Log: Papers, Politics and Music
Who: Avrion, Palia, NPCs: Other weyrkids, including Jorg
When: day 18, month 9, turn 24 of Interval 10.
Where: Library, Ista Weyr
What: Research in the library leads to a discussion of politics and economics and then there's a bit about music.
>---< Local Weather for ISW >------------------------------------------------<
Current Temp: 81 F Today's Lo/Hi: 78 F / 87 F
Belior: waning gibbous Timor: new
Weather: Nice
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
The day is hazy and hot, it's damn humid too. There's practically no
escaping it. The only saving grace today has is the occasional wind and
the fact that it doesn't downpour.
>-----------------------------------< 12:07 D18 M9 T24, summer afternoon >---<
Library, Ista Weyr(#264RJ)
This is a cavern, chosen for its drier atmosphere, houses rows and rows of shelving containing bound hide volumes on all manner of study. Everything from Weyr records to sheet music to dress patterns to novels can be found here. Tidy labeled recesses against one wall serve as storage for stacks of neatly rolls hides. Small circular tables are off to the left side of the room, prim and functional chairs surrounding each, providing a place for quiet work either along or in groups. There are a few occasional chairs are well, upholstered with stripes of Ista's black and orange, a comfortable place for a person to curl up and do some reading.
Near the entryway is a cart with a water pitcher and a few carved wooden cups, and a few light blankets are hung on pegs for those more accustomed to the warmer Istan clime so prevalent on the surface. A mild breeze blows through the room from the lower caverns and to the west stands the wide door of the meeting room.
It's hot. Very hot. And sticky. Which means that as the lunch hour and break time swings nearer, the class of weyrkids presently occupying the library supposedly doing research for an essay on the history of Ista Weyr and its relations with Ista Hold is restless and fidgety. This group is mostly the older kids, the ones over 9 or 10 or so who won't be in lessons for much more than a couple of turns, while the younger kids have already been released for their noon meal after spending much of the morning chanting teaching tunes. Palia is among those who are actually making an effort to concentrate on reading, though her bare foot keeps bouncing against the floor and one hand keeps sliding up the back of her neck to irritably push her hair up where it sticks. One of the boys takes advantage of the opportunity to send a balled up bit of scrap hide right at girl, earning a sharp exclamation of a sailor's cuss word that really doesn't belong in class.
Supervising the class is Avrion, who looks up from the hide he's reading over the shoulder of another of the older girls and comments genially, "Language, Palia. And what was that in aid of?" He glances at the table she's using, but there's no evident sign of disaster. He straightens up and blinks a few times, then passes his forearm across his forehead, because the sweaty heat of outside has today penetrated even this usually cool and dry cavern. Time to look round the room for signs of inattention, villainy, or questions - not that this group seems likely to come up with many of the latter.
Puffing out an exasperated breath, Palia bends to pick up the balled up hide that lies on the floor now after hitting her in the neck. She shoots a glare around toward the nearby tables that are the likeliest suspects, whereupon a couple of the boys duck down behind their books. Gray eyes narrow in their direction but she only shifts her chair with an annoying squeak of wood against stone. "Something bit me, sir. Sorry," Palia answers after a second, the hide-ball left on the table alongside her book. Her shoulders hunch forward as she attempts to re-apply herself to the task at hand.
Avrion says a final few words to the child that he was helping, and she picks up her pen and starts making notes while the harper makes his way across to Palia. He hovers behind her for a few seconds, skimming the page that she's reading. "So, how are you getting on with the book? It's quite an involved one."
One elbow drops to the table and Palia pillows her cheek on her hand, tilts a look up at Avrion. "My brain feels like it's being cooked in one of Papa's ovens," she admits. "I think this would be a lot more interesting down by the beach with a breeze blowing." A little pause. "Or after a swim." And the girl musters a semblance of one of her more usual cheeky grins, though there isn't much oomph behind this one. "Mostly the bits about how tithes get decided kind of make my eyes cross."
