Next on her agenda was Telgar. She quickly suppressed any emotional vulnerability she might have left Igen feeling. Moura had warned her to steel herself around the Telgar Weyrwoman.
"Greetings from High Reaches. I am here collecting information on historic hatch rates among the Weyrs, as there are recent trends that have some concerning implications for the dragon population on Pern." G'ny stated her business.
"Weyrs have always been self-sufficient. Telgar is no exception. I don't know what you are implying, greenrider, we are not wanting here in Telgar. We take care of our own. I don't want any pity from any other Weyr, nor do I want you poaching my riders." The Telgar Weyrwoman was colder than G'ny had expected. "I have nothing to offer you. Short as it may have been, I believe your visit to this Weyr has come to an end." The Weyrwoman insisted, despite manners that a Weyrwoman was supposed to extend to a rider of any kind. G'ny looked around, feeling at a loss.
"I am sorry to have burdened you," G'ny apologized. "My intent was not to offend. I am here at the bidding of the Fort and High Reaches Weyrwoman, who are worried-" G'ny was quickly cut off by the other woman.
"We have eggs currently on the Sands. This is and always will be reason to celebrate. I will not have you raising false alarms!" The Weyrwoman was both proud and defensive.
"And how many would that be?" G'ny straddled a tone of evenness and support.
"Nineteen." Was the haughty reply.
"Weyrwoman, in all sincerity, I congratulate you on this number. You should be flattered to know this is one of the largest clutches I have witnessed in recent Turns." G'ny was careful to modulate her tone and remain gracious. She could tell the Weyrwoman was quick to anger, the overprotective instincts of her queen influencing her emotions, G'ny suspected. Having gathered at least some information, G'ny aimed to leave on a high note. She thought about contacting Moura immediately, but her gut told her the woman would counsel patience. Waiting until the still hardening eggs hatched would probably be the easiest way to yield results. G'ny wondered if she or Moura might be able to swing an invite to the Hatching, although with the suspicious nature of the Weyrwoman, G'ny thought it unlikely. "Thank you for all you assistance. I wish you a happy Hatching and prosperous Turn." G'ny believed her strategy to be successful, as the Weyrwoman flushed with pride at the compliment and relaxed enough to send G'ny off with the customary words of a cordial sendoff.
In pleasant contrast to her most recent parlance, G'ny found the Weyrwoman at Benden, Wela, particularly sensitive to her developing theory, even though Benden was by far the best off, with one hundred and fifty four fighting dragons. Still, as it was her final stop, she had the collective data of the Weyrs to make her case compelling. For the first time on her journey, she arrived to find the Weyr to be appointed with a junior weyrwoman and, therefore, a second active queen.
"Much as it pains me, I am glad you came and opened a frank conversation about this, G'ny. No Weyrwoman wants to admit that the dragon population has dwindled under her watch. There's a certain tradition of pride in golds, being the matriarchs of dragonkind. It's hard not to see it as a personal flaw. At first I wanted to write it off as an anomaly.
"Unfortunately, our Harper and I have made a similar observation ourselves. When he came to me with the records and performed some mathematics only Harpers must be taught these days, I couldn't deny the trend we both saw. Gone are the days of average clutches of three dozen eggs. We are lucky if we get two dozen, and most clutches barely reach twenty, at that. That, and we are down to two queens since Magine passed and left the Weyr to me this past Turn. My Pendeuth, and our junior weyrwoman's Gallirith, who just reached maturity last year, are our only egg-bearers right now. I don't know if it will be our great-grandchildren or theirs, but I lament the day that not a person on Pern knows the bond of dragon and rider. But, without Thread to fight, perhaps there is little need of our old ways." The Weyrwoman sighed. "Come, enjoy some Benden hospitality this evening, you've traveled long and far in these past few days, and your spirits can only be weighed down by the gravity of your findings. Besides, I imagine our Harper, Soriyen would be interested in engaging further with you on this topic, and no conversation is short with him."
G'ny was glad that she had allowed herself to be persuaded to stay. Between the time change, the excursion to Telgar in the morning, however short it may have been, and the still short duration of the early spring days, it was already mid-afternoon by the time G'ny had a moment to herself. The fabled Benden hospitality did not disappoint. G'ny was shown into an empty junior queenrider's weyr, with freshly turned furs, thrushes, and glows. A carafe of klah and a bowl of assorted nuts and raisins awaited her on the bedside table. The chamber had a warmth to it in which G'ny knew she would get as good a sleep as anywhere else on Pern. Masterharper Soriyen was just as anxious to speak to G'ny as Wela indicated he would be. He was an elderly, but animated and certainly eccentric man. Someone must have tipped him off to her accommodations, as a light knock at the threshold announced his presence.
"I heard tell of a 'greenish-gold' rider, and I said to myself 'I must see this for myself,' as I have never heard of such a thing in all my time as a Harper. Do you mind if I inspect Saleneth while we still have the afternoon light? I am Masterharper Soriyen." G'ny was pleased to make the man's acquaintance and checked in with her dragon, who was quite amenable to the idea.
"Sure, go ahead, this is Saleneth, and she says she is pleased to meet you, as am I." G'ny assured him, shaking his hand.
"Fascinating, indeed, I've never seen anything like it. She is beautiful," he mused. He indicated for her to open her wings up, marveling at the blondness in the most translucent, delicate part of her wings. Overall, the afternoon light was quite flattering, really accentuating her golden hues. He moved his head in various angles to watch how the light bounced off of some of her darker, greener parts, which tended to be at the edges of her extremities - along her ear nubs, in the creases of her wings, along her back ridges, and the tip of her tail - places where her hide was thicker and tougher. In these areas, her coloring was closer to emerald, and the outlining heavily contributed to the overall green effect. Masterharper Soriyen indicated for her to stretch out, pacing out her length, mumbling to himself.
