peacekeeper

[B'til]

They burst out of between directly in front of the entry to a personal weyr (they had performed these deliveries countless times, they could have arrived between in the weyr itself if they had wanted and if it wouldn't have roused the Weyrleader's anger). Not their own weyr, but a weyr to dispose of new candidates within. By the Egg of Faranth, no, not their own weyr. If B'til brought his fresh-plucked candidates to his weyr, with all their screaming and crying, he would be out of bedmates in a week. Nobody could tolerate that noise.

No, instead he left them in Rogatis's weyr. More specifically, T'leric's weyr. Even more specifically, Weth's weyr, Weth who was T'leric's dragon, T'leric who was the ever-absent Blue rider abroad on search as was his duty, and Rogatis the woman who was his weyrmate, and a candidate, and a greeter of young women into the Weyr.

She had always been stone cold to B'til, but she had to be cold in order to do that hellish job, he supposed.

Tbouridath touched down and snapped her wings to her sides, shaking off the cold of between. It occurred to B'til that there were a pair of arms wrapped around him. Apparently the bold Lady from Baron had not been quite bold enough to endure the terror of between without grabbing onto something. He didn't say a word to her as he extricated himself from her arms and began to undo the saddle straps. He imagined she didn't want to talk to him, and would want her minute to adjust and find her feet, alone. He stopped only to undo her saddle belts for her and then hopped off of Tbouridath's neck. The woman would come off in a moment or two. If she didn't come on her own, Tbouridath's impatience would shake her off, for the Green thought she had earned a wherry or two for their success.

"Rogatis!" shouted B'til into the unseen parts of the weyr, hands cupped around his mouth. "I've another girl for you, a Lady from Baron Hold. Call for some klah, would you?"

T'leric's woman didn't show herself, but he heard her characteristic sound of disgust at his arrival, and heard her distantly calling for hot klah.

B'til turned back to lean on Tbouridath's shoulder. He looked up at the Lady Vesadi. "Off the dragon, if you will, My Lady," he said in his most formal voice, with a sweep of his arm. "She needs to eat, and I need to get back to whoever I left in my bed. Rogatis will tend to you until the Hatching."

[Vesadi]

The fury of seeing her blade being thrown was quickly outweighed by the dragon launching itself into the sky. Having been brought up helping around the Hold, breaking animals wasn't an issue for her but having such a massive creature flying instead of bucking, she reaching out and wrapped her arms around the midsection of the Rider and properly let out a surprised cry. That cry was instantly cut off in the silence of between and the intense cold bit down deep enough that when they came out, Vesadri wasn't sure which was worse; the intense lose of that intense feeling or that overwhelming numb tingling feeling.

They landed and for a moment, Vesadri wasn't sure what to do or anything. The Rider pulled himself from her grip and she actually blushed at the contact she had started. It was quickly replaced with the gut wrenching urge to slap the Rider as he undid her straps, lucky for him she became distracted with the sight around them. They were no long at Baron Hold but . . . "This is . . . . " her voice trailed off as she heard him shouting for someone and then telling her to get off the dragon. Slipping down the dragon, she was grateful that she still had on her riding gear instead of having changed into a dress.

Standing beside the dragon and looking out over the Weyr, paying little attention to the Rider and such, she couldn't help but wonder where her life was going now. She reached a tentative hand to the dragon, fingers curling a little, unsure on whether or not she could touch the dragon. "Thank you . . . dragon," she whispered, pulling her hand away and moving to the edge of the landing. Glancing over, she quickly took a step back, looking out before her again. Doing her best to temper the slight panic that was starting to swell, Vesadi felt her hand start to tremble and quickly shook the tremor away before pulling her cloak around herself a little tighter.

Hearing that the Rider was leaving, Vesadi turned and cocked her head to the side for a moment. "Thank you, as well, Rider . . . I'm not sure what you've brought me into . . . but trading one unknown for another not be so bad," she stated, actually bowing her head a little. "Though you owe me a new blade and sheath and I plan to collect," she stated, the fear and the uncertainty gone from her eyes as she looked back at the Rider. Stepping forward she went to extend her for the Rider to have her hand shook, instead, in a quick motion she extended her hand toward his face and used enough force to sting and turn his head in a full contact slap. Stepping back she raised an eyebrow and regarded the Rider, hands clasped under her cloak, a slight smirk on her face. 

