A friendly welcome.
Who: Miniyal and Maglin
Where: Records room
When: 13:11 on day 16, month 11, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.
What: Busy with her own research (likely to cause more trouble) Miniyal is interrupted by a new Caucus student. Maglin gets a proper welcome to the weyr. As only Miniyal can do. She should be the official greeter like what Walmart has. "Hi, welcome to High Reaches Weyr. Please don't mind the blood stains and social upheaval."
5/30/2007
At High Reaches Weyr, it is 13:11 on day 16, month 11, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.
It's past the lunch hour and the records room has pretty much been taken over by Caucus students. Those not in class move about the shelves looking for this or that record, often having to ask one of the people working in here where to locate something. All of this is done in an unusually quiet sort of way. Where normally there would be giggles and gossip and sometimes even shouting the mood is more somber than that. Well, what can people expect when the Head of Records daughter is who she is and has done what she has done so recently?
Speaking of that daughter, Miniyal is currently present if not talking to her father. Instead, regardless of where she should be, she is here. The table she sits at is occupied by no one but herself and several books that she goes through without so much as seeming to be reading them as just glancing here and there. One of the recordskeepers is nearby dividing his time between working, flirting with some holder's daughter, and keeping an eye on his boss' daughter.
One of the Caucus' newer students, Maglin, is there, scanning the formidable rows of scrolls in baffled bemusement. He moves from one section to another, scanning the indexing tags. The sheer vastness of the collection forces him to ask a recordskeeper for some scrolls on hold management.
Lucky for that newer student he gets a friendly recordskeeper. One who is willing to pull himself away from flirting with that holder's daughter to answer the question. Bothal, that being the recordskeeper in question not only points out where those scrolls might be found, but is kind enough to offer to show the student the index kept of all the records in the room as well as their location. Such a helpful fellow. Miniyal watches all of this, shaking her head. One of the books she is looking at gets closed with a sigh as she stands up, the rest of her stuff in place, and moves to return it where she got it from.
Maglin follows Bothal, carefully listening to his lecture on the index, making careful note of where certain sections are, learning more by physical location than by the index. The Smithcraft Journeyman nods in thanks and pulls out several different scrolls, then turns to look for a place to study.
There's a few places to sit, many of the tables taken up already, but it's not impossible to find a seat. Maglin, being new, might not have gotten the warning that sitting by Miniyal is sometimes not wise. However, she is the only one at her table, having returned from replacing her book and now busying herself with opening up another one and writing something down into it with neat even strokes of a stylus.
Maglin continues scanning the room for a vacant place, and spies one next to Miniyal. He makes a beeline in her direction and dumps his scrolls on the table unannounced. "Mind if I sit here?" he asks, in a tone of mixed arrogance and ingratiation, then pulls out the chair and sits anyway, his request being merely for a show of politeness.
Miniyal's gaze doesn't even lift from her work when he asks to sit. Which, it turns out, is a good thing since he does so anyway. Only after she has finished writing does she bother to lift her head and give the interloper a flicker of attention. "You might be a little more careful with how you treat those." He may rudely sit down where he will, but even the appearance of mistreating any of the records will get her attention.
"I'm sorry then," he replies in a tone of anything but contrition. "After all, these are your tools and your works," having noticed her hidework. "I can respect that," and he turns back to the scrolls, arranging them carefully by subject before opening one to read. He takes special care of the oftentimes fragile hide, keeping his hands free of the text and showing his respect for the physical document.
She might have let that pass, but for whatever reason. . .it is never wise to try to divine Miniyal's reasons, she finds herself offering a correction. "That is not entirely true. It was once, well, I was once in charge here, but the responsibility has passed on to another. I am merely in here to research something. However, I did work in here for any number of turns and some habits are hard to break." Looking back down at her work she frowns at the book in front of her. "All of that aside, it is merely proper to show respect to knowledge gathered."
