Post by Sher on Jul 24, 2011 14:44:40 GMT -5
01.07.3189
J'ain stepped into the Candidate Barracks, dark brown eyes narrowed as she glanced back and forth along each row of cots. They were distressingly empty. Oh, a few showed signs of recent occupancy, but most of them lacked the blankets-and-pillow that indicated someone had claimed them. The Headwoman didn't see any necessity in maintaining beds that weren't going to be used, and now that she saw that three quarters of these beds alone were collecting dust, the bluerider didn't blame her in the least.
Are we going to go looking for candidates sometime soon?[/i]
I think we have to, Ansith, the woman said, walking briskly toward the bathroom at the end of the barracks. Everything was so different here than dear old Telgar. The less severe winters meant the wool blankets were thinner- and fewer. The carved stone of the walls and floor were chill to the touch, but the air itself was bearable. Altogether not what J'ain would have expected. Maybe the volcano the Weyr had been carved from was not fully extinct? It would explain why some of the cracks in the stone felt warmer than others.
J'ain realized she had stopped walking, her hand poised to push aside the oiled leather flap covering the doorway to the candidates' restroom facility. Are you all right, Mine?[/i] Ansith said slowly.
No. I don't understand why they picked this place, the bluerider explained rapidly. I'm going to have to look in the Records. There must be some explanation. It's too warm. She guessed that would only confuse her wonderful blue, but he had apparently been following her thoughts more closely than usual.
It doesn't smell dangerous,[/i] Ansith replied, Not like that volcano at Southern. The Weyr has been here for a very long time, love.[/i]
The Weyr has been livable for seventeen Turns. Not that long when you remember this volcano was here before people ever came to Pern, almost four thousand Turns ago. J'ain frowned, and finally took the few steps into the bathroom to wander around. The floor here was as glassy smooth as the rest of the interior portions of the Weyr, and for a moment she fleetingly wondered which dragons had been small enough to melt the sand down.
Flamethrowers,[/i] Ansith said unxpectedly, a few moments later.
J'ain was just as glad the candidatemaster was not here to see her blush. To herself, in the most tightly hidden corner of her mind, she thought, Ansith might be a little slow at times, but he certainly isn't stupid. Of course flamethrowers could have done this. She told him defensively, It *could* have been a dragon though. Do you remember Sath, that tiny green from Telgar? She can't have been more than twenty-four feet long, and I know for a fact that she was only seven feet tall at her shoulders. I bet she could have fit in here.
The good-natured argument continued as the assistant candidatemaster strode out of the barracks. The master was not here, or in their weyr, or eating. How was she to report if they were nowhere to be found?