Research [Igen Weyr -- Siobhan]

[Neeq Machine]

Black, blacker, blackest!

Going between was so commonplace for Re'laur that she hardly noticed the cold as Jaqcliyonth moved from the air above the South Run to the Archipelago. It was a formality in safety -- it was impossible to trace a dragon's path between, as far as anyone knew, but it was possible for a queen to pry information out of a dragon's mind. They floated on the air above the Seven Sisters for a few moments, before jumping into the darkness once again.

This time, they came out of the cold into the beautiful scudding thermals of Igen. Jaqcliyonth purred his delight at being back in the heated air, the sound thrumming through his body to be felt by Re'laur and her passenger, her protege and South Run's lone goldrider, Siobhan. No doubt, if Kes'len (or anyone else) knew that Re'laur was bringing the woman to the North, they would have apoplexies. Which, though amusing, would cut off her current, pleasantly large, income, so this was all quite secret.

The blue dragon, as a signal from his rider, tilted in the air and began a long, shallow dive towards the rider. Mercenary pair, Jaqcliyonth and Re'laur, on business, the blue called to the watchdragon as they got closer to Igen itself. We carry a passenger, Re'laur's... trainee. The dark amusement in the blue's voice would likely be interpreted to mean that Siobhan was, in fact, Re'laur's lover, but that was well enough. Nobody truly cared to question where Re'laur cast her affections, least of all the watchdragon.

You are cleared to land, Jaqcliyonth, the watchdragon replied drily. Jaqcliyonth wasted no time, completing his soaring dive into the Weyr and spilling speed by flaring his wings, coming to a surprisingly delicate landing on a ledge by one of the main entrances. Re'laur took off her riding helmet and shook out her hair with a "whoof!" of air.

"Ready to get dusty?" she asked Siobhan cheerfully, unbuckling her straps before vaulting down off of Jaq and waiting for the goldrider to do the same. "Igen's Archives have some of the best recent Clutch Records around. Only Ista's more prolific. I'm putting in an official request for access to Ista's Archives. They've Records from High Reaches as well, so plenty to work with." Why did they want Clutch Records? Why, because tracking the Clutches of South Run was going to be Siobhan's duty, and the girl needed to see what they were all about -- not to mention, there were interesting patterns to be seen in the Clutch Records, for the patient. Even Re'laur didn't mind burying herself in the Archives for this.

[44 Caliber Love Letter]

She was ridiculously excited – for a few reasons, but the big one was Faranth, they were going to IGEN! Being from a very small cothold in the outskirts of Igen’s territory, Siobhan had actually never seen the Hold proper and what little knowledge she had of it was from stories her father told from time to time. She’d never been anywhere that densely populated; even South Run was a much smaller area by comparison. That she was going to the largest Hold in the area she grew up in pleased her; that she was going to learn more about the clutch records (which fascinated Lyraneth inordinately) was even better. The only pitfall was that she could never properly tell anyone who she was. She didn’t even know if her name was problematic – but there was a good chance that it was. Regardless of anything else, she had to keep secret that she was a goldrider because if anyone knew, they would know exactly who she was. All goldriders were on record and the theft of Ista’s gold egg was a well-known fact.

Thus it was secret. Lyraneth was asleep in the cavern she’d claimed for her Weyr; she’d gone to sleep before Siobhan left to make it clear she was not to be disturbed. No doubt the young gold would waken when she returned and be all aflutter with curiosity over the things that Siobhan learned, but being quiet meant few would inquire after what she was doing. The less inquiries into her state, the less likely someone was to realize Siobhan herself was missing – or so the theory was.

She wanted clutch records and that was part of why they were going to Igen. Records, entirely, were what intrigued her. In the past turn, Siobhan had learned to read and while speed wasn’t her strong point, she had also learned to write down and copy anything that she thought relevant. It was important to have accurate records, she’d been told, and she took that to the extreme. But her curiosity in clutch records stemmed more from the simple belief that dragon breeding could not be that different from beastcrafting. She knew quite a bit about farm animals, having raised them her entire life and while she had no formal training, it could be argued that Siobhan was the equivalent of at least a senior apprentice in that field. And one of the things she learned was that lineages were important; it helped to create stronger babes or larger herdbeasts, more proficient egg production, that sort of thing.

This knowledge was swiped by Lyraneth who had promptly informed her that she wanted to know what the best potential mates for her were. She’d pointed out to the gold that when she flew, it probably wouldn’t matter, and Lyraneth pointed out to her that it would always matter. Hence their presence.

