Regaej shook Bukset awake. They put away their bedrolls and in the late afternoon light followed the holder to the canyon enclosure where the herd beasts had been sheltered. When the holder announced they had reached the spot of his untimely demise, Regaej's lizards took off from her shoulder, one flying above them in a tight circle, the other flying out in gradually increasing circles. Sopra made a quizzical noise, and Bukset nodded, sending the brown up to join the further ranging gold.
"Twa will be able to show your brown what to look for." Regaej said, dismounting and studying the ground. She said nothing further to the holder, given that he openly stared daggers at her during the entire ride pointed to the ground and a series of drag marks in the sandy soil.
"The boy may have died here, but this is not where the attack took place." She announced, although the holder could not hear her, waiting as he did several dragonlengths away in the entrance to the Threadshelter. "Come. Let's follow this to it's end." Still holding the reigns, she began following the trail back. The further they progressed, the more spots of blood Bukset could see, smeared on rocks, as if the dying lad had staggered from rocky outcrop to outcrop. Breifly he wondered why the boy, tending his ovines in this vast range, hadn't had a lizard of his own.
"What are you thinking so hard about, Harper?" Regaej asked, never looking up from the ground as the trail lead them down a blind canyon.
"Did the lad not have a lizard?"
"Did you not notice that neither of his parents had one either?" She replied, pausing and studying the a furrow in the soil near the rock wall. "Not all who look to Scorch desire lizards. Had he come to me I would have given his choice from a clutch, but his parents think they are a waste of scarce food." She explained, moving on.
"How do the holders sustain the population they have?" Bukset queried, glancing skyward at the distant lizards.
"The Smiths pay well, and dried fish is cheap. " She stopped and looked up. "He fell from there." She pointed to the cliff top above them. Bukset turned in his seat.
"Are you certain?" He gazed up at the cliff face, terminating about a dragonlength and half up. Regaej nodded. "There are no tracks past here, but Twa sees a path above us." Even as she spoke Sopra shared his dragon's eye view of the canyon and a small game path above them.
"How do we get up there?"
"We climb."
Flit surprised Gwedli by hissing at her when she came down to light a fire in the hearth, on the first day of the new Turn. Startled she withdrew as the green curled possessively around her clutch of eggs in the warm ashes.
"Shelt." The harper popped his head up from where he was sleeping on the kitchen floor.
"Yes, mistress?'' He asked groggily, sitting up. Gwedli dropped a sewing kit and skins in his lap.
"Make up a carry all for your clutch. I need to start breakfast." She told him.
"Oh, she clutched?" He sat up, looking delighted, going over to the possessive green, crooning and complimenting her cleverness. By the time the twins had joined their mother in the kitchen he had the thirteen eggs moved into the large ash pot, now heating by the rekindled fire and turned every so often, to keep the eggs warm.
"Ooh, Flit clutched?" Druzi asked, peeking at the green curled up on top of the ash pot.
"How many eggs did she lay?" Relecca asked, peeking around her mother she she pulled down bowls for breakfast.
"Thirteen." Shelt said, picking up the sewing kit and threading a needle.
"What are you going to do with them?" Druzi queried, getting out the silverware.
"Well, I need to tithe two back to HarperHall, and courtesy demands I offer my hosts one as well. The rest I do with as I wish." Shelt explained. He glanced at Gwedli. "Would you like an egg? I'll give you first choice."
"Thank you, but no. I have enough on my plate with Liree. But ask Reelon. I rather imagine he would be delighted to have a lizard to train up." Gwedli suggested, knowing Berk, the herding canine was getting old, and have to be retired in a Turn.
Reelon was delighted at the offer, but requested that Shelt send the two largest eggs as his tithe, opting for a medium sized egg. The rest of the day the talk amongst the students was speculation about the colors of the eggs, especially the egg of Reelon's choosing. During the lunch break the apprentice approached Shelt and offered him his entire worldly earnings, for an egg. Shelt told him to keep his Marks (5 sixteenths and a quartermark, all Farmercraft) and he could trade for it instead, the harper needed a new case for his guitar, and the apprentice was wonderfully clever working hide. Elated, he selected a larger egg, and set it aside, to continue to harden in it's own ash sack.
"How do you plan to distribute the rest of the eggs?" Reelon asked, watching the harper pamper his green.
"Tomorrow I'll have Flit message the Hall, and I should get offers before the day is done." He winked at Gwedli, who laughed. "So, the Harper grapevine is still in operation?"
"That most traditional of traditions was there before I was born, and will be there long after me," Shelt replied with great dignity, and a broad grin. "And the Marks will be welcome in my sister's cot. Babies mean more mouths to feed and bodies to clothe."
"You are a good brother, Shelt." Gwedli said with a fond glance at her own three month old, sleeping in his bassinet.
B'ton waited quietly as Zandur made some notes. He had been cleared to go between for several fortnights, but the Weyrhealer wanted to make sure the wretched shoulder had completely healed. He did find himself wondering how, even as Weyrleader, the Healer managed to make him feel like an erring weyrling.
"Alright. You're in clear airspace." Zandur finally grumbled, putting down his notes and fixing the Weyrleader with a hard look. "But you let me know if there is any pain, you understand?"
"Yes sir."
Free from the WeyrHealer's glowering gaze B'ton had to restrain himself from skipping out of the weyr, and hurrying back to his wingsecond, who was politely waiting for him with a slate, a list of small things that had been put off during Turn Over, but really couldn't be ignored much longer. As they were going over the details by the fire of the warm lower caverns, the dragons began keening, waking those that had chosen to sleep in with the passing of one of their own.
"Who-?"
Verney and Uvuyoth. Wubath replied with a sad mental sigh. There was regret, as with any dragon's passing but the queenpair's death was not unexpected, given their great age.
"Go to Jurille." Dr'jia suggested, putting the slate down. He didn't need to say anything else, both men knew the queenriders would take the older rider's passing the hardest, particularly the day after such a successful Queens' Meet. B'ton nodded, and left, seeking out the Weyrwoman in her weyr.