No One's Love Am I
33.08.14, StarRise Weyr
Reyna perched on the table beside Caleigh, her expression as impatient as the fingertips that were tapping against the table top. "You're being ridiculous," she snapped.
Caleigh rolled her eyes and moved her klah mug to the other side of her bowl. "I'm still mad at you," she retorted. "Or had you forgotten that?"
Reyna waved a dismissive hand. "You're being ridiculous about that, too. It didn't hurt you and everyone loved it. Didn't you hear the dead silence in there after you were done? That, my very dear friend, is the greatest compliment a performer can get." Lesanth's rider deftly snatched a muffin from Caleigh's plate. "It's just a song. I only want you to sing it."
"In a play. No, thank you. You know I don't like being up in front of crowds."
Reyna picked up a thin hide from the stack waiting beside her on the table and laid it in front of Caleigh. "That song. And you don't have to be on stage for most of the play. The whole point is that the guy hears a woman singing, falls in love with her voice, and desperately searches for her. He keeps hearing snatches of song – this song! – through the entire play, until the very end. You only have to be on stage for a few minutes, and since it's a tragedy, you won't even have to do anything except lie there, sing that last verse while you're lying there, then die."
Sheer curiosity drove Caleigh to pick up the hide and look at this song.
"No one here to see me cry.
No one here to wonder why.
No one asks, "How was your day?"
No one with a wish to stay…"
She sang the first verse, and then stopped dead. "You can't be serious. This…this is… Reyna, this is awful! A load of self-pitying, pathetic garbage!"
Reyna crossed her arms and glared down at Caleigh. "No, it's not. Plenty of unwed women feel this way. In a world where a woman is expected to get married, those who don't have to wonder why no man wants them. The song is important to the play! Go ahead, sing some more."
"No," Caleigh said, pushing the hide away. "I'm mad at you."
"Arrrrr!" Reyna shoved herself off the table and snatched up her hides, then beat Caleigh around the head with them. "You're impossible!"
Caleigh ducked, lifting her arms to fend off the hides and almost choking on her giggles. "And you're overbearing!" she retorted.
Reyna crossed her arms and glowered at her giggling friend. "Please. I'll do anything," she snapped.
"Oh, so sincere," Caleigh drawled mockingly.
"I can't get anyone else to do it! You're my last hope!" Reyna narrowed her eyes. "If sweeting won't per-"
"That's what you call sweeting?"
"-suade you, then I'll resort to threats. I'll tell C'jan where you hide."
Caleigh rolled her eyes. "I don't hide."
"Riiight. He's been trying to hunt you down since you bolted like a stampeding runner out of the Dragon's Eye, but you're never in your weyr. You're not on the lakeshore, and you're not on the beach. He doesn't know where else to look…yet. That can change." Reyna gave her a sharp smile. "He wants to hear you sing again, too. And what C'jan wants…"
"C'jan doesn't always get," Caleigh said firmly, surreptitiously looking around to make sure the melodramatic wingleader was nowhere about. She would put nothing past him. One encounter was more than enough to convince her that he had no shame, and no qualms about making a scene.
Reyna snorted. "That hasn't been proven yet. Give up, Caleigh. You know I'm going to win, and you're going to sing, so why are you arguing?"
Caleigh glared at her and opened her mouth to tell her just how wrong she was when the one person in all the world who could force her into this spoke up from behind her.
"You're going to sing in a play, mama? That's wonderful! When?"
Caleigh sighed and her shoulders slumped. Reyna's grin was smug, and Caleigh knew right then that the sharding woman had seen Caylie coming. Reyna knew her weakness, and knew she could no more refuse her daughter's pleas than she could refuse Bralaeth's need to fight Thread. "Yes, sweetie. Apparently I am," she surrendered.
33.08.22
Caleigh sat on the beach, well away from anyone else, and near a tumbled, rocky outcropping that extended a little way out into the water. Tide pools were close by, and when the children of the Weyr were feeling restless, the nursery aunties would bring them out here to capture fingerlings and spiderclaws to add to the evening's meal. However, the children had already been herded back to the nursery, and Caleigh didn't see anyone else around. Bralaeth lounged on the sand behind her, and after a moment of watching him flatten himself, wings spread and limbs sprawling, on the sun-heated sand, she turned her attention back to the reason she'd sought this lonely bit of beach.
