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The Leading Cause of Concern


Date:  July 21, 2003
Place:  Telgar Weyr Workroom
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:  Sometimes I think Kassi needs a wooden booth kind of 
like Lucy's in Charles Schultz's Peanuts strip, complete with sign:
the advisor is in.  It's not that she's a font of all wisdom or 
anything, but she *has* been doing a lot of advising lately, and 
this time it's Javinia who asks for and receives the greenrider's
dubiously valuable counsel.  The topic isn't flights--instead, the
Weyrling Wingleader confesses worries about how her new-given
position.  Kassima attempts to help her out a bit.

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The Log:

You push aside the curtain and enter the workroom.

Lysseth> Javinia heads out of the living cavern, breaking into a jog once
she reaches solid bowl ground. She's got a meatroll in her mouth, one hand
slipping another something wrapped inside a napkin in her flight jacket
pocket to match the bulge on the opposite side, and there's at least two
scrolls tucked up under her arm. Dragging her hand from her pocket, she
pulls the meatroll from her mouth and lifts it, dimpling, "Heyla, Lysseth!"
before heading into the workroom.

Javinia comes into the workroom from the bowl.

A set of straps rests on the table Kassi's chosen as her own, the warm
brown leather gleaming with recent oil and coiled carefully to keep tangles
at bay. An array of repair materials aren't far distant: gut thread, awls,
needles, none of it in use. Kassima's evidently finished with the leather,
because now she's perusing a set of bound hides with considerable
concentration; she murmurs things to herself, too low-voiced to be
comprehensible from any distance.

The curtain to the work room rustles closed behind Javinia. Months of
training, of weyrlinghood, and the weyrling wingleader has lost a lot of
her plumpness, her round face boasting some definition; she's also acquired
a newer knot that doesn't sit quite as jauntily on her shoulder as her old
one did. Maybe that's the reason she looks distracted and somehow frazzled,
straight brows drawing together as her hazel eyes adjust to the inner
cavern light. "Heyla, Wingleader," she says, upon spying the greenrider.
She has to swallow a mouthful of hurried mid-day meal, switching meatroll
to her other hand, so she can salute.

Kassima straightens at the sound of her title, stretching enough in the
chair to cause one of her vertebrae to pop before she turns to see the
source: "Heyla yourself, Javinia." She returns the salute smartly, and
never mind that the charcoal stick held in her right hand probably leaves a
mark somewhere in her hair or on her brow in the process. Dark eyes take in
the Weyrling's frazzled state, and it prompts the query, "Did you come in
here looking for someone? Or something?"

Javinia starts to unload the meatroll and the scrolls onto a corner of
Kassima's table, hardly waiting for invitation; the bowl's a long walk to
juggle during. She blinks and glances up, querying, "Hmm? Oh, yes. I mean,
no. Er, well ... " Her hazel eyes turn muddier with thought, narrowing
slightly as she takes in Kassima, as if only now -seeing- her. "Actually,
have you a moment? I, um ... " Gaze flickering to the greenrider's
forehead, she pauses, distracted, "You've got something -- " she lifts a
hand, rubbing up near her own hairline, her short, dark waves, " -- right
here."

Amusement flickers in the depths of Kassi's eyes, but she makes no verbal
comment about the presumption. Rather, she tugs the finished straps over to
make a trace more room. "You are but you aren't," she quips. "That must be
confusing. 'Twould seem to at least halve your chances of finding aught
if'n you're only half seeking it, serendipity aside. A moment? I should
have. My accounts aren't exactly so critical that 'twill be spontaneously
combusting and frying us all if'n I put 'em aside for a moment." She may be
deadpan, but she nudges the hides aside readily. "What d'you need? Do I?"
Momentarily bemused, the greenrider swipes at the skin below her hairline
with the back of one wrist: "Did I get it? Tell me 'twasn't a bug or
something and I didn't just probably get a gossamer spinner down m'sleeve."