"But still you have a connection to the manuscripts here," he says somewhat curtly. "And I wouldn't like anyone ill-treating my more delicate instruments, such as calipers and gagues, so I will not ill-treat the hides." He turns back to his studies of the finer points of Hold management -- something he might just need to know, considering his close relation to the Telgar Blood.
"Your attitude is not exactly in keeping with your words. It leaves me wondering which is true. Are you then, in fact, an arrogant brat?" Miniyal, official welcome wagon to High Reaches. "Oh. Let me guess. A Caucus student." She manages, for all she's been rather distant lately, a trace of annoyance in her tone with those last three words. Even the depths of grief cannot quite keep out her disdain for that institution. She glances up from her work, curious enough to see his reaction as well as hear whatever he might say.
"I was called that on many an occasion when I was younger, but no longer." His tone is icy as he glares at the young woman. "And yes, I am a Caucus student. Since when did that become a crime? Or are you jealous that I'm in and you're not?" Getting into dangerous territory here -- not good politics riling up the residents.
His words are met with a rather bland expression until he gets to the end. Then there is a noise that would almost be considered a laugh were there any mirth in it. "I assure you, had I any desire to be admitted to Caucus I would have no trouble getting there. I have to fight people off to keep /out/ of it." Miniyal's head tilts to the side and her shoulders shrug. "As for it being a crime, well, yes. It is. When one considers the supposed purpose of the institution how can it be seen as anything /but/ a crime to willingly be involved in it. That does not even take into account. . .well, regardless. My views on the Caucus are well known. I will not bore yet another person with them."
One eyebrow rises slightly as the journeyman turns to face her. "How would you we involved in the Caucus?" he asks, not seeing her weyrling knot. "And I can't see how the Caucus and participation in it can be a crime. It serves a noble purpose -- teaching Hold, Craft and Weyr about one another so we don't all drift into insular isolation." Apparently Maglin has bought the idealism bit hook, line and sinker.
Well, it's not as if she's ever worn a knot in her life. So, he's certainly got no way of knowing whom she might be. "Well, let's see. Before my current occupation I had the headmaster express interest in having me become a student. Not to mention the former ethics instructor although there are those who would say that was for a less noble purpose than my further education." Miniyal's attention drifts around the room and she is distracted for a moment trying to figure out what one of the recordskeepers mouths to her. Finally she shakes her head and attends to her conversation once more. "It's so cute when the propaganda is bought so completely. You'll do well here. I am sure the headmaster will just adore you." That sounds somewhat like an insult all things considered.
In the meantime, Maglin has returned to his studies, studiously ignoring the conversation between Miniyal and the recordskeeper and doing his best to comprehend the text -- a difficult task given his already-distracted attenion. "I haven't always been 'teacher's pet," he says indignantly. Apparently the young woman has struck a nerve. "But I am willing to listen to your argurments so that I may have both sides of the story." He mentally girds himself for a rather nasty diatribe.
"My apologies. It is clearly too early to determine if you will be one here or not." Miniyal pauses a moment and then closes the book she was writing in to set it to one side so she might fold her hands atop the table. Never on a book or hide. "It is simple. The Caucus was designed to continue to enforce the belief that those who are considered to be the only source for leadership remain so. Lord holders' children, the journeymen in a craft who are mostly men, and the bronze and gold riders from a weyr. There is little attempt to even consider stepping out of those preconceived notions. If someone who is not one of those things wished to enter and learn they can forget it." She pauses here, gathering more thoughts or rethinking ones she might have said. "Ah, and as has been pointed out on more than one occasion my manners sometimes lack. I am Miniyal. Now, as I was saying, the Caucus was formed to remind society of what was what. That those who sought to change inequalities and injustices were in the wrong. Not just for their chosen methods, but because they dared to speak up against those inequalities and injustices."
Maglin's eyebrows knit in a scowl. "Aye," he says with a nod, "it does just that. But it supplies stability -- what you want is part and parcel of the Instigators mentality. Some changes, perhaps, but slowly. And the people in the Caucus are here because we are the future leaders of Pern -- Blood because they rule the Holds, journeyman Crafters because they will become Masters, perhaps, and gold and bronze riders because the are potential Weyrwomen and Weyrleaders. I see nothing wrong with that." Then he catches himself. "Excuse me for my lapse in manners. I am Maglin." His knot declares hid status but he stays mum about his Blooded relationships.
