They risk their lives to save us
From Threadfall's deadly threat
The dragons and their riders
We owe them our respect
But tell me, can you name them
The weyrfolk, brave and bold
Weyrleaders and wingleaders
Their mounts of bronze and gold
Stand up and form a circle
Clap hands or stamp your feet
Then, each in turn, we all will learn
And name them to the beat
Early morning, 26.11.34
Ista Weyr
Taking the steps two at a time, Rahnis raced down from her weyr, her riding straps looped over one shoulder and a heavy wherhide jacket draped over the opposite arm. Still fuming at being dictated to by Vallenka, she tried to calm her mind; anger at another weyrwoman was not a good idea at a time like this. She paused at the bottom of the steps to take a deep breath and reached out towards her queen. Hush, dear, don't fret. The eggs will be fine - they won't even know that we're gone.
We shouldn't be going. Not today.
It seemed that Alaireth was feeling in much the same mood. The queen dragon was waiting for her right in the middle of the entrance to the Hatching Grounds, her attention torn between the clutch of eggs nestled securely in the sand behind her, and a similar number of bronze dragons clustered on the Weyr's rim up near the star stones, eagerly waiting for Carth to rouse.
Today, the senior queen would rise to mate.
It happened this way sometimes, that one queen would rise while another still had eggs on the sands. With Ista's five queens, a day like this had been overdue, and would happen more often in the Weyr's future once Alaireth's own two daughters matured fully. Tied to her clutch by maternal bonds almost as strong as those between dragon and rider, the brooding queen would either have to sit out the flight with as much dignity as she could muster, or make the difficult decision to leave the eggs behind for a few hours. Rahnis had only gone through it once before, and she wasn't in a hurry to repeat the experience. As heavily suppressed as Alaireth's emotions had been by her greater concern for her eggs, it hadn't been a comfortable feeling, having part of her mind filled by her dragon's almost violently jealous response to another queen's mating lust. That was hard enough to deal with together at the best of times, and the added burden of broodiness made things even worse.
Reaching Alaireth, Rahnis dropped her jacket and lifted her arms. The dragon dipped her great head to nuzzle affectionately at her shoulder. Mutual concern washed through her, easing at least part of the tension spearing through her mind.
"There, see?" she said. "I'm only ever a thought away, love." And we'll stay if you need us to, she added, letting the truth of the words echo through the bond between them. Vallenka's orders were nothing, not when they conflicted with her dragon's greater need.
No. The dragon emitted a deep exhaled sigh, an almost human expression of resignation, and turned back to her eggs. No, we must go, as the Weyrwoman told you we must. I would prefer to stay with my eggs, but they are old enough now that they do not need so much tending. The hatchlings-to-be do not yet hunger hard, and they will not miss me for a little while. We will have to leave them and Ista when they hatch in any case. Let me finish turning them, and then we shall go, and learn of our new Weyr. I will not feel her that far away from here.
Letting her hand trail back along the gold's body, Rahnis walked with Alaireth back into the depths of the hatching cavern. If she'd had her way, she'd have made her visit to the High Reaches on her own several days ago already. Simply dropping in to their Lower Caverns for a few hours should have been more than sufficient, and would have been easy enough to arrange besides. But Vallenka had insisted, in a tone which brooked no dissent, that there was a right and proper way that these things were done, that Weyrleader Sh'vek would want to make proper use of her presence, and that she, Vallenka, would see to the arrangements for a full day's excursion herself.
"It didn't have to be today, though."
But today is today, and no other.
"True. I think." Rahnis smiled wryly. Sometimes, Alaireth's remarks could be unbelievably cryptic, but there was always a very draconic sense of rightness about them.
I hope I like it there, Alaireth mused, stepping neatly between the widely-scattered eggs until she found the one that she'd been looking for.
"Of course you'll like it. No Carth to order us around, you'll fly and clutch however you please, and Narnoth and M'ton will be there with us too."
The gold dragon dipped her head to test the egg with her tongue, dug at the sand beside it, then rolled it gently over. There. This one always needs more turning than the rest. The little one within is too large for his shell. She lifted her head, and peered across the Sands at her clutch, surveying it one final time. Now we can go. They will join us there, today, Narnoth and M'ton?
M'ton's still in that meeting with N'essen, but Vallenka said she'd see to it that I wasn't late.
Alaireth's eyes whirled in the spiralling mixture of blue and green Rahnis had long ago learned to recognise as amusement. And she is another reason that you and M'ton must go today!
"I know."
Besides, the queen continued, still peering closely at the egg before her, it won't be very long now. No more than three or four more dawns.