“I’m ready. Do you think they will notice if we make copies?” The question was whispered, as if she thought she might be scolded for speaking too loudly. It was asked as she climbed down from Jaqcliyonth’s back and she offered him a half-bow in gratitude. She always did that. It annoyed Lyraneth, but she felt it prudent to be respectful to any dragon other than hers who was doing a favor for her. “Or is that a no-go…?”

[Neeq Machine]

Jaqcliyonth was a little startled when the queenrider bowed to him. He'd transported a number of people through the years, and though a few thanked him, they generally treated him like he wasn't there. The blue paused for a moment, then inclined his head graciously to her, making Re'laur raise a brow, somewhat surprised at his gentility. Then, he turned and leaped off of the ledge in one smooth motion, his wings flinging out with the musical snap of ligaments as he turned a drop into a soar, heading for a place on the Rim to lay under the savannah sun.

"I think I still have enough of a balance on hand to make copies of whatever you want," Re'laur said, beckoning Siobhan to follow as she headed into the Weyr with the confidence of one who knew precisely where she was going. She turned down a hall labeled with a series of symbols -- the way that people could navigate the warren of tunnels that laced Igen. Niches in the walls held glows, keeping the hallway well-lit. "The Archivists might make faces at us, but they know me and my habits. I've brought enough interesting books back from my travels that they'll not make noises at me."

They made it to the Archives in short time. The double-doors to the second floor of the complex were open, and several young people bearing Candidate knots could be seen dutifully scribing under the watchful eye of a middle-aged man wearing the gray tunic that marked him as an Archivist. Here and there, senior weyrlings could be seen with various books and records, working on some assignment or another for their classes or Craft. Re'laur ignored them all, making her way for the stairs, and heading up to the third level.

"Second floor is the main floor," she explained as she climbed. "Threadfall and Crafthall, mostly. First is histories, novels, that sort of thing. There's a few rooms off and below first with other things. Third has what we need, though," Re'laur added, heading down the mostly-abandoned stacks at a good clip, running her fingers along dusty tomes until she got where she wanted to be. "Aha! Clutch Records. They run back to the founding of Igen, though only the past century is kept out here. All records of transfers, deaths, births, and such can be found in the third floor rooms."

Re'laur pulled out two books, bound with smooth wooden D-rings and with narrow planes of wood for their covers. She didn't bother making Siobhan carry any, but headed over to a table underneath a shielded glow hanging from the ceiling. On the center of the table was a box of clean hides cut to page size with a cloth draped over it, and several bottles of ink, along with inkwells and quills.

"Unshield that," she said, indicating the glow and setting the books down on the table. "I'll be right back." Re'laur headed back into the stacks in a different direction, leaving the wood-bound books there. Their titles were carved carefully into the front, and gilded:

IGEN WEYR
Dragon Clutch Records
1204 to 1236

IGEN WEYR
Dragon Clutch Records
1237 to

The pages within were written in a neat hand. A series of pages in the front listed each Clutch -- the year, sire and dam, numbers in the format of # / # / # / # / # (to represent gold, bronze, brown, blue, and green), and a page number. The pages following would be started with a complete listing of each Clutch -- date and time, sire and dam, ages of the sire and dam, the colors and names of each dragon Hatched, who each dragon Impressed to, and the order of both Hatching and Impression. Behind them, each dragon had his own page, with color, name, rider, any birth defects, and a detailed black-and-white drawing depicting markings, form, bone structure, and the like.

In a few minutes, Re'laur returned with another armful of books, this time a set of Flight records and death records. She grinned at Siobhan, setting her burden on the table. "Ready to start?"

[44 Caliber Love Letter]

Andddd… off he went. It was amazing that blues and greens managed to make that look so graceful. Lyraneth was graceful enough in the air, but she didn’t look like that. She looked more like a serpent winding through the sky, the winds bowing to her will rather than being a natural part of them. But that seemed to be Pern as a whole – bowing to Lyraneth’s will rather than her meshing into her surroundings. Siobhan had little doubt that the gold would be pleased by that, too.

Turning to follow Re’laur (distinctly shy in the process; she kept her head bowed as she walked as if she was afraid of offending someone even though she fit in just fine, being from the Igen region), Siobhan considered what information she might want. The attitude she had was simply that anything and everything could be useful. If she had her way, she would’ve copied all of Igen’s libraries, but they had nowhere near enough time for that let alone resources. Clutch records, then, would be the primary goal and copies of them would be made. Since she was keeping the records for South Run Weyr, it was pivotal that she know how to do so – but she also wanted to know for basic understanding. It was like breeding the farm animals, she insisted in her mind; you picked the ones you knew produced the most to get the best results. Sometimes ‘best results’ didn’t mean the most prolific either. Sometimes stronger babes were ideal. Her mind went off on tangents as they came to the Archives and it took all of her effort not to widen her eyes.

