hard t'see people promoted over your head--especially if'n, at
the time, you can't really see why. It mayhaps speaks well of him if'n he
doesn't want you t'think of yourself that way. He seems a generally good
man from m'limited experience, though a'course you might expect me t'say
that of anyone who regularly offers me scotch."

Cailin nods, "Well, not as if I'm going anywhere in the meantime. At least,
as in. When ever it is, well is fine." She nods, "Learan wouldn't mind if I
go, so long as he knows. What with being his assistant and all." Just that,
sure, "It'd be nice to see them." She nods quickly wit the next, "Only
M'rek could have and still walked away laughing." Maybe Cailin -could- but
she never would more likely than not. Some comparisons can neve be made, "I
suppose that's true. I've been happy enough since I made Journey that it
didn't matter after that." She smiles then, softly, "He is a good man.
Maybe that was the change too. I saw him through different eyes. Not the
crafter who passed me, but the man behind that. Not that I'll be easy on
him, just because." But don't all leaders need someone to dish it out
straight?

"Even if'n you did go somewhere, I imagine--barring odd
circumstances--M'rek or I could probably come find you and offer a lift
if'n you still wanted t'go," says Kassima, nodding agreeably. "Mayhaps
M'rek would be better. He did mention suitable escorts. You might like some
of them... mayhaps all of them; 'twas a good group, really. I'm partial
particularly to a few, but all of 'em are stellar." Another agreeing nod
then, this one rather emphatic. She chortles under her breath and says, "I
have t'be admitting, it did particularly amuse me when he put himself in
the Lady's chair. For one moment, I had this mental image--I'm horrible, I
know--of M'rek in a red wedding gown standing next to the Lord, as his
Lady. 'Tis a miracle I didn't start snickering too. And aye... sometimes
the good things that happen make old worries or resentments seem
inconsequential, 'tis nay so?" A smile crosses her face in response to the
other woman's, one which holds some measure of understanding. "It does make
a difference. Knowing the person, nay just the position--or the image. Is
it mayhaps *because* you know and seem t'be fond of the person that you
won't be easy on him?"

"M'rek, Learan trusts, aye. M'rek as an escort I need not ask so much
permission, really. To be honest, I've never asked if there is anyone else
he's comfortable with. My unscheduled jaunt the other day was with the
watchrider. And the first time in nearly two turns I was on a dragon other
than Ulf." Gee, now what had Cailin imaged a cage? "I'll ask." She nods, "I
heard a few things, thought not many. I thought they might be." Hand over
mouth again, she giggles, "M'rek in a red gown... Maybe one kilt should
be?" The amusement slowly fades to a comfortable smile, "Aye, that is so."
And there is a more secretive smile then at the rest, stirring a different
memory perhaps as she nods, "Aye. A man can wear many faces. it's good to
know the different ones. But perhaps you have some of the right of it for
me, with Learan. Because I know him.. I know I can be more free to be less
easy if..."

Kassima bobs her head to this. "I daresay M'rek can keep you safe as well
as anyone. Is he all right with the watchrider?" Maybe it's the word
'unscheduled' that made her wonder, or the implication that only M'rek has
been officially deemed acceptable. "If'n he isn't, nay offense taken,
certainly. Convenient for you though if'n he is; if'n you wanted t'get out
and do something, 'twould nay be quite so critical that M'rek be available
just then if'n you had other options. Have you heard? Oh, aye, Amarie's
here now. I'd nigh forgotten. Does she speak of J'len?" Another
enthusiastic nod: "Red and purple! 'Twould be so, so perfect, in an odd
way. He might even pull the look off. Though... well, mayhaps you'd know; I
always wondered but keep forgetting to ask. *Why* does he shave his head?"
Inquiring minds want to know! A hint of amusement appears in her eyes in
response to this smile from Cailin, as if she can at least guess at the
subject of the memory if not the content; no vocal comment on that, though.
She instead settles for, "Many, aye--and some false, but nay all. Multiple
faces can be true. Mayhaps that, with Learan, might be part of why he made
you his assistant, too? Could be he values it that you're willing t'be a
pain sometimes. Odd though that sounds."

"I don't know. He just said tell him next time before I go out." Must be
she's not been out since? "I'd suppose he does." Cai pauses and then
smiles, "I think you've found something else I need to discuss with him for
me. It's frustrating, but I also know it's in everyone's best interest that
I do even the little things correctly." There might be more to that, but it
keeps, "His head? Oh... He doesn't always. Did it as a weyrling first, but
there was a time he started to let it grow out after he'd been made my
protector. It's, well, a gesture of some significance for him." She
considers the last, "Certainly many such faces can be true. I am Herder, I
am mother, I am friend. These all different facets of my self, with perhaps
some overlap. But still. I just see more than the Herder in Learan. Now
that I've taught myself too look. And I think your right on that. He even
might be amused by it now and again."