[B'til]

The woman seemed determined to end their encounter with some dignity; she definitely hadn't liked his move of throwing her sword away. When she gave her thanks (of course she thanked him, who could loosely be called her kidnapper, because what else was a Lady to do?) she flexed her jaw and mentioned it. He was in the middle of rolling his eyes at the phrase 'I plan to collect' when she slapped him in the sharding face.

It wasn't the first time, it wasn't the worst time, and he should have expected it. But he hadn't. And that was what made anger flare up dangerously in him. He had to curl his hand into a fist to resist the urge to grab her by the wrist.

Tbouridath's eyes gleamed ominously orange in the slim corridor to the weyr, and a very low, soft but palpable growl filled the space between them.

B'til rubbed his cheek as he regarded the woman again, her expression proud of what courage she had got up. "I don't think I will be the one to arm you again," he said, very drily. "But I will give you some advice. The next time you decide to strike a dragonman, don't do it when his dragon is standing close enough to singe all the hair off your head. And dragons aside..." His tone became more serious, and genuine. "Don't expect all dragonmen to accept a slap and give nothing back. I may have taken you from your marriage bed and insulted your honor, but I am not the worst dragonman in the Weyr. Not by far."

He left her with that grim truth, striding past her without another word to vault back up onto Tbouridath's shoulder. He didn't like how that had ended - not because she had struck him, not because of the insult or the sting on his cheek. He didn't like that he had remembered the real threat the Weyr posed to his chosen candidates. He didn't take them to their deaths--not directly. But he had unpleasantly reminded himself of things forgotten. Blood on the sands. A scalp wrenched suddenly from a skull. A dragon with malformed lungs, lumbering, gasping, falling. A boy no older than twelve lying quietly dead in the corner. And then a pair of wonderful rainbow eyes, and Tbouridath, and he was B'til.

Not everyone was lucky enough to be B'til.

Tbouridath crooned in the dim light.

She'll do fine.

As if I care, he thought back, irritated at the idea, now irritated in general, and ready for wine and sleep. The two of them twisted around in the entryway and his dragon threw herself into the sky, gaily opening her wings, and they left Lady Vesadi behind.

(gonna throw Rogatis post in next)

[Rogatis]

She had heard B'til come and go many times this season of Searching, and had learned to stick to her couch and furs and ignore the Greenrider. There was nothing to be done with or about him. He was rude, using T'leric's (and hers!) weyr as a dumping ground for Hold girls who came to her practically weeping and crawling for some human comfort, and he was careless. The man took to human interaction like a blood sport. The girls were never physically hurt, never faced predatory advances, but B'til's method of collection was so blunt as to be purposefully cruel. He ripped them from their homes like a flower from the dirt, leaving no roots, and here she had to sweep up the petals.

This time was different.

Rogatis had heard his call and collected the klah, and was hanging back waiting for his leave, because she couldn't tolerate the man. When she heard the distinctive smack of a hand on a face, she thought he had struck the girl, and almost threw down the klah to go dress him down, forget the dragon. But then she realized-

Someone had finally done it. Someone had slapped B'til across the face.

Her elation was tempered only by disappointment that she hadn't been the one to do it.

Unable to repress her grin, trying and failing to put back on the professional veneer of greeter and peacekeeper, Rogatis emerged from the front of the weyr with her tray of klah as soon as she heard the swish of Tbouridath's wings. The girl was still standing there--well, no girl, or as much girl as she was. They were perhaps the same age, but Rogatis always felt much older by virtue of experience.

The stranger was a bit rough looking, but pretty, and had the most guarded expression Rogatis had seen in a long time. She should have been guarded herself but instead she passed the stranger a mug of klah, and she grinned, and as confidently as if to a familiar face at the dining hall, asked, "Did you really just slap B'til? By the Egg, you can't know how long I've wanted to pop that sneer off of his pretty face!"

[Vesadi]

She was a Lady only by title. So having struck the male Rider, she expected nothing more than to have been struck back. So when the blow didn't come she was a little disappointed, it had been awhile since she had had a good go with another person outside of her guards and friends. Honestly, she was surprised that the dragon hadn't reacted seeing as her guard had threatened to stab and kill while she had only slapped the Rider; however, she understood the Rider's words.

"I will take your words to heart, Rider" she mentioned, more to herself than to the Rider as he mounted and her and dragon departed. She threw up her arm to protect her eyes from the quick dusting of wind stirred up before she found herself alone on the landing platform, at least for a moment.

