This was originally going to be another story entirely, but by the time I finished setting up the Hold and the characters, they wouldn't go in the direction I had intened! But I liked Riverbend Hold and Jarron too much to just drop them, so I made it into more of a "slice of life" story.
All herbal references were taken from A Pernese Herbal ( "Hazel bush" is witch hazel.
Prologue
RiverbendHold was several sevendays' travel from Fort Hold, which it looked to when it could not make enough profits to support itself. The small cot was hardly more than a waystation along one of the major roads of Pern's Northern Continent. Sturdily built of rough granite blocks and a thick slate roof, it was safe from the deadly rain of Thread, although Fort Weyr's wings had only let Thread reach the ground twice since the Ninth Pass had begun. As well as the cot, which had four rooms and a loft, there was also a smaller stone shed which housed a milch beast, and a large garden in the back. Only enough farming to was done support the hold; summer traffic was enough that there was no time to work in faraway fields. There was no well, as the Twelvebend River was only a dozen dragonlengths away. Broad and shallow, it was from the river that the inhabitants of its namesake Hold made all of their profits, for at this spot the road and the river were forced into confrontation, the river flowing east and the road turning south. Riverbend Hold was where they met.
Jarron spotted the wagon train coming as soon as he stepped out the side door to empty the chamber pot. Barely remembering to set the pot down in his excitement, he ran to the corner of the house, where a large brass bell hung, and began yanking furiously on the rope. The loud clanging soon brought the rest of the inhabitants from the table where they had been grousing about the quality of Jarron's cooking; everyone knew the bell meant work, and profits.
Rorden came up behind Jarron and put his hand on the boy's shoulder, squinting across the river. "Traders," he pronounced with satisfaction. "Two dozen wagons at least, draybeasts and runners… lets go, fellows!" Gaffer, Forsyth, and Chandis were already headed toward the shed where the big raft was; Rorden was right behind them, with Jarron trailing along. The four men, chosen to man the Riverbend outpost because of their size and strength, heaved the raft out of the shed, grabbed the ropes and began pulling it down the slope to the river bank. A track had been worn into the bank from Turns of such work. Jarron followed, struggling with the poles, and caught up just as the raft splashed into the river.
The raft was the pride of Riverbend Hold. Made of nearly indestructible skybroom wood, it was large enough for the largest trader's wagon and sturdy enough for even the huge, awkward draybeasts. A number of empty kegs lashed to the sides added stability. The long poles, more than three times Rorden's height, were also of skybroom wood, with sharp iron spikes on the ends for catching in the muddy bottom of the river.
Rorden raised an arm and hailed the traders, who had just reached the opposite bank. "I'm comin' over!" he hollered. "Get your goods ready!" Jarron got ready to jump onto the raft, but was stopped in mid-dash by Gaffer's huge hand. "Get off me! I want to go this time. I can help – "
"You stay here." Rorden turned to glower at him. "We don't need more weight on the raft, you know that! Go inside and make some klah. Stay out of the way when they get over here – you know how those draybeasts will spook at nothing after a crossing." He picked up his pole and motioned to the other three, who followed suit. Chandis pushed off, and they began guiding the raft across the river, angling upstream to counteract the current.
Jarron scowled and trudged back up to the house. He built up the fire and put a kettle of water on – ferrying was thirsty work – then ran back outside and sat down against the wall to watch. Because of the bend, their side of the river had a steeper bank than the gradual slope on the other side, so he had a good vantage point to watch as his uncle guided the raft to the opposite bank. While that section of the river was wide, it was shallow enough to use the poles easily. Rorden jumped off the raft as willing hands caught hold of the ropes and pulled it farther onto land. He strode up to one of the men and they shook hands and began talking. Jarron grinned as the man got more and more agitated; Rorden always insisted on selecting his payment before he would transport anyone across the river.
The two men walked behind a wagon, still arguing, and Jarron began looking at the rest of the group. He watched the runnerbeasts grazing; the draybeasts might as well have been asleep. Children were running and shouting, and – Jarron squinted harder, trying to see what they were playing with. Some little flying creature… he caught his breath as he realized what they must be. "Fire lizards!" They had heard from a trader, last Turn, the story that Weyrmen in the Southern Continent had discovered real fire lizards, and had – so the trader claimed – Impressed them just like dragons! Jarron had listened eagerly, even though he knew Rorden was probably right that it was just another trader tale… but what else could they be? He couldn't make out the colors from where he was, but one seemed brighter than the others – could it be a gold?