"Nothing at all?" Miniyal inquires with a tilt of her head. "Nothing at all wrong with dismissing the majority of the population of Pern as unworthy to lead because of. . .chance." Shaking her head she taps one of the books she's got in front of her. "History is full of people if one knows where to look of those who would have been worthy to lead if they had been given the chance. But, you prefer to leave things as they are. That is your right. I would not presume to try to convince you otherwise."
"Nothing at all," the young man replies. "With the dragonriders it is the dragon's choice, so I understand, and with the Crafts one must earn one's way on every step, one must show knowledge and skill of one's chosen Craft. It is not a free ride but an exhibition of skill and merit. As for the Blood -- they have been born to it and are the ones who understand good governence, with one or two exceptions," such as Odern. "What the common folk can do is to help influence those in power as advisors and headwomen and the like -- positions achieved through merit." Never mind bribary, connections and the like.
Twisting the ring on her finger as she listens there's nothing in Miniyal's expression to give away what she thinks of his opinion. "If I may? First, the crafts are notorious for seeing gender before ability. How many masters are women? How many women find themselves troubled and run out of their chosen field as apprentices simply because they are female? More than the men I imagine. Oh." She opens up her book and dips her stylus in ink to make a note. "I should look into that." Once she is done and the book is laid open so the ink might dry she speaks again. "As for dragons. High Reaches has several fine examples of people who are not good examples of the whole 'the dragon knows' theory." Herself included some might say. "And. Lord Holders. Yes, of course. They are hardly known to ever lead poorly. To think of their own excess before what is needed by those who look to them for protection. What a silly thought. History hardly has accounts of any of that. Before we get carried away, I am in no way advocating the overthrow of our current system by any means necessary. I am just amused that people do not ever look beyond societal propaganda."
Maglin gives the woman a puzzled look. "Smithcraft, the one I know of best, is no place for a woman -- the work is far too difficult and dangerous." Never mind the hazard of some 200 or so boys and teenagers with their raging hormones.... "The same goes for Minecraft -- far too physical and dangerous for a woman. There are other crafts where I think women would do well, such as Healercraft, Harpercraft and Weavercraft. These cater to a woman's strengths. As for women Holding -- I think not. It's not that it's physically demanding but mentally demanding. I do think that women of the Blood can do more in a domestic situation -- my mother pretty well ran the house as my father was oftentimes away. As for dragons," he shrugs, "no one can claim to understand them and their choices. I certainly don't." Strongly Traditionalist but starting to develop some progressive ideas.
Miniyal's lips curve up for a brief second into a smile. "Oh, you just have to say hello to Penny in the barracks. She's going to love you." The flicker of amusement passes and she's back to that bland, emotionless expression. "It may be the Weyrleader who leads the dragons in fall, but it is the Weyrwoman who runs the weyr you know. So, exactly /how/ is a woman unable to lead a hold? Oh, no one presumes to understand dragons and their choices. So much easier to explain away anomalies that way. Well, the dragon knows best. Speaking from experience I can say I am not entirely sure of that fact. However, your chauvinistic attitudes are just the sort someone /should/ be trying to change. Because, if I might be blunt, they are shit. Dismissing half of society out of hand for no reason. That's a brilliant attitude to have. Did you learn it in your craft or at home?"
"And shit makes plants grow," he replies acidly. "And there are some things that a woman /should not/ do -- running a hold full time is one of them. And may I remind you that not everyone can lead -- well, poorly or otherwise. Someone has to be at the bottom, else we would not have crops and herdbeasts and fish. We would not have wagon caravans of traders or wagons bringing their goods to Gathers and to tithe. If it were not for the common men and women of Pern, society would fall apart." He spreads his arm out wide, as if to encompase the entire Weyr. "How do you think this place is run? By the dragons?" and he snorts at the absurdity of his own answer. "Course not. There are people who cook and serve the food, who make clothes, who run the beast pens -- just like a Hold but with dragons." Maglin may not have a full familiarity with a Weyr, but he is sharply observant and quick to draw comparisons of what he sees with what he knows.