The weyrling has the most grateful of smiles for Thunderbolt's wingleader,
even if the corner of Javinia's mouth tugs up in a somewhat sheepish
manner. "Yes, well, I was thinking on something else, but ... truth be
told, I'd rather ask you than, say, the weyrlingmaster. Not that he
wouldn't do, but he's so quick with those pale-eyed unsmiling looks these
days -- and E'ven's pure pessimism." She stops of a sudden, as if censoring
herself. "Feh!" Her nose wrinkles up. "Of course, the weyrsecond said there
-would- be babbling." The greenrider's question draws her back, and she
sinks down into a seat, eyes going to the woman's forehead. "Oh, right. No,
you've got it. Charcoal, of course. No spinners. They're all in Mirah's
weyr, you know."

Kassima folds her hands across the tabletop as she speaks, a fingertip idly
twisting the graduation ring on her right hand. "'Tis hard on
him--I'sai--t'be Weyrlingmaster right now. I'm nay really surprised that he
finds it hard t'be merry; and E'ven, well, y'saw him around *between* time.
By all means, ask me whatever and I can try t'answer, and promise nay
pale-eyed unsmiling looks. I couldn't manage those if'n I tried." Likely
not, since her eyes don't qualify as pale. "Oh, good." Pause. "That 'twas
charcoal, I mean, nay that Mirah's weyr's full of spinners. She got a weyr
full of *spinners*? Nay anyone even bothered cleaning the thing out? Faranth."

Javinia cocks her head then, sobering somewhat. "Is it? I mean, it must be.
He's always so ... " Her brows draw down, and a frown takes her mouth.
She's unable to find the word, so she elides over it, " ... these days. --
Not unkind," she's quick to add, "only ... well, I suppose it's the same
with them all. But the way they look at us sometimes, as if we're not quite
there, or about to disappear, it's ... " Again, she leaves it be, and it's
the wingleader's humor that draws her smile, dimples making a faint
appearance. "Well, it's this whole wingleader thing. Gay's got the head for
this sort of thing, not I, and well, you, -being- a winglead-- " That last
question gives her pause. "You've not seen the weyrs then. I had to set
Tray to help A'ric clean his. It's more punishment than she deserved, I
think." There's a slight frown there.

"I can't speak for 'em. I've never been on the Weyrlingmaster team m'self.
But what I'd warrant is that they're thinking some of you are about
t'disappear, daren't be hopeful nay anyone will--'tisn't many Weyrling
classes who graduate completely intact. If the first *between* doesn't kill
anyone, the first Fall probably will. And you don't know in advance who's
going t'go, so all Weyrlings at this time of training seem potentially...
impermanent." The greenrider's voice is slightly muted, certainly not
cheerful: quietly matter-of-fact. "So. Put that on top of the fact that
they'll almost certes blame themselves if'n or when anyone dies, and are
probably worrying right now, have I done enough? Will I lead this one
t'death? Little surprise they've taken grim countenance. But that's a dark
business t'be discussing, really. Ill-suited to the day. Is it advice
you're wanting? On something specific?" Kassi indulges in a brief grin at
the last. "Haven't, but I can be imagining. Mmm. What did she do and how
bad was this weyr that 'twould be a terrible penance?"

Drawing her meatroll across the table to her, as if needing something in
her hand, she starts to pick at it as she listens with downcast eyes. "Of
course," she comments after a brief pause. "Of course." The soft frown
about her mouth sharpens and then fades. Forcing brightness back into her
voice, she glances up once more, nodding, "I wouldn't mind it. If you've
advice to spare. I'll-- I'll be responsible now, too, for such things, and
I ... I haven't the faintest idea how to lead. Wingsecond. Wingsecond I
could manage. But this. I suppose a tip or two might be welcome," she
finally concedes. "You've more experience than I can hope for. -- Oh, Tray?
She teased A'ric during our 'flight talk'." Here, she frowns again. "The
weyrlingmaster set me to discipline her -- during class even."

