May I say first thank you to Geowyn and Smithzookeeper for reviewing Threewoods - of which there WILL be more in the future. More about Andreesas and Banessan and others! I'm really glad you like my High Reaches stories. Smithzookeeper, don't hesitate to write down those ideas in note form; you never know, you might feel inspired to write once you have notes; and if you join up to post we'll all read and make constructive suggestions.

Chapter 1

Varalie would not have minded staying at the Harper Hall as an apprentice, with the other Ranking girl Dorasha and her apprentice friends. Unfortunately, Varalie reflected, her musical talents were not sufficient. She had learned a lot – especially from the apprentices and journeyman Horgey – Blue Rider H'gey, she corrected herself – but one of the things she had learned with regret was her own limitation. Besides, her grandfather, the Holder of Pook's Pass Hold in Crom would never countenance a girl taking up an apprenticeship. His sentence once her allotted time at the Harper Hall was up was to foster in a larger Hold and make suitable alliance with a suitable boy under controlled conditions.

Varalie nibbled a lock of her dark curls and wished fervently that she had begged H'gey and his betrothed, Lady Kitiara, to take her to High Reaches Weyr when they had departed. True, walking sweep with the Lady Kitiara – or apprentice Kit as she was also known – had been terrifying; but she had made herself do it! It may only have been to try to impress Kitiara, but if she could do it once, surely she could learn to cope with Threadfall regularly? Bravery was a matter of determination – and Varalie did not lack THAT! However, she had missed her opportunity, and must wait for the dragonrider based at Twosprings Hold whence she was headed to take her to an unknown place full of unknown people in whom she had no interest; especially eligible boys. At least the Harper Hall had the offer of music; and the Weyr would contain people she knew, and dragons, who were all wonderful. And if Brieth were anything to go by, not all dragons were as standoffish as her own Hold's Green, an ageing Rider and his disobliging dragon who seemed to take a delight in moving into difficult to mount positions.

The dragonrider who came for her was another elderly man, mounted on an ageing Blue, who had a touch of white about his muzzle.

Varalie smiled tentatively.

"Thank you for collecting me, Blue Rider" she said. "Please will you tell me your dragon's name so I may thank him too?"

The Rider gave a smile of grim satisfaction.

"Well, lass, y'might be almost weyrbred to ask after the dragon first! Mardith says thanks for your courtesy."

Varalie flushed.

"I'm sorry I forgot to ask your name, Blue Rider."

The old man laughed.

"It's J'frey, lass – My Lady, I should say."

"Oh – just Varalie, if you please!" said Varalie. "I'm not from a big Hold or anything nor very important. I – er, I climb onto Mardith's leg, don't I?"

J'frey nodded.

"Shall I pull?"

"Please….I'm not very used to full sized dragons."

J'frey reached down for her bag first, then put down a hand to help her scramble over Mardith's foreleg.

"Thanks, Mardith" said Varalie.

"He says, you're welcome" said J'frey. "But you're used to dragons that aren't full grown? You've spent time in a Weyr? Or is it that you know the white dragon?"

Varalie shook her head.

"Our Journeyman tutor Impressed unexpectedly in the tiers; and brought Brieth back to the Harper Hall while he finished uncompleted duties, because he was going to go back to the Harperweyr at High Reaches anyway" she told the official story, all that she knew. Not many were privy to the fact that H'gey distrusted some of the Oldtimer Riders at Fort Weyr and were afraid they might cause harm to him or Brieth because of his crippled state with a partially healed broken back.

J'frey nodded.

"I'm out of High Reaches myself" he said "It's a good place. I'm on light duty for my age though, hence being duty Rider at a small Hold. It's quiet" he pulled a face "Sometimes too quiet."

"What's it like? What are the people like?" Varalie asked as they jerked off the ground and Mardith flapped a couple of deep wing beats.

"I'd rather not comment, My – Varalie. Hold-Weyr relations, you know. I like the oldest boy though, takes after his mother more than his father; and the smallest ones aren't so bad."

That was cryptic; but before Varalie could ask what he meant they were engulfed in the soul-numbing cold of Between.

They burst out on a chill pre-spring day over a broad floodplain. Varalie knew that east of the river was Crom, and west was Nabol; and that the Hold was built overlooking the plain.

She could see more as they swooped in to land; the Hold was built into fossil river cliffs, and its name apparent for the verdant vegetation of the two springs that welled up close to each other, each becoming a stream that meandered in different directions! One seemed to run directly towards the big river, the other wandered downstream out of her immediate sight.

Mardith landed, and Varalie swallowed hard.

J'frey patted her on the shoulder.

"Bear up, young one! For one who's not had much to do with dragons you coped real well with flying and with Between!"

"But it was too interesting to be scary" she said. "People are scary. Or they can be. Not dragons."