A voice broke her thoughts as she watched the Rider and dragon leave. Turning, she found a young woman holding a tray and speaking. Looking back out over the Weyr, she watched the form get smaller and smaller. "B'til . . . Hmmm . . . . Is he always like that?" she asked, judging by the woman's tone that he was or worse.

[Rogatis]

The girl seemed unstartled to see her. Perhaps she wasn't an easily startled person. Rogatis pointedly handed her the mug before responding, saying, "You'll want a hot drink after going between, especially if that was your first time. Riders are used to it but it's a shock if you aren't. I ordered some meat rolls and some fruit as well, in case you haven't eaten recently." She had the mother hen routine down pat.

Finally in response to the girl's question, Rogatis shrugged. "B'til is B'til," she said. "I can never really know what he'll be like, only that I won't like it. This isn't even his weyr, you know." She sipped her own klah with a snort of disgust. "But T'leric is gone and B'til knows I'll take care of his candidates. It should be his job. But I suppose you should be grateful it isn't." She blew on the surface of her klah and inspected the girl again. "What did he even tell you? You know why you're here, don't you?"

[Vesadi]

When a mug was passed to her, Vesadi took it and sniffed the drink. She felt her shoulders ease a little as she took a tentative before realizing what it was. "Thank you," she offered. At the mention of food, her stomach betrayed her and rumbled louder than she thought it could. A blush crept down her cheeks. "I seem to be more hungry than I thought. So that sounds delicious."

Watching the young woman before her, she couldn't help but nod as she listened to her. So she had been left at some other Rider's weyr . . . home? . . . So he passed her off onto someone else. She turned up her nose at that thought. "Considering what I've seen so far, I believe I would agree that I would be happy and better off with you than him," she stated. At the mention of what she knew, Vesadi paused.

She knew a little bit plus what B'til had told her at the Hold, but she was sure that there was things she was missing. "I know enough that I am here because of a Queen egg on the Sands. I've heard stories about the Weyr but otherwise very little. However, I don't know what a Queen egg means . . . so I believe I'm missing some information," she admits.

[Rogatis]

The girl warmed a little, accepting the mug and some of Rogatis's kindness.

Of course B'til had told her nothing of value. And of course as a Holder she knew so little. A mixed blessing in Rogatis's mind; at least she didn't seem to have heard the worst stories. Perhaps that why she was so calm. Rogatis knew she ought to have warned the girl, but instead, she held her tongue. It was a rare luxury to greet a new candidate whose ears weren't filled with horrors.

"The Queen dragon dictates who rules the Weyr," she said. "Her rider is the Weyrwoman, and the rider whose dragon mates with the Queen is the Weyrleader." She wasn't sure how much she had to explain. Some girls came ignorant of the Weyr in its entirety, some knowing nearly all of its history and customs but repellant of its recent Turns. "Right now, the Queen is Soforith, but she's older..." her voice almost trailed off. "The Queens are the only ones who lay. If this Queen hatchling doesn't find the right candidate-" She shrugged her shoulders helplessly. "We need a strong and fertile new Queen, and so we need a strong woman to Impress her. That's why our Search is so widespread. It's been many Turns since we've had a golden egg, and S'ris - our Weyrleader - is determined to present as many candidates for her as possible."

She didn't tell the girl about the failures that had been Cath and Izrulith, nor the fear that the outcome of this Hatching could condemn the race of dragons in their entirety. And all the races of Pern... For who knew if Soforith would ever fly again? The poor creature was already half-gone with the death of so many children.

Rogatis didn't tell the new candidate any of that.

"My name is Rogatis, by the way," she said instead. "I was born here, in the Weyr. That makes me the welcome wagon for new girls. The riders are so preoccupied, they have little time to educate candidates."

[Vesadi]

Listening to the young woman talk, Vesadi stored away as much info as a she could. However, the way the young woman trailed off and seemed to draw on something that was unsaid. She knew of the ranking system at the Weyr, well, she knew that the dragons that came to the Hold on Search weren't the leaders or such. Most had been various shades of green, blue, or brown and she figured those were the lower ranked dragons. "I've seen the green, blue, and brown dragons. I'm guessing these Queen's are a different color? Same with these dragon's of the . . . . Weyrleader?" she asked. It should have been annoying having to be walked through what seemed like basic knowledge of Weyr life, but for someone who had never been to a Weyr, much less seen much of a dragon, she wanted to know more and more.