Kassima says softly, "I'm sorry." And she clearly means it--but it's said
with sympathy more than apologeticness. She lets a beat of silence pass
before picking up the next topic. "I can spare advice, though I can't
promise you'll think it worth much. If'n it helps you, Wingleading isn't
something most people can do without qualm from the get-go--Cav came t'me
for advice, too, when he was landed with Skyfire, and in my turn I fretted
about being able t'do the job. Being unsure of what t'do is normal. I
suppose the most general thing I can be offering is that in m'view, a
Wingleader's role is t'make sure all of her riders are performing at their
best and coordinating well together. Which goes without saying, almost. But
it often comes down t'recognizing mistakes, figuring out how t'correct 'em,
and making sure your riders *don't* make those same mistakes again. That
they learn, and you learn, and everyone improves. That does involve being
the disciplinarian sometimes, and that may be why Is set you to the task."
She brings up her hands, lacing the fingers together and resting them under
her chin. "You have t'be responsible. You have t'be hard on them, when 'tis
a matter of duty. Punishment has t'come from you as much as reward does,
and they have t'know that. I'm nay saying you should be a martinet, but
everyone in the Wing should know bloody well who leads it."

Javinia is still picking small pieces from that meatroll, lifting each to
her mouth to chew on thoughtfully, the same way she seems to be chewing
over everything said. She rolls one shoulder, first, as if to say, "It's
alright," not quite brushing the sympathy aside, but acknowledging it,
acknowledging, too, that it's over and done. "I suppose -that's- the
question then. How to be the leader without being a Mayelle." Her cheeks
catch her blush, and she glances up apologetically, ammending, "How to walk
that line -- between disciplinarian and leader and ... well, friend and
wingmate, because I'm still those things, or I'd like to be. It's possible,
no?" The hopeful look that accompanies that turns slightly questioning,
eyes going muddier. "And why did you say that? What reason would there be
to have the weyrlingmaster setting me to such a task?"

"'Tis possible," Kassima conceeds, chin dipping in a nod. "Nay always easy,
though. Especially when you're starting out. M'self, I think a Wingleader
can be hated in drills--mayhaps sometimes *should* be; because nay anyone's
going t'love having their mistakes pointed out publically or being yelled
at, but you can't let things like that slide, and if'n a rider is having a
serious performance problem *all* your Wingmates will need t'know it.
Sometimes several can learn from the mistakes of one, for one, and for two
it benefits everyone t'know how their Wingmates do; t'know what t'expect. I
don't know if'n I'm explaining it well...." She lets that drop for a moment
and returns to the original point: "But *off* duty, when you're nay
drilling, nay meeting over reports, nay facing an incident, you can be
friend and Wingmate. It helps if'n you remember t'praise your riders as
well as punish, make it clear what they're doing well as well as what
they're doing wrong--I knew a Wingleader who only ever talked about his
Wing's faults; he drove his Wingmates crazy. If'n you're unfair to 'em
on-duty, they aren't apt t'forgive you off; you don't have t'be *easy* on
'em t'stay friendly, but I do think you have t'treat 'em right." She tilts
her head at the second question, quiet a moment as she seeks for a second
approach. "There are several reasons. One, so he could see what *you'd* do,
what decision you'd make and how you'd enforce it. That can say a lot about
what sort of leader you'll be. For another, so that you're put in the place
of *having* t'make that call, and make it publically; Wingleaders are going
t'have to do that. Another yet, so that the other Weyrlings will see you
making the reprimand and have your authority confirmed for 'em thereby."

"Truly? Hrm." Javinia takes each point in stride, as if she were in a
harper lesson. "So, you're saying: know the difference between on-duty and
off, and though I'll need to point out flaws, I shouldn't forget to praise
what they do right. Is that it?" Her head tilts to one side, as if she's
considering that, and her whole expression seems to clear, to soften into
something lighter. Dimpling, she looks up. "I think I can manage -that-, at
least. Or, I hope." A sheepish smile, lest she seem overconfident. She
catches up the rest of her meatroll, pocketing it -- for drills later, no
doubt. "You're right, most like. About knotting us, or me. I suppose it's
good experience now, when we've still the weyrlingmaster and assistants to
look to." As if only now remembering her manners, she says, "I'm awful
sorry to have bothered you, though I certainly appreciate the advice --
more than you can know. But ... how goes it with you and your Lysseth? And
Kaswyn? How old is he now?"

