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An Evening For Reminiscence


Date:  May 8, 2003
Place:  Telgar Weyr Lake Shore
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:  Whether it's memories of getting drunk on brandy, 
memories of M'rgan's eyes popping, or memories of Candidacy, reflections 
on the past are somewhat the theme of the evening when first Taylin and 
later K'ran run across Kassima at the Lake Shore early one night.
Potential deals and clutchmates past and present are also discussed.
And isn't it such a shame that Kassi didn't run into Kich or Tali 
before the day was done, to pass on K'ran's message? ;)

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The Log:

Taylin heads over from the central bowl.

Kassima isn't on the Lake's shore so much as in the grass bordering it,
sitting in the hollow formed by her dragon's crescent-curled body. There's
a stylus behind her ear and hides in what's left of her lap. She seems
completely oblivious to her surroundings.

Taylin is just kinda wandering around. It seems the girl is just out a bath
or has just coming from swimming, a her hair is still damp and hanging
loosely around her shoulders. Humming softly to herself as she goes along,
the woman inside of the curl of her dragon isn't noticed until nearly the
last moment.

With Kassi's eyes and attention on those hides she's studying, it's
probably no major surprise that she still doesn't seem to notice such a
quiet presence--Lysseth, though, is slightly more aware: the green raises
her head a trifle, turning about to fix Taylin with a mild, considering
look. At length she gives a brief rumble that might be considered salutation.

Taylin smiles and gives the green a quiet greeting with just those and no
words spokan. Looking skyward to check the sun's postion then back at the
lake with a considering look, as if the cool waters area a true temptation.

"A bit late for swimming," Kassi comments, without looking up; her eyes
haven't left the hide, but Lysseth's are still watching. "Nay reason you
couldn't do it regardless--'twould scarcely be the first t'swim at night!
There's a peace to it--but the water's apt t'be cold."

Taylin nods "Aye, but it would be relaxing after the lang day of sewing and
mending I put into today, well that and helping a few of those candidates
assigned to help us as a chore."

Kassima tugs the stylus down from her ear to scrawl a note on the topmost
hide. "Ah, so they *are* assigned t'help the sewing folk. Yselle must be
nay end of thrilled." There's a certain amusement in her voice there. "Why
here rather than the Springs? I'd probably go more in for hot water as a
relaxant, m'self--though there's something t'be said for the Lake being
more open."

Taylin stretches her arms above her head "I like to swim and after a few
goods lengths from the shore to somewhere out there" waving a hand out
toward the depths of the lake "I'm relaxed and ready to crawl into my cot
for a good nights sleep."

Kassima finally does look up; her brows are quirked in a curious
expression. "The dragon pool's more than large enough for swimming in," she
points out, still amiably amused. "But suit yourself. Shells, scarcely
m'business where you want t'swim anyway, unless you plan t'yodel loudly
while you do it or something. Which I'm guessing you don't, though I
suppose y'never know."

Taylin laughs "Actually, I'll probabley opt out for a swim tonight and just
have a glass of something slightly strong to help me off to that great
slumber land." turning away from the water to offer an introduction "I'm
Taylin, seamstress."

"Brandy? Benden wine?" Kassi asks, interest caught and sounding wistful.
"Lucky thing. Oh, I'm Kassima. Or Kassi, if'n you'd rather; all the same
t'me. This lump I'm leaning against calls itself Lysseth. So are you going
t'be taking bribes from Candidates t'help 'em with their robes when the
time comes? It sounds like the sort of thing that could make you a wealthy
woman."

Taylin hmmmmms as she ponders the options "One of those would work, though
more then likely the brandy is what I'll drink." now on to the the bribes
"I hadn't though about it, though I'm sure I'll end up helping those who
need it. It is nice to meet you both."

Kassima breathes out a long sigh, and this time the wistfulness is
definite. "Brandy... I haven't had a good brandy in *months*. Methinks when
this bairn is born and weaned, I'm going t'celebrate by going to the Hulk
and getting completely schnockered on brandy." Pause. "Which just goes
t'show, I never learn. Never mind. What, helping them for *free*? That's
certes generous of you, and I'm sure they'll adore you for it, but I'd
really at least make 'em do some of m'chores or something. It only seems
fair. And I can just imagine how many raspberries the whole Candidate class
would be blowing me right now, if'n they could hear me say that. Likewise a
pleasure, a'course."

