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Barbed Wire and Roses


Date:  November 5, 2002
Places:  Healer Hall's Courtyard and Herb Garden
Game:  PernMUSH
Copyright Info:  The World of Pern is copyright(c) to Anne McCaffrey 
l967. The Dragonriders of Pern(r) is a registered copyright.

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Kassi's Note:  That bargain with Sauscony hasn't been too difficult
for Kassi to fulfill thus far:  having agreed to visit the Healer Hall
from time to time, she's mostly done so in the dark of the night, when
she can explore their herb gardens without any great risk of running
into people with cold instruments.  However, on this particular day, 
she decides to chance a trip in the evening instead--and runs smack 
into Master Ayanne and a group of apprentices.  My thanks go to Ayanne
for this fun scene, and to Sauscony for giving me a Healer Hall knot
as a visitor; I completely wasn't expecting that!  A bit of Healer 
knot-chat is thus included in the log. :)

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The Log:

You check to make sure the courtyard is clear then descend to Healer Hall.

You slide off of Lysseth's neck to land beside her easily. She rumbles,
cocking her head down at you, and you rub her eyeridges gratefully.

<HLR> Sauscony beams and welcomes Kassima as a visitor to the Hall. ;)

<HLR> Ayanne woos, it's a KASSI! :)

Kassima, as is her usual, stays by Lysseth's side for a moment after
landing, the better to scout the territory. "It *looks* safe," she
eventually murmurs to the green. "And I've never been pounced on yet, but
'tis hard t'stop being wary... oh, why do I talk t'you about this? You
think 'tis all *funny*." The green's rumble of laughter is certainly
unrepentant, enough so to earn her a filthy look as Kassi makes cautiously
for her favorite retreat.

<HLR> Kassima aiyees! Hey there, Evil On--err, sorry, Healers. ;)

You head South into the Herb Garden.

Ayanne's spending a 'relaxed' evening, overseeing a gaggle of apprentices.
The youngsters - first or second years, from the looks of it, each have a
tray filled with sproutlings of some herb or another, and are diligently
creating little holes with spades, and popping the plants in. "Keep them a
hands' width apart, now. Kerrashi, your hands're small. A palm and a half
apart." The arrival of the green to the courtyard had attracted the
attention of several of the apprentices, who watch with grins to see who's
come.

Kassima starts to relax marginally upon entering the garden, bug-ridden
though it be; she pauses just inside to investigate a favorite plant,
leaning forward to get a good sniff. Here's hoping it isn't stinkweed. The
sound of voices makes her shoulders tense up again, though--she straightens
at once, to regard the Apprentices inhabiting the maybe-not-so-safe retreat
with abashed eyes. "Oh, dear," she murmurs under her breath. More audibly:
"Ah, duties to the Healer Hall and her Masters; I'm sorry, I didn't realize
anyone would be here--I can be going--"

<HLR> Wesit says, "How long you staying, Kassima? (:"

<HLR> Wesit . o O (How long is she in our clutches!)

<HLR> Kassima says, "Prolly not that long on this particular visit. :)
Sauscony made a devil's bargain with me that requires me to visit
periodically for awhile, though. She is a wicked, wicked woman. ;)"

The dreaded apprentices, muddy knees and all, chorus quickly, "Healer's
duties to Telgar and her Queens!" Ayanne shoos them back to their work,
with, "Plant, plant! Those little roots'll dry to a crisp." the Craftmaster
squints, and identifies the rider, to greet her with, "Evening, Wingleader!
And Healer Hall's duties, indeed. Don't worry, you're not interrupting.
What brings you by?"

<HLR> Ayanne loves that bargain, by the way.

<HLR> Sauscony beams. I was rather proud of that, yes ;)

Kassima manages a wan smile in return for this chorus, while edging just
slightly backwards. She's surrounded by Healers! Healers with flowers! It's
a post-traumatic nightmare come to life! "Thankee most kindly," she
nevertheless returns, polite even in the face of terror. "Oh, Craftmaster,
g'deve t'you too. I'm nay?" She sounds almost disappointed. But she does
stop the backwards-scooting. "'Tis naught of import; Craftsecond Sauscony
had just asked me t'come by now and again, in response for services
rendered. Nay anyone had been here a'fore, so I thought 'twould be a
sa--unobtrusive place t'go."

The good news is, the apprentices dont' have roses. They're begining to
bloom already, but are tucked a ways back, lurking like a stalker. "No, of
course you're not intruding," Ayanne assures, beckoning her closer. "Just
planting this evening. The plants have no modesty - they don't care who
sees their roots. You could help, if you like?"