A broad smile breaks across Kassi's face. "Exactly so. Mind you, with the
pointing out of flaws, you're ideally out t'make sure they don't repeat
mistakes rather than t'*nag* 'em about things you might nay like. Take
Alymbrith, one of m'blues: he moves sharply, he always has, and he's never
going t'develop much grace at this late date. Sometimes that means he
misses a patch of Thread another blue could catch. But that isn't a
*mistake*, 'tis just how he flies, and my harping on it would only make
Ylysse resentful and possibly *hamper* their ability to fly well. Besides,
those sharp movements can come in handy too; they have their place, used
properly. Figuring out *how* t'use each dragon's natural style properly is
another part of Wingleading." With a soft laugh, she agrees, "You probably
can. But, y'know, chances are you'll make mistakes too. And that's all
right. Everyone does. We learn from that. Just like with your Wingmates,
making sure you don't make the same mistake twice is more what you should
aim for. Right--being a Weyrling Wingleader's a fair way t'gain leadership
experience without putting lives in *too much* jeopardy. You still can
endanger your Wingmates if'n you mess up too badly, and I should know; but
the Weyrlingmasters will be watching over you. Hey, don't apologize. I
don't mind 'tall. I just hope some of this was helpful." She accepts the
subject change with another flashed smile. "Lyss is ever Lyss. Still
pleased about so many greens in the last Fort clutch! Methinks sometimes
she believes if'n there are ever *enough* greens, they'll be able t'take
over the world... Kazy's eight months old now. He's just beautiful. So
*alive*; he's into everything, I just know he'll be walking early... and
'twould bet he's bright, but I'm his mother. I'm bound t'think so."

Javinia listens hard with tilted head, one ear lifted to catch the
wingleader's voice. She tucks a short strand of hair behind that ear,
nodding along, dimpling now and then. "I hadn't thought of that," she
finally admits. "The using their individual style. That's an excellent
point," and she looks thoughtful, but it's not as dark, by half, as
earlier. Another nod, "Right. Don't make the same mistake twice." When the
greenrider seems to question the helpfulness of the talk, Javinia lifts
quick eyes, smile swift and true. "Oh, invaluable. Truly!" Her dimples
prove her words. Then, chuckling, she says, "I saw you there, but E'ven had
us grouped. I -wish- I'd seen Yv Impress, but I'm glad enough she did. I'll
have to write her again. Visit, too, when I'm able." She draws a knee up,
boot finding purchase on the edge of her seat, and hugs it to her, warming
to the more domestic conversation. "Truly? Eighteen months. Hard to
believe. So -fast-."

Kassima assures, unfolding her index fingers to tap them together, "'Tis
one of those things you'd usually have time t'get used to, when you inherit
a Wing. You may even be able to now. Any Wing with a decent performance
record will have patterns and formations, position assignments, designed
t'make the best of each rider, and your experienced riders will know what
they can and can't do... *that's* something you can't count on with
Weyrlings, a'course. When we have you all in our Wings as rider, we'll work
t'figure that out, find out where you belong... well, you'll see.
M'pleasure, then." The elder woman crooks a grin. "Oh, I did see that--I
won marks on it! And lost marks on it. But there were wagers for her
t'Impress other colors, so when she ended up with green... and Mykaa on
green, that's thrilling. 'Lex and Lys have t'be beyond thrilled. Alessi's
cousin got a green, too. Very green-rich clutch." Her grin widens when the
topic returns to her son; all this time, and she's as eager to discuss him
as ever. "It seems like yesterday that he was born, sometimes, but then I
look at him and he's so big... even for an eight-month-old, he's a bit big.
He might be a tall lad someday. He has Ozy's eyes now, and his curls; and
he's got three teeth! But listen t'me--I swear, I could gush on about him
forever."