Strong and fertile. Even the Queens were forced to bred and birth to ensure survival but at least they seemed to rule and command. "What happens if the Queen doesn't find the right person?" she asked, sensing there was more to that statement that she wasn't willing to tell her.

S'ris was the Weyrleader. Going out on a long shot, if she Impressed the Queen egg then would it mean that she would have to know this S'ris? So many questions buzzed around her head and she figured it wasn't the time or the place to ask them all. "Is there only one Queen currently?" she asked, having just come from a Hold where she was about to be the third Lady Holder, she highly doubted a Weyr only had one Queenrider.

"Here I am babbling on. My name is Vesadi, born at a small Hold and was suppose to be the third Lady Hold of Baron Hold, she stated, raising her mug to Rotgatis as she spoke.

[P'tas]

Hartantuleth exploded into the air a hundred feet above the Weyr. P'tas spat the frigidity of between out of his teeth and promptly stuffed his fingers in his ears against the screaming of the girl behind him. She had been hystrical from the first sight of Hartantuleth and his reckless scattering of the guards, and had grown no calmer when he claimed her for the Weyr and undertook to put her on his beast. He had dragged candidates by their hair, thrown them over his shoulder, and he would have done it again with this brat had not her cousin intervened.

Just bring both, Hartantuleth had suggested, sparing the cousin's life with his impatience. He was always bored with Search after the initial terror of the Holders. Their fear made him hungry, and hunger made him venomously angry, and he had prowled the Hold walls like a great cat, smashing tiles and bellowing for P'tas to seize them and be done with it.

P'tas, just as impatient, had agreed.

So he had two. The girl, very young for a female candidate, and the cousin, the woman flashing of nobility but stinking of runnerbeast. He thought he had some vague memory of her. He had seen those scars on her neck, the way she looked at Hartantuleth and recoiled from the dragon's warm hide and red eyes. There was only one way in the world to get those scars. Had someone from his wing collected her for the last Hatching, he wondered? She must have been about her smaller cousin's age, then. Had she cried just as hard? That she was willing to return was a testament to either her bravery, stupidity, or love for her cousin. Perhaps this time she will lose the other ear, remarked his dragon. Weth's weyr is open. B'til has already left one girl. Rogatis is there.

"Some luck for once," muttered P'tas, and then snapped, "Shut up!" over his shoulder. Hartantuleth folded his wings to drop suddenly, instead of circling slowly and kindly down, and they slammed onto the ledge and clawed up into the weyr entrance. P'tas was already undoing the belts on the girls.

"You." He pointed at the older one. "Get her off, now." Hartantuleth lowered his neck and shoulders to make dismount easier, though it was still a distance for his size, and air-snapped loudly in his impatience. The older girl seized the younger and they slid off, her saying, "Shh, shh," and other useless things like, "It will be okay."

"Rogatis!" P'tas barked into the weyr. "Two more for you." He looked down at the girls. Leth had leveled his head with them, drawing a fresh squeal from the younger. The older one snatched the girl behind her and glared the Brown beast in the eye, white faced more with anger than fear. She hates me, said Hartantuleth, amused. If she had a knife she would stick it in my eye. Do you think she'll give us another Cath?

P'tas smote his dragon between the shoulders, a reprimand the Brown would barely register, and spat at the thought of Cath. "I'll see both of you again at the Hatching," he sneered down at them. "And perhaps later, if you Impress a Green." With a final laugh, he and Hartantuleth turned, and the Brown clambered down the passage, and they dropped out of the weyr and out of sight.

[Rogatis]

"The Queens are gold," confirmed Rogatis. "Unless they're bleached." She hurried past that point before the girl could ask; if she hadn't heard of the bleaching yet, Rogatis didn't want to have to explain that sad story to her. She moved on to other questions, though the girl's ignorance brought up flinchingly painful realities. "If she doesn't find the right person, well." She flapped a hand as if it wasn't a possible, though her heart beat a bit faster. "We have plenty of candidates! You'll meet some of them soon. And ah, well, Soforith is the only laying Queen." She wavered again between truths, lies, and revelations. "There are two others, Izrulith and Cath. Izrulith is-" Dare she lie? She erred on the side of half-truths "Izrulith is ill. Cath is young. Neither of them have clutched yet." She said 'yet' as if it were a possibility, and hoped the girl (Vesadi, was it?) wasn't too perceptive.