Kassima does obediantly step forward at the gesture, heedless of any rose
ambushes in the making. She clearly remains somewhat wary for all that
she's trying to suppress it. "I wouldn't mind," she offers after a moment,
considering the mass of naked plants. "I like plants well enough, herbs
particularly, though I'm more accustomed t'using 'em for cooking back in
the day. 'Tis why I tend t'linger here when I come on the visits, i'truth.
The Craftsecond didn't say *where* I should go particularly... what are you
planting today?"

Ayanne leads the way towards an assortment of trays, each with a dozen or
so plants in them. "Wonderful. Today, we have a type of mint, and lavender.
Got a preference?" The Healer gives Kassi an appraising look, possibly
sensing the other woman's wariness, but doesn't remark on it. Instead, she
simply 'introduces' the mint. "See, here? You can always tell a member of
the mint family. Square stem. The leaves might differ, but even this young,
the stems have corners."

The gentle breeze that touches treetops and sends last turn's leaves
skittering dips down to stir rosebushes to life. Depending on your
perspective, they might just rustle softly, or they might shiver ominously.

Kassima follows along at a slow meander, hands kept clasped behind her
back. At the magical word 'mint' she perceptably brightens. "I've naught
against lavender, but I'd have t'be admitting a fondness for mint. Though I
don't think I ever made aught with it--if'n there are simple dishes
involving mint, we didn't have 'em, but that's probably little enough
wonder since it never struck me as something that goes well with fish."
Digression? Yes. It must be the nervousness. Still, she seems sincerely
interested in the plants. "You make mint-sticks with these, aye? Ah, now...
are there nay other plants with square stems?" That skittering sound draws
her eyes briefly upwards, long enough for her to catch sight of the lurking
roses. She swallows and turns her eyes quickly away.

<HLR> Kassima says, "Ayanne, if the roses spring out of the foliage to stab
me to death with their thorns, I'm going to be dismayed. ;)"

<HLR> Ayanne laughs!

Ayanne leans her cane against one leg, and adds a small trowell to a tray,
and a line of thread. "Mint it is, then. Mintsticks? Certainly, among other
things. And I'm told that mint goes well with some river fish, the pink
fleshed specklers particularily, but I'm no baker." One of the apprentices
pipes up with, "Box!" before she's shushed by another. "It's not a test!"
Ayanne gives the group a quiet nod, before stating, "There are many
square-stemmed plants, but they're all a type of mint. Similar properties,
for the most part." Meanwhile, it is, after all, evening. Shadows creep
long, dark rosebranches extending out of their hiding place along the
ground, as the sun dips westward into the Fort mountain range.

Kassima's attention is drawn from the roses by that cane for a moment, and
she spends a moment in silent, mildly puzzled consideration before stealing
a glance back at the thorny shadows. She'll just step a bit further away
from them, shall she? Yes? Yes. "I come from Greystones," she explains,
"and 'twere only ocean fish we oft ate, and that more than any other sort
of meat--I couldn't manage any fancy sauces anyway, but most of those we
used were meant t'go with salt, y'know. Box?" Now it's the apprentice who
gets a puzzled glance. "I see, methinks... or at least begin t'see. What
are those, and what's the thread for?"

Ayanne adds trowel and thread to another tray, and offers one to Kassi to
carry. Casually, the woman glances over to the apprentices, and requests,
"I'd like a report on my desk by morning on 'box', by the way. I'll give
you a starting place: It's not a mint." Returning her attention to the
rider, she gestures towards the garden bed the apprentices are working
around. "We'll plant them on this side of the bed. Now, the trowel's to dig
a hole with, and the thread's so you can keep them in a straight line."
Chance would have it, that 'this side' of the bed will put them with their
backs to the roses, which continue to stir occasionally in the breeze.

<HLR> Ayanne says, "Poor, poor Kassi. Surrounded by apprentices, and
stalked by rose bushes."

Kassima, still looking perplexed by the whole 'box' thing, nevertheless
accepts the tray. "D'you lay the thread on the ground, then," she wants to
know, "and plant along it, or does it need t'be tied to aught?" She doesn't
say anything about that choice of placement, but the bushes get another
mistrustful look for their collection. "Those rosebushes aren't apt t'sway
enough that I should worry about getting stabbed by thorns from behind, are
they?"

<HLR> Kassima says, "Sauscony, I'm never, ever going to forgive you for
this arrangement. ;)"

<HLR> Sauscony whistles innocently!