Taylin chuckles as she plops down on a nearby rock "Well I'msure they could
help me with a few things." now that the idea is growing in her head "How
much longer before your little is born?"

Kassima's grin holds both amusement and encouragement. "That's the way
t'look at it. Never give 'em something for naught! Unless they've been
very, very kind, I suppose." She lets go of the hides long enough to fold
her hands over her abdomen. "Two more months, it should be. I can't say I'm
sorry. Being as large as a bloody cothold gets old."

Taylin nods as she fights off the surge of giggles that comes from the way
the rider describes herself "Theres plenty that they could do if they want
help with the robes though they aren't hard to make at all."

"Nay hard for you, mayhaps! 'Twas one of those Candidates who couldn't sew
a stitch. Made making straps a treat when the time came for *that*, let me
tell you," and Kassi crinkles her nose at the memory. "I ended up taking an
old robe from Stores when some of m'Barracks-mates found a stash of 'em. I
know Yselle told me she can't sew worth a shard either. I wonder how many
others of this bunch can't."

Taylin hrmmms "I like working with leather, my dad does that. I learned
alot from him, it's fun to see things emerge from leather or material."
nodding as the talk of the candidates goes on "Maybe a class could be given
to them just ot give them some uselful pointers."

Kassima makes a good-natured face. "Ach, speak for yourself! Though I can
see your point, really. I'm fascinated by what m'cousin can do with
cloth--he's a Weaver--and what other of m'Crafter cousins can do within
their mediums. But I can't really make much m'self, excepting food and
dubious music. So I leave such things to those who can. If'n you like
leather, why are you a seamstress instead of Apprenticing at Tanner or
Weaver, if'n 'tisn't a rude question?" To the last question, she nods.
"It's been done a'fore. Mightn't hurt. Though I hope Craftmaster Katlynn
wouldn't come here *herself* t'teach it. Probably she wouldn't."

Taylin shrugs "I don't know really, I just like being here and working with
people I know. Being a simple seamstress isn't so bad really. I mean I do
get to do other things as well." nodding about the CM "Aye but you know one
of the seamstresses could teach them all a few simple stitches."

Kassima lifts one shoulder in an amiable shrug. "Well, another place you
should be suiting yourself. Whatever makes you happy--and there's naught
wrong with having hobbies you don't really want t'pursue professionally.
'Tis true enough, what you say. Any particular seamstresses in mind?"

Taylin shrugs "I could do or Iania or any of the others really. A few
simple things for them to know wouldn't hurt them at all."

"Certes 'twouldn't," Kassima readily agrees, scooting back a bit to lean
against her dragon's warm side. "Even robes aside, those that Impress will
have t'make straps someday. And we certes don't want even the ones who
don't in robes whose shoulder-seams are going t'give out and send the robes
tumbling to the Sands. Naked Candidates might be entertaining for the
spectators, but we'd never hear the end of it."

Taylin cants her heead to one side thoughtfully "It would be a sight to
see." but once more she nods "You have a point, it was just an idea."

"A'course 'tis, and a good one. 'Twas supporting it, nay arguing against
it," Kassi points out with a quick grin. "Wouldn't it, though? Or we might
see 'em in comical underthings if'n nay naked. I've heard tales of lads
whose robes got ripped and 'twere wearing purple shorts beneath, or pickle
green, that sort of thing."

Taylin covers her mouth as she giggles erupt "Oh dear, I do think they;ll
need some pointers, I'll ask around maybe a few of us could do something to
help them." nodding as is a great idea is bloming, "Yes thats it,"

"Just remember," Kassi teases, "t'make sure you get something in exchange!
The Candidates' good will, if'n naught else. Or promises that if'n they
Impress, they have t'take you to exotic places in the future! Assuming you
want t'go anywhere--have you ever spent much time out of Telgar? Ever been
t'Boll, or Ista, or Nerat, or Ruatha, or anywhere like that?"

