Current mood:	mischievous
Entry tags:	alastor, felisa, refugees, s'dric

More Cotholder Discussions

Patio

A very small plot of land has been reserved for the kitchen garden. It covers no more than 100 feet by 100 feet, tucked along the wall of the bowl near the lake where water is easy to bring and where shade is available for the more tender plants. There are about ten rows of various herbs here, at bloom or dormant during different seasons. Just off to one side, a set of steps carved into the wall of the bowl leads to an adjacent, slightly raised patio.
Situated on a ledge about twenty-five feet off the ground, facing west overlooking the lake, up a short flight of unguarded steps, the patio is a simple place to get some fresh air. The ledge itself is smaller than most of the Weyr's inner rooms, host only to a few weather-sturdy pieces of furniture. A wrought-iron bench, a chair carved out of the stone itself, two wrought-iron tables, and the occasional wooden bench or chair dragged out by an enterprising visitor.

---

The light warm rain that's falling doesn't seem to've deterred S'dric from getting a breath of air and he sits on the edge of the patio wall, head turned up to the raindrops, face quite wet by now.

Felisa isn't at all deterred from weeding, either, getting her coveralls rather muddy, but humming softly as she pulls the plants.

And the rain patters down on and on, S'dric getting more and more soaked before his gaze descends from the skies and catches on muddy Felisa in the garden. "You're going to need quite the bath," he remarks after a moment, tone amused.

Felisa looks up and grins. "Hello, S'dric. How is Gedreth today?" She continues pulling her weeds, noting idly "They come up so much easier when the ground is muddy, though."

"He's wet," S'dric replies humorously. "And watching the rain patter on his hide," the bronzerider nods a little for the dimly seen shape of the bronze through the mist of the rain. "Do they? I'd think it'd be harder struggling with too-wet soil. But I'm no gardener."

Felisa shakes her head, sending water drops flying. "It's easier with loose soil to get the whole root out. When it's dry, often you can only get the part above the ground, so it just grows back.

"Ah, well, good thing I'm not the one doing the weeding, hm?" S'dric observes for a little while longer, then clears his throat and asks another question softly. "How's your family doing, Felisa?"

Felisa pauses for a moment. "They're doing well. My parents and Jalren are down in the valley taking care of the beasts. Karina is having the time of her life working with the Weaver -- I won't be surprised if she ends up apprenticing."

Alastor comes up the steps from the bowl.

"Glad to hear it and I suppose that having something constructive to do will be good for Karina." Amusement plays across S'dric's features again. "Not as much time for mischief."

Felisa nods fervently. "That's my hope. And she was good with dyes, given how little we had to work with. I can imagine how well she'd do with any color she could hope for."

"I'll wish her well on that, then," S'dric replies and shifts a little, drawing one leg up and flicking raindrops that have beaded on the surface of wherhide pants off into the ether. "Any other word from within the refugees?"

Felisa goes back to weeding. "Not really. I think Esseira has their ear, in a way, more so than I do. Which is just as well, less of an "us versus them" dynamic that way."

Where precisely Alastor might have come by a waxed canvas jacket isn't clear, but he's looking relatively snug, despite the weather. He advances into the garden with a purposeful mien. "Wingleader, Felisa - good afternoon!" He seems to have little time for pleasantries, however. "Please excuse my interruption. Felisa, one of my herbals suggests that the blue-tipped featherfern that we brought up from the South might contain more of the active ingredient than the ordinary featherfern. How are the plants doing?"

"So you haven't really been talking to your family much, or heard any rumors?" S'dric looks surprised about that but then his head turns at Alastor's approach and he nods politely. "Master, good afternoon. Lovely weather we're having isn't it?" With good humor for his own and Felisa's wet states. "Does the featherfern do well in a rainy climate?"

Felisa says, "They're coming along." Felisa answers the gardening question first, purely out of interest in her job (no, really). "I think they'd be ready if we were in the south, but here they grow a little slower." In reply to S'dric she says "I've been mostly dealing with gardening, especially since the other three went into the valley. All Karina talks about is weaving these days -- I don't know if she'd notice is a queen rose in front of her."