The apprentice who shouted out "Box!" giggles something quietly to another,
who responds scornfully: "Yeah. Maybe she doesnt' know how to plant, but
you don't know what Box is!" Nyeah. Ayanne, for all that she's walking with
the assistance of a cane, makes her way easily among the garden beds. "No,
no worries about the roses, unless one of Boll's famous monsoon storms
comes whipping up here. In that case, we'd have more to worry about than
thorns. Now, I'll show you how this works." Without much fuss, she gets
down to her knees in the dirt, and demonstrates the usage of the thread.
"See? Hold it in a line like this, so it looks parallel to the rest. Once
you've got two holes started, it's easy to use them to line up where the
next should be."

Do the roses rustle just a little more as the Craftmaster and Wingleader
approach? Perhaps - but more importantly, the young buds, petals loaded,
wave in the breeze.

Kassima lets go of enough of her nerves to fire a *look* at the giggling
Apprentice, and presses her mouth into a thin line. "Perhaps I'd nay be the
best person to assist with this, Craftmaster," she suggests mildly, "since
I don't know what I'm doing. I've nay desire t'be a hindrance. And aye,
you've a point; that much wind, and the *petals* might fly about." Sure.
That counts as more to worry about. Despite her earlier comments, she
settles into the dirt without fuss to watch the procedure; "'Tis making
sense enough, I imagine. And... ah...." There's a pause while she watches
the waving buds. "How far apart should they be, roughly?"

Ayanne's interrupted from her quick protest, "Don't be silly, takes nothing
to learn - petals?" At this, Kassi's given another appraising look, but
then the Master chuckles. Apparently, she decided this was a joke. Lucky
are those who do not know the Terror of the Rose Petals. Deftly, instead of
worrying about the threat of red, soft, fragrant ovals on the wind, she
demonstrates the use of the trowel. "About a hands' width apart. And
they're just little plants, so you only need to dig in to the second line
on the back, see?" Indeed, markings line the metal back of the device,
indicating depth. "Then, in goes the plant, and you pat the soil back
around it."

"Journeyman Ushu was present at the births of most of m'children," is
Kassi's succinct explanation, or at least what she seems to *think* is an
explanation since she doesn't say anything more. "If'n you're certain...
that does seem simple enough. There's naught else to it?"

Ayanne pauses mid-use of her trowel, and makes a face. "My appologies,
then. Don't worry, the rose bushes are immobilized by sinking their roots
deep into the ground, and are tamed to obey my every word." The reactions
of the apprentices to hearing this are varied - the youngest blinks
wide-eyed, fully believing. The older ones just exchange confused looks,
and continue their work. "For planting, though, you're right. This is all
there is too it. After they're in, we'll water them well, they'll get
weeded so they don't have to fight for resources. As they get bigger, the
best will be kept, the others pulled and used right away. I take it you
didn't have a garden at Greystones?"

Those apologies do seem to relax Kassi somewhat--perhaps she takes them as
a sign that *Ayanne* isn't apt to attack her with rose petals?--and she
picks up her trowel to begin the planting process. "Then please, if'n they
seem t'be leaning in this direction, let 'em know that I'll send Ushu here
t'strip 'em bare? Since *I'm* nay expecting now I needn't be fearing the
results." And condemning the Weyr's other women to a rosy fate doesn't seem
to bother her any. "Right, I'd heard something about weeding--used t'weed
as a Candidate, actually--and about all these bugs keeping the soil good or
some such thing, 'tis nay so? 'Twouldn't say we didn't have a garden--the
main Hold probably had one, and Da's Holding has one somewhere. I never
worked in it, though."

Lysseth> Taralyth senses that Lysseth is encouraged by some impetus, even
if it be only the prodding of an insistant whim, to blow a stray thought
across the distance that separates *here* from *there*: the scents of rich
soil, of growing things, of mint, and through it all a drift of blood-hued
rose petals.

Ayanne slips a seedling into a hole she's made, and firmly pats the soil
around it. "I'm tempted to close off his supply of rose petals," she
states, with a quirk of a grin. "But I suspect he's got sufficient dried
petals to keep the Weyr rose tinted till the end of the Pass. You're right,
the bugs help the soil, and the fertilize the plants. No bugs, no seeds,
unless apprentices run around with little brushes, pollinating." There's a
groan from several of the older ones, possibly even with bugs around, it's
an occasional chore.

"I suppose it could be worse--he *does* at least faint at relatively
convenient times for letting someone else do the work," Kassi admits
philosophically, pressing dirt gently in so that it surrounds the roots of
her first plant. "Faranth alone knows what would happen if'n he could
manage t'deliver a baby. He'd probably smother it in roses with all the
bests of intentions. Couldn't you use... well, waste, for the fertilizing?
Methinks they do that with the Weyrgardens at Telgar--" And if her nostrils
flare a fraction at the memory, can she be blamed? "I've nay idea about
pollination, though."