"It is hot," Avrion agrees sympathetically, "but you can't take reference books to the beach, and anyway, we don't have much longer to go before lunchtime now, and after that you've no more classes. If you haven't got any chores, you can spend the whole afternoon in the water - if your father doesn't want you to do something else. Is there something about the tithes you don't understand? Show me, or ask me, and I'll see if I can explain."
"Wish we could," Palia says with frustration bleeding through into her voice and her gaze slips toward the door, a hint of longing betrayed there. "Have to swap out some glows and then go home and help tidy up the kids' room and then I get to go swim," the girl describes, blowing out another puff of air that disturbs the hair around her forehead. "Well, who really gets to decide how much gets sent in the end?" Palia asks, returning her attention to the book and she points to one passage. "Here it sounds like it's the Weyr that basically tells the Holds what's what," then she flips back a few pages. "But here it sounds like there were negotiations," and then she turns over a whole section going back to near the beginning of the chapter, "and then at first this harper seemed to be saying the holds pretty much set it with the Weyr."
"And between that bit and the other one, remember, there are..." Avrion flips the page back to the first passage that Palia showed him, "about fifty Turns, because that's the start of the Interval and the other one is the start of the Pass before. How much negotiating goes on isn't the same every year. Remember, the baseline is that it's a tithe - that means a tenth of everything the Hold produces. But that's just a starting point. Holds and the Weyr will negotiate about what the Weyr actually needs, what it is and isn't possible to transport, and what can be substituted. And then in a Pass, when dragon numbers are high, the Weyr may need them to send more than in the middle of an interval when numbers are at their lowest." He flips over again to the middle passage. "That's what's happening there. And any time you have negotiation, the outcome depends a lot on the people involved - who's good in negotiations, who backs down easily, and so on."
Listening as attentively as she can, Palia's brow wrinkles up a little as she takes in what Avrion is saying. "So it's not always the same thing all the time, because what people need changes and how good the Weyrleaders or the Holders are at setting things up the way they want?" she rephrases for understanding and looks up at Avrion. "Like when Papa haggles for fish at the docks."
Avrion grins, sounding satisfied as he pronounces, "Exactly. If the redfin's ratty today, or they haven't brought any in, he'll have to go for packtail or yellowstripe, yes? So if last year the Hold gave a big tithe of - oh, redfruit, say, but this year their harvest's been bad and the fruit's of poor quality, and they're not sure they have enough for themselves, what do you think they might do?"
Palia slides her fingers up into her hair, lifting it a bit away from her skull as she thinks through Avrion's example. "Well if they've got something else, they'd want to try to swap it I guess, or maybe tithe it as jam instead of whole fruit," the girl says slowly. "Papa does that a lot with fruit that's going off - makes jam or jelly or sauce."
Avrion's eyes widen a little and he manages to sound impressed. "That's a good solution for the Hold, the preserves - as long as they've got the sweetener to make them. Or sauce, as you say, or bottled fruit. Any of those would be of higher value than the fruit here in Ista, so they'd not need to give as much. Or they may suggest that the Weyr takes more yellowfingers instead of redfruit." Catching the eyes of the couple of neighbouring kids who are now listening in rather than doing their own work, he raises a finger for attention. "But then, the Weyrwoman might hold out for orangefruit or citrons instead, or a mixture, because yellowfingers don't keep, and she might say that she needs it delivered in instalments - and so on."
Palia fidgets a little with the corner of one page, though she looks pleased that Avrion thinks she had a good idea. "Yeah, because Ista has plenty of fruit usually," the girl says with a giggle and a few of the other kids laugh too. "Just falls off the trees," one of them calls over with a mischievous look like he probably spends plenty of time poaching fallen fruit.
"Especially if you shake them, Jorg." Avrion shoots a knowing look at the lad. "So, one of you, if it were Igen Hold we were talking about rather than Ista, what might the Hold be offering in that situation?"