It was good that the queen was beginning to accept the imminence of the hatching. For the past sevenday, she'd spent nearly every waking minute looming jealously over the eggs, and barely permitted anyone other than Rahnis to even set foot on the hatching sands. Ever since Vallenka had given them their transfer orders, in fact. Sensing an invitation, Rahnis crouched down beside the egg and rested a hand against it. The surface was firm and ever-so-slightly striated beneath her fingertips. It was warm, too, and not just from the heat of the sands beneath. Lifting her hand, she closed her eyes and traced a line across the swirled patternings of the shell with the back of a fingernail, trying to get a feel for how brittle the egg was. Really, it felt as close to hatching as any egg she'd touched ever got. "They change so fast...are you sure it'll be so long?"
They are content. Even this one does not hunger very much, and does not yet know the need he will hatch with. That will change, but not so fast. I know that now.
"I wonder what it will hatch?" Rahnis said quietly, straightening again. "What sort of rider this one will Impress, what sort of a life they'll have together here at Ista. We likely won't see them again until they're grown, if then." Truth be told, neither she nor Alaireth had had much to do with the raising of the young dragons Alaireth had clutched over the turns, but the prospect of leaving the Weyr had left her feeling uneasy, unsettled.
They will find their answers in each other, as do we. Do not be afraid, my heart.
Feeling the comforting presence of the gold's mind wrapped around her own, Rahnis realised that the dragon was right about her apprehension. "I am, aren't I? Worrying over our own future. It's just today, I feel so, so..."
I feel it too, and I do not understand it either. Perhaps it is just Carth. I think I shall try to sleep, later. The gold dragon's head suddenly whipped around to stare back towards the Weyrbowl.
What is it? Rahnis asked. Is it M'ton? Narnoth?
Carth!
"Carth? Already?" Rahnis echoed.
She wakes. She won't wait much longer.
Sear and scorch the woman! Vallenka would see they weren't late, would she? When Carth was on the verge of rising, and, most infuriatingly of all, M'ton was still stuck in the council chamber with Weyrleader N'essen and the other Wingleaders. Faranth knew, N'essen could have easily postponed the meeting; Trioth hadn't had to face a serious challenge for Carth in turns. Rahnis gave a low laugh. Well, Carth rising now would ensure that she and and Alaireth weren't late for their visit in the north, if nothing else. At this hour in the northwest, they'd probably still be breakfasting. But there wasn't anything else she could do now other than leave. Storming into the council chambers to haul M'ton out might have been an option if she'd thought to act on it sooner, but instead, she'd trusted the Weyrwoman. And asking Alaireth to make a demand on her behalf by touching the mind of either the senior queen or N'essen's increasingly randy bronze was quite unthinkable. Rahnis stood on her tiptoes to reach up to her dragon's head, and gently stroked her. She won't take your eggs, and you've always had your pick of the bronzes. But we have to go.
I know.
The whirling of the gold's eyes steadied a little. She took a few steps clear of her clutch and lowered her body to the ground, allowing Rahnis to sling the first of the heavy straps over her neck. It was stiff with tension. Rahnis took a deep breath, and tried to steady her own nerves. This was no time to fumble with buckles! That was one good thing about the High Reaches, she supposed. Fewer queens – and without the bright sun and heat of Ista, a lot more warning when they were about to rise.
With all the buckles in place, Rahnis slapped her dragon lightly on the neck, and the dragon held out a foreleg to help her to mount. As she settled into place, Alaireth twisted her head back to look at her eggs one last time.
But we're leaving them.
Our eggs aren't going anywhere, and Narnoth will be following us soon. If he could get away in time. If. Rahnis blinked at the bright morning sunlight as they left the Hatching Cavern, and did her best to scan the Weyr rim, trying to pick Narnoth out from the gathered dragons. She finally spotted him amongst a cluster of other bronzes high up near the Starstones. Was M'ton still in the council chambers with the other wingleaders? He had to be, because none of the handful of bronzes currently blooding held any rank. It wouldn't be long now though.
"Dammit, N'essen, what could possibly be so important right now?" Rahnis looked back down the length of Alaireth's tail towards the stairs that ran up from the bowl to the Weyrleaders' quarters, hoping to see some sign of movement, anyone, even if it wasn't M'ton.
Perhaps she could wait another minute, at least until...oh.
A series of shadows passed across the ground, racing towards the milling herd of livestock in the distance. Too late; they had to leave. Biting her lower lip, she mentally hauled Alaireth's attention back from the eager bronzes and told her it was time to go.