"'Supposed to be'? Until B'til showed up, I suppose?" she was asking drily, when there was a great ruckus from the weyr entry.

Rogatis knew these sounds well. Another dragon and rider pair had come in to deposit a candidate, and she could hear the girl (and this one truly was a girl, based on her voice she couldn't have been more than sixteen) screaming, truly screaming in fear.

"Rogatis!" barked a voice, and she jumped, involuntarily clasping her mug closer to her chest.

"It's P'tas," she breathed to the other girl, though Vesadi would have no idea who the man was.

"Two more for you," came his voice again, and he said something else to his candidates; based on what she could hear of his laugh, it had to be vile. Her heart thumped and her cheeks went paler than usual in anger. Of all the men in the Weyr, she loathed P'tas the most. Vesadi couldn't know how lucky she had been to deal with only B'til...

"Excuse me," she said politely but hurriedly to Vesadi, putting her mug aside and instinctively grabbing a fur from the couch.

Coming into view of the weyr entry, Rogatis saw P'tas's offerings. One was exceptionally tall, taller than Rogatis, which was jarring, but made sense somehow in comparison to the younger girl. Though that one had a bit of the height of her sister (Rogatis had to assume), her face had the roundness of a child, a face streaked with tears, and she clung to the tall woman like a child.

Rogatis held out the fur as an offering. "I know it's cold between," she said, unsure if they would accept the kindness. The tall woman had the eyes of a knife. "This will help, and we have food. And klah." Just then came the rattling sound from behind, of the fruit and meatrolls delivering themselves into the weyr.

[Vesadi]

Catching the thought that Rogatis was hiding something from her, Vesadi could only assume it was for the best or at least for her protection. She hated being in the dark; however, she understood that at times one had to wait to see all before truly understanding. However, what she had given up made Vesadi think. It was clear that the Weyr was falling, with only three Queens, one old, one sick, and one young, the idea of a Queen egg on the Sands had brought out hope.

Her mind churned with thoughts until one stuck out above all. She hated being used as a pawn by others but she found herself ready to step forward as she had before for the better of those around her. If there was a chance that she could help the Weyr by Standing as a Candidate for this Queen egg, then so be it. She would do what needed to be done and deal with the result as it came to head.

A sound drew Rogatis attention, as well as Vesadi. Having just arrived it was clear that another dragon had arrived but it seemed that this arrival wasn't as willing as she. The sound of panicked screaming rent the air, causing Vesadi to not only turn toward the ledge but jump at both the sound of such a voice barking out Rogatis' name. The sound caused a chill to run down her spine and she heard the uneasy as Rogatis breathed the Rider's name. It seemed this was one of those Rider's B'til had warned her about, maybe? The sound of laughter caused Vesadi to shiver once, actually feeling a slight happiness that B'til had picked her up and not this man. . . . . And she hadn't even met this one yet.

When Rogatis excused herself, Vesadi followed. She barely saw the man on the back of the Brown dragon but she heard his words. They caused a lust to protect these young ladies and had her rushing to join Rogatis and the two new girls. One seemed to be comforting the other and neither seemed welcoming to Rogatis' aid. She wanted to help Rogatis calm the two but found not the words. Instead, she heard a sound behind her. "What can I do to help, Rogatis?" she asked, watching the two new arrivals carefully.

[Rogatis]

The older woman snatched the fur distrustfully from her and turned to wrap it around the smaller girl. As she turned, Rogatis saw in a horrible flash the deep wound on the side of her neck, the scar tissue of a missing ear, and she had to crush her pity and fear before the woman turned back to see her face. Rogatis greeted her only with her most polite smile.

"I know it's cold between," said the other girl bluntly. "I've been here before. I know how this goes." She looked past Rogatis at Vesadi, her eyes hard. "I'll take the klah. And another fur."

Rogatis turned to Vesadi who had come to help, suggesting, "Grab the meat rolls? And more klah, if it's still hot, please." She found herself relying on Vesadi automatically, and if she had had time to think, she would have thought that perhaps she had found a friend in the girl. Foolish thoughts, but she would have thought them. This hatching would only end well for a few of them. She knew, after several years, that attaching herself to any of these girls would be a mistake.

She turned back to the newcomers. "I'm Rogatis," she said. The speech came out automatically. "This is the weyr of T'leric, my weyrmate, away on Search."