There's some good-natured joshing and elbow-jabbing that follows that remark to Jorg and the boy slinks down behind his book again. A bookish looking lad with a floppy fringe of blond hair clears his throat and rattles off Igen Hold's major exports including rivergrains. The humorous one-off that he gets interrupted with from Palia is: "Sand!"
"Very good," Avrion tells the bookish lad. "I reckon the Weyr can find plenty of sand in Igen all by themselves, Palia - we have quite a lot of it. And if the Igen Weyrwoman is a sensible lady, will she accept rivergrains in exchange for fruit? What would she need to think about when she decided that?" The question's to the group again.
Laughter greets Palia's answer and she has to roll her eyes just a little as Avrion seems to take her seriously instead of humorously. "Yes, but our sand is black and theirs is yellow," she does have to point out. Another kid pipes up with: "Well if you need fruit you need fruit not grains right?"
"True," Avrion grins at Palia. "Or pinkish, or silver, or - all sorts, really. And, yes, you do need fruit: she'd need to have fruit to keep her people healthy. The Hold might offer dried fruit instead of the preserves, though: they keep very well and the climate is good for drying things." He scans the assembled children. "Anyway, you should get back to your reading for the last few minutes."
"Really good for drying things," one of the kids says and there's a group groan at the instruction to get back to reading, though Palia seems to've revived a little from the back and forth and she tucks her legs up beneath her, head bent to finish off the rest of the chapter. After a little while, she flips the book closed and sits with her hands folded beneath her chin, looking thoughtful while most of the rest of the class continue to read.
Avrion has been doing the rounds, checking on other children, but his path brings him back to where he has a view of Palia's face, and he moves across to the girl. "Something wrong, Palia?"
Palia looks up and shakes her head. "No, just thinking it all through. I mean, if I want to run the restaurant someday, I have to think about how the supplies all work, right?" she points out quite pragmatically, then shifts to slide out of her seat. "Should I put this book back?"
"Yes, please: you can't borrow that one. And I expect you'll need to understand your sources of supply, and the value of the different commodities, and when things are in season and so forth. And you'll want to get good at bargaining." Avrion scans the group: children are looking up expectantly, some closing books and putting pens away. "All right; return your books carefully to the right shelf and then pack up your things. Don't forget to wash your hands before lunch. Off you go."
"Right, plenty of stuff to practice," Palia says with a hint of determination in her voice as she returns the book to the right shelf. There's a sudden flurry of motion from the rest as Avrion dismisses them and shortly most of the books are put away or at least left on a cart for re-shelving and the room empties out but for the odd bit of scrap left behind. Palia lingers in the doorway, with her slate tucked under her arm though, waiting on the harper it seems.
Avrion gathers up his own writing gear and slips his writing case into his small carisak. As he moves towards the door, he spots the girl, still there. He gives her a questioning look. "Do you find this subject interesting," he asks, mindful of earlier conversations.
"Actually, I wanted to ask you about music stuff," Palia says with a shake of her head. "And also let you know that Papa's inviting you down for lunch if you want to come?" She looks up at Avrion with a brief grin. "It'll be cooler down at the beach."
Avrion's manner is more relaxed now that class is over, and he smiles easily. "Thanks, I'd love to come." He makes his way through the door, heading for the supposedly fresh air. "Your father's cooking's always a treat. So, what about music? Do you want something else to play on your pipe?"
Holding up her free hand, Palia streches her fingers out a bit. "No, I wanted to start trying the gitar. Are my hands big enough yet?" the girl asks as she steps on out briskly, bare feet padding on the rocky floor. "He should have some good cold stuff for lunch too, not just hot, Papa should."
Avrion stops walking. "Let's see?" He inspects the offered hand. "Definitely bigger than they were. Show me the other one, and stretch them out as far as you can?"
Stopping alongside Avrion, Palia tucks her slate more firmly under the one arm and holds up her other hand, fingers stretched wide so he can see the span between fingers. The kid's grown a lot in the past turn, almost like she's been trying to make up for the relatively slow start she had in life.
