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"Good luck," says Kanaat.

"Yeah," echoes Korulen. "Bye."
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"Thanks. Goodbye."

Off she teleports, to take a teleportation circle to Gibryel. If she keeps this up she'll be able to teleport all over Elcenia on her own.

Time to find a telepath.
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The telepath is a green dragon who lives in a cute little bungalow with a wife and two thudias. Avet arrives while the wife is preparing dinner and the telepath is trying to get the kids to wash their hands.

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She winces internally for interrupting dinnertime, but it's not like she'll take up much time. And it's not like it isn't important. She knocks.

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<Hi?>

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< Hi, > she replies. < Sorry to bother you, I'm Avetlarin, I'm a wizard trying to find the reason baby dragons die, and then find a cure for it. I strongly suspect it has something to do with dragon magic. If you don't mind, I'd like to run a quick analysis on you to see if your dragon magic is what I think it will be. >

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<Door's unlocked, come on in.>

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< Thank you. >

In she goes!
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And in it is the family. <Keo gave me a heads-up. Just do whatever you need to do.>

"Who's the lady?" asks a thudia.

"She's just here to cast a spell."

"Is she staying for dinner?"

"Nope."
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Go Keo.

< Thank you, I will. >

She smiles at the thudia, and then casts a spell.

Dragon magic: exactly as expected? Above average, below Keo?
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< Exactly as expected. Thank you for your time! >

"Have a lovely dinner," she says out loud.
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"Thanks," says the wife from the stove.

<Luck!> says the telepath.
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< Thanks! >

And off she teleports.

Parunia, or Dragon Island? Island or parunia?

... Her stomach growls.

Right. Food. Food exists.

Food, then Dragon Island, then parunia if she doesn't get any obvious leads from Dragon Island. She makes a quick sandwich and eats it while she writes an equally quick letter to Ehail. Explaining her observations, and explaining where she's going next to figure out what exactly is going on. Hey, she said she'd keep her updated, and she's damn well going to. Write write. Nom. Nom nom. Write write.

She runs out of food before she runs out of letter, but soon one is consumed and the other is sent, and then she's off to Dragon Island.
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Dragon Island is large and has dragons on it.

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Yep. It is all of those things.

She shifts to dragon form, and then goes off to find birth records.
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There is a genealogist and her assistants in the office, sorting mail and updating family trees.

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"Excuse me," says Avet. "I'm Avetlarin, I'm a wizard working on figuring out why baby dragons die and if there's a way to fix it. May I look at your records?"

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"Of course," says the head genealogist, a red. "Thyell will help you."

Thyell, a white opal, puts down what she's doing and says, "What in particular are you looking for?"
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"Thank you," she says.

To Thyell: "I strongly suspect that the problem with babies has something to do with a lack of dragon magic. I know an analysis that lets me look at it. But - before specifics, you know the records better than I do, what's the general population density of unusuals, uniques, and ordinary dragons? If I remember correctly it stays around the same?"
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"There are fluctuations, but yes. In general uniques are so called because on average there will be one per color group around at a time, although there may be two of one, none of another for centuries on end, etcetera. Unusuals are usually present at a rate of between ten and twenty per color group."

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"Are there records of how many, er, attempts there have been to have baby dragons? If it's a population plateau I could understand it. Or - percentages, do we know what percentage of baby dragons die?"

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"We don't require reports on attempts when none survive. Of surviving babies it's a fairly flat distribution of number of deceased clutchmates, zero to three, with a bit of a dropoff at four because clutches rarely exceed five and sometimes two will live from a clutch. Seldom three."

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"Mm. I don't know, maybe we've hit a plateau, but you'd think that we would have at least a slow population climb."

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"The dragon population's been basically static for as long as we've been keeping records," blinks Thyell.

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