Never had Siobhan seen so many scrolls and records. Never. There were different people around with knots that she barely recognized and she tipped her head down to be inconspicuous. Her hands wrung in front of her and she glanced at the cases due to the word ‘novel.’ Ever since learning to read, she’d begun to read everything that crossed her path. She preferred technical details but really, if it held still, Siobhan wanted a chance to read it. She felt like a starved child, in many regards… learning what it meant to actually have a steadily supply of whatever she was craving. Learning was ‘fun’!

As they came to a stop, Siobhan turned and opened the glow basket and then she took a seat gracefully. One of the books was immediately pulled over to her and she turned it open with care, ever mindful of the hides and their delicate nature. Her gaze flicked over the names of dragons she recognized and those she did not; most were names that were unfamiliar to her, but then, fifty turns ago was a very long time. She leafed through the pages, skimming them as she went, intrigued. One of the hides from the basket was retrieved along with a quill and a jar of ink, all prepared by the time that Re’laur came back.

“Yes. Thank you.” She glanced at the stack and then indicated the first page, which she turned back to when the bluerider returned. “My first thought, looking at this – the clutches all seem to be smaller, the further back we go. They’re getting larger in size…?”

[Neeq Machine]

"They do," Re'laur concurred, carefully setting down her stack of books and taking a seat next to Siobhan. "It's one of the things that set people to looking at the Istan star-stones, since larger clutch sizes are a traditional indicator of an approaching Pass." The bluerider picked up the other clutch record book, flipping it open and starting to page through, until she came to the entry on Jaqcliyonth's Hatching. "It's gotten more pronounced in the past decade. When Jaqcliyonth Hatched, 11 was considered an enormous Clutch." The woman pointed to an entry on the page for the clutch, where in her mother's tidy hand was written commentary on the clutch.

"The whole Weyr was amazed at the size of the Clutch. Eleven eggs, and one a queen! Ten eggs in a Clutch haven't been seen in decades. Clutchmother Nellehrey is quite proud of Heyrepath..."

"Not quite two decades after, Hrrvath at Ista Weyr laid 28 eggs -- among them a gold egg, the one that was stolen," Re'laur continued gravely. "And Beaumantoth at Telgar laid eighteen." She flipped to the back of the book and perused it briefly. A slow smile crossed her face. "Well look at that," the mercenary purred. "My dear brother's dragon managed to sire a clutch on Glemenith. She's guarding an even twenty eggs as we speak." Re'laur looked up, a quizzical little smile on her face. "Care to go take a look and meet a goldrider after we're done in the Archives?"

Though Re'laur was a mercenary, she would not sell out her home Weyr to the coalition -- particularly not when doing so might cast suspicion on her. She was a mercenary, after all, and though both Laurellay and N'rau trusted her, there were others who might not be so trusting. But if Siobhan was to relay the information about the clutch to another at South Run, well! Her hands would be clean, she and Jaq could respond honestly to the inevitable grilling by the queens that they had not conveyed information to the rogue coalition about the Clutch, and, well... it would be amusing to see her powerful siblings scrambling. They were getting so self-assured these days.

[44 Caliber Love Letter]

As far as Lyraneth was concerned, eleven was tiny – although the queen egg made up for it. That she knew that without the gold’s input was a little staggering and Siobhan wondered if it was a sign of her finally beginning to understand the way her mindmate worked. Perfection was what Lyraneth sought – nay, demanded – of everyone she encountered, not so much with words but with actions and she had no tolerance for those who were imperfect; who were flawed; who did not meet her expectations. It should’ve flattered Siobhan more than it did but she was left with something of a headache. If twenty eggs were possible, Lyraneth would expect a full twenty herself as well. Her Gold was convinced of her own superiority in that regard.

The one that was stolen. The one that hatched Lyraneth. The thought made the gold stir, distantly, and Siobhan knew that she was awake – awake and paying keen attention now. Speaking of her tended to draw her attention, however fortunate that may have been, and Siobhan was fine with her eavesdropping – though the snide impression of her not needing to meet with a goldrider when she was one was ignored by Siobhan. Just because her gold thought she was superior to everything else on Pern did not mean that was actually the case. Though, if Lyraneth had her way, she would prove it to all of Pern. Secrecy did not denote superiority, but if the secrets kept proved it, that would be enough. Random, rogue wandering thoughts –

“Twenty seems an impressive clutch,” she mused, thinking of the eggs that were stolen and the one that did not hatch. Twenty-eight was an impressive number, but Lyraneth tacked on in her mind that one of those had hatched a dud, and another had hatched a green who was not whole – who betweened. It did not count. The number was dragged down to twenty-six. Not that anyone would know that. Mmm.