"Hmph. Maybe you really do belong in a Weyr then, youngling. But if you do belong in a Weyr, you'll not let anyone see that they do scare you, hmmm? A weyrwoman stands up for what is right."

She nodded firmly, putting her chin up.

"I wish I was weyrbred and I wish you were my grandfather" she said.

J'frey laughed.

"Well now, that's as nice a compliment as I've had in a long time, my dear. I'd not be unhappy iif you were my granddaughter either. There! Run along do; they've come to meet you."

Varalie smiled thanks at him and reached up to touch Mardith's chin as she slid off; and went forward to meet Holder Bitrul, his wife Mallene and their eldest daughter Rulene.

Bitrul looked the sort of man from whom the last drop of the milk of human kindness had been squeezed, soured and applied as an enema. He had a touch of self-opinionated haughtiness to his features that were unmistakeably of the line of Meron, sallow, narrow faced and mean.

His wife looked more approachable; there was the light of intelligence in her eyes and a sardonic gleam of humour. From the way she looked Varalie over she was gleaning as much information as she could from the girl's apprearence.

Varalie flushed. Her clothes were of reasonable quality, for there was no economy in buying cheap cloth; but from a poor Hold and for a barely tolerated spare female luxuries were unheard of, and such embroidery as there was she had done for herself, even as she had made her own gown, copying the latest fashions of Southern Boll, the arbiter of style, since the main Weavercraft Hall was sited there. At least she had a gown that WAS still of moderately stylish cut; she had recently stopped growing violently and so had excuse for new clothes to go to the Harper Hall, with the excuse that her grandfather would not want anyone to mistake her for one of the drudges. Less than a turn meant that her clothes were not as yet out of date, especially in a moderate-sized out of the way Hold. Of course, she could not afford to cut garments on the bias, the style invented by dragonfolk for a more flattering drape, and a closer clinging fit to the figure; but she had planned the darts carefully to flatter her figure as much as possible. But all that did not alter the fact that the fabric was a cheaper cotton- wool union, not llama wool or caprine-ovine mix like the richest and softest. It was odd that caprines gave both the coarsest and the finest wool; the few caprines Pook's Pass Hold kept produced good silky soft wool that was sold to the weavercrafters, the first moulting of the spring. The second moulting was the coarse wool, that many holderfolk used for homespuns. And whilst her family would never dress in such coarse cloth, nor did they keep back their major profit by using the fine caprine and llama wool that the region produced, that spun with sisal or gossamer-silk to make the famous Fort Hold brocades of the kind she might only ever dream of owning.

Such as the girl Rulene was wearing.

True, only the bodice was brocade, but it was sumptuous, cream and gold-coloured, a shiny sisal-rich pattern of fellis flowers, with a fine thread of real gold-wrapped thread! The skirt and sleeves were soft, rich llama wool, Varalie thought, also in cream. Shards, this girl must have few enough duties to wear so impractical a colour as cream when it was not a Gather day!

The effect was spoiled by the fact that the girl's hair was escaping already from her dark plaits; and duties or no, there was a smear near the hem of her skirt. Varalie was glad; then felt mean for feeling glad. The girl gave her a friendly enough smile.

"Welcome Varalie! I'm Rulene, let me show you where we sleep, there's six of us girls now, which is pretty jolly, and my little sister of course, but she scarcely counts! This way!"

The girl surfaced for air for long enough for Varalie to murmur brief greetings and thanks to her host and hostess; then Rulene snapped her fingers for a drudge who was hovering to bring Varalie's carisac and gitar. Rulene eyed the bag dubiously.

"Where's the rest of your luggage? Did it get left behind at the Harper Hall?"

Varalie flushed.

"That's all my luggage" she said, tightly.

"Oh!" said Rulene blankly. "But – but don't you have any clothes with you?"

"I have three everyday gowns in my bag and a Gather gown. My grandfather does not feel that a young girl needs any more" said Varalie.

"Shards, poor you! He sounds a mean old caprine! Well, I guess you can buy fabric and have it made up on the quiet while you're here!"

Varalie smiled non-comittally. She could afford some fabric, for she had more marks than her grandfather had provided her with, or might have guessed about, for her association with the apprentices at the Harper Hall had taught her to craft simple instruments like drums and pipes. The boys had smuggled out tools and materials – for which she scrupulously paid – and showed her how to make instruments, teaching her some theory too. They then slid her offerings in with their own to be stamped my Master Jerint, giving her a far better price than unstamped amateur pieces! She had hoarded her earnings, but even so it was not enough for the sort of gowns Rulene seemed to view as everyday.

"Oh, I'm happy with what I have" she lied smoothly; resisting the temptation, since Rulene seemed nice enough if rather limited to make any comment about not wanting to make an exhibition of herself.

