Many thanks to Trancefan for the beta read, the discussions surrounding the direction of this story, and her asides that make me chuckle on the edits. Thanks to Dinopoodle for Storadel and to Ebony Starstorm for some excellent comments about Bedella, R'mart and Telgar. I still don't own Pern but I sure do love to play in AMC's backyard.

Chapter 1

Prisca was unaccountably bored.

She scowled to herself; it was a terrible thing to have to admit to herself, that she was actually bored – after having been used to having her days filled so unwillingly at the Weyr. She had been so GLAD to get home, so pleased to be back in an environment that had rules she knew, people she could manipulate, admiring young men who were ready to believe that she had learned new and exciting techniques in the furs of the Dragonriders of High Reaches Weyr.

Prisca had no intention of mentioning that she had not been taken as a lover by anyone in the Weyr, Dragonrider or otherwise. Hints and tantalising smiles kept the young men agog with interest and ready to do anything for her in the hopes of being chosen as one to learn this spurious knowledge.

And they bored her after a couple of weeks playing with their emotions. They were too shallow and superficial to want to have anything to do with any of them.

She was also waking up early in the mornings before anyone except the drudges were about, even though she had needed to be got out of bed in the Weyr; because even lying in, by comparison to the time candidates were accustomed to rise, was still an earlier rising time than her own family and those of sufficient Rank in the Hold to take any notice of. And it was boring just lying in bed, there was only so long anyone could soak in a hot bath, and then have to wait until breakfast time. Prisca was used to eating early; and had taken to invading the Hold's kitchen for the same nourishing if plain porridge that the drudges ate, just to have something in her growling belly, and had even found herself irritably showing a new young drudge how to scrub a floor where the child was rather ineffectually clearing a spill of grease.

Had Prisca realised it, this immediately raised the respect given to her by the drudges no end; what she did realise was that she was being treated differently. Unobservant of drudges Prisca might be, but even so she noticed that she got a smile when she gave orders, and that the drudges bowed and curtseyed to her with willing alacrity, and her portion at meals was taken from the choicer cuts. And this was not from the time of returning from the Weyr, but after, Prisca was not the sort of girl to go seeking for explanations; but she did casually ask her own maid,

"What did I do right that you all treat me differently, Feytha?"

"Oh Lady Prisca, it was because you knew how to show that idiot child Lassa how to scrub the floor!" said Feytha. "Because you knew how and showed her like someone of the Blood, not like an overseer who just curses!"

That was a jolt. Prisca had never been required by her parents to know anything about Hold management; her brother would Hold one day and her mother, a child of one of the Holders raised by Fax, had seen no need for a daughter to dirty her hands. That the DRUDGES should consider this something suitable for someone of the Blood tallied uncomfortably closely to what the Ranking Queenriders had been saying. Prisca just sniffed.

She tried not to think that it made her feel good; who cared, after all, what drudges thought!

Prisca did care about her stomach – within doing enough genteel exercise not to get too overweight, lazy she might be but she had enough vanity to be impressed that the work she had been made to do as a candidate had significantly improved her figure – and had cared enough in the Weyr to ask about a confection that had been served. This led to her invading the Hold kitchen in indignation after a feast for a visiting Holder discussing possible marriage arrangements for his daughter with Prisca's brother Caspri. Prisca had noticed that there had been a lot of partially eaten bread left by her family and the visitors and had casually asked Feytha if treacle tart would be served the next day. When Feytha looked blank, Prisca went to ask the cook what had been done with the broken and left over bread.

On answering that it had been thrown away, the man was astonished to listen to a tirade from Lady Prisca about the profligate waste of good food and a demand to know if he had never heard of using the crumbs of left over bread to make treacle tart.

On discovering that this was not a recipe known to the man, Prisca promptly wrote to Keerana, headwoman of High Reaches Weyr, and asked for a recipe; to which Keerana, delighted that one of the laziest candidates she had ever known was interested in anything so practical, replied, adding other recipes to use bread crumbs and instructions for their storage.

Prisca's stock went up again amongst the Hold workers and drudges, even if she was no more popular with the cook than before; but now at least he showed her grudging respect for being aware of waste, and meals on the whole became more interesting as he strove to use all leftovers for fear of being pursued around his own kitchen again by an angry girl with a ladle, the first weapon of chastisement that had come to Prisca's hand. However he made it clear that this was in return for Prisca not taking liberties in his domain.

