The Istan Weyrwoman was indisposed when G'ny first arrived, so she was instead treated to the hospitality of a bluerider and a greenrider who had been on watch. The sparkling blue of the ocean surrounding Ista dazzled her on her approach. She had never been to the island Weyr before and had no idea what to expect her reception might be like there.
"Apologies, ma'am, what with our isolation on this island, we hardly hear from the other Weyrs. We weren't expecting such a guest. Oh, hey, have you been down to the beach? If I was just visiting, that's where I'd be," the greenrider helpfully piped up.
"Even though you live here, that's where you would be if we weren't on shift," The bluerider scolded him. G'ny looked around at the largely deserted Weyr.
"Is it just you two around? Where is everyone else?"
"Well, we are split up into three, three day rotations - active training with Wingleaders, sentry duty, including outreach to Holds, and Weyr maintenance."
"Which makes you on the sentry duty rotation? And where are your Weyrlings?" G'ny inquired.
"Oh, we haven't had those for at least three Turns." The bluerider answered, nodding his head and stroking the stubble on his chin.
"Yeah, it's mighty inconvenient, never having been relieved of all my Weyrling chores. Can you believe I still have to hunt tunnelsnakes?" the impudent greenrider lamented with a shiver.
"You seem stretched pretty thin here. How many in a rotation?"
"The queen's entourage has twenty-three, the others twenty-one." The greenrider provided.
"Your queen takes a wing?"
"She thought it fairer than putting a brown up to commanding a whole Wing. We only have two bronzes here." The bluerider explained.
"I see. And which rotation might she be on now?" G'ny asked.
"That would be Hold outreach. The rotation changes tomorrow morning, if you would like to stick around until then. We'd be happy to put you up in a weyr - you have your quite the selection of empty ones to pick from. I would recommend a cliff-facing one, if you've never experienced one before. It's another one of our local specialties." The bluerider suggested. G'ny thanked the two men for their help and direction, assuring them she would make herself comfortable and be of as little trouble as possible.
The greenrider's suggestion to check out the beach did sound nice. Indeed it does, Saleneth assented, lowering a forearm for G'ny to mount up. Once the two scouted a nice swath on which to land, Saleneth deposited her onto the soft sand. G'ny removed her riding boots, allowing her toes to wriggle in the black sand, warm despite the lingering chill of the season back in High Reaches. She marveled at its dark hue, as she sifted her hand through it. She ventured out further towards the water, rolling up her loose riding trousers so that they would not get wet as she let the waves lap around her ankles. Saleneth was overjoyed as well, diving into the clear water a hundred meters out. Late afternoon melted into evening, and G'ny watched a the sun sink below the horizon in a beautiful display of color as what she learned that day sank into her head.
G'ny was down in the Weyr kitchen the next morning early enough to be the one to clear out the dregs of the klah that had been kept heating overnight and start a fresh pot to boil. A woman with shiny black hair, cut short but which flatteringly framed her face, and dark features strode in, clad in riding gear.
"I know all the faces around here, but can't place yours. To whose company do I owe the pleasure?" The Ista Weyrwoman regarded her quizzically at first, although G'ny's proffering of fresh klah did much to warm the woman's demeanor towards her, just as G'ny had warmed the fragrant drink.
"I'm G'ny, greenish-gold rider of Saleneth, here on behalf of the Weyrwoman of High Reaches to investigate Weyr numbers and dragon birth rates."
"Ah, well, I can't say I've kept careful track, but one thing I can tell you for sure - it's such a shame we don't have mating flights so often. Sure, we have lots of greens going off, keeps the morale reasonable, but nothing gets a Weyr going like the flight of a queen." The Weyrwoman pined. "Already it's been four years. A Weyrwoman's got needs, you know. Once you go dragon-passion fueled, the sensations of all four of you intertwined, it's hard to be completely satisfied with the ordinary act, if you know what I mean." The Weyrwoman bemoaned with a wink.
"Unfortunately, it seems all Weyrs are down in their Weyrling numbers. That's an interesting point to know about the interval of your queen's rising."
"Hmm, except for it being an impediment to my leisurely exploits, I hadn't thought it a major issue, but I'm glad my fixation on my love life can be helpful. Even if this trend is a problem, what do you think can be done? Do you have any theories about the cause? If not, I can't imagine spending my time worrying about such things. After all, I have much better things, including a Wing of my own, to preoccupy me. Any time I have left over from those duties, why I'm spending that on the beach." Unconcerned as she was, the Istan Weyrwoman pointed G'ny to the Weyr's archives for any further research she might need. The Weyrwoman herself was clearly not so mathematically or historically inclined to dig into actual research to recognize the oddity of the Weyr's current state. Still, G'ny could not really blame her, as she must be kept incredibly busy, being stretched so thin. G'ny quickly skimmed the records, gathered what she needed, and prepared to depart, anxiously awaiting her next destination.
Of course, in planning out her mission, G'ny made it a priority to stop by Igen, so that the halfway point of her journey might also be the high point. Pouring over the disorganized scrolls at Ista had taken longer than G'ny had anticipated. Even though the Istan riders had assured her she could stay as long as she liked at their island retreat, she knew Igen would welcome her at any hour. A warm, fuzzy feeling washed over her when her eyes immediately sought out and found B'ran scratching Saneth's eye ridge on the ledge of his weyr in the evening light. Her assignment could wait until the morning. She directed Saleneth to the ledge of his weyr. She could still feel that cool reservation in his demeanor that had concerned her despite the heat of the Sands and which was thinly veiled at the Hatching, but she pushed it to the back of her mind, resolved to experience joy in the precious moments she got to spend with him. If there were any reservations on his part, they were soon scrubbed away by his joy at seeing her. He immediately pulled her into a warm embrace and deeper into his weyr's chambers for the duration of the night. From the moment she arrived on the ledge of his weyr, B'ran never left G'ny's side during her visit to Igen.