Avrion smiles. "You should be fine, now, and you know a lot more about music from playing your pipe. That'll make it easier to learn, and if necessary we can find you a gitar with a narrow neck to start off on." He turns and walks on. "You had a harper relative who you thought would find you a suitable one, didn't you?"
"Great!" Palia looks happy about that pronouncement then she nods a few times. "My uncle. I can write him or we can go see him and I can ask him," she explains, falling back into step with Avrion, though she has to stretch her stride a bit to keep up. "So when can we start?"
"As soon as you've got something to play, as far as I'm concerned - or you could borrow one if you don't want to get your own right away. We have a couple of spares for learners. We can talk to your father about it over lunch." Long-legged Avrion slows his pace slightly to allow Palia to keep up.
As they emerge from the library into the caverns, a breath of breeze swirls through, granting some relief from the heat. "Okay, then I'll make sure I can get one /soon/," Palia says with growing enthusiasm. "C'mon, let's go!" she adds on energetically, apparently now eager to get moving and onward to lunch and cooler climes and the possibility of learning to play a stringed instrument.
Avrion hefts his carisak more firmly on his shoulder and takes several deep breaths of the fresher air. "Nice to see so much enthusiasm for music. And the gitar's a wonderful instrument to play. Want to run, then?" He's blinking a little in the brighter light.
"Bet I'll beat you!" is Palia's answer. "Go!" and like that, she's off into the bright light and across the bowl toward the plateau and the stairs leading down to the beach.
Avrion runs with a long easy stride, the result of almost daily early-morning excursions. He doesn't seem to be expending a lot of energy, and looks as if he could easily go faster, but it's perishing hot. Approaching the top of the stairs, he slows, laughing. "I'm going to be unfit for decent company after running around in this heat."
Though she's got shorter legs, Palia's smaller and lighter than Avrion and she moves pretty quickly, though over a longer distance, those longer legs of his will likely allow him to not only catch up but pass her. "There'll be cool drinks and stuff. And it's a good excuse to go swimming!" Palia informs as she pauses at the stairs' top, one foot poised to start climbing down.
"Sounds great! Any excuse to go swimming, eh?" Avrion approaches the stairs at a walk, but he's light on his feet on the way down - this is a very familiar path by now. "I'm going to have a new guitar, too. I'm building one at the moment."
"Pretty much," Palia agrees with a little shrug. "I mean, come on, it's one of the best things to do at Ista, isn't it? All that ocean," she gestures outward toward the view as she sort of skip-hops down the stairs. "Ohhh you're making a whole new gitar? How long will it take?"
"Sevendays," Avrion says gloomily. "And then if it isn't good enough I'll have to do another one until it comes out all right. It's not the bit of harpering that I'm best at, instrument-crafting. I've done quite a few pipes now, but I have to do another harp sometime, too."
Wrinkling up her nose, Palia also manages to look sympathetic. "That'd really suck, if you have to start all over. I hope it doesn't work out that way." She blows out a breath, walking on and on downward and shades her eyes against the sun for a moment as it reflects off the water. "Pipes seem pretty easy. But harps are pretty complicated, right?"
"So do I." Avrion's response is heartfelt. "Harps are complicated, yes: there are a lot of different things that have to go right. Pipes aren't as easy as they look, but they're certainly easier than a harp or gitar: after the first few that you make, you get the knack of making the holes and hollowing out the body. Making the holes is scary because if you get it wrong you waste a lot of work." He reaches the foot of the steps and turns towards Palia as he steps out onto flatter ground. "You could learn to make a drum, if you want."
"Oh, you know, that's true. Kind of like cutting things up wrong or not measuring right when you're cooking," Palia replies, typically tying things back to her father's interval profession. She hops off the bottom step and wriggles her toes into the sand, then casts a look up at Avrion. "Really? Okay. I'll give that a try, but come on." And she reaches for the harper's hand, aiming to 'drag' him along toward The Beach House. "I smell lunch!"
