[Log] Changes
Who: I'daur, R'hin
When: Day 31, Month 4, Turn 9
Where: Weylreader Ledges, High Reaches Weyr
What: I'daur meets with R'hin.
Weyrleader Ledges
A flight of steps worn smooth with time lead up to a broad flat area with enough room for a gold and her consort to sprall and lounge. Openings lead to a room used for conferences, the Weyrwoman's private room, and the hatching sands themselves. A round table of well polished hardwood sits in one corner and is surrounded by chairs.
Contents:
R'hin
Leiventh
Lhiannonth
Obvious exits:
Weyrleader SeniorWeyrWoman Bowl Passageway to the Hatching Grounds Council Chamber Sky
The warm, spring breeze flows through the ledges, warm enough that it makes it quite pleasant to work on the small table, and not quite strong enough that it does more than ruffle the stacks of hides there. R'hin, casual with sleeves of his shirt pushed up, is seated at the table, attention on the hide in front of him, frowning and making the occasional note on a slate board near to his hand. Leiventh is curled up, to all appearances fast asleep - but then it's difficult to tell when he's asleep, given he's not prone to restless movements.
Promptly at the appointed time, I'daur makes his way over to the Weyrleaders' ledges, deposited on the ground nearby by his bronze. Zunaeth lingers long enough to watch him make his way over, then shuffles on toward the lake himself, while I'daur heads up the steps to meet R'hin. "Weyrleader," he announces himself, stopping before the table and straightening himself.
"Weyrlingmaster," R'hin's finger drops to mark his place on the hide, before he catches himself, grimaces, and rolls it up to set it to one side, clearing space on the table. "Good of you to come. Congratulations are in order." A tip of head is given to the new knot, curl of lips bespeaking amusement, "I'd wanted you for my wing, but it seems you came at a fortuitous time. Please, sit," he invites, a hand waving to one of the other chairs. "Would you like a drink? Perhaps a glass of wine?"
"Wine?" repeats I'daur as he settles into one of the chairs. "Yes, that's fine, if you don't have anything else. And thank you, sir. Seems I did, really: didn't expect to see S'din retire, myself. He was a real institution around here--about like S'rist was," the bronzerider notes dryly.
A purse of lips bespeaks the Weyrleader's sudden bemusement. "You're not the ale sort, are you? I don't keep any of that to hand. Give me just a moment." R'hin wipes charcoal-stained fingers against his pants as he heads down the archway into his weyr, returning shortly with a bottle and two glasses. "It's not the vintage stuff, I'm afraid, but it is a good bottle of Tillek. I thought I ought to make an effort to support my area." A low chuckle emanates as he sets the glasses down and opens the bottle, taking I'daur's words in stride. "S'rist was," he agrees, "But needs - times - change. Josilina thinks that Leiventh won because I'm -needed-. What do you think, Weyrlingmaster. Are flights chance, or something more?" The query is asked evenly, accompanied with a proffered wine glass.
"I'd prefer it--anything harder, really," I'daur answers as he shifts in his seat, half-turning to watch R'hin's progress. "Nothing wrong with Tillek on occasion, though. Didn't see it much down south--if they want to import something, they want the Benden." His nose wrinkles slightly, but he shakes his head, brows furrowing into lines as R'hin questions him. The older man purses his lip and replies, "Couldn't say myself, sir, and I'm not real sure it really matters in the long run, anyway--not the whys of who wins: just what they do once they have."
"I'll have to make sure to get some in - if just for guests," R'hin replies as he takes his own glass, sinking back into his seat. He studies his guest as he considers and answers, a slow nod of his head given in response. "I suppose you're right at that." A beat, as he lifts his glass in toast, "To a healthy clutch." He takes a gulp, leaning back, eyes straying towards Leiventh. "You flew thread, I'daur," statement, not question, "And I'm curious to know - what purpose do you think a rider has in an interval? You said, I think, that nothing much had changed since you left High Reaches before the end of the pass."