Javinia can't help but lift a brow. "That's true. You and the other
wingleaders will have the task of trying to call our quirks." Her mouth
turns a bit wry, but there's humor in her eyes. "You'll have the weyrling
staff to help with that, I suppose." She glances past the greenrider,
toward the curtain that separates work room and bowl, as if that curtain
might hide said staff. "True, true. But not Xachael, though," she points
out, glancing back again, and her eyes go soft, lighter, with memory. "It
was something to watch, considering. Hard to think that was me. It feels
like ages ago. -- Three teeth? No! Truly?" Fairly amazed, she plunks her
chin on her up drawn knee. "Next he'll be walking, and Levarn will be
pulling girls' braids, and ... Feh! Naelanth's very nearly -two- now, too.
Hard to think on. The way the grow."

"Which," says Kassima, amusement clear, "is always an adventure, you may be
sure. The Weyrlingmasters can tell us things about you lot that help us
decide who we want t'try and get, but they can't really tell us how you'll
fit into our Wings; that's for us t'determine from what we're told--but
'tisn't aught you need t'worry about." She follows the glance, but when no
Weyrlingmasters hop out from behind the curtain to tear out their throats
or worse, lecture them about proper strap maintenance, she returns her
attention to where it had been. "Xachael should have time yet if'n he hopes
t'ride. Nay endless time--methinks he's in his twenties?--but some. We'll
see. Was it the first Hatching you ever saw besides yours?" Her nod is
vigorous. "Really! I'll have t'prevail more upon poor 'Maeva for help once
he walks. 'Tis risky enough t'take my eyes off him as 'tis... it really is
a wonder, for baby humans and baby dragons both. The time passes so fast
when they're changing and growing every day so that you can almost see it
happen."

"I can imagine," Javinia says with a little quirk of her lips, and a
dimple. "Oh, I've enough worries. I'm more than happy to leave you to
yours." Both dimples peek now, her enthusiasm returning -- no, no weyrling
staff, and no lectures on proper strap maintenance, thank Faranth. "True, I
suppose. He's time. Can you believe it? It was. Quite different when you're
up on the ledges, which is an experience itself, you know. But there on the
sands? I saw they got to wear sandals, too -- nice that." She can't stop
the way her countenance goes tender at the mention of time and growth and
change. "I suppose it's similar and different. Babies and dragons. Assitant
Weyrlingmaster Merielan insists they're the best things to have. Babies,
that is."

"I can believe it. Easy enough t'believe, since Lysseth was m'first
Hatching, and the Fort Hatching t'follow the first other I'd seen," is
Kassi's answer, accompanied by a grin. "'Twas *strange* in ways. And always
different. Even when you view it from the Sands, though, if'n you aren't
Standing, 'tis different--I learned that the round I served as Coordinator.
Nay just different because I got t'wear *boots*, either. Telgar Candidates
are expected t'have stronger constitution than Fort's, evidently; Telgar's
riders have already proven themselves through burnt soles and get t'cheat."
The entire subject seems to entertain her. So, too, does that tender
expression--but it's a gentler amusement. "Does she? I hope well for her in
having another someday... she surely wants one. I don't know, though. Much
as I love m'children, I'd still have t'say a dragon is the best thing t'have."

Javinia's eyes light with interest. "Truly? Well, that's right, isn't it?
You're holdbred as well. Not to mention the bowing to dragons. I've not
forgotten." Those dimples again. They deepen when the 'boots' get a laugh.
"It seems a strange thing to me. The sands are as much heat as a candidate
will ever feel here." Hyperbole, maybe, but not entirely untrue. "It'd be
more appropriate to have us barefoot in snow, though that'd -never- do for
the eggs, of course." Her shoulders seem to ease into her lighter tone, and
she can't help but wonder, "Maybe she'll have another with K'nan, then. I
only hope her happy. She's quite nice, you know. She doesn't look at you in
that disappearing way. Though, I have to admit, I think I agree with you.
Not that I know much. But ... Naelanth? I couldn't imagine any other." She
laughs. "I'm not sure he'd let me."