That sharding song. At least way out here no one would hear her singing that depressing bit of drivel. How on Pern was she going to force the suitable emotion into the words? To sing the emotion, she had to feel the emotion, and she really didn't know if she could do that.
But she could think of something else that would inspire that same quality of self-pity and dejection? About the only thing she could think of that would do that, however, would be imagining that Bralaeth had died and left her behind. She shuddered at the very thought, her mind refusing to accept such a future.
She took a deep breath and straightened her back. Maybe if she sang it completely through once it wouldn't seem so bad.
"No one here to see me cry.
No one here to wonder why.
No one asks, "How was your day?"
No one with a wish to stay…
No one's love am I.
Lonely turns go by.
No one's love am I.
All alone I die.
When grief comes to pay a call.
And despair stalks every hall,
Everyone to someone turns,
Save for I; who for comfort yearn.
No one's love am I.
Lonely turns go by.
No one's love am I.
All alone I die.
With whom can I share my joy?
With who can I life enjoy?
My voice brightens no one's life.
No man cares to call me wife.
No one's love am I.
Lonely turns go by.
No one's love am I.
All alone I die.
And so my life slowly goes
Up and down, alone it flows.
Joy and sorrow, pain and tears,
Alone I must face my fears.
No one's love am I.
Lonely turns go by.
No one's love am I.
All alone I die.
When death comes to take me off,
I only hope that none will scoff
That no heart would mourn and cry
Because no one's love was I."
"Oh, get me a knife, now," she muttered, shuddering in disgust. "It's just as bad all the way through. I knew it would be."
Bralaeth levered himself up and shook the sand off of his head vigorously. Lesanth says his rider wants to see you. It is time to practice.
Caleigh grimaced and sighed. Practice indeed. She'd sit around watching the 'actors' play their roles and pipe up to sing the horrible ditty on cue. It was going to be a miserable evening. But Caylie was expecting her to be there, and the actors did need to practice the timing… With another sigh, she scrambled to Bralaeth's neck and let him take them back to the living cavern, where Reyna had commandeered a curtained off corner for their rehearsals.
"What's that?"
"Don't know, sweet," and T'migen paused on the rocks. A path led down to the beach, but Yslan insisted on climbing over rocks. She was the daughter of one of his best friends from Fort Weyr, and T'migen was convinced she was one of the sweetest, boldest youngsters ever born. In a few turns, her father was going to have to beat the boys off with a club.
A voice caroled up from below them on the outcrop of rock. The purity of its tone sent shivers up T'migen's arms and neck; it was like listening to a master harper play the flute, each note round, full and clear. 'Never thought being a Harper's son would matter much in my life,' he thought wryly, and wished he could actually make out the words of the song. The melody was the most melancholic he'd ever heard.
"T'migen? Did you hear that?" Yslan's voice was barely over a whisper. She turned wide, blue-green eyes to him. "That was so beautiful!"
T'migen nodded, and caught sight of someone moving away. It's a woman, and without a second thought he headed down the outcropping. Wait! He froze as a brown suddenly rose from the beach, sand flying in his wake; ducking, T'migen cursed as a spray of gritty particles flew in his eyes. "Great!" he snarled, wiping his eyes clear. "Where is she?"
"Where's who?" Yslan piped up at his elbow. Squinting, T'migen glanced at her and she shrugged. "I saw you run, T'migen. Who were you after?"
"The singer." T'migen squeezed his eyes shut again, willing tears to flow and wash away the sand. "Did you see her?"
"No. I saw someone running, and then I saw the brown flying off. Maybe it was her?"
T'migen shrugged. "Who knows?" 'A brownrider? Singing with that kind of emotion and skill? That takes turns of training—I know that much.' He wiped his eyes again and sighed. "Come on, little lady," he said, taking Yslan's hand. "I can't do much with all this sand in my eyes. Let's go back so I can wash them out and head back here on Giranth."
33.09.03
Caleigh paced around the room. She'd sought the solitude of the little, out of the way cavern along the encircling corridor to avoid meeting up with Reyna. Rillen had spotted her on her way and opted to join her, especially when she confessed she'd be practicing a song. She didn't have the heart to tell him no. They were old friends, dating back to long before StarRise was scattered to the four winds. The friendship had been maintained over those five long turns, and so he was among the few that she counted as a friend.
"When grief comes to pay a call.
And despair stalks every hall,
Everyone to someone turns,
Save for I; who comfort yearns."
