To my dear Lady Holder Anne McCaffrey:
Thank you for allowing me to play with your property!
Benden Weyr – After Thread
When the squadron returned from fighting thread, most fighting pairs flew straight to their weyrs to remove riding harnesses and riding gear. Dragons would then fly to the lake, take a quick dip to rinse off most of the charred thread and firestone ash, and then either fly to the ridge or lounge on the sun-baked sands of the bowl to wait for their riders. Riders would then rejoin their dragons for a full scale bath followed by a generous application of oil to the dragons' hides. Gold dragons were given the honor of bathing first, when the water was still fairly clean and clear, if they didn't choose to bathe in a nearby lake or stream.
Bronze Dragon Normond, carrying his life-mate G'raden leaning forward on his neck, landed gracefully on the ledge of their shared weyr. The dragon folded his wings and settled down into a crouch. The rider sat up straight, unfastened his safety straps, and slid down a shoulder to the rock ledge below. He walked toward Normonds' head as he removed his gloves and riding helmet. After placing them in his belt he hugged his dragons' neck. "I'm so proud of you Normond."
The large dragon pulled his muzzle in toward the riders' boots and moved his whole head back and forth, effectively rubbing the riders' entire back side. We fought well today, my brave one.
The rider turned around and rubbed the dragons' cheeks and behind his jowls, allowing the dragon to rub his chest. "We always fight well, my love." He reached up and rubbed behind Normonds' eyes. "Do you want to bathe now or later, dear heart?"
The days are long and warm. And I'm tired. The lake will be clearer closer to moon rise. And Mara is awake and alone.
G'raden patted Normonds' cheeks and slid from the comfort of his dragons' embrace. He began unfastening the riding harness. "Is she all right?"
Normond turned his slowly whirling blue eyes toward his beloved life-mate. She still hurts, but not like before. She's standing now and saw our return. And she is very happy.
G'raden placed the riding harness reverently on the hooks just inside the ledge, performing a cursory inspection of each wher-hide strap, buckle and stitch at the same time. "If you want to bathe later, I'll go see her now."
You had better bathe first, my smelly one.
G'raden turned away from the wall with a huge grin. "Look who calls who 'smelly'!" He gently elbowed his dragons' shoulder and then began massaging with the heels of his hands on the up stroke and spread fingers on the down stroke, up and down the length of the long, full shoulder muscles.
Mmmm. Use that spicy smelling sand. I like that one.
"After I tend to you, my dear. Do you have any sore muscles this day?" He shifted his efforts to the muscles along Normonds' neck, up near the back ridges.
Mmmmm. None that the warm sun won't relieve. The large bronze stretched his neck and laid his head on the floor, allowing his rider to work on both sides of his neck at the same time. When G'raden had worked his way up to the top of his head, Normond had to ask, Why are you nervous, G'raden?
The tall rider stood straight up in shock. "Nervous?" He closed his eyes for a heartbeat and then scowled briefly. "Ahh." He moved forward of his life-mates head, still laying on the cool rock floor and looked lovingly at the beautiful glowing blue-green orbs that watched him. "She learned last evening that you and I brought her here from Keroon."
And?
G'raden laughed. "There was some fear in that learning."
Normond lifted his head, tucking his muzzle to the floor, until his eyes were level with his riders'. And that surprises you, my big, tall, strong sweetheart?
The tall, blushing sweetheart laughed again. "I guess it shouldn't, huh?"
A large muzzle gently poked the man in the belly. Wear that lightweight, loose tunic. You don't sweat as much when you wear that one.
The rider caressed the head sticking out of his belly and smiled. "Should I try that new powder I bought at gather?"
Does it have a smell? You don't want it to interfere with the spicy sand. He pushed his rider away with his muzzle. Go now. Before the sun sets.
"All right! All right." He grinned at his dragon as he backed away and then turned toward the necessary room. Before the sun sets. They hadn't even had evening meal, yet, and this being the early part of summer, days were far longer that nights! What a joker you are.
I'll be in the lake, my spicy one. He gave his rider several short quick huffs, before turning and launching from the ledge.
As G'raden lounged in water heated by the volcano below the weyr in a tub carved from the stone of the mountain, he wondered at his dragons' intentions. He tended to reserve use of his 'spicy' scrubbing sand for those times when the green dragons were about to fly, or for evenings of dancing when he hoped to share his bed afterwards with one of the lovely women of the weyr. All the women of the weyr seemed to like his spicy sand, but Mara? Surely, she would have no such interests for some time. Ah, well, it wouldn't hurt to see how she might react, and he would definitely prefer smelling 'spicy' to smelling of charred thread and firestone ash. As he began scrubbing every inch of his body, he wondered how long his current supply would last if started using it every day.
Don't forget to scrub between your toes. Normond seemed to be in a very good mood.
G'raden laughed as he dipped a finger in the sand to follow his dragons' instructions.