Taylin shakes her head "No I've never been away from here, though the idea
of seeing afew new places would be interesting." grinning slightly "One day
perhaps I shall.

Kassima agrees, agreeably, "Certes nay reason you couldn't. Nay use living
in a Weyr if'n you can't beg rides now and then--I'd recommend the Rusted
Hulk, if'n you're a fan of brandy. Hugh makes the finest in the world, for
all that nigh all else he stocks is the revolting Tillek Swill--and Boll's
another wonderful place for drinking. Or the Dawn Sisters, at Starcraft."
The greenrider makes an amused face. "Trust me t'know. I sometimes think
if'n there's one thing I'm an expert on, 'tis where the good drinks are."

Taylin nods with a thoughtfull hmmmmm "I wonder if he's got a good peach
brandy, I had some once a long time ago." with a sharp nod "I'll have to
get there one day and find out for myself thats for sure."

"Peach brandy." Kassima sounds thoughtful herself. "At the *Hulk*,
'twouldn't be thinking so, but you might try Benden's Winecraft for that.
Peach brandy's what methinks I drank with Is the last time 'twas there.
Bloody fine vintage 'twas, too. Did you get it from a Trader, the brandy
you had, or was it available in the Cavern for awhile?"

Taylin shrugs "I got it from a rider that had been somewhere." shrugging
once more "I don't know where he got, but he was a nice one to share it
with, to bad I can't remember his name."

Kassima has to grin at this. "Alcohol can be detrimental to the memory,"
she readily agrees. "A shame you don't, or I'd ask him where he got it
m'self, if'n he's still about. A new source of good brandy would be worth
knowing."

K'ran heads over from the central bowl.

A canine -- a golden-furred and lean male -- races up to the shore of the
lake first, and delivers a couple of sharp barks to herald his master,
K'ran, who comes trotting up to leash the beast. "Jays, slow down, hey?" is
the man's good-natured grumble. "I already had my run today. Wanted to
*walk*, now."

Kassima is settled in the lee of her dragon's curved shape, more on the
meadows bordering the Lake's shore than the actual shore itself. She's
leaning back against Lysseth's side, something the green is tolerating
remarkably well. Said green is idly watching the waters of the Lake lap and
ripple while her rider speaks with Taylin. "A'course," she adds after a
long moment, once again thoughtful, "if'n he *has* a good source of brandy,
this rider, he mightn't be willing t'share. He might have something like
S'riv's stash going on, only with peach brandy." The barks get a start and
a slight wince for their sharpness, but her greeting call of, "Evening,
K'ran," is nevertheless amiable.

[Editor's Note:  Taylin got disconnected here.]

Leashed, Steel evens his temper rapidly, and settles to demonstrate his
ferocity by taking up a stray stick in his mouth and beginning to gnaw.
"Evening, yourself," grins the Weyrleader back to Kassima -- and Taylin,
too, is included in that broad smile. "Who's caching liquor, now?"

"Apparently, someone whose name the lass doesn't remember," Kassi reports,
flashing him a grin in exchange--if only after an amused look for the
canine and his quest of stick-annihilation. "More's the pity since it means
I can't interrogate whoever 'tis about the source. Nay that I could drink
it for a good long while yet, but I'm already looking forward t'making up
for lost time. Are you taking him for a walk?" She gestures with the stylus
towards Steel, as if the him in question weren't clear. "Or did he decide
t'drag *you* out of your weyr, away from all the glories of hidework and
maps and sweep reports?"

"Little of both, really," says K'ran ruefully, his cheeks nonetheless
dimpling with the admission. "I was headed out to kind of collect myself,
you know? Take a breath, rest the writing hand, all that. And he decided
it'd be fun to sniff around after me, and bark at anything interesting." He
drops to one knee, now, by the dog's side, and begins scratching Steel's
ears briskly even as the stick-destruction proceeds apace. "Which is better
than having him barking at anything interesting *indoors* -- I value my
hearing and all." He pauses there, to drift a longer look over at
Thunderbolt's Wingleader, and wonders, "How far along are you, now?"