That verse just did not sound right, and she couldn't quite put her finger on why. She tried stressing different words. She tried different intonations and emphasis. Nothing quite rang true.
"I give up!" she cried, throwing her hands in the air. "It won't work!"
"Yes, it will. You'll get it eventually!" Rillen said encouragingly. He sat on a bench and was carefully whittling on a handsized block of wood. He turned it in his hands and eyed it.
Caleigh pouted. "You're just saying that because you're my friend. And Reyna probably bribed you."
Rillen laughed and looked up from his carving. He smiled, but she noticed it didn't touch his eyes quite like it used to. "You know better than that. Reyna couldn't bribe me. And I'm not just saying it because we're friends. You have a lovely voice. You know that. You have a natural gift for singing. So you'll make it work. Even if the song should be tossed into the midden and promptly buried."
Caleigh laughed delightedly. "I knew I wasn't the only one who hated it!"
"Anyone with any sense would hate that song," Rillen agreed. "But it's a play and those aren't supposed to be about people with sense. Sing it through again."
Caleigh sighed, but complied.
"When grief comes to pay a call.
And despair stalks every hall,
Everyone to someone turns,
Save for I; who comfort yearns."
She cocked her head to one side, then slowly nodded. "That's it, I think."
From next to Rillen, little golden Neive chirped. Rillen put away his carving knife and tucked the block of wood into his beltpouch. "I agree, and I think Neive does, too. Let's go get some dinner."
"Caylie's decided to tear herself away from her friends and join me tonight," Caleigh said as they left the room. "Would you like to eat with us?"
"You don't even have to ask. I want to see how she likes being a Candidate, anyway."
"I warned you," K'nelan said as T'migen swore under his breath. "Lushin's not the kind of man you push, in any direction."
"The son of a wher! Does he think I flew Giranth into Thread deliberately? That I did it on purpose?" He spun on K'nelan, making the one-time dragonrider blink. "Do you?"
"Backwing, T'migen," K'nelan returned, his voice hard enough to make T'migen bite his lip. "You don't want to push me, either. I've been telling you for turns that you need to stop making those spin-on-a-mark turns with Giranth. You're lucky all he's got is a wingtip lacing and not a pierced wingsail with fingerbone damage."
"I—" T'migen let his breath hiss through his teeth. It was small wonder that K'nelan brought up that injury. Pierced wingsails and damaged fingerbones were a restrained way of describing the devastation wreaked on the dragonhealer's bronze Kitath, turns ago in a bad Threadfall. "I didn't see the Thread," he insisted, lowering his voice. "I was trying to avoid more of it in the other direction. Lushin seems to think I haven't got the brains of a weyrling, and you're scolding at me like I'm still a weyrling."
"T'migen, you're a good fighting rider, but you won't be one for long if you don't stop trying to cut back and chase down Thread in mid—"
T'migen flung up a hand to silence K'nelan. He froze, a smile spreading over his face as he recognized the voice he heard coming from a room. "It's her!" he whispered, and the dragonhealer's long face registered surprise.
"Never heard her before," he muttered, standing close to the wall as T'migen inched towards the door.
T'migen listened, and soon clenched his jaw. Ah, shards, the song was the kind of mindless dreck that little Hold girls so loved, and landhugging women wept over—a ballad full of self-pitying lyrics over being unwanted and unloved. There were, T'migen told himself, worse things to cry about. But the longer he listened—and he couldn't pull away from that clear, exquisite voice—the more the lyrics tore at him, until he found himself blinking to clear the tears from his eyes.
Oh, shells, he realized, remembering K'nelan was standing beside him. Just what I need, to embarrass myself in front of a friend. He cleared his throat, ready to come up with some excuse when he saw K'nelan wiping his eyes. The sight made T'migen choke on a laugh. "You?"
K'nelan gave him a sheepish grin. "So I'm susceptible to the Harper's brand of trickery."
"Right—" T'migen turned back in time to see someone disappear around a corner. "Wait," he told K'nelan, hurrying to the room. "I've been trying to find this woman—oh, shards!" He stared at the empty room, and ran down to the corner to see if he could catch up with the occupants. "Sear it! She's gone again!"
"So didn't you see her before?" K'nelan came up behind him and looked into the room. "They must have left here at a dead run."
"No," T'migen groaned, and leaned his forehead against the stone wall. "How is it I keep hearing this woman sing this song, and can't manage to get one good look at her?" He looked at K'nelan. "Have you ever had this happen to you?"