"Really!" Eyes wide Miniyal stares in mock wonder as he speaks. "You mean stuff just doesn't appear? You meant that. . .wow. I never knew that! Thank you so much for sharing that with me. Why, I might have thought there was no such thing as a weyr support structure. I've only lived here my entire life. My family has only been /part/ of that support structure for as long as we can remember." Eyes rolling she pulls her hands into her lap where she might twist as much as she likes at the ring on her finger. "Just as not all of the 'common' people as you so charmingly put it are fit to lead neither are those of the Blood. Neither are those who impress to a bronze or a gold. Neither are those who attain mastery. It's all politics and keeping the game running the same as before. However, the fact you call those people who farm and cook and fish the bottom proves my point. If they are so necessary to the survival of all of us why does society continue to treat them as if they mean nothing? As if their wants and needs do not compare to those who have attained some lofty rank by either birth or luck?"
The irresistable force meets the immovable object. "True," he says calmly after hearing out her diatribe. "Perhaps the common folk should be better treated. And who could criticize the fact that a good man dies of plague while a lesser one lives on? Much of life is chance, as I'm sure you know, and oftemtimes it is slag that rises to the top. But Pern has known no other way, or so I have been taught, and it has served us well. Those who wished to inflict their views on the rest of the world by means of violence have been properly exlied." And the glare he gives Miniyal suggests that she should be too.
He rises abruptly. "This has been a monumental waste of time, for yourself, I am sure, as well as for me. And as my studies have been ruined for the remainder of the day, I bid you farewell." He shoots her one last glare before leaving the room.
Unable to resist a parting shot, she does not. "Didn't you hear? They're back." Miniyal opens her book and resumes whatever work she was doing as he leaves.
Where: Records room
When: 13:11 on day 16, month 11, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.
What: Busy with her own research (likely to cause more trouble) Miniyal is interrupted by a new Caucus student. Maglin gets a proper welcome to the weyr. As only Miniyal can do. She should be the official greeter like what Walmart has. "Hi, welcome to High Reaches Weyr. Please don't mind the blood stains and social upheaval."
5/30/2007
At High Reaches Weyr, it is 13:11 on day 16, month 11, turn 3 of the 7th Pass.
It's past the lunch hour and the records room has pretty much been taken over by Caucus students. Those not in class move about the shelves looking for this or that record, often having to ask one of the people working in here where to locate something. All of this is done in an unusually quiet sort of way. Where normally there would be giggles and gossip and sometimes even shouting the mood is more somber than that. Well, what can people expect when the Head of Records daughter is who she is and has done what she has done so recently?
Speaking of that daughter, Miniyal is currently present if not talking to her father. Instead, regardless of where she should be, she is here. The table she sits at is occupied by no one but herself and several books that she goes through without so much as seeming to be reading them as just glancing here and there. One of the recordskeepers is nearby dividing his time between working, flirting with some holder's daughter, and keeping an eye on his boss' daughter.
One of the Caucus' newer students, Maglin, is there, scanning the formidable rows of scrolls in baffled bemusement. He moves from one section to another, scanning the indexing tags. The sheer vastness of the collection forces him to ask a recordskeeper for some scrolls on hold management.
Lucky for that newer student he gets a friendly recordskeeper. One who is willing to pull himself away from flirting with that holder's daughter to answer the question. Bothal, that being the recordskeeper in question not only points out where those scrolls might be found, but is kind enough to offer to show the student the index kept of all the records in the room as well as their location. Such a helpful fellow. Miniyal watches all of this, shaking her head. One of the books she is looking at gets closed with a sigh as she stands up, the rest of her stuff in place, and moves to return it where she got it from.