There's a quiet laugh from Kassima. "Oh, I know," she assures in wry humor.
"Sometimes you just have t'get away from it all a'fore your brain boils out
your ears--wouldn't *that* be messy; you'd never get the stain from your
tunic. Are many things interesting him? Apart, a'course, from that poor
unfortunate stick. Nay that 'tisn't giving its life for a good cause: it
dies, but you keep your hearing; it all works out." She's going for
deadpan, but missing, with her amusement just a trace too obvious. "Just
over seven months now, thanks be t'Faranth. Nay that I'm nay enjoying it.
And nay that I'm nay enjoying the break from work. But there's such a thing
as too much of a good thing, and also too much of a bad thing, such as
starting t'rival the bronzes for bloody size."

K'ran's smile turns a bit wry, and he turns his eyes back down to the dog.
"Depends on your perspective, I guess, on 'many'. There are lots of shoes
in the world, no? He's got some kind of secret hiding place he hauls any
stray ones off to," and his smile strengthens again, along with the mirth
growing in his own eyes, "which, come to think of it, might be the same
place this mystery rider is hiding his stash of hooch at." The canine now
tires of the stick, and K'ran leaves him to wander a bit; Steel trots
around behind one of the boulders and begins digging a hole there. "So
another two months and we should make sure all the tables in the living
cavern are clear?"

Kassima tucks the stylus back in place behind her ear, with the hides by
now almost entirely forgotten. Her eyes track the canine's wandering as she
responds, "Enough certes t'qualify as 'many' if'n that's t'his interest,
and poor you... I'd make some crack about him being a fancy Holder's
daughter in a canine's body, with such a fancy for shoes, only with
Candidates about I don't quite want t'risk it. There might be someone
'twould offend. And how much, I must be asking, would it cost me t'bribe
you into sharing those secret stashes, if'n he did turn up having a gift
for finding 'em--and were willing t'point out where they were?" Cheerfully,
she adds to this, "With a special bonus if'n he could find S'riv's fabled
store. Oh, don't tell me you *believe* Mart's wailing that I'm out t'spawn
on someone's table. That was *Jazmin*. And she only spawned *beside* the
table. I have nay particular desire for that sort of exposure, so t'speak."

K'ran draws one finger across his breast in a cross, and promises, "If he
leads me to anything tasty or valuable, I promise to share, but fair
warning: he's not much of a hunter, really." Now Steel, apparently
satisfied with his hole, has dropped the chewed stick inside, and begun
filling it over. "But, erm. Exposure or no, wouldn't it be worth
scandalizing M'rgan, again? I mean, I saw when Jazmin popped, and him get
all bug-eyed, like he'd swallowed a citronfruit. Probably not much of a
good example to set for the candidates, but..."

Kassima assures with dancing eyes, "'Twill nay count on it *too* heavily.
Nay holding m'breath until he pads up with a wineskin and a sack of
ten-mark pieces in his mouth or aught like that. Much as I like the idea,
I'm fond of living--and asphyxiation isn't m'planned way t'go." An amused
sound escapes her; she casts her eyes skyward. "Aye, sure, you can say
that, never having t'worry about that sort of exposure exactly--I'm *all*
for scandalizing Mart. I'm all for making his eyes pop out of his head. And
you should have seen him, by the way, the time 'twas proddy and chased him
around the Living Cavern with a dead fish demanding he take off his
pants--'twas a bit busy t'notice his expression, but I'm assured 'tis
priceless. But giving birth publically t'do it? Nuh-uh. Better t'talk some
other pregnant woman into it instead. You could mayhaps knock one up and
then try t'convince her?"

Musing, now, K'ran wonders, "Any good prospects for knocking-up? I've been
trying to convince Kichevio, but you know how she gets -- no respect for
her duty as a Thunderbolt rider. Or a former one. And with the
candidates..." He trails off into a shrug, there. "I have to be on best
behavior with them. Even the older ones, like this Yselle you brought in."