And she was still bored.

There was nothing to do except flirt, and dance, play and sing, and embroider. Prisca had never been very good at embroidery; she had thrown too many tantrums about it being too hard to do and her mother had foolishly said that her little girl did not have to learn anything that was too hard.

The women of the weyr had openly despised Prisca as a fairly useless object, and deep down, Prisca was not only starting to acknowledge that they might be right but starting to resent that, and to resent the boredom.

oOoOo

When Threadfall came, Prisca looked in some scorn on the sobbing of her female cousins as everything was shuttered in preparation; and she drifted to the entrance where the sweep crew were assembling. The joke in High Reaches Weyr had been that Prisca was too lazy to fear Thread, but actually, though Prisca had the usual reaction of horrified revulsion to the organism, she literally saw no reason for getting hysterical about it. It was horrible. Dragonriders dealt with it. Why worry?

Caspri and his friends were wrestling with a flamethrower. Some turns younger than his sister, Caspri had no illusions about her inherent laziness and had his own ideas about why she had returned from the Weyr. He got quite angry with the way all the young men seemed to run around Prisca and tried to warn them, usually to no avail. He saw an opportunity to show her up in front of all her admirers.

"Ah, Prisca!" he said "You've spent so much time in the Weyr, howsabout you mend this wretched flamethrower?"

Prisca frowned.

"Why wasn't it serviced immediately after last Fall?" she said, automatically. "That was poor practice on someone's part, find out who, Caspri, and report whoever was responsible."

Caspri flushed.

"It was me," he said. "I – yes, I'll report myself to Casser. I should have checked it. I don't suppose you can fix it though," he added.

Prisca hated stripping flamethrowers; it was sometimes used as a punishment duty, well-overlooked to make sure no skimping occurred. But she did know how to do it. She pulled a face, pushed back her sleeves, and proceeded to strip it, and remove the obstructing burned grease that was causing the problem.

"Should work now," she said laconically.

Caspri stared.

"I apologise," he said, "I didn't think you could do it."

"I learned quite a lot in the Weyr," said Prisca, "not all of it fun things," and she cast a provocative glance at Caspri's friends to imply that she had learned plenty that was fun too. It was habit to do so and besides she did not want anyone thinking that she had been spurned!

"Are you going to walk sweep then?" asked Caspri, uncertainly.

Prisca hesitated and considered that the alternative was spending Fall with wailing and irritating cousins and shrugged.

"May as well," she said, going to collect her wherhide jacket.

She had walked sweep without enthusiasm as a candidate; it wasn't especially arduous work, just a job that required some mental vigilance. To avoid being Threadscored, Prisca had been happy enough to be vigilant.

Besides, although she had thought that people like Mirielle – M'ielle now – had feigned a lack of fear of dragons, she too had become used to the big creatures and indeed rather missed seeing them about all the time. Watching them go over would be pleasant.

Prisca absently watched the big clock in the hall for ten minutes to pass after the Fall siren and hefted an agenothree sprayer as her brother claimed the flamethrower for overwatch.

"You'll get tired holding that until we go out," said Caspri.

Prisca stared.

"Fall's past, it's trailing edge; time to go for best efficiency," she said, quoting what she had heard.

Her father had come over.

"Is that what they say in the Weyr?" he asked.

"Yes, Casser; especially with timber," said Prisca, who had a retentive memory at least.

Casser raised his voice.

"All right people, we'll be changing our policy; the Weyr prefers those of us with timber to be out on trailing edge. Follow me!"

There were a few nervous mutters. Caspri hefted his flamethrower staunchly; he was not going to be outdone by his sister.

"What did you think of your bride?" Prisca asked, more for something to say than anything else as she joined in Caspri's group.

"A bit wet but it may be that she's just nervous of meeting a possible husband for the first time," said Caspri. "She said I was preferable to the old man who leered at her. Poor kid, I reckon we could get along."

"She isn't short on wit," said Prisca. "When she was with us girls she was describing him pretty well and it's no compliment to you, she'd as soon marry a caprine than her other suitor."

Caspri laughed and flamed a solitary Thread from mid air.