Obedient to her rider's wishes, Alaireth pulled in a deep lungful of air, and sprang enthusiastically into the air. The gold quickly gained altitude, while Rahnis visualised the seven snow-covered peaks of High Reaches Weyr in her mind, beneath a clear blue sky. She hadn't been there in so long...but there'd been no major changes, and there was neither the time nor the need to check with the watch dragon for a more precise visual, beyond the weather report Vallenka had already given her.
I know where we're going, Alaireth confirmed as she carried them between.
This close to Turn's End, the northern Weyr was just as freezing as she'd expected, and the open air felt scarcely any warmer than the chill of between on Rahnis' arms, even covered by her heaviest shirt – especially as she'd left her jacket on the ground next to the Hatching Cavern in her haste to depart.
Idiot, idiot woman! she cursed herself. Well, there was no going back now, and it wouldn't be fair on Alaireth to so much as think about it. Sighing softly, she felt for her dragon's mind, to see how she was doing and to ask if she'd bespoken the High Reaches' watch dragon yet. Slowly but surely, Alaireth's tension and frustration was trickling away. It had been too long since they'd flown together, but even a short flight like this would help to lift the queen's spirits. They know we're here?
Spilling the air from her wings Alaireth banked effortlessly into a spiral, and the peaks of the Weyr's spindles hoved into view. Snow covered the Starstones, and a bronze dragon stood on the ledge beside them, idly scratching at his flank with one of his hind legs while his rider scooped out handfuls of grit from a sack a little way down the path. As Alaireth's glide brought them closer, the bronzerider raised his head, and Rahnis recognised him.
F'ren.
Trath welcomes us to the Weyr. His rider says he might have known. I'm not sure I understand.
Rahnis wasn't entirely certain she understood either. She hadn't known she'd be coming to the High Reaches today specifically until the Weyrwoman had broken the news to her at their morning briefing. They'd have had even less warning up here, and if anyone other than Sh'vek had been forewarned of her arrival she'd have expected the morning's watch-pair to have been amongst them. But if they hadn't been told, why was F'ren acting like he should have guessed – guessed something he couldn't possibly have known anyway? And why was she confusing herself, tying her mind in knots over something like this? I don't know, and I'm not feeling hugely curious right now either. He's perhaps not the best...
Oh. Politics?
Politics. A dull ache in Rahnis's neck abruptly made her realise that she'd been twisting her head up and almost backwards to keep the man in view. She rubbed at the muscles, wincing as the air rushing past her dragon found the opening of her sleeve, sending freezing air the length of her arm.
Ormaith sends a greeting, and welcomes us too, Alaireth told her as they closed with the ground. Minute adjustments to the trim of her wings brought them down on a patch of ground remarkably free of either snow or the sheen of ice, not too far from the entrance to the Lower Caverns.
Thank you, dear. Did he say where we were to go?
That had been one instruction Vallenka hadn't passed on in advance. Rahnis slid down from Alaireth's neck, and looked around the bowl. The large bronze on the senior queen's ledge was easily identifiable as Ormaith. Weyrlings were drilling further down the bowl, a gang of young lads from the Lower Caverns were breaking up and grading firestone ready for bagging, and the usual cluster of dragons were bathing by the lake. Dragons occupied nearly every ledge on the north side of the bowl; the Weyr was making the best of the day's scant hours of sunshine.
"Weyrwoman Rahnis?"
The man who'd spoken had approached from Alaireth's far side, and it was another few seconds before he walked into view. He had fair, curly hair and was young enough that he couldn't have been long out of weyrlinghood, but he wore the knots of a full dragonrider, and a bronzerider at that. His manner was confident enough, still a good few turns away from becoming the stereotypical swagger of his peers, but his honest features were genuinely welcome; almost as much as the heavy coat that he was holding out towards her.
"Yes, that's me. Is that...?"
"For you? Yeah, Wingsecond F'ren said you needed one."
"Did he?" A gust of wind lifted the hem of her shirt, and Rahnis decided that, whatever its provenance, she needed that coat. "Would you ask Trath to thank him for me please, Alaireth," she said, and quickly pulled the garment on. It was only a little on the large side for her – it might have been a good fit if she'd been wearing a bulky knit like most High Reachers favoured – and lined with thick, soft fleece. "And thanks to you, too...?"
"O'reb. Mannifeth's rider."
"O'reb. Thank you. Would you happen to know where I'm meant to go? Weyrleader Sh'vek's expecting me, but didn't specify where."
The young man shrugged and smiled apologetically. "Didn't he?" He looked back over his shoulder up at the Starstones, then back at her face. "Council chamber, probably. I could escort you there, if you'd like?"