"Y'know, K'ran, I have trouble believing that even you would seriously
consider knocking up Candidates." Kassima casts him a sidelong, entertained
glance. "Especially when rumor would have it you have all the adult rider
women you could ever need. Kichevio would be m'guess for you, aye--you
could name the spawn Kiki!--but methinks I've heard her swear up and down
she'll never spawn again. Just as well N'var nabbed her out of Thunderbolt;
she'd have brought our averages down. Have you met Yselle, then?"

"The swearing," laments K'ran in an exaggerated sigh. "I mean, you keep
*hoping* she'll come around, since Kich makes such beautiful children. But
she's so sharding adamant about it." Humor displaces this complaint,
though, and he's shrugging, "Yselle, yeah. Her and Yvera -- who I was
afraid was about to gnaw off my knees, when she thought I was disrespecting
N'var -- and Gay, too. Lots of girls, this time, seems like. I hear
Yselle's got a little boy by some bluerider? She got the barracks spotless,
to hear Nim and Zaidra speak of her."

"I haven't seen much of Kiralee. I just keep hoping she'll come around
since she makes K-named children." Kassi's nothing if not honest; but
teasing, too, by the sound. "What about Tali? Been awhile since Kalyn;
mayhaps she'd be game. Ah, Yvera." Her voice takes on more of a neutral
shade. "I've heard a few things about Yvera. Just rumors, mind. I've only
met her once m'self, and that at Fort, but she's certainly keen on her
family connections... Gay's interesting, isn't she? She seems t'have a
fondness for games. I've offered t'be teaching her poker." The greenrider
nods affirmation to the last question. "By T'van, one of the more recent
graduates. Conceived a'fore he Impressed, evidently--cute child; I saw him
once when the three of 'em were wandering about out here. *Did* she, now? I
have t'give her credit for that. 'Tisn't usually a Candidate virtue,
spotlessness."

K'ran nods quick agreement, there, though also notes, "She seems sort of
self-conscious, though. Nearly jumped out of her skin when I tried to wipe
some dirt off her nose for her." Another shrug, there, this one a bit less
carefree; "T'van, that's right. Seems to think he's the next L'cher. Gay...
she was wanting to know all about the wings and such. I had Bronwynn try to
tell her a little bit about what a day was like in Dawnslight; maybe you
can fill her in on Thunderbolt. Come to think of it, that might not be a
bad idea for all the candidates, to know who the Wingleaders are, and what
their wings are like." And finally he works his way back to the former
matter. "Talisha? Do you really think?"

Kassima grants him a wry look. "I admit, if'n a man I scarcely knew--much
less a ranking rider, and me a Candidate--tried t'wipe dirt off m'nose, I
might start too. It can't be that she's shy of physical contact,
though--T'van had his arm around her waist when they were here, and she
chided him for it but didn't seem uncomfortable as such." She props her
elbows against folded legs, the better to place the balls of her thumb just
behind her chin. "*T'van* has a weyrmate, though, who might object t'him
being the next L'cher. If'n Gay asks me, 'twill be glad t'fill her in--I've
heard rumors that I'sai has plans for us t'speak t'Weyrlings, when the time
comes, about Wings and whatnay. But there's nay harm in a bit of advance
information for the curious." Tipping her head so that her right ear nearly
brushes her shoulder, she parries, "Any reason nay t'think so? Last I
heard, you two got along well enough; I don't know that she'd *want*
another child, mind. But I don't know for fact that she's swearing never
t'have more, either."

"True, true," grants K'ran, and strokes thoughtful fingers along his chin.
"She hasn't ruled it out the way Kich has, at least not to my knowledge.
C'vadan might come after me with something sharp, though..." He shrugs that
line of thought off, though, and says, "Kevin, I hear we got him, too? And
I'sai brought in a girl called Javinia? You met her at all?"

Kassima points out, her amusement distinct, "Cav can scarcely talk after
*he* went and put a Fortian Wingleader out of commission nay that very long
agone. If'n he went after you, Aine's Wingmates and Weyrleader might just
come t'defend you, saying he's getting what he deserves. Kevin?" News to
her, apparently; her brows fly up. "Huh. Well, good on him. I haven't met a
Javinia yet, nay... have you? Know what she's like?"