- - -
As a tall, bulky Bronze Dragonrider walked toward the healer hall, he didn't notice as several women he had just passed turned around on tip toes to smile at him. He also didn't notice when the men he passed seemed to scowl and/or grunt. But when he entered the hallway, a young woman, quite distracted by a chart in her hands, walked right into him. He grabbed her shoulders to keep her from falling. As she backed away, her jaw dropped as she lowered her chart. She eyed the big man quite provocatively and not all together politely. When she finally reached his deeply blushing face, she smiled at him.
"Are you G'raden?" The big, smiling, red-faced man could only nod. She had embarrassed him, but was not at all apologetic. "Will you be at evening meal?"
The big dragonrider looked toward Maras' room and then shrugged. "Maybe." He kept his eyes on her face, not wishing to give her any false hopes. He knew that women liked him, at least in their beds. It wasn't something he took any measure of pride in – it was just a fact - one that he didn't totally understand, but did greatly appreciate. The young woman began shimmying, trying to force his eyes lower.
When her little dance failed to achieve her goal, she frowned playfully and laid her free hand on his forearm. "I hope you'll be there." She moved past him as if they were in a very tight doorway, rubbing her young, firm, ample breasts against his arm. When he turned with her, she shimmied again, drawing her slender fingers up his arm as she backed away. "I'll be watching for you."
G'raden raised his eyebrows, grinning and fighting to keep his eyes on her lovely young face. When she backed into the wall near the doorway, he laughed and turned back toward his original destination. Normond, what are you up to, my devious one? His dragon didn't respond with words, but G'raden was sure he heard three short huffs.
Still grinning, Bronze Rider G'raden entered the alcove of Maras' sickroom. He was surprised to see her standing at the other end of the room, looking out the window and stretching her arms above her head. He smiled at seeing her up and moving, and then grimaced as he heard, even from this distance, the popping in her arms, shoulders and back. He rapped his knuckles on the cabinet that formed the alcove to announce his presence.
Mara turned a little too quickly, but was pleased with herself for recovering quickly. She was surprised at having a visitor so soon after the Masterhealer left, and worried that he had returned to find her once again 'pushing herself too hard'. She had been angry with him and was ashamed at her rudeness to the very kind, but, in her opinion, overcautious healer. The sight of the tall, handsome bronze rider, who she now knew had rescued her, brought a smile to her face and a touch of fear to her heart, but she wasn't quite sure why. "Bronze Rider G'raden! Come in, please!"
G'raden walked in cautiously, staying near the wall, worried about frightening her. It had barely been a day since he (the dragons, he corrected himself) found her at Keroon being attacked in that old stable. Either she didn't remember what had happened, he thought as he watched her face carefully, or she was one extremely resilient woman.
She doesn't remember.
The big man stopped about halfway into the room. Maras' brow furrowed as she watched him lean back and then, apparently thinking better of putting any weight against the glass cabinets, stand up straight again. "Are you afraid of me?" she asked, half teasing.
G'raden laughed and blushed. "Oh, no. I'm not afraid of you." He hesitated. "But I am afraid that you might be afraid of me."
Smiling through confusion, Mara asked simply, "Why?"
"Do you remember what happened yesterday?"
"I met Weyrleader F'lar, and Weyrwoman Lessa asked me to stay at Benden Weyr. Why?"
G'raden laughed slightly. "That was this morning, Mara." He hesitated again. "What's the last thing you remember before that?"
Mara thought for a few heartbeats, shaking her head. "Unloading a ship at the harbor."
"Do you remember how you got here?"
"You and Normond brought me."
"Do you remember that?"
"No. You told me. What happened, G'raden?"
His eyes widened and seemed to search every corner of the room for words. "You were attacked . . . by a group of men . . . They hurt you."
"I don't remember." She shook her head and turned to the window.
"That's all right."
The sooner she remembers, the sooner she can heal fully.
"You will when you're ready."
She turned back to face him. "Do I want to remember?"
"Likely not. But we can't just forget our past, good or bad." When she smiled slightly, he decided to change the subject somewhat. "You looked angry when you first saw me."
Mara laughed at him. "I wasn't angry at you. The healer had just been here and wants me to sleep some more."
He grinned, having had some experience with this healer. "And you don't want to sleep?"
She shrugged her shoulders and winced. "Sore muscles don't need sleep – they need to be worked. And I feel like every joint in my body's been pulled out of place. Sleep won't help that either."
He smiled and put his hands up in front, miming massage. "I could help work out the soreness."
Her eyes laughed as she said dubiously, "Your arms aren't long enough."
She watched the rider walk slowly toward her and smiled at his caution. As he reached a spot about two paces from her, she took a deep breath through her nose, closed her eyes, and smiled. "Mmm." She opened her eyes. "What's that scent you're wearing?"
He blushed profusely. "Umm, it's a scrubbing sand. Do you like it?"
"Yes, it reminds me of my mother."
His head snapped back as his eyebrows shot up. "Your mother wore this scent?" Normond?
"No, silly! That's a mans' scent! But she did make a bathing sand like that for my father."