“I would love to take a look.” The only eggs she’d seen were the ones that South Run had initially had and while she’d get to see more throughout the Turns – thank you Lyranath – she wanted to see how clutchmothers handled their eggs. Something told her that the young gold would not exactly be the most doting of mothers so it would probably be up to her to make sure that the eggs were carefully guarded and looked after. The more she knew, the better she could do her job, she thought as she kept careful records, minding her wrists to avoid smudging. Her penmanship was actually neat – elegant even, especially considering she’d only so-recently learned to write. “Will they mind…?”

[Neeq Machine]

"Assuming all are viable, yes," Re'laur agreed, unknowingly echoing Lyraneth's thoughts about the failed egg. "Glemenith is known to be a prolific layer, though. She Rises often and is quite wayward -- as junior queen, all of her Flights are open to any bronze who desires to compete, so Igen dragons are some of the most diverse on the planet," she commented, opening up the death-records and Flight records for cross-referencing as she perused the more recent clutching records, making notes on a clean vellum in a crisp and no-frills hand. Her handwriting had been, through the years, honed into a tool. Re'laur rarely had a reason to write anything besides field reports, which had to be written quickly and needed to be easily read, and her writing reflected that. Unlike Siobhan's elegant script, Re'laur's words were written with the minimum of pen strokes, and in small caps.

"Glemenith is also in her prime," the bluerider reflected, nodding as Siobhan mentioned that she would like to see the eggs. "There are many things that affect how many eggs a queen will lay. The nearness of the Red Star is one traditionally known one, but the condition and age of a queen also changes that. A young or infirm queen will generally lay far fewer eggs than a mature and fit queen." Being Siobhan's teacher had given Re'laur the habit of teaching the girl at all times. She was a smart young thing, sharper than some of the mercenary trainees Re'laur had taken on through the turns, and it was a pleasure to teach her.

Jaq, can you ask Pintonerath for permission to take my trainee to see the eggs? she asked in her prettiest princess mental voice, sparking a snide laugh from the dragon, who assented to the request.

Pintonerath, Re'laur requests permission to take her, ah, trainee to see the Clutch you sired, the blue dragon commented to the bronze, sounding as chagrined as he knew to be. He enjoyed messing with the traditionally-minded metallics, and they always were so self-assured when chromatics acted 'in their place.' It was... amusing. Could you bespeak Glemenith in her favor? he asked, his voice silky. The bronze houghed, being quite familiar with Jaqcliyonth's... antics.

For the sister of Mine-own, surely I shall, he replied formally, before presumably bespeaking the gold. Jaq relayed the information to Re'laur, who had only just looked up as Siobhan asked if N'rau et al. would mind.

"Jaq is going through the proper channels right now," she said with a slight shrug and a grin. "I doubt that N'rau and Mira will refuse us. Glemenith tends to be a rather lackadaisical dam as it is, so it is unlikely she will take offense, so long as you don't try and touch them." She paused, listening as Jaqcliyonth relayed more information, her eyes unfocusing briefly as she listened to the dragon. "I was right," Re'laur said with a chuckle, going back to her annotation of the clutch records. "N'rau would be delighted to show us his bronze's spawn, and neither Mira nor Glemenith have any objection."

[44 Caliber Love Letter]

That was interesting. Siobhan wondered if that also meant that Igen dragons tended to be stronger than most other Weyrs. As far as she knew, it was one of the largest Weyrs. Not that she knew much about the Weyrs. She was trying to learn, but it was… an uphill sort of thing. If she’d been born at a Weyr she might actually have known more, but she wasn’t; she wasn’t even born at a Hold proper. She supposed though that based on what she knew, that Igen dragons thanks to a wayward queen would have a more diverse selection of traits. It was like runners. If you wanted a fast runner, you always bred your mare with one of the faster runner breeds. And if you wanted one with a lot of stamina, the same went. It made her wonder where Lyraneth’s heritage came from. She was Istan-bred; did Istan dragons also change mates regularly? Lyraneth wondered as well – for her own purposes – but she’d ask back at the Weyr. Not here. Not somewhere where as far as anyone knew, she was just a holder girl who Re’laur had taken under her wing.

“So a queen’s first clutch will always be small? What constitutes being a ‘mature’ queen?” she inquired with a head tilt. She had trouble imagining Lyraneth having too small of a clutch – but Lyraneth, while fixated on the size, also informed her silently that she would accept a smaller clutch if the dragons within were stronger than everyone else’s. Stubborn beast. She wanted to roll her eyes, but she refrained. No need to behave oddly in public.

