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The Weyr Council has summoned a small, select gathering of riders and handlers to their chambers, to be briefed on what they have learned.
"Thank you all for gathering here today. Please help yourself to some refreshments," Weyrleader Jae began, as the delegation took their seats. Good food and drink, in her opinion, always helped tense conversations go more smoothly, "You are here at the recommendation of the Council, your wingleaders and your squadleaders, who have vouched for your abilities and your discretion. What you hear today is not to leave this room."
The Council Chamber had been rearranged to make room for a small buffet table, offering warm rolls, fruit and klah- with a conspicuous absence of alcohol, and a round table large enough to seat the entire group. A fire roared in the gates, to keep the winter cold at bay.
An old man in Harper's knots sat besides Jae- the elderly Master Rhuban. He had been at High Reaches since before Golre came to power. Few living remembered where he'd originally come from or why he had come to High Reaches. He had come and he had stayed, through Golre and all that came after. His fingers were no longer quick enough to play the gitar and his eyes were no longer sharp enough to make out musical notes, even through his spectacles, but he still had the respect of the weyr's other harpers and continued to help teach the children their first lessons, as he had for generation of High Reaches weyrbrats before them. Jae had learned to write her first letters at his knee, many turns ago. He was too old to join them, for the work ahead, but for today, he would speak for his craft.
"The task we would set for you will be a delicate one. It may be dangerous. If you are unwilling to participate, you may leave now, with the Council's thank for your cooperation thus far. It will not be held against you."