"Can't say I have. Cami always wants an audience when she's rehearsing pitiful ballads. She says she can't vomit in front of people." T'migen snorted and K'nelan took hold of his arm. "In the meantime, let's cool you off with some wine and food. And allow me to explain why it is you don't call Lushin obtuse, unless you really enjoy a verbal flaying every time you come to the Dragon Infirmary for help with Giranth."
33.09.10
Caleigh tiptoed around the corner and poked her head through the huge entrance to the hatching cavern. Kasekith had been on the sands for just over a sevenday now, and the extremely protective urge golds had toward just-clutched eggs had faded somewhat. Taveera would be here, and she needed someone with good sense – despite her family – to give her an opinion. Most in the Weyr would never suspect a friendship between Caleigh and Taveera. The goldrider was, by way of her ranking and her infamous family, well known. Caleigh, however, was probably the least known dragonrider at the Weyr and preferred it that way. But it was a friendship that worked and that both enjoyed, in no small part because of Taveera's inherently sweet and generous personality.
When she thought back on it, Caleigh was still faintly bemused by the determined friendship of the goldrider. She hadn't been in a fighting wing very long when Taveera had suddenly returned from Benden Weyr. She'd been struggling to balance the duties of a wingrider with the duties of a mother. She'd made the mistake of taking the toddler back from her foster mother, determined that she could be both dragonrider and parent. Taveera, born and raised at the Weyr, had been the one to convince her finally that she wasn't abandoning her daughter by allowing her to be raised by a foster mother. Their friendship had begun then, and continued to grow over the turns.
"Can I come in?" Caleigh called softly, not wanting to upset Kasekith in case the gold was broody.
"Caleigh!" Taveera looked up from some records she'd piled in her lap, her honey-brown hair swinging as it slipped over her shoulder. "Come in. Kasekith is sleeping right now."
Caleigh breathed a sigh of relief and climbed into the stands to join Taveera. "I'm hiding," she admitted ruefully. "No one will think to look for me here."
Taveera's eyebrows rose and she set aside the records. "Why are you hiding?"
Caleigh leaned back on the bench, resting the back of her head on the seat of the row behind them. "You've heard about this play Reyna's organizing?" Taveera nodded, so Caleigh continued. "She roped me into singing for it. She promises I can hide behind a screen for almost all of it, and the very end will only have me lying on the floor, apparently dead, so no one will really see me then, either. But she's being an absolute wher about this song. It's horrid, Taveera. It's not something I ever want Caylie to hear."
"Really?" Taveera smiled. "Why don't you let me hear it? I'm curious now!"
"You'll hear it eventually, anyway," Caleigh chuckled. "She's planning the great unveiling at the hatching feast. As if we needed more entertainment that night!" She took a deep breath, sat up, and sang the song through. It sounded better this time, after all the practice and polishing she'd put on it, but the lyrics hadn't changed.
"And so my life slowly goes
Up and down, alone it flows.
Joy and sorrow, pain and tears,
Alone I must face my fears.
No one's love am I.
Lonely turns go by.
No one's love am I.
All alone I die.
When death comes to take me off,
I only hope that none will scoff
That no heart would mourn and cry
Because no one's love was I.
No one's love am I.
Lonely turns go by.
No one's love am I.
All alone I die.
All alone I die…."
The last two verses and choruses faded to silence. Caleigh realized with some chagrin that the hatching cavern had great acoustics. However, one look at Taveera's face and she broke into uncontrollable giggles.
"See!?" she finally managed to demand. "It's awful!"
"Give me the poison, please," Taveera admitted with a small shake of her head. "I need to put myself out of my misery!"
"How about chocolate instead, if Lady Kasekith here doesn't need you? After inflicting you with that, I should make amends."
"Deal!" Taveera set her records aside. "And I think we should find some way to reward Reyna for saddling that bit of atrocity on you!"
Caleigh's answering grin was wide and happy. "If I have goldrider permission, I'm sure I could think of something appropriate!"
"There it is again!" T'migen insisted.
Cami cocked her head, her lips curling in a smile of equal admiration and scorn. Finally she lowered her head and chuckled, pale curls falling around her delicate little face. "Oh, Tam," she snickered. "That's just bloody awful."
T'migen stared in disbelief. "You don't like her voice?"