She was getting very comfortable around Re’laur, though. There was a time when she’d have been too scared to ask that question – but Re’laur didn’t seem to find her silly. That was nice.

The confirmation that she would be allowed to see the eggs made her eyes brighten. Two reasons for that. She wanted to see what a proper clutch looked like, since her first experience was… anything but normal. She also wanted to see what protection measures were in place. Anything that she could learn would be filed away as useful. “My thanks to Jaqcliyonth as well as to N’rau and Pintonerath.” Remembering the names of the bronzes, their riders, and the golds, and their riders, was one of the first things Re’laur had impounded into her skull and while it’d seemed daunting at first, it actually wasn’t that hard in the end. She liked that she knew who she was dealing with immediately, too. It made her feel less like she was… on the spot.


“Will we be going after we finish these books? Or sooner? I do not want to put anyone out by making them wait, but I am most anxious to see what a… dragon clutch looks like.” A proper dragon clutch. How much did Re’laur know of her experience? Probably a lot. So she’d know why…

[Neeq Machine]

"Well, like I said -- it's one of a very many different things that impact Clutch size. Here, let me show you." Re'laur pulled out another sheet of hide and pushed her books across the table, clearing a space. She scooted her chair a little closer, and then started sketching on the page. First, she drew two lines lengthwise along the page, and labeled one 'Archtyth' and one 'Glemenith'. "Here's the lives of the two Igen golds. Archtyth is younger than Glemenith, but only by a few turns. They're half-sisters by the same sire, so you expect them to be similar in their production." The woman glanced at her notes, and then started marking ticks along the time-lines with numbers.

"Glemenith's first Clutch was 4 eggs, a bronze, a blue, and two greens. She was in good health--" Re'laur drew a smiling face below it-- "and her mate was a bronze. Archtyth's first Clutch was 5 eggs, all chromatic, and she was coming off of a wing sprain." Beneath Archtyth's first tick-mark, the bluerider drew a face with a line for a mouth. "If you look at their Clutches, they slowly increase to around 7 or 8, until the past eight years or so, when they begin to increase sharply. That's when we began to come under the auspices of the Red Star." Re'laur drew a mark like a rising wave going up until the end of the page.

"If you look at the vagaries of their Clutches, a couple patterns show up. Firstly, when away from the auspices of the Star, they have small Clutches, slowly increasing until they are about six turns of age. So, a mature queen is around six turns, give or take." She glanced up at Siobhan to make sure she was grasping the information, before moving on. "Secondly, while the color of Glemenith's sires affected the rank spread of the hatchlings, Clutch size is more closely correlated to her physical condition. Short Flights are usually caused by poor condition, which is probably where the 'common knowledge' that short Flights yield small Clutches comes from."

"This doesn't show up in this example, but mating with a close relative leads to a less viable Clutch most of the time. So, effectively, a gold mating with her full brother leads to a smaller Clutch." Re'laur paused, thinking. "Another thing you won't see by looking through Records is the purported effects caused by the psychic link in Flights. The reason why 'the dragon decides, the rider complies' is taught so ferociously to dragonriders is theoretically because fighting that link can damage it. Goldpairs especially are supposed to act out their dragon's choice in the furs, because it seems to affect the Clutch's outcome. For some reason, a gold dragon more readily conceives when her rider is there with her, 'on board' so to speak. This might be another reason why young golds don't lay as many eggs; their riders have to get used to that Flightlust."

Re'laur smiled slightly at Siobhan's remembering of her brother's dragon. Though the bluerider had probably mentioned it in their conversation, it had been one of the first things that she had taught Siobhan. Not all of the goldriders kept up-to-date with the metallics of the Weyrs (and, indeed, historically it would have probably been impossible to do), but it was one of Re'laur's personal challenges. Knowing the names and even some of the histories of the metallic riders gave her an edge when dealing with them. Familiarity was a good place to start from: there were few surprises to her.

"N'rau will come and fetch us eventually," Re'laur reassured Siobhan. "So we can keep making our notes until then. He's quite methodical, so it might be a few minutes or an hour. The clutch won't go anywhere." The woman knew about the history of the junior riders -- Impressing on an actively volcanic island, left to basically fend for themselves on the Seven Sisters, and in the strangest sort of Weyr there ever was. 'Normalcy' was not anything any of them had ever known. Not that it was all it was vaunted to be, but Re'laur guessed that Siobhan wanted to see what it would be like when Lyraneth guarded a clutch on the Sands. A different experience altogether...