"Excellent," Alastor replies to S'dric with similar humour. "If you happen to be a fish. Fortunately, the featherfern seems to do well in the part of the South where we had our settlement, and where there are torrential downpours almost every day, as far as I could tell. I expect it will flourish as long as it doesn't get too cold. Frost would probably not help it." He turns to Karina. "I shall see if they're doing well enough to pick some of the shoots, in that case. It would be useful to see if there's a noticeable improvement in effectiveness." He moves towards the plants in question, but on his way, pauses to examine a different and rather sorry-looking specimen. A questioning look is sent in Felisa's direction.

Felisa winces. "I was hoping the head gardener would tell you about that. One of the cotholders didn't recognize it, so he decided it was a weed. I'm hoping the root ball is ok, but it'll take a bit to see if it retakes."

Alastor presses his lips firmly together for a few moments before commenting, "How very unfortunate. Well, you pulled it through after the frost damage; perhaps you will succeed with it this time, as well. You've taken on some unskilled labour, then?"

Felisa gives a dubious nod. "Actually, not unskilled so much as unfamiliar. I imagine if the southern featherfern hadn't been a neat row he might have weeded it, too. Head Gardener Meodan has asked that he not weed anything he can't identify without asking, first."

"That sounds like a wise strategy," Alastor agrees with a slow nod, "and certainly the bush would have been unfamiliar - though the fact that it was a large plant in a tended bed might have given him a hint. However, I suppose it wasn't looking its best. Please do your best with it - otherwise I shall have to beg assistance from one of the riders to go in search of another one, and I would rather not need to take anyone's time."

Felisa remains serious. "Will do, sir. I've been fearing even thinking of what the south looks like now -- who knows if there are any bushes left there." After shoring up the poor bish with some more soil, Felisa returns to weeding -- pulling the real weeds, of course.

"It is a very large continent," Alastor says reassuringly. "I'm sure there will be some of its vegetation left, even at the end of the Pass. If not, it's hard to see how it would re-establish itself - the species that don't grow in the North would have been lost. I wonder whether it is possible to predict Threadfalls there, or whether the formulae used only apply to the north."

Felisa seems to be content with the reassurance. "That's true." After a pause she turns to S'dric and says "One rumor I did hear was maybe sending the cotholders to the south, if thread could be predicted. I'm not sure who came up with the idea, someone here or one of the cotholders. It's getting mixed reactions, though if thread is being flown I imagine they'll not object, especially once they see how things grow there. They can farm properly instead of raising beasts."

Alastor raises his eyebrows. "That's an interesting proposition. Certainly the attempts that were made to farm land there seemed to be successful, despite the lack of proper equipment. I recall a considerable number of sunburned backs, infected blisters, and strained muscles, however."

Felisa considers this, then says "I think the difference is that the cotholders do have experience farming. In fact, their experience is in farming much less arable land, so they may find this easy. That, and we can always take them back to the cots to retrieve their farming tools, if thread hasn't gotten them. My grandfather built with stone, so I figure at least Whisper's farm gear is probably intact."

S'dric has pretty much ... checked out during all the talk of plantings. It's likely he's been talking to Gedreth given the little flicker of amusement that curls up the corners of his mouth from time to time, but after a little while he seems to focus back on the conversation nearby. "Yes, I'd heard that too, it's arable land and the Weyr has ... an investment of sorts there, depending on what's left of what we built there."

Alastor considers both responses. "As I understand if from those I've spoken to, some have brought all their belongings, while others were burned out of hold and home. Wingleader, do you know anything about predicting Threadfall in the South? Or in the unguarded area that the cotholders come from, for that matter: is a Fall due there?"

Felisa pauses in weeding to listen to the reply.

"The calculations that have been so far are concerned only with the north," murmurs S'dric quietly. "But some of us ... have been, extending those to try to sort out what might happen over the South." The wingleader's grin turns a little wry. "You know, just to be sure in case we do need to ... pop back down there for something."