"I love her voice—whoever she is, she's got a wicked instrument I'd love to work with! She's had some teaching already, that's for sure." Cami paused, listening again, and screwed her eyes shut. "Oh, bloody shells, why do Harpers write those blasted songs? They're worse than those woman-hating marching chants you hear Guardsmen sing sometimes."
"What woman-hating . . .? Never mind," T'migen said hastily, as Cami's eyebrows rose at his ignorance. "Wait—she's stopped!" He ran down the corridor, hearing Cami hiss at him to hold up as she chased after him. The Hatching Grounds were vast enough to ensure that this time, his unknown singer couldn't simply disappear! But as he ran, T'migen's heart sank as he realized that while the Grounds were vast enough to keep one melodious woman from disappearing, they were also vast enough to keep him from reaching her.
He got to the entrance to the Grounds and stopped, panting, to look out over the Sands and the tiered seats. The only one there was Kasekith, and the queen was fast asleep. T'migen kicked at the wall, swearing in his disappointment.
"You know," Cami remarked cheerfully, walking up to his side, "there's a really good Ballad in there somewhere."
"About what, the idiot chasing the voice that wasn't there?"
"Well, the voice was here," Cami returned, beaming at him. "The body is what's missing."
"Ah, shards," and T'migen heaved a sigh of frustration. "I'm going out of my mind, Cami. I'm desperate to find a woman with a voice that can bring grown men to tears, and a face that might as well be between."
Cami hugged his arm. "Tam, don't," she urged, and T'migen found himself leaning his cheek on the top of her head, comforted by her affection. "I've heard there's a rider, Reyna, who's putting on a play. If your unseen lady's rehearsing, you may see her perform on Hatching Day." She winked at him, and T'migen managed to return her smile.
"I hadn't thought of that. I'm a complete deadwit."
"Well, why else would she be practicing such a ballad? Anyone pouring that much effort into a cracked clay pot like that song is really trying to distract you from the flawed pot. That's not done if you're just singing a tune you enjoy. But if you're doing a turn, you give your all to make those cracked clay pots look like golden flagons." Cami tugged at T'migen's arm. "And speaking of golden flagons, let's get out there so I can rehearse my piece. Then I've got to see Taveera. I can't thank her enough for asking me to sing at the Hatching!"
33.09.20
Caleigh was once more on the beach, escaping a frustrating day of wingdrills, a temperamental child, and a very persistent C'jan. Reyna had informed her at breakfast that they'd be having a dress rehearsal tonight - and that there were still portions of the sharding song that 'weren't right' and that Caleigh should work on them before rehearsal. Caleigh, in return, had been kind enough not to dump her bowl of porridge over Reyna's head.
Once again, Bralaeth sprawled his bulk over the sand and she folded her arms around herself. Lifting her face to the freshening seabreeze, she drew in a deep lungful of fragrant sea air and sighed. She could feel her shoulders relaxing as the steady ebb and flow of the surf carried her worries away. Oh, yes, she was very much a child of the sea!
She began singing. The words flowed soft and sad, the melody wistful and wondering. She almost – almost! – understood the pain behind the words. Or perhaps it was her imagination, after singing it so often, for so long.
"With whom can I share my joy?
With who can I life enjoy?
My voice brightens no one's life.
No man cares to call me wife."
Well, at least that hadn't been the case for her! Caleigh had once been called wife, although there really hadn't been love between her and her husband. As she continued through the song, she thought of her long-dead husband, and regretted the fact that though they had been married, they'd never really been partners.
"Your voice is lovely but that's a very sad song."
Caleigh gasped and spun around. Bluerider T'ril was standing by Bralaeth's head, arms crossed and a slight smile on his face. Her betraying brown hadn't said a word, and she hadn't heard him coming. Of course, she wouldn't, she realized. Not over the sound of her own voice and the waves!
"Bluerider T'ril," she said, clasping her elbows behind her back. "I didn't hear you."
T'ril stepped closer, but didn't encroach on her personal space. "I know," he said. "C'jan has decided to try pestering Reyna to find out where you usually spend your time, and she finally caved in." He rolled his eyes. "I saw you headed this way earlier, and since it seems you're trying very hard to avoid my weyrmate, I thought I'd warn you he's coming."
Caleigh's eyes widened in dismay and shook her head. "He's very persistent, isn't it? I suppose the wise thing to do would be to let him find me."