"M'pleasure t'be of service, if'n," Kassima says with some wry humor, "you
can call it that. In your own best interest too, if'n it spares you trouble
in the long run. At least it doesn't sound as if'n he doesn't want you
leaving at all. A gesture of some significance, huh?" There's a moment or
two spent mulling, no doubt, over what that might be, but she has to give
up guessing. "Mayhaps sometime I'll ask him. Doesn't really matter, it just
seems an odd choice. The shaved head certes makes him stand out, is
striking in its own way; but if'n his hair's black, 'twould think he'd look
better with it. Nay that I'm biased in favor of hair or aught." With that
braid? Of course not! She doesn't sound particularly lascivious in this
speculation on M'rek's hair, either; just musing. "Exactly. I'm Wingleader,
rider, lifemate, mother, woman, friend, lover, Kassima--all of 'em somewhat
different. Then add to those the masks, and I don't doubt 'tis possible for
one person t'wear a thousand faces if'n they wanted. Or for some of those
faces t'feel frozen in place, sometimes... like the rank-face, speaking of
Craftmasters." She smiles to herself, somewhat softly. "I don't know
whether every Craftmaster feels the same, but I'd imagine he does value the
people in his life who don't see *just* the Masterherder. Or just the
Herder. He's more than that, even if'n the roles might play a big part in
who he is now."

"Aye, well. He tells me I'm not in a gilded cage of his design." Cai pauses
to shrug, "He didn't argue that I wasn't in one of my own making though."
Of M'rek she just says, 'I think black,' almost absently. she nods along
with the rest pausing to consider the last, "I expect your right. He might
not ask me to stop calling him sir, but I would say his wife might be the
only other one of us close in age to him here at the Hall that would speak
her mind to him. And she sees a different view of the man." Cai then gets
to her feet, "We should go get ready for dinner, I think. Before we talk
our way through it. By the by, so your not overly surprised, Learan doesn't
eat meat. Not sure we'll be served any at his table."

Kassima has to allow after a moment, "Don't know from what little I know
whether I could argue that one, either. Doesn't mean you made the choices
you did with the idea of designing a cage, mind. Who does? Besides the
people who long for a little more security and stability of sorts than I'd
want. His eyebrows are black." Ostensibly this would mean M'rek, not
Learan. "I think. Haven't made a close study. I think you've probably hit
the nail of it--doubtless his wife is beyond dear t'him, but it might be
valuable of him too t'have someone who sees him as... friend, mayhaps, of a
sort? T'let him be *that* version of himself, as well as Masterherder, and
as well as Learan-the-husband. A'course, since I know him very little
indeed this is pure theory on m'part." She follows the Journeywoman's suit,
taking care to swipe any dust from the ground off of her trousers. "Sounds
like a plan. 'Twill follow your lead." Which probably didn't need to be
said. Her brows do pop up at this news; "He doesn't? Huh. I don't know
whether I should find that very surprising or nay surprising at all. Well,
so long as 'tisn't a meal comprised entirely of tubers, I can probably
swing it."

Cailin nods, "No. I hadn't the intent, but now I see the bars. Not
everyday, but now and again. And true, black." They do slide from one to
the next so well, "Aye, that sort of viewing, I expect." Did she almost
call him a friend then, with that? She gestures for the path and starts
down it, "I'm sure you'll be quite pleased with the meal, though I can't
promise *no* tubers, there might be one or two. And just keep in mind the
scotch, if it looks scary." That last, clearly a tease, with the smile to
go with it.

"Hopefully the bars will be temporary, however solidly they hold at the
moment. Or another choice might yet open the cage." Kassima flashes a smile
for the implication of sorts, of friendship, whether it's stated outright
or not; evidently that's how she's reading it. Ambling in the Herder's
wake, she gives a low chuckle: "I'd nay expect the Craftmaster t'keep a
poor table, nay, and even if'n I *am* normally more carnivore than
herbivore... there's plenty of lovely meat-free food out there. And even
if'n there weren't," brightening on this point, "scotch makes everything
better!" She grins after saying this, and winks to show her appreciation of
the joke. "I might be willing t'share the bottle, y'know," quite as if it
would otherwise be all hers; that too is tease, "if'n you let me hide
behind you from tubers, regardless."

[Editor's Note:  And with that, they head off to Cailin's
cottage to change for dinner.  Log ends. :) ]