Dragon> Lysseth senses that Taralyth dabbles a hint of blood-rusted breeze
by way of reply, if light enough to be foretaste rather than what's in the
here and now - and there's amusement for the mint, light and blue and just
a bit bubbly.

<HLR> Astin wavers

Ayanne watches Kassi's progress, and seems satisfied. Either it's an easy
task, or Kassi catches on quickly. Her expression registers disgust for a
moment, and she notes, "Can you imagine how petals would stick to a
newborn, all gooey -" she interrupts herself. Healers do find humour in
disgusting things, and she knows it's not always appreciated by others.
"Indeed, we do use waste, but we're quite careful to treat it. Such things
can carry disease, after all. Pollination? It's like sex for plants. Only
they need a go-between."

<HLR> Ayanne says, "Heya, Astin :)"

<HLR> Astin grins, "Whats up?"

<HLR> Ayanne's traumatizing Kassi in the herb garden. How're things?

<HLR> I'sai laughs! and listens to the 'A's.

<HLR> Astin nods, "I see.. Nothing too much going on.. Just a calm night
and trying to stay warm.

Lysseth> Taralyth senses that Lysseth is prompt enough to seize upon the
blood that one may wonder how long it's been since *she's* eaten, but at
least rather than draining it she sets it to dancing with the roses: ashes
to ashes, rust to rust. A fine companion for the silver-green swirls of
minty freshness, if moreso in color than taste; and all that fused
temporarily into a multicolored spine, long and thin, for a curious
pricking at bubbles. It may just be that after *that* she slips thought
back a ways with a chiming laugh, not entirely out of reach but enough to
leave him to that blood should he so choose--and with that lingering hint
of flowers to remember her by.

<HLR> Ayanne highly recommends furnaces or radiators for that...

<HLR> Astin laughs, "So that is what they are for.. Ah!!"

Either one's possible: Kassi can be a quick learner when she chooses. "I
can entirely imagine," she agrees, somewhat dryly. "Having seen six
newborns of m'own and a couple of others. None of whom Ushu ever had the
chance t'festoon, fortunately... can it? Even if'n 'tis buried in the soil?
That's news t'me. I can't say I've had much t'do with waste since I last
had diapers t'change, mind you. If'n you don't mind me asking... how do
wild plants grow, if'n they need humans t'have sex?" Pause. "That," she has
to add, "is one surreal idea."

Dragon> Lysseth senses that Taralyth settles mentally back to see all those
swirls, ruddy and light - or starts to, for a mirrored shield sweeps up
that reflects her in a wide-eyed, funhouse reflection of reproach. Pop her
bubbles, would she? The blood, well-fed, he'll leave; the hint - the memory
- _those_ he'll keep.

Ayanne's quite happy to play instructor; it's part of her life. "The
disease can be carried on roots, and if someone's careless, it could be
carried into food or medicine. A bit counter-productive, hmmm?" She goes on
with her planting, taking care that each seedling stands up on its own,
roots splayed beneath it, soil packed firmly. "And without humans, bugs do
the pollinating. We just take over for the few plants that the bugs don't
work on, and for the most part, they don't live in the wild. They can,
however, grow by sending out runners - like a root, that then becomes
another plant. We'll also keep the bugs away from some flowers, choosing
who the mate is, to try to improve the stock. Like a beastcrafter, choosing
the best bull."

Lysseth> Taralyth senses that Lysseth flashes her startlement into the
mirror, sending light to reflect, refract, reflect, refract, between shield
and prism unto infinity, or at least until she abandons the image.
Goodness, is *that* her? Now the mirror becomes the target of the spire:
tap, tap, tap, a gentle rapping, rapping at the chamber door. Perhaps the
sound will be music. Either way, there's a sensation of warm pleasure at
being remembered, like the silken side of a purring feline or velvet left
out in the sun.

Dragon> Lysseth senses that Taralyth doesn't ward against the tapping, no;
from the tapping comes no cracking, but only the reflection of spine
meeting - doubled - only to part again; and warmth finds warmth in reply.

Kassima spends a moment considering this, adjusting her thread minutely in
the meanwhile to keep it on a straight course. "So 'twould be less *likely*
t'be a problem with a flower garden," she hazards, "but moreso mayhaps with
foods? I know that we washed things a'fore we ate 'em, when I spent time in
the kitchens, but I'd thought more of dirt in that than... well, y'know."
Who likes to think of 'y'know' when eating, after all? "Which plants are
there that the bugs don't work on, and why?" she next wants to know. "And
if'n they send out roots, how do you pollinate the roots without having to
dig 'em up? I've heard of selective breeding for stock, now. I've a cousin
who breeds runnerbeasts. We're involved in developing a particular line
together, though m'contribution's minimal and mostly monetarial."