T'ril laughed. "Perhaps, but the frustration is good for him. It keeps him on his toes, and it's no fun when it's too easy for him. Let's keep you hidden for a while longer. I think he's asking for it after the awkward position he put you in." He gave her an intent look and smiled again. "I think he owes you an apology, but I haven't been able to beat that into that thick skull of his. Why don't we go check out the goods from the ship that docked yesterday?"
Caleigh's lips twitched and she had to admit that she didn't really want to be found by C'jan yet. "I think that's a fine idea," she agreed. "Caylie was asking for some new ribbons today, anyway."
"That's the voice you've been hearing?" C'jan shook his head. "Shells. I wish you'd sought me earlier, brownrider. I could have told you."
"Well, she's disappeared again—and for the fourth time," T'migen snapped, incredulous that this mystery woman had managed to elude him completely. And the green wingleader knew who she was, which made it more infuriating. C'jan, Dionath's rider, was notorious at StarRise for being no stranger to trouble—and bearing the scars to prove it—but the man had outrun T'migen and actually stopped twice to let him catch up! T'migen knew himself to be nearly twelve turns the man's junior, and also knew he'd never live down the humiliation of watching the greenrider bound past him down the beach like a boy half his age.
"Don't look so upset. I'm the one she's trying to avoid, not you. She blames me for her first public performance, you see." C'jan shrugged, giving him a thin smile. T'migen clenched his teeth on an epithet, wondering just what the greenrider had done to the poor woman. "Her name is Caleigh. She rides brown Bralaeth. And if I were you, I'd wait until after the Hatching to meet up with her. Reyna's got her singing for something they're putting on for the festivities."
"So Cami said," T'migen muttered, wondering whether to be chagrined or heartened to hear his friend's advice confirmed.
"Cami would know. Harpers are meticulous about setting up their turns, and Cami tries to sing pieces that join in the main theme." C'jan chuckled. "Well, is there anything else I can help you with, brownrider?"
Sure. Help me throw myself in the ocean. But T'migen reminded himself that the Hatching was soon in coming; he could wait that long, unless Caleigh disappeared from the Weyr after the last shell cracked. In that case, he'd take his cold salt bath on his own. "Thanks, Wingleader," he assured C'jan, returning the other's cool smile. "You've been a great help already."
33.10.02, Evening
The hatching was over. The buzzing excitement following had reached its peak and waned. The banquet prepared by the cooks had been devoured, and now the weyrfolk and the guests were relaxing over deserts, klah, and wine. Normally the harpers would begin playing now and couples would take to the dance floor. Reyna, however, and arranged for the dancing to be preceded by the play.
Caleigh was in costume and it itched. Her golden skin had been darkened by some kind of dye that Reyna promised would come out. Her hair had been liberally sprinkled with powder to turn it into a dingy brown. A fake nose had been concocted and plastered over her own. She didn't look hideous, but she was definitely on the unpretty side of plain.
And then there were the clothes. Several sizes too large, even with all the extra padding that Reyna had wrapped around her. Caleigh rolled her shoulders, trying to make everything settle more comfortably, and failed miserably. She looked at herself in the low-quality mirror the actors used to make sure their costumes were on right and sighed at what she saw. Dumpy, dowdy, drab… Not ugly, precisely – but definitely someone who would draw no notice or attention. If the personality and character of the woman in the mirror matched the outside packaging, Caleigh decided she could almost understand the song. Then she winced, realizing just how shallow and vain that particular thought was.
"Annnd . . . sing!" Reyna's whispered command brought Caleigh's attention back to the business at hand. She stepped to the spot Reyna had pointed out to her at the dress rehearsals and sang. It was only the chorus this time – the trigger to start the search for the singer. It was only at the end that the full song would be song. Throughout the play, the song would be dribbled out, a verse at a time, to goad the searcher on.
Reyna nodded, and then stepped back into the shadows to watch the actors on stage. Things appeared to be going well, if Reyna's pleased expression was any indication. Whenever she signaled, Caleigh stepped back to her spot and sang as required.
She was in the middle of the next to last verse when another voice overrode her own with a loud, "There you are! Finally!" She broke off mid-word and turned to stare. It was dark and shadowed behind the stage and she couldn't see clearly, but there appeared to be a man rushing towards her and she instinctively stepped back, bumping into the screen the provided the backdrop to the play. She gasped as she stumbled and started to fall.
His father had always told him he kept his brains where he could sit on them. Now T'migen watched in horror as Caleigh stumbled into the backdrop and lost her balance.
"No!" he yelped, and threw himself forward to catch her.