After lifting his own glass slightly, taking a deep drink of the wine, I'daur lowers the glass to the table, hand lingering at its base as he watches R'hin. "I flew Thread," he confirms with a curt nod. "And I said that, too." He pauses a long time, taking another drink and then frowning at the Weyrleader, expression settling into well-drawn lines. "First, most important thing we have to do: keep up with the techniques, the knowledge of 'Fall, so we don't leave our children hanging when they have to face it themselves." Again, he pauses. "But that don't mean we need to lock ourselves in the Weyrs, either, and do nothing else like it's our right to make the rest of Pern wait on us hand and foot until the next Pass."
R'hin leans forward marginally, a glint of eyes bespeaking pleasure at I'daur's words. "I disagreed with S'din on many points of weyrlinghood. He is the sort to do things as they have been done, simply because he knows no other way. I suspect you are very different in that regard." He exhales, leaning back, tilting the glass this way and that to swirl the contents around, pale eyes drifting towards the tunnel to the sands. "The weyrlings, Lhiannonth and Leiventh's clutch, and those that follow, they will define what will come to pass in the future. They will play a part in whether High Reaches faces the next Pass from strength, or weakness. Threadfighting will become less important than good will, than diplomacy, in the next two hundred Turns."
I'daur's mouth tilts into a dry half-smile. "I'm not a big fan of resting on your laurels," he notes, "well-earned or not." Another drink, and his mouth settles back into a frown of habit. "Down at Monaco, I worked with a pretty forward-thinking man, until he retired a clutch ago," he notes. "We butted heads with our Weyrleader a few times, but we tried not to just blindly follow rote--even fighting Thread, there's nothing good comes of stagnating. You do the same things every time, and someday you're going to come up on a new situation, and you're going to get hit."
"Nor am I," R'hin agrees, vehement, "Especially with those that lead." Such words shouldn't come as that much of a surprise, considering there's been rumbling about the wings being shuffled around, including the former Wingleaders and 'seconds. He takes another gulp of his wine, studying the other bronzerider over the rim. "I like to think of myself as very forward thinking, Weyrlingmaster. I'd like to encourage you to come to me with ideas - no matter how radical. Our purpose of fighting Thread may be gone for the time being, but I will not see us waste our potential."
"Seems like," drawls I'daur, after fininshing his drink and setting the glass back in place, "we can't even keep up with tradition real well. If there's one thing about Thread, it makes you get on with the training and get those riders in wings--no piddling around when you need bodies." He shakes his head, lips pursing. "I'll keep that in mind, though, sir. I'm still planning things out, trying to get everything sorted out again like I like it. Not goin' to be easy, but."
R'hin, too finishes off his drink, giving a slow nod. "I've never flown Thread, so I imagine the techniques used to train me were appropriate for it. But for the future... we need thinkers. People who don't follow simply because that's the way that things have been done, but who -see- the possibilities, the unique opportunities our situation presents." His baritone is low, intent, obviously a topic spoken and discussed often before. A sympathetic smile twists his lips, "You've got a tough job ahead of you," he agrees, "And you'll have my full support. Any riders you require to assist you, you'll have."
I'daur, during R'hin's little speech, nods a couple of times, thoughtfully frowning. "So we do," he agrees. "And thank you, sir. I'm going to be asking around, looking for capable people to help me--the Weyrwoman suggested Amilin or even S'din himself, though I'm inclined to think it'd be easier myself to not have him peering over my shoulder while I go about running things my way."
"Personally, I think S'din would benefit from some time spent back in the wings," R'hin remarks dryly, not in the least apologetic for his assessment. "Amilin is," he considers, "She could prove useful to you. I'll come up with some other names you could talk to, if you like?"
I'daur smirks slightly at R'hin's words, nodding. "I'd appreciate that, sir," he agrees. "I can't say I know Amilin, but if she's on both your recommendations I'll see if I can't talk to her," he agrees.
"Thank you, Weyrlingmaster." R'hin pushes his glass to one side. "I appreciate you coming by. I'll get hold of some ale for next time," he says, lips curving, tacit dismissal in the words as he rises.
I'daur stands as well, nodding again. "Appreciate that," he repeats. "And thank you, Weyrleader. Have a good night." Then, turning, he moves to shuffle back down the steps to the bowl.
"You too, Weyrlingmaster." The nod R'hin gives to the departing bronzerider is respectful, waiting until the bronzerider has stepped away from the table before he seats himself again.