"Gotcha… never had to do that when we went out late. Well, I think I'm an improvement on a caprine."

"It's gusty – that'll be why one got through," said Prisca. "She's been taught to act like a dimglow so as not to frighten a husband. You'll like her more than you think I reckon and she'll be glad you let her be clever."

"Thanks, sis," said Caspri. "I appreciate that. Reckon the Weyr improved you a lot."

"I don't know," said Prisca. "Caspri, I feel all confused; I wanted to come home to what I understood, but now I'm here, I'm BORED!"

"You are? I didn't think you could get vertical enough to be bored," said Caspri. "Well, guess you've learned a lot of how life's more than drooping around at people and getting laid as your most strenuous activity. Do you want to go back then?"

"I – I don't know," said Prisca. "It's dreadfully hard work. And such dirty work too, not just flamethrowers but dealing with firestone. Caring for a dragon is not easy I guess. But I do miss dragons – look, there they are, it's changeover before flying the second part of Fall!"

"What's Changeover?" asked Caspri.

Prisca explained how T'bor split his Wings and had half flying at a time, swapping out when tired with a fresh pair of Wings under the protection of the Protective Wing. She had heard enough about it to give a clear explanation; and was able to point out the different Queen dragons in the lower, female wing as they flew East.

"Tell you what, sis," said Caspri "Why don't you ask Casser if you can learn more about how the Hold is run? Reckon then you might be able to go back to the Weyr to work with the Headwoman even if it's too much for you to care for a dragon."

"I – well maybe I will," said Prisca. Perversely she wanted to say that it was NOT too much for her to be able to care for a dragon; but she knew that as things stood, actually it would be.

Comparisons of her cousins, reflections of herself, and the women of High Reaches Weyr were not favourable to her own kin. And somewhere inside, Prisca was recalling Pilgra's kindly words about growing up – and was actually starting to manage to do so. Secretly she determined that she would get fitter and keep the trimmer figure the work in the Weyr had given her so if she did go back to the Weyr as an aide to Keerana she might have a chance of Impressing in the tiers. Prisca had come a long way to even contemplate being an aide to Keerana whom once she had thought of as a lower cavern drudge-overseer until put right forcibly about THAT more than once.

oOoOo

Prisca reviewed her cousins to see if any might be an ally in the matter of keeping fit. Cassida was the eldest of five sisters, who would have been married by now had not the man she had been betrothed to died the day before the wedding of an unfortunate incident of lurweed mixed in with his salad. Prisca personally suspected Cassida of having made away with him and did not blame her. It was whispered that the man's own hold devoured the wedding feast that was prepared, by way of celebration of his death. Cassida was fairly calculating and quite as lazy as Prisca had ever been. Varilla, the next one, was nervous and also giggled nervously as did the third, Ridilla. Ridilla was affected and had a screechy laugh. Casvara told tales and was not noted for her truthfulness, and the youngest, Varassa, Prisca rejected out of hand as being too young. In the end she decided that the only person she could take into her confidence was her maid Feytha.

Feytha was a sufficiently romantic girl to love the idea of secret exercising to hope to Impress one day by stealth; she was actually quite fond of her mistress. It was hard work tidying up behind Prisca at times, but Prisca had never been unduly demanding. Feytha's duties were more likely to involve entertaining Prisca by playing the harp – Prisca had asked the Hall Harper to teach her specifically – or telling stories than drudging. Prisca liked her pretty clothes but was not fussy about what was set out for her to wear and shrugged if a costume took a while to launder or mend. And she liked her maid to be restful. Feytha was a plump girl with a ready laugh that was infectious and a never-ending fund of folk tales she loved to tell. She blessed her fortune in being probably one of the most indulged personal drudges in the High Reaches outside a Weyr. Prisca's early morning rising habits had worried her at first – it meant that she had to be up earlier herself with klah – but with the explanation from Prisca it became an adventure.

Prisca had no particular desire to get fit by lifting and carrying blackrock as a substitute for the firestone that the candidates bagged and shifted; either load was dirty and unpleasant. She was not sure what to do instead, and said so to Feytha.

"Please, if I might make a suggestion, my Lady, I think I might have some idea," said Feytha.