Lysseth> Taralyth senses that Lysseth bores soon enough with the spine,
glittering and mint-forged though it might have been--there are other
things to try reflecting in this shield: dust of gold, a many-legged bug,
and scents in plenty of parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme. For who is to
say without testing what the mirror might reflect? Particularly when it
returns warmth, enhances warmth, a warmth made greater for the sharing.

Ayanne uses her cane to gesture to a flower-bed already well underway.
"Those ones there, for starters. Mostly, they're plants we use at the Hall.
Most cotwives won't be willing to do the tedious job of pollinating them.
And unless you've got a youngster in the habit of pulling up roots and
eating them, flower gardens aren't usually a concern when using 'you know'.
But we've got to be extra careful, here at the Hall. Our flowers aren't
just pretty." She chuckles, shaking her head. "The runners do it
themselves, without making seeds, which is what bugs are needed for. A new
plant just sort of grows from the runner. I guess you could say that it's a
second body of the same plant." Curious, she asks as she pats the soil
around her last seedling, "A line of runners? Racing? Or cart-pulling?"

"I noticed the sign about poisons," Kassima admits, reaching into her tray
for another mint plant. "'Tis a pity; I've a youngling who'd doubtless
enjoy seeing this place, but I don't know that I could trust her t'remember
nay t'touch. Or t'obey, if'n she did remember. When she's older... so the
root-running plants don't need pollinating, but also don't need the bugs?
Which plants do need pollinating but can't use the bugs? 'Tis rather like
trundlebugs by the sound, that business of budding off a new plant."
Speaking of which, she picks up one enterprising singleton bug that's
threatening to crawl onto her hand and sets it delicately a short idstance
away. "Racing, 'tis, though she breeds other kinds for the Hold too.
Cart-pulling especially; with all the mining going on at Greystones, that's
really more lucrative, but racing's her passion. I bought a stallion from
the Beastcraft a time ago on a whim, and she thought he might make an
interesting sire since he had spirit and new blood; that's how I got
involved in it."

"When she's older," Ayanne suggests, always looking for new prospects, "She
might be interested in apprenticing, if she's good with plants. They all,"
the working apprentices are indicated, "Learn gardening as well as the more
direct aspects of healing. Oh. Those ones over there don't get pollinated
by bugs, but they'll also not send up runners. They need us. Some
root-running plants /can/ also produce seeds, if the bugs pollinate them.
That's in the usual way, with flowers and all." To one of the older lads,
Ayanne requests, "Alright, start bringing buckets of water. Don't drown the
poor things, but make the soil around them soggy. Carting's more lucrative?
I'd think that, if you had luck on your side, racing could be too. Though I
suppose most of the marks in racing is through wagering, am I right?"

Kassima shakes her head immediately at that. "Oh, nay, I doubt that.
'Tisn't that she's particularly good with plants, she just likes colorful
things and aught she hasn't seen before--I suspect she'll end up a Harper
or a Weaver, m'self. Or another artist like her sister. But I suppose all
things are possible." And give her credit: she doesn't visibly shudder at
the thought of having spawned a Healer-to-be. "Mmm. The gardening part
doesn't seem *so* bad. Did the Craftsecond specialize in plants? She
mentioned something about brewing teas. Why won't the bugs pollinate
those?" she wonders, looking towards the indicated plants. "Is there
something they don't like about 'em, or... oh, water." She seems to realize
at this point that she's run out of plants, and rocks back on her heels,
dusting her hands off on her slacks after giving the last one a final and
almost fond pat. "More lucrative for Greystones. I doubt 'twould be the
same everywhere; our specialty's the mining and selling of Greystones
granite, so those who work the quarries are always in need of beasts for
lugging their product around, and a'cours there are the trips to other
Holds when some Lord or other wants a sparkling building or fountain or
whatnay. I don't doubt racing's moreso in Ruatha or Keroon or bigger racing
Holds. I'm nay expert m'self, but Jessamine's said there are some marks
t'be made in other ways--the breeding of a fine racehorse, for one. People
will pay t'have him sire foals on their mares if'n they think they'll grow
up t'be as good or better than he was."