Maglin follows Bothal, carefully listening to his lecture on the index, making careful note of where certain sections are, learning more by physical location than by the index. The Smithcraft Journeyman nods in thanks and pulls out several different scrolls, then turns to look for a place to study.
There's a few places to sit, many of the tables taken up already, but it's not impossible to find a seat. Maglin, being new, might not have gotten the warning that sitting by Miniyal is sometimes not wise. However, she is the only one at her table, having returned from replacing her book and now busying herself with opening up another one and writing something down into it with neat even strokes of a stylus.
Maglin continues scanning the room for a vacant place, and spies one next to Miniyal. He makes a beeline in her direction and dumps his scrolls on the table unannounced. "Mind if I sit here?" he asks, in a tone of mixed arrogance and ingratiation, then pulls out the chair and sits anyway, his request being merely for a show of politeness.
Miniyal's gaze doesn't even lift from her work when he asks to sit. Which, it turns out, is a good thing since he does so anyway. Only after she has finished writing does she bother to lift her head and give the interloper a flicker of attention. "You might be a little more careful with how you treat those." He may rudely sit down where he will, but even the appearance of mistreating any of the records will get her attention.
"I'm sorry then," he replies in a tone of anything but contrition. "After all, these are your tools and your works," having noticed her hidework. "I can respect that," and he turns back to the scrolls, arranging them carefully by subject before opening one to read. He takes special care of the oftentimes fragile hide, keeping his hands free of the text and showing his respect for the physical document.
She might have let that pass, but for whatever reason. . .it is never wise to try to divine Miniyal's reasons, she finds herself offering a correction. "That is not entirely true. It was once, well, I was once in charge here, but the responsibility has passed on to another. I am merely in here to research something. However, I did work in here for any number of turns and some habits are hard to break." Looking back down at her work she frowns at the book in front of her. "All of that aside, it is merely proper to show respect to knowledge gathered."
"But still you have a connection to the manuscripts here," he says somewhat curtly. "And I wouldn't like anyone ill-treating my more delicate instruments, such as calipers and gagues, so I will not ill-treat the hides." He turns back to his studies of the finer points of Hold management -- something he might just need to know, considering his close relation to the Telgar Blood.
"Your attitude is not exactly in keeping with your words. It leaves me wondering which is true. Are you then, in fact, an arrogant brat?" Miniyal, official welcome wagon to High Reaches. "Oh. Let me guess. A Caucus student." She manages, for all she's been rather distant lately, a trace of annoyance in her tone with those last three words. Even the depths of grief cannot quite keep out her disdain for that institution. She glances up from her work, curious enough to see his reaction as well as hear whatever he might say.
"I was called that on many an occasion when I was younger, but no longer." His tone is icy as he glares at the young woman. "And yes, I am a Caucus student. Since when did that become a crime? Or are you jealous that I'm in and you're not?" Getting into dangerous territory here -- not good politics riling up the residents.
His words are met with a rather bland expression until he gets to the end. Then there is a noise that would almost be considered a laugh were there any mirth in it. "I assure you, had I any desire to be admitted to Caucus I would have no trouble getting there. I have to fight people off to keep /out/ of it." Miniyal's head tilts to the side and her shoulders shrug. "As for it being a crime, well, yes. It is. When one considers the supposed purpose of the institution how can it be seen as anything /but/ a crime to willingly be involved in it. That does not even take into account. . .well, regardless. My views on the Caucus are well known. I will not bore yet another person with them."
One eyebrow rises slightly as the journeyman turns to face her. "How would you we involved in the Caucus?" he asks, not seeing her weyrling knot. "And I can't see how the Caucus and participation in it can be a crime. It serves a noble purpose -- teaching Hold, Craft and Weyr about one another so we don't all drift into insular isolation." Apparently Maglin has bought the idealism bit hook, line and sinker.