Now, was he just being helpful, or helping someone else? Rahnis shook her head. "No, I shouldn't keep you from your duties, bronzerider."
O'reb gave her a sharp salute. "'S'always nice to meet someone new. Good luck!"
Rahnis nodded, turned back to Alaireth, and began loosening her straps. Good luck? What was she getting herself into here?
Politics.
Alaireth?
I've asked Ormaith. He says you are to go up to the council room. Sh'vek will meet you there soon. And Trath tells me the coat is yours, and that F'ren apologises about it not being finished yet.
He had it made?
Apparently.
Rahnis grimaced, wondering what in Faranth's name the man meant by such an extravagant gesture. Well, it was easy enough to set him straight on where he stood. Ask Trath to tell him that if M'ton's coat fits as well as mine, it will be a very welcome gift indeed.
Alaireth's mind brightened with glee. Done.
What about you? Where will you go while I'm inside?
I'm offered the use of one of the queens' ledges, but I think I shall head up to the ridge. I can watch things better from up there, and the sun will be pleasant if I decide to doze.
Yes, that seemed like a good idea. Gossiping with the other dragons on the ridge would keep Alaireth's mind off Narnoth's absence at least, though Rahnis kept that last thought firmly to herself before burying it as well as she could. She needed to do that herself: keep her mind off things. She had more than enough to concern herself with here, after all. In a new Weyr, with unfamiliar people, she'd need to tread carefully until she got to know people better – especially where some people were concerned. Picking her way over the few icy patches on her route, Rahnis approached the stairs up to the Weyrleaders' weyr and the council rooms. At least the steps were well covered with rough salt, giving a firm footing. She wondered what the conditions would be like in another month's time. Colder, no doubt. Even thinking of the depth of the High Reaches winters made her shiver.
Ormaith was watching as she crested the edge of the queen's ledge, his eyes whirling inscrutably. The bronze was in fine shape despite his age, longer in the wing than Narnoth and more heavily muscled. Probably not so agile in the air, Rahnis decided as she walked past and into the inner weyr. Kiath was inside, sound asleep, stretched out to her full length along her couch. Not wanting to wake the queen, Rahnis stepped softly towards the glow-lit corridor to the council chamber.
She'd expected the council chamber to be empty, but as she approached, Rahnis was surprised to hear the sound of several low-voiced conversations emanating from within. The door was closed, and she decided to knock rather than walking straight in. The voices fell silent, except for one of the deepest, which immediately invited her in. Rahnis lifted up the latch on the door, and let it swing open towards her. She took a step back, moving out of the way of the door, then entered the crowded room.
"You must be Rahnis," said the dark-skinned rider at the far end of the table; Wingleader C'nir, she identified, Sh'vek's second-in-command. By his voice, he was the same man who'd invited her in.
"And you must be C'nir," she replied, immediately feeling a little foolish for pointing out the obvious. She quickly scanned the other faces and knots in the room. Six Wingleaders in total, and as many Wingseconds. The oldest Wingleader had to be Ev'les and the youngest S'kloss, but the rest of the bronzeriders – and they were, all, bronzeriders – were harder to place. Quite the welcoming committee, really.
"Please, have a seat." C'nir gestured to a chair to his left, one of the customary spaces reserved for a junior queenrider. "Is Wingleader M'ton not with you?"
"No. He, ah...couldn't be spared."
"Pah!" White-haired Ev'les rocked back in his chair. "He'd better make up for it soon. I'm not leaving my Wing in the hands of a complete stranger."
C'nir pursed his lips and gave a slight shake to his head. "Well, I'm sure you'll find us good company in his absence."
She walked around the table, trying to ignore the watching eyes following her every move. Oh, she'd expected to be introduced to most of these riders later, just not all at once, and certainly not without M'ton by her side. Six months from now... Well, even a plain woman became attractive when her queen rose to mate. Before then, even. Damn you, N'essen, she thought to herself as C'nir helped her into her chair, the simple touch sending a wash of heat through her body. And damn you too, Vallenka. She had a horrid suspicion that she was blushing, though if there was any colour in her cheeks, she could easily blame the cold air outside in the bowl. Still, you couldn't ignore the world just because it displeased you. Rahnis smiled at the mob, graciously, she hoped, and turned back to C'nir.
"I hope I'm not interrupting anything, Wingleader."
"A new weyrwoman is never an interruption," someone said from the opposite end of the table. Rahnis didn't see who it was; she was still watching C'nir, who'd frowned rather interestingly at the speaker. With all the ranking bronzeriders gathered together – well, almost all of them – she was pretty sure they were assembled for more reason than herself alone. She looked round, wondering who had spoken, and saw the door open again.