"Truly told. We might have been able t'go to a Benden Hatching--some people
at the Hold found ways--but we never had, so 'twas inexperienced as aught
with 'em. When Dyinath clutched, who's Lysseth's dam, I recall asking about
whether an egg was a queen egg that had colored markings all over it. I
knew *naught*." There's a certain sheepishness to Kassi's reminiscence
here, but there's laughter too. "Probably, probably. When we went into the
Smithcraft workshop t'help put out their fires, *that* might have been more
heat; I'm nay sure. And fighting Fall in full leathers, in the heat of
summer, over one of our warmer regions? Torturously hot sometimes. Wait
until a heat haze makes it hard t'even see straight; *that's* always fun.
But whether even that's as hot as the Sands I couldn't say." One of Kassi's
hands finally unfolds itself to waggle back and forth. "Mayhaps with K'nan.
I'd nay be surprised. Mayhaps with someone else. Meri's a good rider; she
was m'mentee, back in the day. She manages t'keep good spirits. I doubt
she'd say she'd prefer a bairn to Alerith either, however much she wants
'em--they *are* wonderful, but there's only one lifemate. Nay even another
dragon could ever compare, as you say."

Javinia rewards the wingleader's tale about the queen egg with a laugh.
"Hard to believe, but I suppose it's true. Your stories -sound- true at
least." She reconsiders. "Well, often enough. When there's no splinters to
speak of or Benden water in them." The look of consternation that takes her
face eases as she lets go of her knee. "True that. With the leathers. But
not quite the same sort of heat, I think. Not that it matters.
Uncomfortable is uncomfortable." With a little sigh, she gains her feet,
patting the bulging pockets of her flight jacket and taking up her scrolls.
"Well, no matter of mine, in truth. I shouldn't speculate. It's only that
she -- " Merielan. " -- is a welcome relief sometimes." With this, she
gives an almost apologetic nod, then a salute. "I could listen to your
stories all day -- truth. But I've stayed over long as it is. Thanks much
-- for the advice." The weyrling's overall posture seems somehow
straighter, lighter. "I'll do my best to keep it all in mind."

"Hey, now! The Benden Water *is* true. 'Tis directly t'blame for m'eldest
daughter, 'twill have you know!" Despite the protest, Kassi's not truly
indignant, but smiling. "I can't always be trusted t'tell the straight
truth when 'tis a story, 'twill admit it, but that *particular* tale is
honest enough. Unfortunately, since it doesn't paint me in the best light.
'Tis a difference... lasts longer, though, don't forget. You ride a brown,
so you could be talking four hours or more in the air. You'll find out."
Permitting herself a half-smile, she agrees, "I can see where she would be.
Just don't blame the others too much for their reticence... you're always
welcome, Javi; aught I can do t'help. G'luck with the rest of your day,
hey? If'n you find yourself in need of more advice, feel free t'look me up,
though I can't promise t'always be useful."

The dubious look Javinia casts at the wingleader turns to outright
laughter. "Glad to be here, then, and not there. Benden water indeed."
Smile lingering about her lips, she hitches her scrolls up under her arm
until her nose wrinkles at the mention of four hours. "Stamina. Feh."
Overrated, and she's no chance to be out mornings with a quick bay anymore.
"But better in the air than forever on the ground," she tops off, trying to
keep a positive outlook. Her smile turns genuine at last, and she nods. "I
won't blame the others. It wasn't a complaint, in truth. More of a ...
well, we all change." And with another nod, another sincere "Thanks. I
will!" she steps around the table, hazel eyes already gone slightly unfocused.

Javinia leaves the workroom and heads out into the bowl.