As the two of them strode into the Main Hall together the next morning, their dragons sunning themselves on the ledge outside, tails intertwined, they were greeted by the usual gang. A'jan immediately launched into the highlights of the Weyr G'ny had missed since she had been gone. His tirade was paused only for a few minutes during which he excused himself, only to return with a blushing Lower Caverns woman in tow, extolling her virtues. In response, M'cal gave B'ran a sound pat on the back to indicate the trending absence of the third man had brought the two closer, although he cast a suspicious eye at G'ny's presence.
"Redfruit juice? I thought I saw a familiar dragon sneak in last night." A familiar voice rang out from the corner of the hall next to the kitchen. Despite the still cool season, the dry air of Igen still parched a person such that the sweet juice, served from a skin that had sealed in the summer sweetness from when the fruit was ripe, was entirely welcome. Pleasantries exchanged, Vowna was more than happy to oblige her once-disciple with access to the scrolls and records on which G'ny had first learned an introduction to Weyrwoman duties. G'ny's recollection of the Weyr's dwindling numbers were unhappily accurate, with no recent clutches changing the outlook. She dutifully recorded the numbers in the ledger she had brought. Igen was certainly a prime corroborator of Moura's hypothesis. As it was, the Weyr was down a net three riders - to forty-nine fighting dragons - since G'ny's sojourn there and there was no current Weyrling class rising in the ranks to fill that void. Perhaps in another six months, Vowna estimated, a new class might begin their training. By the time they would be through though, another four fighters, at least, would have retired.
Of course, G'ny shared her objective, theory, and findings with B'ran as they developed. He accompanied her into the Records Room, although with all of the distractions that bundled with his "help," B'ran may not have actually saved G'ny any time on her quest. If he was trying to buy an extra evening with her, he certainly succeeded, and none of their compatriots' spirits were worse off for it. Dinner was a lively affair with many old friends coming up to greet G'ny and congratulate her on the news of the Hatching that had spread like wildfire upon B'ran's return - despite his attempts to keep it under wraps. Since most were unaware of the details of her visit, many inquired with hope in their eyes if her sojourn might portend something more permanent. Although A'jan and M'cal politely listened and gave their input on the object of G'ny's research, they were much more excited by the prospect of adding another player to their card game mix. Every now and then, especially when she was not preoccupied by her bluffing strategy or the hand to play, G'ny felt highly aware of time passing. She imagined herself holding onto the moment and staying in it forever, or at least appreciating it to its fullest when she realized it would inevitably slip through her fingers. She was happy at Igen, and for a brief evening, she could pretend that everything was fine: Moura had not sent her to investigate dragon numbers, and they were not really as desperate as the numbers she had collected.
As she affixed the riding straps to Saleneth the next morning, checking as she always did for wear, reality snuck back up on her. As she was lost in thought, B'ran snuck up on her too. She instinctively batted his hands away from her riding gear, knowing he was not above taking a knife to her straps to prolong their time together. As a consolation, he simply wrapped his arms around her from behind as she worked. His whisper in her ear as she prepared to departed was not lost on her.
"You see how badly off we are. Another source of eggs would go a long way here at Igen. Probably further than at any other Weyr. Just imagine the difference the new blood you could bring to Igen would make," he implored her. G'ny knew the state of affairs was grim - at Igen and beyond. She cringed, knowing the pain it must have caused B'ran to be an observer at High Reaches' latest Hatching. G'ny tried floating the idea of Weyrlingmaster to B'ran - although he was on the young side of the position, his aptitude for being a dragonrider, and a caring one at that, made him a good fit in G'ny's mind and would be a convenient solution to their distance problem. B'ran, however, was adamant that Igen would need him as a Wingleader in the coming months. Brownrider though he was, he was one of the most capable Wingseconds, and the most senior Wingleader was becoming, well, senior, and for the position of Weyrlingmaster he was, well, junior. Instead, B'ran reminded G'ny of how welcome she was at Igen. G'ny respected B'ran's free will enough not to press the issue further, and her own enough to not positively commit - either to him or to herself.
Despite B'ran's entreaties and G'ny's hope and many machinations in which she could satisfy them, she knew her calling went beyond the dwindling Weyr. Deep down, G'ny knew what needed to happen, but it was too short of a visit to hash out all of the scenarios to their bitter, dead ends and finalize the resolution she knew would be inevitable. Besides, they both knew that for the present, G'ny needed to keep her mind alert and focused at the task at hand. What could a goodbye between friends turned lovers mean if the same farewell needed to be said of the entire dragon race and potential Pernese existence? If she owed B'ran anything, it was to dedicate to their parting the time and attention it took to honor him. They still craved each other's presence, and there were still so many variables that could keep them together. Still, the cold of between was particularly pronounced on her cheeks, as the wetness of the tears that had spilled out of her eyes for both B'ran and the confirmed dragon tallies all but froze during the journey and she braced herself for what was to come at the final two Weyrs.