Well, it's not as if she's ever worn a knot in her life. So, he's certainly got no way of knowing whom she might be. "Well, let's see. Before my current occupation I had the headmaster express interest in having me become a student. Not to mention the former ethics instructor although there are those who would say that was for a less noble purpose than my further education." Miniyal's attention drifts around the room and she is distracted for a moment trying to figure out what one of the recordskeepers mouths to her. Finally she shakes her head and attends to her conversation once more. "It's so cute when the propaganda is bought so completely. You'll do well here. I am sure the headmaster will just adore you." That sounds somewhat like an insult all things considered.
In the meantime, Maglin has returned to his studies, studiously ignoring the conversation between Miniyal and the recordskeeper and doing his best to comprehend the text -- a difficult task given his already-distracted attenion. "I haven't always been 'teacher's pet," he says indignantly. Apparently the young woman has struck a nerve. "But I am willing to listen to your argurments so that I may have both sides of the story." He mentally girds himself for a rather nasty diatribe.
"My apologies. It is clearly too early to determine if you will be one here or not." Miniyal pauses a moment and then closes the book she was writing in to set it to one side so she might fold her hands atop the table. Never on a book or hide. "It is simple. The Caucus was designed to continue to enforce the belief that those who are considered to be the only source for leadership remain so. Lord holders' children, the journeymen in a craft who are mostly men, and the bronze and gold riders from a weyr. There is little attempt to even consider stepping out of those preconceived notions. If someone who is not one of those things wished to enter and learn they can forget it." She pauses here, gathering more thoughts or rethinking ones she might have said. "Ah, and as has been pointed out on more than one occasion my manners sometimes lack. I am Miniyal. Now, as I was saying, the Caucus was formed to remind society of what was what. That those who sought to change inequalities and injustices were in the wrong. Not just for their chosen methods, but because they dared to speak up against those inequalities and injustices."
Maglin's eyebrows knit in a scowl. "Aye," he says with a nod, "it does just that. But it supplies stability -- what you want is part and parcel of the Instigators mentality. Some changes, perhaps, but slowly. And the people in the Caucus are here because we are the future leaders of Pern -- Blood because they rule the Holds, journeyman Crafters because they will become Masters, perhaps, and gold and bronze riders because the are potential Weyrwomen and Weyrleaders. I see nothing wrong with that." Then he catches himself. "Excuse me for my lapse in manners. I am Maglin." His knot declares hid status but he stays mum about his Blooded relationships.
"Nothing at all?" Miniyal inquires with a tilt of her head. "Nothing at all wrong with dismissing the majority of the population of Pern as unworthy to lead because of. . .chance." Shaking her head she taps one of the books she's got in front of her. "History is full of people if one knows where to look of those who would have been worthy to lead if they had been given the chance. But, you prefer to leave things as they are. That is your right. I would not presume to try to convince you otherwise."
"Nothing at all," the young man replies. "With the dragonriders it is the dragon's choice, so I understand, and with the Crafts one must earn one's way on every step, one must show knowledge and skill of one's chosen Craft. It is not a free ride but an exhibition of skill and merit. As for the Blood -- they have been born to it and are the ones who understand good governence, with one or two exceptions," such as Odern. "What the common folk can do is to help influence those in power as advisors and headwomen and the like -- positions achieved through merit." Never mind bribary, connections and the like.
Twisting the ring on her finger as she listens there's nothing in Miniyal's expression to give away what she thinks of his opinion. "If I may? First, the crafts are notorious for seeing gender before ability. How many masters are women? How many women find themselves troubled and run out of their chosen field as apprentices simply because they are female? More than the men I imagine. Oh." She opens up her book and dips her stylus in ink to make a note. "I should look into that." Once she is done and the book is laid open so the ink might dry she speaks again. "As for dragons. High Reaches has several fine examples of people who are not good examples of the whole 'the dragon knows' theory." Herself included some might say. "And. Lord Holders. Yes, of course. They are hardly known to ever lead poorly. To think of their own excess before what is needed by those who look to them for protection. What a silly thought. History hardly has accounts of any of that. Before we get carried away, I am in no way advocating the overthrow of our current system by any means necessary. I am just amused that people do not ever look beyond societal propaganda."