He sighed, lost in a memory of the only time he had seen a dragon up close. It had been a blue dragon that carried the eight-turn-old Jarron to Riverbend Hold to live with his sister after their parents had died of an illness in their cothold on the border with Ruatha. Jarron had been so frightened by his parents' deaths and having to leave the only home he knew that he couldn't even speak, but when the dragon landed to take the Healer back to his Hall, he stopped his shameful crying so he could see it better. He stared and stared at the eyes, whirling with blue and green, and thought that the dragon had been crying too. The dragonrider… what had been his name? Jarron couldn't remember. They had swooped off the ground and circled in the air, and then – black and cold and nothing and he was screaming and then they were at a stone cot near a river and Larina was there with her new husband, Rorden. After a few months Jarron wondered why she looked so fat, and she told him that he was going to have a little niece or nephew to play with. She looked so tired, being alone there with only men for company; she was glad to have Jarron to help her. But he had not been able to help her when the pains started early. None of them knew what to do. Rorden was helpless, pleading with her in one breath and cursing her in the next for not having sent for help. They placed the emergency signal on the roof, but by the time a sweeprider saw it and came back with a healer it was too late. She was gone, and the baby with her, and Jarron was alone again...
Shouts from across the river startled him out of his memories. He looked over and saw that they had begun leading the first team and wagon onto the raft. Now that he was aware again, he heard something else. He ran inside to where the fire was hissing and spitting, and swung the boiling kettle away from the coals, then busied himself making klah.
His eyes blurred again as he remembered Larina teaching him how to measure the powdered bark, and how to pour from the heavy kettle without burning himself… she had taught him almost everything he knew. The men might complain about his cooking, but they were not about to take it upon themselves! He grimaced; housework was all they would let him do – cooking and cleaning, even sewing – and of course the dirty jobs like emptying the chamber pot, cleaning the stalls and weeding the garden. Even at eleven he was still too small to be of any use with the raft, as the other were always quick to point out; he could barely stagger with the poles.
"Jarron!" It was Rorden calling from the riverbank. He ran back outside and down to the bank, where the wagon wheels were being unblocked, preparatory to unloading. The draybeasts were bellowing a protest, and the two runnerbeasts that had been tied to the wagon's sides were struggling up the bank, snorting. Jarron ducked out of their way to where Rorden could see him.
"The klah's ready," he called out.
"Good, good! You show these fellows where they can put their wagon, and give them some klah. We've got to get going – this will take all afternoon, if we're lucky. They'll be making camp here tonight."
Jarron hurried to obey. The traders had their own mugs, which he filled, offering sweetener and cream. They wasted no time in conversation, staking out their beasts and setting up tents, then hurrying back to the river to help the next group. Even with four experienced raftsmen, the unexpected could always occur, and Jarron smothered his laughter as a particularly obstinate draybeast butted Gaffer into the river. He came up spluttering but kept his grip on the pole, and was quickly hauled back aboard, cursing the stubborn animal.
Rorden's crew was fast and efficient, but it still took the rest of the day to get all the wagons, beasts and people across the river; Trader Severn had one of the largest trains. Jarron had started a stew in the largest kettle, but the traders mostly used their own supplies. They were glad to pay for milk and cream from the hold's milch beast, and reciprocated with dried fruits from Southern Boll and other unusual treats. With all the excitement, Jarron was able to slip away and play with the other children. He even got to touch a blue fire lizard that was sleeping on a woman's shoulder, and he watched in amazement and envy as several of the creatures begged for food from their humans. The children told him that Severn had eggs from two more clutches in his wagon, and was planning to sell them at the next Fort gather – maybe even the big Spring Gather, if they got there in time. The eggs were still quite soft, so they ought to last until then. Another clutch, hard enough to hatch any day, had been sold at a large cothold back in Ruatha. Severn had mentioned the eggs to Rorden when they were settling the price to cross the river, but the ferryman had not shown much interest. Awed at the thought, Jarron asked to see the eggs, but although trader children were often bolder than hold children, not even they were willing to risk Severn's wrath should anything happen to the precious fire lizard eggs. His disappointment was soon forgotten when he joined the others by the fire to listen to the traders' stories, as each vied to tell a stranger or scarier tale. Even Rorden was there, sampling his newly acquired keg of beer. It did not take long for most of the adults to get roaring drunk.