"I can always listen even if I don't like it I suppose," said Prisca, a little ungraciously.

"Well I think you'll like it," said Feytha. "One of the loggers married a woman who was with a band of acrobats – the more reputable ones, not like some of the feckless Holdless that can tumble a bit – because she'd fallen and hurt herself and wanted to settle. But she still practises moves and she's as strong as strong. I should think she might teach you things."

"And she isn't – well, beefy? I don't want to be beefy," said Prisca.

Feytha giggled.

"She looks like she'd blow away in a strong breeze," she said.

oOoOo

Prisca duly agreed to meet Felderata, the logger's wife; who looked her up and down.

"Yes you have some underlying muscle to build on," she said in a silvery voice. "You'll want to wear trews though. Feytha says you'll pay for some training?"

"Yes," said Prisca. It would be worth it.

"Very well. As you're in skirts, I'll give you a demonstration of what I can do, what I'll teach YOU and which muscles it develops."

The display of tumbling, even from a woman with a limp, was spectacular; and Prisca was spellbound.

"How much of that can I learn?" she demanded. Felderata gave a grim smile.

"Probably a mere fraction," she said. "I've been tumbling since I could walk; and I put in the two or three hours practice daily to keep myself supple and fit. However if you're ready to put in the time and the effort you could learn more than just enough to keep you fit, which is what Feytha said you wanted. It will hurt" she warned.

Prisca pulled a face.

She really wanted to be fit and strong though, and this would give an amazing skill that was also a means of getting stronger in a cleaner way than the Weyr saw fit to do it. Perhaps it would be worth the pain for the gain.

It was soon apparent to Felderata that Prisca would never be a great tumbler, but she had the potential to be competent enough. Prisca was a good dancer, which had given her well shaped legs and that could be built upon. Felderata saw no reason why the girl should not be able to combine dance with acrobatic moves rather than pure tumbling and set out to teach along those lines. The money was good and it was worth paying for a neighbour to take over the cooking for both logcots while the Lady Prisca was learning. The lessons took place on the slightly raised board floor used for sugaring off dances and other celebrations in the logging community that was beHolden to Talltrees Hold and Holder Casser. The cots of the loggers were almost a community of their own but Casser arranged for Harper teaching for the children of the loggers who had a visiting Harper over the summer when many were helping their parents, and who fostered within the main Hold to attend lessons with the Hold Harper when little could be done in the forest for the inclement weather. Winter was fast approaching and Prisca wanted to be able to have something to work on when visiting Felderata became impractical. She would miss her visits to the logger's wife; though it was something she would once have castigated as hard work, it was also fun, and rewarding to feel her body become more supple. Prisca's new athleticism gave her advantages too in the taking of lovers, who appreciated her lithe movements, and if the logger who entertained her from time to time had a fair idea what made the Lady so athletic, the handsome smithcrafter in the Hold declared in awe that the Weyr certainly showed women a thing or two! The old Prisca too might have despised such as lovers, preferring only those at least nominally ranking; but in truth she now found those who worked on their own muscles more interesting lovers than many of the less capable young men. It did not stop her flirting however!

Prisca had also taken her brother's advice in asking her father if she might learn something of the running of a Hold; and found him more than willing to teach her. It had been her mother's idea that ladies were not required to do anything, and Casser preferred a quiet life without upsetting his lady. He was gratified that his daughter had learned enough to want to work towards being a Holder's wife some day and showed her willingly and with patience what was required. When it transpired in conversation that Prisca had already taken steps to minimise waste in the kitchens, Casser clapped her on the shoulder as he was wont to do to Caspri, and said,

"My daughter, I am PROUD of you."

If the respect of the drudges was enough to make Prisca feel good, the respect and pride in her of her father was something that made her glow.

It may be said that Pilgra would hardly have recognised Prisca; for the exercise initially undertaken to keep her figure was also giving her more energy which, to avoid boredom, Prisca was turning to good account, both learning from her father, and taking long walks and rides to escape her cousins. She took a groom as her attendant rather than the chubby Feytha, much to that girl's relief, and if there were wild rumours concerning the relationship she might enjoy with the young groom, Prisca did not much care, and the youth capitalised upon with nods and winks quite as spurious as any Prisca had utilised when suggesting wild lovers in the Weyr.