"Tsulain of Oyba Hold, niece of Lord Bellerat." The tall woman introduced herself as nobility, but did not extend a hand of greeting, nor wear an expression of one. She did not introduce the smaller girl. Perhaps she thought it was none of their business. "We shall require our own rooms, far from the Searchmen." She spat the last word. Rogatis thought of P'tas again and felt ill- that he be the one to return this Tsulain to the Weyr.

What kind of man would bring her back? After what had happened?

Fresh horror was alive in Rogatis's chest, but she suppressed it with her mild smile. "Of course. But you should rest here while we prepare your quarters. No more riders will come," she added quickly, knowing that it grew dark. "The Lady Vesadi has arrived today as well. Perhaps your families knew of each other?" She was guessing wildly, but they came from noble houses, didn't they? They certainly had more in common than she, who could only bring klah and hides and pretend to prepare them for what was to come.

[Vesadi]

Vesadi was no stranger to wounds, great or small, at least she thought she wasn't. However, the extent of the wound that the taller female presented as she turned to wrap the fur around the smaller female shook her to the core. It was bad, disfiguring, but it seemed that the woman had had it long enough that she wore it with little care to others. She did her best to hide the pity that was welling up inside her; however, there was also a huge amount of curiosity also. Rogatis seemed not so much use to the extent of the wound but comfortable enough that she was still able to do her task.

Were wounds such as the one the young woman wore normal about the Weyr?

That train of thought was stamped out as the tall woman turned her gaze on her and spoke. The venom that dripped from the woman's words had Vesadi shivering for a moment, enough that she balked at Rogatis' request, almost not sure as to what the young woman wanted. However, it didn't take a scholar to understand that these women needed warmth and food and drink and Vesadi moved into action.

By the time she returned she was balancing a tray of meat rolls and luckily still hot klah with two new mugs on the tray. She had also snagged another fur from a pile and had it draped across her arm as she moved toward the trio. She arrived in time to hear the tall woman introduce herself as Tsulain and a niece to a Lord Holder. Vesadi didn't miss that the smaller woman wasn't introduced. She joined the small group once more, kneeling in the middle of the group and placing the tray on the ground before she offered Tsulain the fur. She poured klah next, offering the first mug to the smaller woman with a soft smile on her face. "Here you go," she offered, waiting for her to take the mug from her.

[Tsulain]

Tsulain's blood was hot with anger, so hot it was unsustainable, and yet it persisted. From the moment she had heard the beating of those wings, the howl of the beast, her heart had been in her throat and her hand begging for a blade. When the Weyr man (more beast than his dragon) had seized Omina, she would have cleaved his arm from his body if she'd had that blade.

She'd had no weapon, no shield for Omina but herself. Violent, protective instinct had reared its head. And it had taken her back here again.

She was back here again.

If it had not been for the hot rage at the rider and the gall of his hands on her, and the hot rage for small Omina, Tsulain would have been cold with terror.

Ignoring the stares at her wounds, Tsulain took the fur from the weyr woman and ensured that Omina was wrapped securely. She took her cousin's smaller hands in hers, checking them for warmth. The weyr woman was overtly polite, covering the cruelty of her home and her people in kind words. I'm Rogatis. This is the weyr of T'leric, my weyrmate, away on Search.

Tsulain cut her off as quickly as possible, not wanting her kindness. "I know that it's cold between." She disliked the woman on sight. Though nearly as tall as Tsulain, this Rogatis was otherwise a demonstration in contrast-- fair, untouched by harsh sunlight or hard labor, dressed in the light & comfortable dress of her kind. Tsulain coolly relegated her to handmaid. "I'll take the klah, and another fur." Out of necessity, she introduced herself and her Hold ("Tsulain of Oyba Hold, niece of Lord Bellerat."), but left Omina out of it entirely.

Omina was none of their business.

The other woman-- she was different. Rogatis introduced her as 'Lady Vesadi'. Whose lady? wondered Tsulain. She was too young to be the senior woman of a Hold Lord, so perhaps a tertiary wife, or the wife of a young son. Tsulain wondered how long she had been 'Lady'; there was something about her that was stockier, and more sun-touched. She did not have the same nearly detestable delicacy of the Weyr woman. Perhaps that was why Tsulain took the second fur from her, and allowed her to offer klah to Omina.

"Who are your people?" she asked Vesadi. The woman was unfamiliar to her, but that didn't mean they hadn't met; Rogatis had forgotten much of the visits and visitors from her youth, and since her trauma and 'ascension' to stablemaster she had scorned such formal meetings.