When Char got up from her afternoon nap, (curled up with an arm draped over Vaeth's neck, on the floor in a nest of blankets) she felt a change in the Weyr. There was a sense of anticipation and... dread?
They say the weyrfolk have been cleaning all morning. Vaeth said sleepily, as he stretched much like a Hold feline. It's like when the Headwoman holds an inspection.
"Really?" Char shrugged on her coat. "Does Tress need help?"
No, the work is all done now. He took his normal position by her good leg. If we hurry, we can watch them arrive. He hinted broadly, impatient to see with his own eyes the voices he knew.
Laughing, she grabbed her crutches and followed him out.
Jurille helped Tress collect enough chairs to fit around the table formed by pushing together six smaller ones, as Urlyra and Koru placed tablecloths to make it look slightly more elegant. A table runner Pilana found in a dusty chest somewhere deep in the textile room tied it all together as the women from the lower caverns brought out plates of artfully arranged finger foods.
"When's the last time we hosted the Queens Meet?" Urlyra asked, distributing cushions to the chairs, dodging Kuro with a stack of takk plates.
"Sixteen Turns ago. Ista has hosted the last nine. Really, we've been most remiss." Jurille replied, carefully arranging several bouquets of flowers, flown in earlier by a greenrider back from visiting his family in Southern Boll Hold.
"Can you blame them? Who'd want to come here in the middle of winter?" Reema snorted, walking in with an armload of paper and pencils.
"Seems a bit unfair, what with them not getting a break from Threadfall in the winter." Koru said quietly.
"We didn't always hold Queens' Meet at Turnover." Jurille explained. "It used to be held at the summer solstice, but we changed that when the Pass started."
"Makes sense. Most Weyrs are pleasant that time of year." Pilana nodded, setting up beautifully turned wooden mugs.
"Expect Ista." Reema disagreed with a smile. "And Igen," countered Urlyra.
"Excuse me, Jurille, are these set where you want them?" Z'gas, a bluerider roped into helping set up the collapsible room dividers asked. Jurille looked up, judging the distance and nodded. "Yes, thank you Z'gas. Would you like a snack before you go?" She offered him an option from the veritable feast laid out.
"Thank you, but I promised Sarael I'd bring my appetite. " He grinned at the Weyrwoman.
"Still wooing that Weaver's daughter, Z'gas?" Reema asked teasingly and his grin broadened.
"You know full well I plan to ask her to share my weyr." He retorted good naturedly.
"Make sure her father is okay with it first." Pilana warned, before Jurille could. "We got a reputation to repair."
"Everyone knows Telgar is honorable, ladies." Z'gas said, collecting his flying gear from where he had left it by an unlit hearth. "If you don't believe me, ask your dragons what the groundcrews think." He winked and headed out.
"You know he's timing it if he's going to arrive Bayhead in time for dinner." Koru said, and looked down when everyone looked at her.
"Not anymore. I caught him at it last month." Reema said, earning a raised eyebrow from Jurille. "Willth made it very clear to Zefith he wasn't to time it anymore and I made Z'gas go with me three times to the same spot in time."
"Shards, and I thought Brinda could be vindictive." Pilana muttered in the startled silence.
"You know a better way to teach a thickheaded rider the dangers of doubling back on themselves?" Reema demanded.
"Thank you Reema, but next time you plan to teach one of the Search Wing a lesson, will you at least tell me?" Jurille asked with a sigh.
"Yes Jurille." Reema looked down, feeling Jurille's disappointment as keenly as she felt the others' incredulous disbelief at her action.
Preocith, Deerith, Xandrath, Meesth and Gluwth come. Graesth informed Jurille.
"Sounds like Igen just arrived. Shall we go meet them?" Jurille asked.
"I'll go get the klah!" Koru said, dashing past the room dividers into the kitchen.
"Are we ever going to break her of her shyness?" Urlyra sighed.
"I hope so, sister, I truly hope so." Jurille replied, picking up a woolen shawl to go an greet the arriving dragonpairs.
"Mother, you cannot stay here." Ketke said, kneeling beside her bed. She had gotten some of her hearing back, according to the Holder, and Ketke was not about to let her pretend her way out of hearing his plea. "Please. If you will not return to the Hold, I will send you to the Weyr." He was not sure if that would be seen as a threat or a prize but she stared sourly back at him.
"For what end? I am too old to stand candidate." She asked in a raspy voice.
"Because if you die now, before the end of the Pass, then not only have I failed you, I have failed father's last request." Naturally the dragonrider's conversation had been overheard and repeated until several would swear that they had heard the dying Lordholder begging a gallant bronzerider to see that his beloved lady, the light of his life, would carry on his plan to see to the Hold's protection until the last filament of Thread was charred from the skies. Utter rubbish, but if it would lift his mother from her depression he was quite willing to tell her the most fabulous version himself.
''What point is there, if I must see that end without him?" She asked pointedly.
"He asked that you see the Hold under Threadfree skies for him. He wanted to show you that sight himself, but since he's not here, I will stand in for him." Even as he spoke she closed her eyes wearily, and for a moment, he was afraid he was dismissed.
"Very well, but I will accept nothing less than wingleader as my ride."
'share my weyr'= to marry, Weyr slang