When: day 18, month 9, turn 24 of Interval 10.
Where: Library, Ista Weyr
What: Research in the library leads to a discussion of politics and economics and then there's a bit about music.
>---< Local Weather for ISW >------------------------------------------------<
Current Temp: 81 F Today's Lo/Hi: 78 F / 87 F
Belior: waning gibbous Timor: new
Weather: Nice
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
The day is hazy and hot, it's damn humid too. There's practically no
escaping it. The only saving grace today has is the occasional wind and
the fact that it doesn't downpour.
>-----------------------------------< 12:07 D18 M9 T24, summer afternoon >---<
Library, Ista Weyr(#264RJ)
This is a cavern, chosen for its drier atmosphere, houses rows and rows of shelving containing bound hide volumes on all manner of study. Everything from Weyr records to sheet music to dress patterns to novels can be found here. Tidy labeled recesses against one wall serve as storage for stacks of neatly rolls hides. Small circular tables are off to the left side of the room, prim and functional chairs surrounding each, providing a place for quiet work either along or in groups. There are a few occasional chairs are well, upholstered with stripes of Ista's black and orange, a comfortable place for a person to curl up and do some reading.
Near the entryway is a cart with a water pitcher and a few carved wooden cups, and a few light blankets are hung on pegs for those more accustomed to the warmer Istan clime so prevalent on the surface. A mild breeze blows through the room from the lower caverns and to the west stands the wide door of the meeting room.
It's hot. Very hot. And sticky. Which means that as the lunch hour and break time swings nearer, the class of weyrkids presently occupying the library supposedly doing research for an essay on the history of Ista Weyr and its relations with Ista Hold is restless and fidgety. This group is mostly the older kids, the ones over 9 or 10 or so who won't be in lessons for much more than a couple of turns, while the younger kids have already been released for their noon meal after spending much of the morning chanting teaching tunes. Palia is among those who are actually making an effort to concentrate on reading, though her bare foot keeps bouncing against the floor and one hand keeps sliding up the back of her neck to irritably push her hair up where it sticks. One of the boys takes advantage of the opportunity to send a balled up bit of scrap hide right at girl, earning a sharp exclamation of a sailor's cuss word that really doesn't belong in class.
Supervising the class is Avrion, who looks up from the hide he's reading over the shoulder of another of the older girls and comments genially, "Language, Palia. And what was that in aid of?" He glances at the table she's using, but there's no evident sign of disaster. He straightens up and blinks a few times, then passes his forearm across his forehead, because the sweaty heat of outside has today penetrated even this usually cool and dry cavern. Time to look round the room for signs of inattention, villainy, or questions - not that this group seems likely to come up with many of the latter.
Puffing out an exasperated breath, Palia bends to pick up the balled up hide that lies on the floor now after hitting her in the neck. She shoots a glare around toward the nearby tables that are the likeliest suspects, whereupon a couple of the boys duck down behind their books. Gray eyes narrow in their direction but she only shifts her chair with an annoying squeak of wood against stone. "Something bit me, sir. Sorry," Palia answers after a second, the hide-ball left on the table alongside her book. Her shoulders hunch forward as she attempts to re-apply herself to the task at hand.
Avrion says a final few words to the child that he was helping, and she picks up her pen and starts making notes while the harper makes his way across to Palia. He hovers behind her for a few seconds, skimming the page that she's reading. "So, how are you getting on with the book? It's quite an involved one."
One elbow drops to the table and Palia pillows her cheek on her hand, tilts a look up at Avrion. "My brain feels like it's being cooked in one of Papa's ovens," she admits. "I think this would be a lot more interesting down by the beach with a breeze blowing." A little pause. "Or after a swim." And the girl musters a semblance of one of her more usual cheeky grins, though there isn't much oomph behind this one. "Mostly the bits about how tithes get decided kind of make my eyes cross."