Ayanne brushes the dirt off her hands, as the apprentices begin watering
the poor plants. The rows of mint - quite a few, given that it's a useful
plant - look perhaps a little pathetic. Little twigs of fresh green in
soggy soil, under the looming presence of the rosebushes. Who've been
behaving themselves. "All sorts of depth to every Craft, isn't there? Never
would've thought to exchange marks for the services of a stallion. Don't
think I ever considered that carts must lug stone for the Lord's
frivolties." She inspects a couple of the mint plants, frowning a little at
one apprentice. "If you break off the growing tip, it'll get branchy too
soon. Be more careful, hmmm? Now, Sauscony? Well, she surely learned the
basics of gardening and pharmacy, but she's in Trauma and Surgery. Treating
major injuries, stitching up deep lacerations and such. Do you know her well?"

Pathetic or no, Kassi regards them with a visible fondness, and watches the
watering carefully as though to be sure nobody drowns *her* seedlings. "I
imagine 'tis so. I've sat in on lessons that Crafters have offered for us
laymen now and again--basic dragon care, the cooking of specific dishes,
gemstone shapes, ovine-shearing, that sort of thing--and I know I don't
even understand a fraction of what all they have t'know... mayhaps with the
exception of the Bakers since I *can* cook, but there's a difference
between what I can make without assistance and what they can." No kidding.
Folding her arms so that they rest against her legs, which, at a squat,
form a convenient platform, she answers, "Nay very well as a person, nay.
She attended the birth of m'youngest, and I saw her at the Smithcraft fire.
Then we spoke for a time when I came t'be requesting her assistance at
another birth in a few months. That's what's landed me here."

Ayanne's not very comfortable at a squat, with one leg not bearing weight
overly well. So instead, she inelegantly sits in the soil. "Ovine shearing,
hmmm? I bet I could still shear one blindfolded. Spent my childhood in a
cothold chasing ovines and Llamas across the 'Reaches mountainsides."
Indeed, even this many turns later, the 'reaches is still detectable in her
accent. "We should really offer more first-aid courses, perhaps teach
people some of the more common and less potentially dangerous treatments
for some ailments." She pauses, glancing in Kassi's midriff area, then back
to her face. "I take it the birth won't be yours?" She sounds a little
perplexed.

Kassima has to ask, "You chased llamas? That sounds an adventure--I've nay
seen all that many llamas, but they're large, aren't they? Large enough
t'be hard t'catch, I'd think, unless they're slow. I didn't shear 'tall
m'self, only watched it done. But 'twouldn't have minded trying. So long as
they didn't want me t'be doing aught with the wool, since stitching isn't
one of m'strengths." She tucks her ankles in until she's sitting
cross-legged, and lets her hands rest in her lap. "That might be useful,"
she allows. With a hint of reluctance. Some habits aren't easily broken.
"Healer Nadja did a very fine lesson for us awhile ago in the care for
frostbite that's proven invaluable... oh, nay, nay *me*." The greenrider
shakes her head emphatically. "A relative of mine, nay m'self. I haven't
borne a child in six Turns."

"Llamas are a pain," Ayanne admits. "Not exactly herd beasts, but the
canines can chase'em and pen them almost as well as they can ovines. It's
the adolescents who think it's fun to lead us on a merry chase across the
hillsides who're the worst. But, they've got warm wool. I'm not so great at
stitching, myself - unless you count wounds. Different sort, more like
tying knots than knitting." She cocks her head to one side, noting, "Well,
your relative will be in good hands, then. Our Craftsecond's got her
position for a reason - she's one of the best."

"I'll take you at your word on that. I don't know that I've seen herding
canines at work." Kassi considers this a time with a furrowed brow.
"Possibly Jessamine does work with 'em; most of the time I spend with her,
she's showing me the latest products of the line, or taking m'children on
rides when they wish it, so I may just nay have seen." What other comment
she might make on wool and stitching is forestalled by a visible shudder.
She'll say nothing about stitching wounds, no. Instead, "Aye, 'tis as I
thought she might be. I found her the least objectionable Healer--pardon,
but 'tis so, excluding those who nay longer wear a Healer's knot--I'd ever
seen at a birth, and 'tis why I sought her out for this."

Kassima adds after a moment, "Save mayhaps Thalia when she delivered
Ivrihn, but I'd sooner trust m'experience as the mother than m'experience
as a spectator, if'n you ken?"

Ayanne comments, "The canines are mostly used with ovines, might explain
why you've not seen'em. Plus, they're out in the fields, often bellies to
the grass, or might just appear to be tagging along." A purse of her lips,
as she thinks, before asking, "Besides Ushu, you've had bad experiences? Or
just a lack of good ones? You know, it's tempting to have a session where
mothers help instruct healers. Tell them what they want and need?"