K'ran shakes his head minutely -- "Just read the name on the roster," he
says. "I'm trying to meet all of them in advance of the welcome dinner,
just so I don't have to go making introductions *then*, that late." And
then his smile pulls a bit more wry, and he adds, "Also a shame that we're
not riding Search, he and I. We've got plenty more to keep us busy, but I
can't help feeling that flash of envy when the wings hie off to wherever."

Kassima taps her index nail against her upper lip as she listens. "Nay a
bad idea, if'n you can swing it. And easier t'do that now than back when
we'd have seventy or eighty in the Barracks a'fore 'twas done--I don't
anticipate that sort of group with this clutch, d'you? Quite respectable
size for this late in the Pass, and I don't just say that because I guessed
the right number and won a small fortune, but more than fifty Candidates
would surprise me." Her thoughtful expression disappears beneath a
sympathetic smile for him. "That I completely understand; I haven't been
able to either. 'Twas pure luck--or contrariness on her part--that Lyss
managed t'snag one anyway. Has Indrath shown nay interest in the local lads
and lasses?"

"Around fifty, maybe a few less, is what I'm betting on, yeah," agrees
K'ran with a ready nod. "The dragons seem to stop at just about double the
number of eggs. Leastways the barracks won't be so crowded as its been over
the last few Turns -- there won't be any fighting over bunks and such." To
the question, his smile turns a bit rueful. "Not yet. I keep hoping --
hoping that one'll catch his eye, hoping that the blues and greens and
browns don't manage to claim all the candidates already at the weyr. It's
probably for the best, in a way -- you can see a candidate getting a head
full of steam if he's Searched by the Weyrleader's dragon, and lording it
over the others, and ending up with the mother of all letdowns."

Kassima waggles her hand back and forth. "Just about," she agrees in turn.
"Though methinks there were around eighty in m'group, for a clutch of
thirty. I'm glad 'twasn't much of a betting woman back then; the odds bit."
More sympathy, then, and rue with it, in smile and voice. "So many of
'em--of us, right, Lysseth, nay need t'needle. Hard t'beat 'em all out,
when bronzes supposedly aren't as keen. But y'never know what might happen.
Cliche as I suddenly realize that sounds." The greenrider pulls a face.
"Anyway. You've a point with the last, regrettably. I remember a Candidate
once... the Weyrleader's bronze nabbed her and she thought it made her
special. 'Twas left Standing at the Hatching. M'memory's fogged, but I
don't think 'twas long after that she left the Weyr."

"I wouldn't want that," K'ran says, his tone suddenly serious as he lets
his gaze stray back toward Steel -- the canine's filled in the hole above
the stick, and stretched out atop his work. "I wouldn't want anybody
thinking that being Searched by one dragon or another makes them special,
and wrecking the others' time with us. I think there were about sixty or
so, in my group -- and we had, well, a really good time together. I've lost
touch with a lot of them, but not all, and there're a lot of fond memories
that I can dig up."

"There will always be some determined t'find something that makes them
special," Kassi throws in, more quietly than she'd been speaking. "It might
be that their father was a Weyrleader, or that their brother was; it might
be 'twere Searched by a *bronze*, or a *blue*, the most keen Searchdragon,
while others were Searched by mere greens and browns; it might be this, it
might be that, but some will always find something t'lord over others.
Sometimes 'tis good t'know in advance who they are... well, but I digress.
I know what you mean, for that. Most of m'clutchmates seem scattered to the
four winds now, t'say naught of the Barracks-mates."

K'ran lets his eyes focus on a point past Steel, somewhere nearer the
bowl's face -- "It was just something I'll always treasure. Because it was
*us*, and nobody else, and for all that some Impressed and some didn't,
nobody else stood for that clutch *but* us. And *that* was what I thought
was most special; the uniqueness of it all. And every group is like that, I
think, and it'd really bug me if somebody ruined it for this bunch." He
shakes his head just slightly, there, as if to clear the cobwebs, and draws
a smile back to his lips. "I imagine a lot of them are still at Benden,
yes? Your clutchmates?"