They both went down in a tangle of screen, skirts, and rope. T'migen grabbed hold just as Caleigh shouted, "No!" Instinctively he let go, falling over backward onto the screen, and heard something rip.
"Oh, shards," he cursed, as laughter rose up from the audience. He turned to Caleigh and held out his hand. "Brownrider—I'm sorry, I'm so—"
"You idiot! You moron! You flea-bitten nag of a wher!" Reyna rounded on T'migen in a rage of curses, her hand clutching a sheaf of record hides – the script to the play, in fact – and beat at him. "I'll stake you out for Thread, dipped in sweeting, over an ant pile! What did you think you were doing? You've ruined it! And it was going so well!"
"Reyna!" Caleigh threw her body in front of the man who'd barged in behind the scenes. She cast a frantic look at the staring weyrfolk and visiting hold and craftfolk. "Reyna, you're making a scene!" she hissed quietly, trying to bring sense to the other brownrider. "He didn't do it on purpose!"
"I don't care!" Reyna's voice escalated with each word and she reached down to pull Caleigh up and away from her victim. "He ruined my play! I'm going to have his balls on my ledge for a windchime!"
"Oh, shells," Caleigh muttered. She barely glanced at the man as she muttered, "Run," at him, then launched herself to her feet and straight into Reyna's midriff, forcing her back a good distance before they recovered her balance. "The play may be ruined tonight, but you're giving everyone a show to more than make up for it," Caleigh told her in a firm, low voice. "Stop it. Right now. It was an accident and you're doing yourself no favors with this tantrum."
Reyna gasped for breath, and then glared at Caleigh. "Fine," she snapped. "But he can clean up the mess he's made, and he can apologize to the audience! And the actors! They worked so hard on this and he's ruined it because he's got the brain of a trundlebug!"
Reyna turned on her heel and stormed off, her curses and imprecations rising with each utterance, her arms gesturing in sharp, powerful motions. Caleigh winced, turning to face the one who'd caused it all. But the silently staring faces that were no longer hidden by the background cloth for the stage stopped her short.
"Oh, dear," she whispered weakly.
It started as a titter. A faint giggle at the back of the room. It grew into a soft chuckle. It spurted louder into chortles and guffaws. Then it exploded in a roar of laughter, whistles, clapping, and stomping feet. Caleigh swallowed hard, stiffened her back, and stepped back to the stage. "Take a bow," she ordered the actors in a low voice and then extended her hand to the man still sprawled in the drapes. She helped him to his feet, gave him a curious glance, then used the obscuring screen of the actors to slip out of the way and to the door that exited into the back corridor that tunneled the entire circumference of the Weyr.
T'migen saw Caleigh slip away to the stage exit and thought, 'Not so fast! Not when I've finally found you!' He followed her path and slipped through the door in time to see her hurrying down the corridor. He sprinted after her; she heard his footsteps and turned, giving him a look of disbelief as he came to a halt beside her. "Caleigh," he gasped, "you might not understand, but I've been looking all over the Weyr for you."
Caleigh blinked at him, her mouth dropping open in surprise. Then she snapped it shut, blushing a shade of red that blended very poorly with the dye on her skin. "What?" she asked blankly. "Why? Do-do I know you?"
"Well—" T'migen swallowed. The girl who looked back at him was as plain as a sack, but she had the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen. And those eyes were wide with bewildered wariness. 'She must think I'm some sort of madman,' T'migen told himself. "I've heard you sing," he said quietly. "About four times now, ever since I came to StarRise. I've been trying to find out who you were—and tonight, when I found you backstage, I just had to talk to you. You see—" 'Oh, spit it out, you blithering crackskull'—"I mean, my mother's a Harper, and I've got a friend who's one, and I've grown up hearing singing and music played—I just think you have the loveliest voice I've ever heard, and I had to talk to you."
"Oh!" Caleigh's blush darkened and she raised her hands to her cheeks. "Oh - I . . . Oh!" She swallowed hard, trying to think of something intelligent to say. Embarrassment warred with a kind of stunned pleasure. The dim hall, the silence of the stone passage, set the mortification of the play at some remove. And his sincerity flustered her. She knew she could sing. She'd always been able to do that, and she'd had compliments aplenty from her friends and family. But never from a stranger. And never had anyone chased her down before to give her one! "Wh-what did you say your name was?"