"I, personally, haven't had what one could call *bad* experiences. The
Healer at m'first cracked jokes at times I didn't appreciate then, being
rather frightened if'n truth be known; and the rider who ended up
delivering was someone I'd nay have had do it, given the chance. Other
riders delivered four of m'others, but I didn't mind them; 'twere friends,
and women, and I'd much sooner a woman did that work. Less embarrassing."
The grin Kassima flicks is slightly sheepish. "Otherwise, the Healers I've
seen at the task did the job well enough, but there was too much...
clinicalness? Strangeness? Lack of familiarity or warmth, mayhaps? I didn't
want this for m'relative, I wanted someone I thought would be treating her
well. I don't know if'n motherly instruction would be helping or nay.
Mayhaps so--and mayhaps midwives and Healers should compare notes sometime.
Though 'tis only a thought."

Ayanne considers this for a moment, before nodding. "Sometimes it's hard
for healers to learn bedside manner. I used to be horrible at it - far too
frank, put a wall of formality between myself and the patient. Didn't even
usually know their name! But, having a posting helped with that. Then,
having to set a good example here. Now, even if motherly instruction, as
you put it, helps only two or three healers learn that the woman in labour
is just that, a woman, then it'd be a good thing." The youngsters traipse
about the garden, gently watering other plants, soaking the beds well.
"Don't forget! Box!" Ayanne calls after the one, as they all slip into the
pharmacy. "By morning!"

Kassima confesses after a brief pause, "Methinks that might have been the
sort of thing I meant, aye, with nay offense meant--even if'n the Healer
doesn't know your name, methinks when you're in labor you'd like t'think
they *care* about you and what happens t'you... I've always been a touch
afraid, even with the sixth. 'Twould nay want t'be attended to by someone
formal in fear. But then, 'tis me, y'know, and other women might find that
more comforting than the other." Quirking a grin, she suggests, "And helps
'em t'learn nay t'make remarks on a woman's anatomy at such times? I can't
be arguing *that* would be all to the best. Craftmaster, if'n I might
ask--what *is* 'box'?"

"I know it doesn't help," Ayanne says, slowly, "But that distance is
created by them caring, oftentimes. You care too much, and something goes
wrong, and it hurts a lot more. So, we impose a distance. On top of that,
if you let yourself care, you're wrapped up emotionally in what happens,
and if something goes wrong you might not act properly, might hesitate on
an important decision. But, that's the reason, not an excuse." The
seriousness of this is broken, as she laughs at the question. "Box is a
type of small tree, grows in warmer climes than here. We use the bark for
some treatments, and woodcrafters like to use the wood for carving. It is
*not*, most assuredly, a mint."

"I suppose so." Kassi doesn't look entirely at ease with the notion,
however, and lifts one hand to rub at the back of her neck. "Still, if'n
you show me one Healer who'll say at a birth, 'Now for the episiotome!' and
go t'work with the knife, and another who'll explain what they're doing and
why and do their best never t'surprise the laboring woman, I can tell you
easily which I'd rather see. Or between the one who seems stern and angry
with a first-time mother, wanting t'drive off those who came t'help her
feel nay alone, or even the one who *tries* t'take the mother's mind off
things with jestings and prattle, I could make an easy choice. But then, I
couldn't say I'm comfortable with Healers in general if'n 'twere being
honest; and the more like strangers they are, the less, quite honestly, I
want them t'touch me." She rolls her shoulders up in an uncomfortable
shrug. "I might be alone in that. I don't think so, mind... ah! Well, then.
Do they, by any chance, make *boxes* out of box? Or does nature rebel
against such punning things?"

Ayanne listens, nodding, still thoughtful. "More you talk about this, the
more I think some of our more senior apprentices, and journeyranking
Healers too, would benefit from talking with mothers /after/ the birth is
long done. Some'll never quite understand the concept of treating the
mother-to-be with anything approaching friendliness, but explaining what
they do should really be expected. Unless it's an emergency, in which case,
saving the life of mom and baby are what comes first, not being nice. Well.
I can assure you that out here, you've got no reason to be uncomfortable
around healers. We're not about to assault you with mint, and I'll even
protect you from the roses. See? Staaaayyyyy, stay!" The roses, amazingly,
do as they're told. "And I'd say they could make a box out of box. Maybe
even one of those neat bent-corner ones."

Kassima makes a gesture of understanding: "Oh, a'course, emergencies are
emergencies and you have t'expect sternness then--anyway, there usually
*are* other people onhand t'be providing companionship to the mother, or I
at least hope 'tis so. They can do the comforting in those cases. The
reason, methinks, why 'tis still important--at least t'me--that the Healer
nay be too cold is that oft they're the only one who really knows what's
going on, exactly; so even with friends and the father near... ach, you
understand what I mean better than I do, like as nay. Anyway." Cracking
another grin, she says, "I don't mind the mint so much! Shells, I carry
mint-sticks around with me nigh always. Roses, now, methinks I'll stay awy
from when you're nay here. You just never know."

