By the time two and a half Turns had passed since Mirith's rising, the mood was especially tense awaiting another queen-eligible dragon to rise at High Reaches. It was little console to hear through the greenrider they had befriended at Ista that the queen there had finally risen, although it had been a haphazard affair. The Weyrwoman had been out on assignment, her dragon having only showed mild indications of needing to rise when it began. Due to scrambling communication and the preoccupation of the other Wingleaders, it was a brown from her wing that flew the queen, leaving G'ny dubious about the quality of the coming clutch, which was expected any day. G'ny was glad for her numerous excursions that excused her from the brunt of the nervous anxiety, even if their shorthandedness did highlight the need for queens to rise and eggs to hatch. G'ny was unsure who was more cantankerous, Allika or the toddler she had pawned off with the women of the Lower Caverns. Even Moura seemed to look to Mirith, Saleneth, G'ny and Allika expectantly. It was still too early for Nallene and Babreth to be ready. Still, her birth had solidified both her and Saleneth as contenders against Mirith for the queen spot, throwing into question Allika's succession as Weyrwoman. The currently serving Weyrwoman's behavior was becoming odd indeed.
When she was not immediately preoccupied, Moura's gaze tended to wander off, acquiring a far-off look. It was a look G'ny knew she herself had sported as a child while her mother droned on at her about the celestial stars while she watched the light in which she could play with Star, her runner, fade. It was one of impatience, anticipation, boredom, and discomfort. This was the original, brooding, emotionally unavailable Moura to whom she had initially been introduced. G'ny wondered what could weigh so heavily on the other woman. G'ny knew Pernwide dragon numbers were bad, but she could hardly imagine they were affecting Moura so poignantly, after all, the Weyr had suffered very few casualties since the passing of the Oldies, and another round of clutches was imminently certain. G'ny wondered if it had something to do with a realization that this was Azirith's last clutch which highlighted a particular feeling of obsolescence given Pern's current crisis. G'ny made a mental note to casually remind Moura that the current state of High Reaches - that the Weyr was better situated than many of its counterparts - was a testament to Moura and Azirith's legacy.
Either as a holdover from her green heritage or because Mirith was more influenced by sitting on the eggs and heavily out of shape, it was Saleneth whose hide turned radiant first and who proceeded to bugle her announcement. G'ny braced herself to counsel Saleneth to only blood her kills. This would be her first mating flight properly enshrined in a queen's weyr. She was only moderately aware of the augmented audience that she had attracted, given the easier, interior access to the queenriders quarters and her declared status as a Weyrwoman candidate. T'tor had stopped by her Weyr a few days earlier to announce that he would be recusing himself from the gambit. Claimed a few days soaking up the Istan heat would do his old bones some good, though G'ny suspected he wanted to avoid the strain of Weyrleader in his climbing age with certainty.
Otherwise, the usual characters were in attendance. G'ny was aware it was a rather bedraggled crew. L'can sported his usual dour; he never did regain his spirits after Allika's forceful inaugural flight. G'ny supposed that this mental block would hold him back, for Bremeth was otherwise the most cunning of the bronzes. Then there was C'lin. Although the pursuit of women was generally a strong suit of his, Ormath never seemed to close in when it came to high profile mating flights, even though he was the largest of the bronzes. Perhaps C'lin was distracted or the pair was not meant to take on the responsibility of having the Weyr's wellbeing as their primary mistress. T'ten, T'mosen, and V'rilat, the bronze Wingseconds, had also joined the gambit, although their inferior status made them less likely to be the victors. Besides, T'ten had always been cold to G'ny since she had displaced him as Wingsecond, even though in many ways it was an upgrade to the Weyrleader's wing. T'mosen, on the other hand was unobjectionable. They had worked well together in Tillek, but G'ny was unsure that his competence could extend to the entire Weyr, and Twiseth was on the smaller size for a bronze, so Saleneth doubted his chances.
There were, of course, a few aspiring browns, but G'ny knew they had little chance. G'ny felt a pang in her heart, putting to rest that small hope that B'ran might make a miracle appearance, but Saneth was not among the cohort of browns she had noted joined the flight. True to his word and their recent lack of communication, B'ran had chosen not to attend. Saleneth would be the only one breaking down traditional color barriers today.
That left, as the last eligible candidate, since the Weyr's other bronzes were all so young and their numbers had been reduced with the passing of the Oldies, M'tou. The currently serving Weyrleader, G'ny had to admit that he would be able to handle the transition most smoothly. G'ny had always found his presence to be unobjectionable, even enjoyable, although it never strayed beyond professional. She could hardly imagine him in the throes of ardor. Perhaps her predictions would be disproven as events unfolded, but for now, enough with the analytical: it was time to defer to the carnal impulses of her dragon.
Finally, having been recognized as a queen in her own right, Saleneth was showing off. This was not just about the bronzes who pursued her – that was hardly new – but her extra flair was for the whole watching Weyr to witness. She would be their queen, so she would give them something to esteem. She flaunted her agility – diving tantalizingly into the midst of her suitors, yet twirling out beyond any of their reach. In one calculated backwing, she sent Temeth and Rodunth crashing into each other, removing the second-rate Wingseconds from play. She flitted teasingly close to Bremeth, but pulled away unscathed when he did not strategically seize the moment in a timely fashion. Although she had always liked him, it was his quick reflexes and thinking that really attracted her, and today he was not making a strong showing in these areas.