"That would seem a prudent strategy." Alastor too allows a hint of amusement to play over his lips. "It would be... unfortunate, to say the least, to arrive in the middle of an unexpected Fall. Has there been much contact with the South, since our return from the past?"

Felisa shudders at the mention of arriving mid-fall. "It's too bad we can't tell when it's raining there before going, just to be sure. It might actually be safe to go there in the torrent season, come to that."

"A very little," S'dric says casually. "Not much. We've been too busy taking care of /Benden/, the South hasn't been a priority."

"Of course," Alastor agrees smoothly. "Though, speaking in my capacity as a healer, I should like to see at least some contact continue. A good supply of fresh fruit and vegetables can only be beneficial, and as I understand it, the tithes we are receiving are still not what they might be. To say nothing of the availability of good quantities of numbweed and other useful medicinal plants."

Felisa snorts. "One of the things which has the holders furious is that none of the tithes they've sent for the Weyr have gotten here. Another place where Lord Hrotti was delinquent."

"Mm. If they went south, it would at least ensure that they'd have control over where the tithe went to," S'dric puts in with a little wry grin. "Though Hrotti could also use the idea of us covering them there as proof that we have the numbers to cover all of the land here."

"Unfortunately, he would have a point, at that," Alastor agrees. "It seems to me that he has been most neglectful of his duty. I wonder if our leaders - and our good Weyrharper, who no doubt knows the legalities of such things - have investigated the possibility of..." he searches for a suitable word, "of /encouraging/ his peers to have him impeached before the Conclave."

Felisa says slowly, "I was just going to ask if either of you knew about the Conclave. Some of the cotholders have been making noise about doing just that. I'm a bit wary, given the repurcussions they'd no doubt face if the council ruled against them. I wonder if, if we do try the Southern idea, we have to tell Lord (inflection: tunnelsnake) Hrotti where they are? Heck, don't even tell him they've left the Weyr. It's not like he'd know if they had or not."

S'dric considers Alastor for a long moment. "I can't really speak to that," he finally says calmly. "It's certainly not something I've heard bandied about." He cants his head Felisa's way and clears his throat lightly. "I don't think, in the end, that no, we'd /have/ to tell him, but word ... has a habit of getting out."

"I have no doubt," Alastor says carefully, "that if we were to start protecting an area of the South, and settle the cotholders there, the word /would/ get out, and the Conclave would take an interest. We would, effectively, be starting a Hold down there - and one with a great deal of land available. They would probably demand that one of their sons be put in charge."

Felisa says, "It seems the idea has taken on a life of its own." She muses briefly, then says "I suppose we would do well to try to figure out other ideas, as appealing as that one is."

"Quite so," S'dric agrees with the Healer Master with a slight inclination of his head. "And you're right Felisa, it has. But it's the sort of thing that needs to be approached carefully, with full consideration of all the possible areas of impact." The bronzerider lifts a hand to push back rain-slicked hair. "The last thing we'd need is for too many holders to be putting in for Southern preference and extending lands again that there aren't enough riders to cover."

"Quite so, quite so. It would be preferable for them to find land in the current areas." Alastor adjusts the collar of his jacket, which isn't really keeping the rain from running down his neck. "And the less attention the South attracts, the better, I should think - if we wish to continue to visit what remains worth visiting. I am hoping that the meadow with the numbweed bushes survives for some time, at the very least - we seem to be using a great deal of that particular commodity."

Felisa sighs. "I guess part of the appeal is that there'd be a good chance I could go there again. I love how everything just *grew* there. I wonder how hard it would be for us to plant a few crops and just see if they could flourish on their own. If we could figure out when to protect them." She's thinking aloud again, and suddenly stops.