Ayanne cautions, "In very serious cases, I might even order attending
friends and family out. But by then, the woman's usually too far gone to
know what's happening, or I at least state why I'm doing that. And you're
right, the roses might just be a problem if I'm not here. Who needs a
watchwher when you've got roses?"

"'Twill take you at your word. I've never been in or attending such a case,
and frankly," Kassima says, grimacing, "I devoutly hope I never am.
There've probably been a couple of births like that in m'family, but nay
anyone ever talks about it... oh, indeed. They'd smother any intruders in
red petals a'fore they could so much as start digging for buried marks!"

Ayanne sincerely states, "And I hope you don't, too. Don't you worry about
your relative, either. Sauscony is the best there is. Now," she reaches for
her cane, and gets to her feet with relative ease. After all, it's not like
she's an old granny-needs-her-cane. She's a young woman-needs-her-cane. "I
hate to leave you out with the roses, unattended. But I should get cleaned
up and back to work. Have you had dinner? Or, care to clean up, in the
Hall? You're more than welcome, you know."

Kassima murmurs, barely audible and as much to herself as Ayanne,
"Impossible nay t'worry. The question's reducing the cause for worry as
much as possible." When the other woman gets up, the greenrider looks up
towards the stars with a surprised blink. "Shells and stars, when did it
get so late? Methinks I'll flee the roses m'self--ah, well, I'm nay sure I
quite feel up t'daring the *Hall* yet. There might be Healers lurking
around with cold instruments waiting t'pounce. I'll admit, though, that
I've nay eaten, and dinner does sound a bit tempting."

Ayanne offers, with a smile, "Well, I can promise you no cold instruments
in our bathing rooms. And once I'm cleaned up, will be eating, myself. I
could offer you protection. But if you'd rather return to the comfort of
your Weyr, where only a few of us lurk, it's understandable."

Kassima gives this offer serious consideration, but at length shakes her
head. "I do appreciate the offer, but methinks I'd do best t'head back to
the Weyr--if'n naught else, so I can get a good, long soak without worrying
that 'twill make me too sleepy t'get home! But 'tis kind. Thankee,
Craftmaster, for letting me assist today."

"Any time, Wingleader," Ayanne assures. "And you can, by the way, call me
by my name. Ayanne. And come back to check on your mints - we can even mark
them somehow if you'd like."

"I do think I'd like t'check on the mints," Kassi responds, with a sort of
surprise. "Didn't think I'd have any reason t'*want* t'come to the Hall,
i'truth, given that Healers and I generally avoid each other; I guess
wonders will never be ceasing. 'Twill say, though, that I'll only be
calling you by name if'n you do likewise."

Ayanne agrees, with a slight grin. "Will do, then, Kassima -- or, it's just
Kassi, correct? And if you're feeling brave, come harvest time, could show
you how we make such things as mint sticks."

Flashing a grin, Kassi confirms, "Kassi's fine. I go by whichever the
speaker prefers, generally. And I can honestly say I'd *love* t'learn how
t'make mint-sticks--so long as the harvest isn't quite as pungeant as
numbweed, so t'speak."

"Smells much better," Ayanne assures, brushing dirt from her knees, then
her backside. "I can't quite imagine making numbweed sticks. Mint, though,
and variations on it, those're good. So, do, please, come back. I promise
you'll be protected from the roses, and even from apprentices with cold
instruments, so long as you don't hurt yourself while you're here."

Kassima comments with wry amusement, "And glad I am t'hear it, since if'n
it had a numbweed reek I'd find it hard t'think about putting it in m'mouth
in the future. I'd come back anyway--I still owe Sauscony some visiting, by
m'reckoning--but now I might even do it without *quite* as much wariness. I
can promise you I'll do m'level best nay t'be injured. Greenrider's honor."

Ayanne offers a smile. "Sounds fine to me. Well then, if you'll excuse me,
Kassi, I should get myself cleaned up, fed, and back to work. My best to
your dragon, and clear skies to you both."

"By all means, Ayanne, 'twill excuse," and here Kassi offers a salute,
though it's casual and accompanied by a smile rather than the crisp one
she'd offer for formal parting. "I'd best get off likewise. Duties t'your
Craft and her Masters, as ever, and fair winds t'you and to m'mints!"

You head north out of the herb garden.