"It is hot," Avrion agrees sympathetically, "but you can't take reference books to the beach, and anyway, we don't have much longer to go before lunchtime now, and after that you've no more classes. If you haven't got any chores, you can spend the whole afternoon in the water - if your father doesn't want you to do something else. Is there something about the tithes you don't understand? Show me, or ask me, and I'll see if I can explain."
"Wish we could," Palia says with frustration bleeding through into her voice and her gaze slips toward the door, a hint of longing betrayed there. "Have to swap out some glows and then go home and help tidy up the kids' room and then I get to go swim," the girl describes, blowing out another puff of air that disturbs the hair around her forehead. "Well, who really gets to decide how much gets sent in the end?" Palia asks, returning her attention to the book and she points to one passage. "Here it sounds like it's the Weyr that basically tells the Holds what's what," then she flips back a few pages. "But here it sounds like there were negotiations," and then she turns over a whole section going back to near the beginning of the chapter, "and then at first this harper seemed to be saying the holds pretty much set it with the Weyr."
"And between that bit and the other one, remember, there are..." Avrion flips the page back to the first passage that Palia showed him, "about fifty Turns, because that's the start of the Interval and the other one is the start of the Pass before. How much negotiating goes on isn't the same every year. Remember, the baseline is that it's a tithe - that means a tenth of everything the Hold produces. But that's just a starting point. Holds and the Weyr will negotiate about what the Weyr actually needs, what it is and isn't possible to transport, and what can be substituted. And then in a Pass, when dragon numbers are high, the Weyr may need them to send more than in the middle of an interval when numbers are at their lowest." He flips over again to the middle passage. "That's what's happening there. And any time you have negotiation, the outcome depends a lot on the people involved - who's good in negotiations, who backs down easily, and so on."
Listening as attentively as she can, Palia's brow wrinkles up a little as she takes in what Avrion is saying. "So it's not always the same thing all the time, because what people need changes and how good the Weyrleaders or the Holders are at setting things up the way they want?" she rephrases for understanding and looks up at Avrion. "Like when Papa haggles for fish at the docks."
Avrion grins, sounding satisfied as he pronounces, "Exactly. If the redfin's ratty today, or they haven't brought any in, he'll have to go for packtail or yellowstripe, yes? So if last year the Hold gave a big tithe of - oh, redfruit, say, but this year their harvest's been bad and the fruit's of poor quality, and they're not sure they have enough for themselves, what do you think they might do?"
Palia slides her fingers up into her hair, lifting it a bit away from her skull as she thinks through Avrion's example. "Well if they've got something else, they'd want to try to swap it I guess, or maybe tithe it as jam instead of whole fruit," the girl says slowly. "Papa does that a lot with fruit that's going off - makes jam or jelly or sauce."
Avrion's eyes widen a little and he manages to sound impressed. "That's a good solution for the Hold, the preserves - as long as they've got the sweetener to make them. Or sauce, as you say, or bottled fruit. Any of those would be of higher value than the fruit here in Ista, so they'd not need to give as much. Or they may suggest that the Weyr takes more yellowfingers instead of redfruit." Catching the eyes of the couple of neighbouring kids who are now listening in rather than doing their own work, he raises a finger for attention. "But then, the Weyrwoman might hold out for orangefruit or citrons instead, or a mixture, because yellowfingers don't keep, and she might say that she needs it delivered in instalments - and so on."
Palia fidgets a little with the corner of one page, though she looks pleased that Avrion thinks she had a good idea. "Yeah, because Ista has plenty of fruit usually," the girl says with a giggle and a few of the other kids laugh too. "Just falls off the trees," one of them calls over with a mischievous look like he probably spends plenty of time poaching fallen fruit.
"Especially if you shake them, Jorg." Avrion shoots a knowing look at the lad. "So, one of you, if it were Igen Hold we were talking about rather than Ista, what might the Hold be offering in that situation?"