"Ohh. Did she teach you how to make it?"
"No. I was six turns when she died. But I always found that scent to be . . . so comforting."
He smiled and raised his hands again, flexing his fingers. "Good. Maybe it will help you relax." She turned her back to him in response.
The tall, muscular, bronze dragonrider massaged the tall, large womans' shoulders gingerly. As he moved out and over to the tops of her arms, he was a bit surprised. "You have a lot of muscle!"
"I'm a dock worker!"
"You were a dock worker." He squeezed her arms and gently pulled up and back to rotate the collar bone. As he pulled her shoulders back, a popping sound came from near her spine. G'raden lifted again to begin another rotation, but she suddenly tensed up.
Her whole body tensed as she tried, at least in her mind, to escape. "What are you doing, Da?" G'raden let loose of her. She turned quickly, ducking as she backed away with both hands planted firmly on his chest, terror and shock masking her face.
"Did I hurt you?" he asked. On seeing the terror change to confusion, he added gently, "It's all right." He placed his hands over hers on his chest. "It's all right, Mara. You're safe here." She shook her head, eyes wide, seeing something other than a dragonrider in front of her. "Tell me what happened, Mara." Then she looked into his eyes. "Talking can make the hurt go away."
Mara stared into his big brown eyes, so full of caring, and then looked down at his large hands covering hers, so comforting, and she began, slowly, to tell what she remembered of the previous day. "We finished unloading the ship, and Da wanted to stop at the ale vendors'." She looked back into his eyes. "I didn't want to go, but he made me. He made me go inside with him." She looked back to his hands over hers. "He started talking real loud to the others, telling them who I was. And then he offered . . . to sell me to the highest bidder." Tears streaming down her face, she looked back into his eyes. "He sold me! How could he do that?"
He fought to control the anger in his voice. "He had no right!" When her elbows lowered, he reached out and pulled her to his chest, where she sobbed. "It's all right." He patted and rubbed her back. "It's done now. And you're safe here." He held her close and placed his chin lightly on top of her head. "It's done." As he looked out the window, he saw dozens of pairs of swirling angry eyes all looking his way.
Uh oh, he directed at Normond.
Lady Lessa should be . . . The bronze dragon stopped when he heard through his rider that she had already arrived. He echoed his rider. Uh oh.
Weyrwoman Lessa stomped across the room in waterlogged socks. The lighter weight clothing she had donned for washing her queen gold Ramoth, left absolutely no doubt, when wet like this, that she was indeed a fully grown woman. Rage oozed from her face up toward G'radens'.
When she opened her mouth to speak, the bronze rider shook his head once, openly, but quietly defying her. He held Mara a little tighter and, facing Lessa, spoke to Mara soothingly. "Your father had no right to sell you. But it's done, and you're safe now."
Lessas' eyes went wide with shock and began to tear up. She raised her chin at the bronze rider, and then reached up and squeezed his arm. Then she patted his arm and left, her anger returning, though for a different reason.
She met the Masterhealer near the alcove and motioned for him to follow her to the hallway. Once outside, the healer began regaling her with the wonderful rapidity this woman was going through all the phases necessary to heal, body and soul, from the trauma she had endured.
Lessa tried to listen, out of politeness if nothing else, but her anger finally overwhelmed her. She cut him off. "Do you have any idea what might have happened if she had remembered while the dragons were in the air fighting thread?"
The Masterhealer smiled at her, understanding her concern. "But she didn't, Weyrwoman! When the dragons took off to fight thread today, she woke up, went to that chair by the window, and went into some sort of . . . trance. She didn't seem to hear any of us. She even slapped our hands away when we touched her. And she really snapped at me when I tried to give her more fellis!"
Lessa needed confirmation. Ramoth, dear.
Yes, Lessa?
Did you hear or feel anything from Mara during fall today?
There was a pause, as if the gold dragon was thinking. No, dear. Nothing. She must have been sleeping.
Lessa relaxed somewhat. Thank you, love.
She refocused on the Masterhealer and smiled apologetically. "I need to talk to her when you feel she's ready."
Masterhealer bowed slightly, smiling. "Of course, Weyrwoman!
- - -
In the bowl of Benden Weyr, Bronze Rider T'men had just finished making the rounds to check the status and condition of his wingleaders' riders and dragons, when he noticed angry dragon eyes all turning toward the healer hall.
Reyoth? What is happening?
The woman, Mara, has remembered some of what happened yesterday.
T'men was not accustomed to his gentle bronze dragon sounding so angry. And why are you all so angry, Reyoth?
Her father sold her to the men who hurt her!
Dragon and now angry rider bespoke each other at the same time. No human has the right to sell another human!
T'men walked slowly toward the weyr entrance. He thought to himself how good it was to be around so many people and dragons who so thoroughly understood that very important basic truth. And he thought to himself that he was going to fit in just fine in Benden Weyr.
Well, should I keep it going, or give it up?
Thanks to all of you who have been reading, and reviewing!