"In the end Felisa, it's up to the Weyrleaders, and again, if we could figure out when to protect the South, Hrotti would insist that we figure out when to protect all of his far flung outlying areas." S'dric takes a deep breath and lets it out, looks down at his rain-dampened palm. "Our settlement there ... needs careful consideration and planning if we're going to return as more than casual visitors. Though I can't see that there's any harm in going to check on the crops that were planted, the numbweed plain or sending someone to collect fruit sometimes ... if it survives."

Alastor raises his eyebrows in surprise. "Did you plant crops in this time, too? I hadn't realised. How very frustrating, to get back to the past and have it all to do again. Though, no doubt your original expedition already had some kind of settlement built, which also wasn't there in the past." He smiles. "What was built was quite impressive, however. It was beginning to resemble a small Hold, by the time we left to return to our own time - if you discount the fact that most of it was entirely in the open. I fear I found that a little disconcerting. I should not have been comfortable staying there, I don't think."

Felisa nods ruefully at S'dric's words. "It always goes back to Lord Hrotti, doesn't it? I just wish we knew how accepting the conclave would be of a petition to have him declared unfit to Hold." She begins picking at the neglected weeds again, then smiles toward Alastor. "Whereas it didn't concern me overmuch since our cots were all built when they thought the Interval would never end."

"Mostly collecting, but a little planting," S'dric explains, "but I was more referring to what was planted in the past - seeing what happened with those fields." The bronzerider looks up as the rain lessens and runs his hands through his hair again, wipes the raindrops from his face. "As one of his holders ... that's something that really ought to come from you and yours, Felisa, by all the political precedents that I'm aware of. Though certainly the Weyr would be within its rights to bring complaint as well."

"Indeed," Alastor says firmly. "He has failed in his duty. You are protecting his lands, and he is not tithing to you. He has also failed to protect his holders by bringing them within boundaries that were - presumably - traditional, and it seems highly likely that there would have been an agreement with the Weyr about those boundaries in previous Passes. Is that not so?" He turns to Felisa. "Did your ancestors intentionally move outside the coverage area?"

Felisa shakes her head. "Not that I know of. Or rather, they didn't think the coverage area was an issue any more." She also expands for S'dric "I just wish I knew how they would react before I try to encourage action. I mean, if they're so eager to bring complaints against their Lord Holder, would any other Hold want them if the ruling went against them? And if the ruling went for them, would any of Lord Hrotti's sons be any better?"

"The Lord would have had to grant the land to your ancestors though, Felisa. Right to hold under him, cothold at first, prove up and then apply for small hold status," S'dric explains sitting up a little, eyes suddenly intently focused. "There's certainly grounds to bring Hrotti up before Conclave, the proof right before everyone's eyes, but you'd also have to convince the Conclave to hear the case and levy the charges in the first place. I'd say, this needs to start with your people and the harper and a big stack of legal precedents."

"I wish you well, should you decide to proceed," Alastor says, inclining his head towards Felisa. "As far as I can see, he has ignored his most fundamental duties. Anyway, I must return to my patients. One of the cothold women is in the early stages of labour, and I am expecting a long night. Clear skies to you both." The healer turns away and returns to the Bowl, and thence into the caverns.

Felisa nods. " I suppose I should direct them to Journeyman Andoran if they bring it up again when I'm around." She doesn't sound too happy, perhaps even reluctant.

"I studied matters of law at the Hall myself, but he's probably far more qualified," S'dric says lightly. "For my part, I can certainly suggest it to T'marsk and Breide."

Felisa seems more decisive, given that offer. "All right. I'll send them to him next time they bring it up, then. And if they don't bring it up, in a day or so I'll remind them." Something in her expression says that she doubts they'll let it drop so easily.

S'dric laughs a little. "Well. If you want to be that forward about it, you can be, but it's not required." The bronzerider drops off the patio wall and nods. "I think I should go change into something dry and take care of some hidework, if you'll excuse me Felisa?

Felisa nods. "I should probably clean up as well, lest certain living caverns cleaners have a fit."

S'dric chuckles again. "Indeed, best not to piss them off." And with a little salute, the wingleader moves off.