She continued on, soaring higher, relishing the attention and rush. She thought of all they eyes upon her, from her Weyr. She had always felt connected with these dragons, and they had always seemed to respect her, even if it was not explicitly understood by their riders. She heard a hoof sound behind her, and in the periphery of her vision saw Ormoth descending below her and out of the flight. Large as he may be, today his stamina was failing him. Out of curiosity, Saleneth shot a quick look behind her. Only one figure remained. Bremeth must have peeled off gracefully without her notice.
As G'ny had so rationally predicted, it was M'tou's Calleth, leisurely keeping pace with Saleneth. The rosy colors of the sunset played beautifully off his hide. So this was it. He had certainly given a valiant pursuit. Saleneth was actually starting to feel weary. For him to have lasted this long when no other could certainly made him a worthy mate. She turned skyward, rising higher and higher in altitude, challenging Rukbat's departure behind the curvature of Pern. Before the air thinned too much, Calleth accelerated with a sudden burst of reserved energy. Inside the queenrider weyr, M'tou drew the curtain to further shut out the already departed throng and descending twilight.
Having retired early the prior evening, G'ny was well-rested and up at her usual hour the next morning, singing out a good morning to Lawana before rounding the corner into view of the Kitchen. She could only imagine the subtle questions the woman would pester her about regarding the night before. To her surprise, Moura was already there talking to Lawana when she arrived. G'ny skidded to a halt abruptly, running into one of the tables as she processed the added companion to her morning ritual. G'ny felt a sudden pang of self-consciousness around more experienced goldrider. Lawana raised her eyes in amusement.
"Yes, all early risers are welcome in this girls' club" she noted.
"Genny, I wanted to catch you before the others were up. As you know, starting from your mating flight yesterday, you are the Weyrwoman." Moura explained to her. G'ny was not entirely sure whether she was ready for this moment.
"Right, oh sorry, I should be more dignified." G'ny stammered, straightening up.
"Nonsense, keep up the passion, that's not why I bring up the transition. I know it's sudden, but I will be leaving shortly."
"Wha –" G'ny's mouth fell open for a second moment of embarrassment that morning.
"Yes, I will have Azirith inform the other riders over breakfast, but I wanted you to be the first to know. Grab some breakfast and let's head over to the Records room. There are just a few things I want to make sure you know where they are."
"Sure, Moura, whatever you think is best," G'ny murmured automatically, still not fully accepting the news she had just been told. She grabbed a mug of klah and a pastry and hurried after Moura. Calmly, Moura pointed out Hatching Records, astronomical reports, supply ledgers, and even the personal hidebound notebooks of past Weyrwomen.
"These are the most important, I think. There are many things I cannot teach you, things that you must learn on your own. Each generation of Weyrwoman has advice that the current is able to interpret to relevant times. You must take great care to make similar records of your own. Although I know it is no substitute for the time I should have been personally mentoring you, time that was wasted on Allika, might I suggest you commence your duties in there? And Genny, contracting your name like any other greenrider undercuts your status as Weyrwoman, although I know asking you to go by your given name of Gendine is too much formality for you."
Genny nodded solemnly at this parting wisdom, blushing slightly. "Where will you go... not just... between?" Genny stuttered as the reality dawned on her on their way over.
"At last, Weyrwoman, it is your time. As for me, it is my time to take my leave. I've lingered too long as it is. Without the familiar faces that have always surrounded me, this is no longer my place. It is an unknown malady that ails me and has for some time now, you've surely noticed my absences before." Genny knew she spoke of her friends among the Oldies. The woman just gave her a faint smile and stepped forward to embrace her successor. Her grip still remained strong and full of life. Genny was sad to see her go. Then, the former Weyrwoman stepped out onto the ledge of her weyr, where Azirith perched, waiting. T'tor too had come to the Weyrwoman's quarters, having arrived earlier that morning from Igen, to see off his weyrmate of many years. Below them, a small crowd of riders had gathered. Above them, a crowd of dragons. Through Saleneth, Genny could feel the calm resolve Azirith radiated to all the dragons present. The goldrider mounted up.
"This is not a time for sorrow, but a time of hope, do not mourn me too much, I leave you in good hands. As you all know from yesterday's events, Gendine and Saleneth are the leaders of this Weyr now. All of us mortals must pass. How I have envied my fellow Oldies who made this leap over two Turns ago. For High Reaches!" Moura gave a salute as Azirith launched herself from the ledge. One, two, three, four wingbeats gave the pair enough momentum to begin an upward swoop and blink between.
The dragons' keening filled the bowl. T'tor turned his head to bury it in Genny's shoulder. Polidarth promptly alighted onto the ledge and butted his head in solace against his rider. Still, it was more bearable than the mass exodus those Turns prior, although the two newest classes of Weyrlings would not know the difference. Perhaps that's why the Oldies did it all at once like that - to consolidate all the pain and prepare the Weyr for the loss to come. Genny certainly felt ready for anything at this point. Moura still seemed so young, but she spoke of an inexplicable ailment that cut her time short.
"I am again left behind." T'tor sobbed into Genny's shoulder.
"Yes, but how else were the forty-five Weyrlings that recently graduated under your tutelage and those about to be laid on the Sands to learn? You are still needed here, so I can't let you go just anywhere." Genny reassured him bravely.
"You're right, and in many ways, I felt I had lost her already, so distant has she been, and Calleth dominating Azirith's most recent flight has only made that realization easier." T'tor turned his attention towards his softly keening dragon, stroking his eye ridges, losing himself in thought.