Meeting the other girls was traumatic. All but one of them were her age or older; and as the first remark passed as Rulene brought her into the room was,

"Oh my, a poor relation" she quailed and almost fled in tears. Only the advice of J'frey kept her blinking the tears back firmly and pulling herself up straight to look at the speaker. The rude girl was tall, with long glossy chestnut hair and a high bridged nose that she looked down. She wore a damasked gown in what looked to be a llama wool and linen mix, the linen for stiffness. It had an all over pattern of leaves in dark green on a beige ground, and a belt made with links shaped like leaves in copper. Varalie smiled a brittle smile.

"Why, I'd rather be a poor relation than have the manners of a wherry-kite I think!" she said.

There was a chuckle from one of the other girls.

"Heh, she has you to rights, Sifella!" said she, a girl with curly ginger hair. "I'm Jerissa and I'm glad there's to be someone else here who's not stuck up!"

Of the other two girls one was, Varalie thought, about her own age, but graceful and sophisticated in her movement with honey blonde ringlets, huge blue eyes and a bored expression. She wore blue velvet the colour of her eyes, richly embroidered. She gave her name as Mirinda and her hand barely touched Varalie's in greeting. The last girl had straight black hair, cut in a bob like many of the weyrwomen Varalie had seen, or Menolly, though Menolly's tended to be a bit more flyaway than this neat black head. She was a few turns younger than Varalie. The girl sat very still in a big chair with a rug over her. She did not rise when Varalie passed round the others and came to her to shake hands; but she smiled.

"I can't rise" she said. "My legs don't work."

Friendly and pleasant she looked; but there was a wariness in her eyes when she made the admission.

"Oh how irritating for you and frustrating! Was it an accident?" asked Varalie in genuine sympathy.

"No; I was born this way. My spie sticks out of my back" she concluded defiantly. "Name's Lavanni."

"Does that make it easier? Not missing what you've never had?" asked Varalie "'Cos I know H'gey gets pretty snippy at times having to have people to run errands for him."

It was not done for effect; but there was a rapid reassessment of her by the other girls as she tossed off the honorific of a dragonrider so carelessly. Lavanni's own eyes widened slightly.

"Oh, injured in Threadfall?" she asked.

"No, he had a bad fall on Harper business and broke his back before he Impressed – he only just did Impress, he's a Journeyman Harper too" said Varalie. "He's gone to live with his foster brother T'rin at High Reaches Weyr now, 'cos there's lots of Harpers there."

"I heard they take cranks and cripples at High Reaches" put in Sifella who could not resist sneering.

"I also heard their cranks and cripples fly the most effective Fall of any Weyr" retorted Varalie. "Which might be a lesson to those who are less adaptable. One of their Queenriders lost the use of her legs after an illness and that's when they started making wheeled chairs to get about; H'gey has one and a hoist that fits to the fighting straps to help life an injured rider. Do you have a wheeled chair, Lavanni?"

Lavanni shook her head.

"When I want to go somewhere I have to ask Relga" she indicated a huge drudge woman who sat impassively at the side of the room. Varalie was starteled; the woman sat so still she had not noticed her! Relga nodded on being spoken about. She had a flat face and narrow eyes and her black hair hung lankly each side of her face. Her brawny arms looked as though they could each lift a runnerbeast!

"I'll write to H'gey" said Varalie. "It'd be nice if you could push yourself along in a chair, no disrespect to Relga, but I reckon it would be great to have the independence."

Lavanni stared and blinked hard.

"Thank you for even thinking about it" she whispered low enough so the others could not hear. "That's the first kind thing anyone has said since I've been fostered – even the ones that aren't UNkind don't say anything because they're embarrassed."

"Porcines" said Varalie, leaning forward to embrace Lavanni. "Let's be friends, huh? And if the weyr can make you a chair I'll push it to give you a rest. I've pushed H'gey once or twice when Kitiara was unavailable."

Lavanni clung to her almost desperately for a brief moment; then smiled mistily at the older girl.

"Oh I AM glad you came here!" she said.

Suddenly Varalie was glad too.

However much she might dislike Sifella and Mirinda, and however difficult they made it, at least she could help this kid Lavanni to feel less unhappy.

"My firelizard Bris helps at least by getting things" Lavanni indicated the little brown lizard sitting with two blues, overlooking the girls. "My parents thought he'd help me to be more independent" she still spoke in an undertone; as did Varalie.

"You sound like you have good parents. Is that why they sent you to foster?"

"Yes, they want me to have as normal a life as possible. But I wish I didn't have to" said Lavanni wistfully.

"I won't let THEM bully you" said Varalie. "I learned a lot from H'gey what it's like to be immobilised, so I guess I'm less ignorant than them. He says the ignorant pick on people who are different because they're afraid of difference."

Lavanni was much struck.

"So you could look on it being THEM who are crippled – in the courage?"

Varalie grinned.

"Exactly!" she said.