There's some good-natured joshing and elbow-jabbing that follows that remark to Jorg and the boy slinks down behind his book again. A bookish looking lad with a floppy fringe of blond hair clears his throat and rattles off Igen Hold's major exports including rivergrains. The humorous one-off that he gets interrupted with from Palia is: "Sand!"
"Very good," Avrion tells the bookish lad. "I reckon the Weyr can find plenty of sand in Igen all by themselves, Palia - we have quite a lot of it. And if the Igen Weyrwoman is a sensible lady, will she accept rivergrains in exchange for fruit? What would she need to think about when she decided that?" The question's to the group again.
Laughter greets Palia's answer and she has to roll her eyes just a little as Avrion seems to take her seriously instead of humorously. "Yes, but our sand is black and theirs is yellow," she does have to point out. Another kid pipes up with: "Well if you need fruit you need fruit not grains right?"
"True," Avrion grins at Palia. "Or pinkish, or silver, or - all sorts, really. And, yes, you do need fruit: she'd need to have fruit to keep her people healthy. The Hold might offer dried fruit instead of the preserves, though: they keep very well and the climate is good for drying things." He scans the assembled children. "Anyway, you should get back to your reading for the last few minutes."
"Really good for drying things," one of the kids says and there's a group groan at the instruction to get back to reading, though Palia seems to've revived a little from the back and forth and she tucks her legs up beneath her, head bent to finish off the rest of the chapter. After a little while, she flips the book closed and sits with her hands folded beneath her chin, looking thoughtful while most of the rest of the class continue to read.
Avrion has been doing the rounds, checking on other children, but his path brings him back to where he has a view of Palia's face, and he moves across to the girl. "Something wrong, Palia?"
Palia looks up and shakes her head. "No, just thinking it all through. I mean, if I want to run the restaurant someday, I have to think about how the supplies all work, right?" she points out quite pragmatically, then shifts to slide out of her seat. "Should I put this book back?"
"Yes, please: you can't borrow that one. And I expect you'll need to understand your sources of supply, and the value of the different commodities, and when things are in season and so forth. And you'll want to get good at bargaining." Avrion scans the group: children are looking up expectantly, some closing books and putting pens away. "All right; return your books carefully to the right shelf and then pack up your things. Don't forget to wash your hands before lunch. Off you go."
"Right, plenty of stuff to practice," Palia says with a hint of determination in her voice as she returns the book to the right shelf. There's a sudden flurry of motion from the rest as Avrion dismisses them and shortly most of the books are put away or at least left on a cart for re-shelving and the room empties out but for the odd bit of scrap left behind. Palia lingers in the doorway, with her slate tucked under her arm though, waiting on the harper it seems.
Avrion gathers up his own writing gear and slips his writing case into his small carisak. As he moves towards the door, he spots the girl, still there. He gives her a questioning look. "Do you find this subject interesting," he asks, mindful of earlier conversations.
"Actually, I wanted to ask you about music stuff," Palia says with a shake of her head. "And also let you know that Papa's inviting you down for lunch if you want to come?" She looks up at Avrion with a brief grin. "It'll be cooler down at the beach."
Avrion's manner is more relaxed now that class is over, and he smiles easily. "Thanks, I'd love to come." He makes his way through the door, heading for the supposedly fresh air. "Your father's cooking's always a treat. So, what about music? Do you want something else to play on your pipe?"
Holding up her free hand, Palia streches her fingers out a bit. "No, I wanted to start trying the gitar. Are my hands big enough yet?" the girl asks as she steps on out briskly, bare feet padding on the rocky floor. "He should have some good cold stuff for lunch too, not just hot, Papa should."
Avrion stops walking. "Let's see?" He inspects the offered hand. "Definitely bigger than they were. Show me the other one, and stretch them out as far as you can?"
Stopping alongside Avrion, Palia tucks her slate more firmly under the one arm and holds up her other hand, fingers stretched wide so he can see the span between fingers. The kid's grown a lot in the past turn, almost like she's been trying to make up for the relatively slow start she had in life.