Maglin gives the woman a puzzled look. "Smithcraft, the one I know of best, is no place for a woman -- the work is far too difficult and dangerous." Never mind the hazard of some 200 or so boys and teenagers with their raging hormones.... "The same goes for Minecraft -- far too physical and dangerous for a woman. There are other crafts where I think women would do well, such as Healercraft, Harpercraft and Weavercraft. These cater to a woman's strengths. As for women Holding -- I think not. It's not that it's physically demanding but mentally demanding. I do think that women of the Blood can do more in a domestic situation -- my mother pretty well ran the house as my father was oftentimes away. As for dragons," he shrugs, "no one can claim to understand them and their choices. I certainly don't." Strongly Traditionalist but starting to develop some progressive ideas.
Miniyal's lips curve up for a brief second into a smile. "Oh, you just have to say hello to Penny in the barracks. She's going to love you." The flicker of amusement passes and she's back to that bland, emotionless expression. "It may be the Weyrleader who leads the dragons in fall, but it is the Weyrwoman who runs the weyr you know. So, exactly /how/ is a woman unable to lead a hold? Oh, no one presumes to understand dragons and their choices. So much easier to explain away anomalies that way. Well, the dragon knows best. Speaking from experience I can say I am not entirely sure of that fact. However, your chauvinistic attitudes are just the sort someone /should/ be trying to change. Because, if I might be blunt, they are shit. Dismissing half of society out of hand for no reason. That's a brilliant attitude to have. Did you learn it in your craft or at home?"
"And shit makes plants grow," he replies acidly. "And there are some things that a woman /should not/ do -- running a hold full time is one of them. And may I remind you that not everyone can lead -- well, poorly or otherwise. Someone has to be at the bottom, else we would not have crops and herdbeasts and fish. We would not have wagon caravans of traders or wagons bringing their goods to Gathers and to tithe. If it were not for the common men and women of Pern, society would fall apart." He spreads his arm out wide, as if to encompase the entire Weyr. "How do you think this place is run? By the dragons?" and he snorts at the absurdity of his own answer. "Course not. There are people who cook and serve the food, who make clothes, who run the beast pens -- just like a Hold but with dragons." Maglin may not have a full familiarity with a Weyr, but he is sharply observant and quick to draw comparisons of what he sees with what he knows.
"Really!" Eyes wide Miniyal stares in mock wonder as he speaks. "You mean stuff just doesn't appear? You meant that. . .wow. I never knew that! Thank you so much for sharing that with me. Why, I might have thought there was no such thing as a weyr support structure. I've only lived here my entire life. My family has only been /part/ of that support structure for as long as we can remember." Eyes rolling she pulls her hands into her lap where she might twist as much as she likes at the ring on her finger. "Just as not all of the 'common' people as you so charmingly put it are fit to lead neither are those of the Blood. Neither are those who impress to a bronze or a gold. Neither are those who attain mastery. It's all politics and keeping the game running the same as before. However, the fact you call those people who farm and cook and fish the bottom proves my point. If they are so necessary to the survival of all of us why does society continue to treat them as if they mean nothing? As if their wants and needs do not compare to those who have attained some lofty rank by either birth or luck?"
The irresistable force meets the immovable object. "True," he says calmly after hearing out her diatribe. "Perhaps the common folk should be better treated. And who could criticize the fact that a good man dies of plague while a lesser one lives on? Much of life is chance, as I'm sure you know, and oftemtimes it is slag that rises to the top. But Pern has known no other way, or so I have been taught, and it has served us well. Those who wished to inflict their views on the rest of the world by means of violence have been properly exlied." And the glare he gives Miniyal suggests that she should be too.
He rises abruptly. "This has been a monumental waste of time, for yourself, I am sure, as well as for me. And as my studies have been ruined for the remainder of the day, I bid you farewell." He shoots her one last glare before leaving the room.
Unable to resist a parting shot, she does not. "Didn't you hear? They're back." Miniyal opens her book and resumes whatever work she was doing as he leaves.