"You say she has laid eggs? And they were viable? How much firestone would you say she has chewed in your training?"
"Yes, she has, seven, all viable, including an unmistakable queen. She only had a small batch, once, although I think she spit most of it out - made a sort of a gagging sound." G'ny reported. Soriyen nodded, deep in thought, pressing his ear against Saleneth's chest, and lower, close to her underside. The dragon basked in all of the attention. He circled around, lifting her tail, which seemed to unnerve Saleneth momentarily, but she was quickly reassured when he replaced it, curiosity satisfied. He then walked up to be in front of her, where he paused to stroke her eye ridge, causing her already blue eyes to whirl faster.
"Thank you, my dear," he said to her, turning to G'ny, leading her out from the queen's area of the courtyard around the corner towards the dining hall, as the dinner hour was approaching. "You know, with the decrease in dragon numbers, there has been talk around here about preventing a green or two from chewing firestone to see if we can boost our numbers that way, although it is not clear that it works that way in dragons. Unfortunately, no greenrider here has volunteered to have his dragon be singled out as the only one who can't flame. Perhaps being in sync with the gender of the rider helps? And Salenenth's health is just prime, that must contribute - you have much to be proud of. Although, it is unmistakable that Saleneth is no ordinary green, or necessarily a true green at all. She really seems to have both colors in her, fighting for dominance, and it seems that the green in her has not been able to overwhelm her inclination or ability to populate. I suspect that's what it is: there is something innate that differentiates a green and a gold's instinctual behavior around firestone: to flame versus stay fertile."
"It certainly is an interesting situation," G'ny replied, having appreciated Saleneth for everything she was too much to question in much depth why she ever was that way. As they walked towards the dining hall, Soriyen turned to talking her ear off about his latest project: understanding Thread patterns.
"Most people these days just can't imagine it - fatal spores descending from the sky, can you?" Masterharper Soriyen looked intently at G'ny for her reaction to his statement, waiting for her to actively visualize the scenario he had just described.
"Imagine is all I can do now, and I don't know how accurate my imagination would be" G'ny admitted.
"All the historical records indicate it really should be falling by now," Masterharper Soriyen went on, "Here, let me show you the charts!" Soriyen exclaimed excitedly, standing up suddenly, even though they had just been served. A pile of mashed tubers and a thick slice of roast wherry steamed on on the man's plate, while G'ny had only just taken her first bite, her mouth watering. She was at a head table, interposed between Soriyen and Wela, and had been looking forward to diving into her plate.
"Don't worry, our headwoman is accustomed to keeping a plate warm for him in just this sort of situation. I'll have her wrap up yours as well," Wela assured G'ny as G'ny stuffed a mouthful of the well-seasoned wherry in her mouth as she rose to follow Soriyen. The man was practically sprinting across the Bowl to the Records room. Once inside, he proceeded to pull out charts that he kept in an accessible drawer. "Here we are. Look at this. See, three times before, Thread has receded, only to come back about two hundred years later. We are right at, if not a little after that mark. Thread is overdue. I check the Star Stones daily for the Red Star to enter the Eye Rock, which is probably overzealous, and I also watch cloud formations very carefully, for anything falling beyond rain, snow or the occasional hail. Hail has worked me up into quite a fit before, and I've since learned how to identify it with greater accuracy. Even among Harpers, I am sometimes called out as a conspiracy theorist. Fortunately, the Weyrleaders have been accepting of and receptive to many of my ideas."
"You are more attentive than many Harpers I have known," G'ny complimented her senior.
"Well, that's to be expected. Benden has a tradition of hosting the best of the best Harpers. Benden tends to be on the short list for many Harpers that only the most well-recommended are able to pursue, what with the vintages the tithes yield. So, when I had proven my elevated skill through my exam marks and performances back at Harper Hall and the opening became available at Benden, I immediately jumped on the opportunity. Speaking of which," Masterharper Soriyen produced two cups and a bottle of wine from a secret cabinet. He filled one cup of wine to its brim, indicated that G'ny fill her cup as much as she pleased, and took a long swig. A middle-aged woman wearing an apron and long hair quickly walked in bearing two plates. With her foot, she pulled around a small wooden table from the corner of the room up between the two of them. She set one plate in front of G'ny with a smile and thrust the other one in front of Masterharper Soriyen.
"Come now, Masterharper, you can't survive on just wine. Masterhealer Ollen gave me strict instructions last time he came through to make sure that you were fed three square meals. Besides, what will our guest think of our hospitality if we usher her away from a hearty meal?"
"Bolla, you worry too much, I have the best of the hospitality right here," Soriyen assured her, raising his cup. Turning to G'ny, Bolla smiled.
"By Faranth's egg, he's like a child sometimes. I hope his little excursion has not ruined your appetite, eat up, my dear." Bolla encouraged G'ny. G'ny could tell this was a long-practiced routine, complete with the auxiliary table so as to not soil the sacred manuscripts. As it was, she could spot a wine stain here and there.
"Now, more to point which draws you here, if you look at dragon numbers, they tend to rise as the Red Star approaches. Many accounts indicate that dragons are instinctual about their response to Thread. Perhaps the two are more intertwined than we realize." Soriyen was back to business.
"So you think the decline in dragons is evidence that that predictions are wrong about Thread coming soon?" G'ny put together.
"It's the one theory that keeps me hopeful for our continued existence." Soriyen confided. His voice grew quieter. "I don't know how we'll survive otherwise."