Avrion smiles. "You should be fine, now, and you know a lot more about music from playing your pipe. That'll make it easier to learn, and if necessary we can find you a gitar with a narrow neck to start off on." He turns and walks on. "You had a harper relative who you thought would find you a suitable one, didn't you?"
"Great!" Palia looks happy about that pronouncement then she nods a few times. "My uncle. I can write him or we can go see him and I can ask him," she explains, falling back into step with Avrion, though she has to stretch her stride a bit to keep up. "So when can we start?"
"As soon as you've got something to play, as far as I'm concerned - or you could borrow one if you don't want to get your own right away. We have a couple of spares for learners. We can talk to your father about it over lunch." Long-legged Avrion slows his pace slightly to allow Palia to keep up.
As they emerge from the library into the caverns, a breath of breeze swirls through, granting some relief from the heat. "Okay, then I'll make sure I can get one /soon/," Palia says with growing enthusiasm. "C'mon, let's go!" she adds on energetically, apparently now eager to get moving and onward to lunch and cooler climes and the possibility of learning to play a stringed instrument.
Avrion hefts his carisak more firmly on his shoulder and takes several deep breaths of the fresher air. "Nice to see so much enthusiasm for music. And the gitar's a wonderful instrument to play. Want to run, then?" He's blinking a little in the brighter light.
"Bet I'll beat you!" is Palia's answer. "Go!" and like that, she's off into the bright light and across the bowl toward the plateau and the stairs leading down to the beach.
Avrion runs with a long easy stride, the result of almost daily early-morning excursions. He doesn't seem to be expending a lot of energy, and looks as if he could easily go faster, but it's perishing hot. Approaching the top of the stairs, he slows, laughing. "I'm going to be unfit for decent company after running around in this heat."
Though she's got shorter legs, Palia's smaller and lighter than Avrion and she moves pretty quickly, though over a longer distance, those longer legs of his will likely allow him to not only catch up but pass her. "There'll be cool drinks and stuff. And it's a good excuse to go swimming!" Palia informs as she pauses at the stairs' top, one foot poised to start climbing down.
"Sounds great! Any excuse to go swimming, eh?" Avrion approaches the stairs at a walk, but he's light on his feet on the way down - this is a very familiar path by now. "I'm going to have a new guitar, too. I'm building one at the moment."
"Pretty much," Palia agrees with a little shrug. "I mean, come on, it's one of the best things to do at Ista, isn't it? All that ocean," she gestures outward toward the view as she sort of skip-hops down the stairs. "Ohhh you're making a whole new gitar? How long will it take?"
"Sevendays," Avrion says gloomily. "And then if it isn't good enough I'll have to do another one until it comes out all right. It's not the bit of harpering that I'm best at, instrument-crafting. I've done quite a few pipes now, but I have to do another harp sometime, too."
Wrinkling up her nose, Palia also manages to look sympathetic. "That'd really suck, if you have to start all over. I hope it doesn't work out that way." She blows out a breath, walking on and on downward and shades her eyes against the sun for a moment as it reflects off the water. "Pipes seem pretty easy. But harps are pretty complicated, right?"
"So do I." Avrion's response is heartfelt. "Harps are complicated, yes: there are a lot of different things that have to go right. Pipes aren't as easy as they look, but they're certainly easier than a harp or gitar: after the first few that you make, you get the knack of making the holes and hollowing out the body. Making the holes is scary because if you get it wrong you waste a lot of work." He reaches the foot of the steps and turns towards Palia as he steps out onto flatter ground. "You could learn to make a drum, if you want."
"Oh, you know, that's true. Kind of like cutting things up wrong or not measuring right when you're cooking," Palia replies, typically tying things back to her father's interval profession. She hops off the bottom step and wriggles her toes into the sand, then casts a look up at Avrion. "Really? Okay. I'll give that a try, but come on." And she reaches for the harper's hand, aiming to 'drag' him along toward The Beach House. "I smell lunch!"