"Well, I'm T'migen. Brown Giranth's rider. By this time tomorrow, the Weyr will know me as that idiot who ruined your performance, and whose balls currently reside on your friend's ledge. That definitely won't make Giranth happy." He chuckled, and winked to show her he was joking. "I got your name from wingleader C'jan. Turns out he's been chasing you too, for different reasons."
Caleigh sighed at the mention of C'jan's name and shook her head. She could only be grateful that he hadn't been the one to interrupt the play. "Reyna won't castrate you," she murmured. "She doesn't have the healer's training for it." She gave him a small, hesitant smile. "Truthfully, brownrider, I wish your interruption had come much earlier. I've been dreading singing that drivel where others can hear it for over a month now. Reyna has gotten what she deserves."
T'migen nodded. "You could definitely call it that. My friend, Cami—she's a journeyman Harper—said the only reason you'd put that much effort into a song like that was to make it sound better than it was . . ." He trailed off.
She shook her head, then grimaced and pulled off her nose. She looked at T'migen for an awkward moment, absently mashing the putty prosthetic in her hand. What was she supposed to do now? All she could think of was, leave. "If you'll excuse me, I really need to wash this make up off and get out of this costume," she murmured.
"Shells. I'm sorry, I don't mean to babble—I just want to ask you one thing, before you go."
Caleigh's eyebrows rose and she waited for whatever the question could be. His friend hadn't been wrong: she had been trying very hard to make that stupid song better than it was. However, there was only so much that could be done. "Yes?"
"Caleigh—" T'migen swallowed. "Would you consider joining me in the morning for breakfast? I've heard you sing several times now—I'd really like to talk to you, now that you don't have to rehearse, and I'm not chasing a beautiful voice without a face."
"Breakfast?" A light voice asked brightly. "He's asking you to breakfast, mama! Of course she'll have breakfast with you!" Caylie had managed to creep up behind them, coming from the direction they'd left. She beamed at T'migen and darted by him to throw her arms around Caleigh's expanded waist. She frowned and poked at the padding. "Why did Auntie Reyna make you wear that, mama? It's hard!" She transferred her bright blue gaze back to T'migen and smiled sweetly. At thirteen, she was just learning all the flirtation tricks available to her, and experimenting outrageously. She even fluttered her lashes for T'migen's benefit. "We'd love to join you for breakfast!"
"Ahhh . . ." Caleigh looked down at her daughter helplessly, and sighed. She closed her eyes, dropped her head, and wondered when she'd started allowing all her decisions to be made by a child.
T'migen grinned at the young girl. "I think this could be the start of a wonderful friendship," he told her, and looked back at Caleigh. "And the cook's not so bad . . . you won't have to come in costume just to enjoy a meal in peace."
"If Amai heard you say she's 'not so bad,' she'd swat you with a spoon," Caylie noted critically. She bounced up on her toes and kissed Caleigh's cheek, leaving a paler spot on her mother's face, and received a white dusting of powder on her own. "I have to get to the candidate barracks before curfew, mama, but I just wanted to tell you that you sounded wonderful tonight! Aren't you glad I told Reyna you'd do this?" With another bright smile, and a coquettish look at T'migen, she leaned closer and whispered loudly to Caleigh. "He's cute!" Then she giggled and dashed off, looking back of her shoulder once, and laughing again.
T'migen stared in shock. "Uh . . ."
Caleigh cleared her throat and clasped her hands together in front of her. "I suppose we'll be joining you for breakfast then," she acknowledged.
"All three of us," T'migen returned, and smiled.
Caleigh shifted her feet and looked around. "Well. Thank you. For the compliments, I mean." She unclasped her hands and mashed the nose some more. "I—I should get going."
"Of course." T'migen held out his arm. "Mind if I walk with you out of here? Because I'm not just an idiot moron. I'm a really, really lost idiot moron, and I need some help getting back home."
Caleigh stared at him for a long moment. Then she bit her bottom lip, but a stifled giggle escaped all the same. "You can't get lost in this corridor," she said faintly, turning her head away. "It circles the Weyr. You'll eventually come out on the beach, or at the docks, as long as you stay on this level." But she placed her hand lightly, if awkwardly, on his arm and started down the hall. She'd take a shortcut through Crafter Alley and bring them out in the Weyr Bowl. She'd be close to the safety and privacy of her weyr—and he'd know where he was and could go his own way.
She shook her head as they walked down the dim corridor, their steps echoing faintly off the walls. What a night! She hoped to Faranth not to repeat it again anytime soon!