Kassima's chin drops a trace so that she's more watching the grass, and the
ripples in it the wind might leave. "I don't know whether I felt that sort
of bond with m'Candidate class," she muses. "'Twas so bloody young, and
silly; awed and excited about being a Candidate at all, y'know? The
Weyrling group, now. There was definite bonding there. The only Impressees
of Dyinath and Valenth's children, the only ones who had our exact Weyrling
experience; the only ones entitled t'wear a patch just like ours, a ring
just like ours, the whole thing. Impressing in a way separated us from the
ones who didn't, it seemed. The ones still at the Weyr didn't understand...
and some were bitter, and all that mess." She crinkles her nose as if in
dismissal of the thought-path, and goes willingly enough with the
subject-change: "Some are, though most of 'em did come over--Ursa, Aphrael,
Meli, L'nay... T'ren stayed behind. Maarie went t'Fort, a'course. T'lar," a
bit darkly, "is dead. Quite a few dead by now. After so many Turns, though,
I'd have t'be expecting that. Aren't most of yours still alive, who made it
through graduation?"

"Most," nods K'ran, after a moment's hesitance. "We lost L'iam back a few
Turns, out of Shadowflame in one of those early spring Falls -- the ones
with the awful winds blowing Thread and dragons every which way. And
Miranda, who used to be in Sunstrike; we didn't lose her, exactly, but her
Corynth got crippled in a mating flight and'll never fly Fall again, and
Miranda's... never really been herself, ever since." He gets up from his
crouch, now, his smile having twisted into a bit of a grimace. "I reckon
time'll pick off more of them before the Pass ends. I just hope not too many."

"I know those." Too well, to judge by the momentary weariness of Kassi's
voice. "Nigh always an injury, even when everyone's flying their
best--there's just a limit t'how much you can train for that... I can't say
I blame her. Miranda, I mean. I don't even want t'think what life would be
like if'n Lysseth couldn't fly." Not that Lysseth seems concerned; her only
response is a breathy snort, dismissing the possibility entirely. "Nay too
many Turns left. I don't think there are so few that we won't lose any
more, even with Falls being shorter and less regular now than 'twere at the
height. But it might nay be many. I hope I make it, m'self. It'd be a fine
thing t'fight in the final Fall--here, if'n nay the final Fall anywhere."
Her head slowly shakes. "But here I've gotten maudlin. Subject change? We
can discuss who you should spawn with again, if'n you'd rather, unless that
standing means you're on your way out."

"Alas," says K'ran, the curve of his lips strengthening with real humor
again; Steel seems to sense it's time to go too, and after getting to his
feet and shaking off a bit of sand, trots over to his master's side. "I've
got a stack of reports that aren't going to read themselves. But if you see
Talisha or Kich tonight, and it's not too late, you could always send them
over?"

"If'n the report that can read itself is ever invented, I'll personally
give the Smith or whoever that does it five hundred marks in a bag," Kassi
drawls, mouth-corners turning up in a grin of her own. "Will do: 'twill
tell them, 'K'ran asked me t'tell you he wants t'conceive a child with you
tonight, but you'd better hurry, because he also said that of one of your
clutchmates and if'n you get there late you'll either be out of luck or
have t'share.' How's that?"

K'ran tips a momentarily thoughtful look toward the sky, and then supposes,
"Actually, I rather like the way you put that," along a short laugh. "I'll
see you, Kassima. Don't stay out so long that the back starts to ache, hey?"

"Lysseth wouldn't let me," Kassi breezily assures, with a laugh at her
dragon's immediate, imperative, 'sharding right' sort of rumble. "G'night,
K'ran. Don't *you* read 'til your eyes melt in their sockets, hey?
Blindness wouldn't be too helpful for a Weyrleader, even if'n it meant
never having t'look at anyone's chicken-scratch writing again."

"Too true," says he with another laugh; takes up the dog's leash, and goes.

K'ran heads in the direction of the central bowl, leaving the shimmering lake.