"Everyone here? Good." The Weyrleader walked briskly into the room, carrying a roll of hides under one arm. He was followed by a man Rahnis recognised as M'arsen, one of Sh'vek's wingseconds. They were both tall men, easily taller than M'ton, but the similarities between them ended there. Where Sh'vek was broad and imposing with a full head of greying brown hair, M'arsen was wiry, with a receding hairline and a thin, expressive face which currently held a look of bored disinterest. Sh'vek, well, she could guess little of his mood from his impassive patrician features – the easy charm he'd shown her in Ista was utterly absent – but she'd have expected nothing less from any relative of Vallenka. No, what was more interesting was the way the whole atmosphere of the room had changed as he walked in. The air of idle amusement that had greeted her own arrival had vanished, replaced by rapt attention. She'd seen Vallenka have that effect on the Lower Caverns workers once or twice, but never Weyrleader N'essen. It was really quite impressive. Sh'vek caught her eye as she looked up at him again, his lips twitching into an almost-smile. She'd thought she was feeling out of her depth before, but now...
Sh'vek dropped the hides onto the table, sat down in the last empty chair on C'nir's right, then reached across to clasp her hand. As unwelcome as the touch was in her overcharged state, pulling away would have been awkward. The Weyrleader's grip was firmly secure, but not hard enough that he'd miss the slight trembling in her fingers, and she forced herself to squeeze back.
"Welcome to the High Reaches. My apologies for not greeting you properly earlier, but we've much work to be done today."
"No, that's fine, I wouldn't want to impose..."
Sh'vek patted her hand and smiled condescendingly, then leaned back into his chair. "No imposition at all, dear girl. Has C'nir done the introductions yet?"
"Not yet."
"Well, as reliable as they are, my bronzeriders are rarely quite this prompt, so I'm sure they're all rather keen to meet you. And M'ton, of course," he added with barely a pause, "though Ormaith tells me he won't be joining us today. Pity, I had rather a lot to discuss with him." He stared at her thoughtfully for a few seconds longer, then looked round to his right. "M'arsen and C'nir you already know, I believe."
"Of course." Glad of the opportunity to look at someone else, she smiled and nodded at the brown Wingsecond, then at each of the other riders in turn as they were introduced. She tried to fix the names and wings in her head as they went round the table, and then settled for just the names. S'kloss, P'vash, M'gan, Ev'les, D'barn, J'garray, A'zad...she decided to give up on memorising the Wingseconds after A'zad; she'd pick them up soon enough when she moved north. G'dil was one of the other Wingleaders she already knew, having seen him accompanying weyrwoman Delene at the last Ruathan Gather, and on several other occasions before then. The last one, seated to her left, was F'ass. He shook her hand weakly, and seemed to be having difficulty meeting her eyes.
"Well then, weyrwoman Rahnis."
She turned back to Sh'vek's side of the table. He was picking at the knotted cord that held the roll of hides together, without much success.
"I'd like to leave the explanation of your duties until a little later, if you don't mind," he continued. "I thought it might be best if you see a little more of the place first, meet a few more people before then. In the meanwhile, your fingers are smaller than mine and no doubt more used to this job. Would you mind?" Without waiting for a reply, he pushed the hides in her direction.
"Not at all." Rahnis lifted her hands from her lap, and halted the rolling bundle in its tracks. The knot was indeed tight and rather awkward to unpick, but as he'd suggested, it didn't take her long to manage the job, even watched as she was the whole while. Dropping the tie onto the table, she smoothed the hides flat. They were reluctant to unroll on their own, and she guessed they dated from the previous Pass at the very least. Before she could start reading, C'nir pulled them away from her and passed them back to Sh'vek.
"Description of the Tillek Threadfalls from the last two passes," the Weyrleader said in explanation, and began leafing through the hides. "I'm sure M'ton would have found it useful, but the strategies employed by the upper wings might be a little..."
"Above her?" S'kloss suggested with a wide grin.
Sh'vek shook his head, plainly unamused by the younger man's jest. "I doubt that. Vallenka's rather complimentary about her wits...which is more than I can say for some of the rest of you." He turned his attention back to Rahnis, and smiled charmingly at her. It was almost enough to make up for the fact that he hadn't let her answer for herself. "Stay if you wish," he continued. "I'm sure your opinion might be useful. Though I think you'd prefer the grand tour, yes?"
"Well." Rahnis leaned back in her chair, and tried to gather her thoughts. For some reason, she simply wasn't concentrating at all well today...nor could she decide whether she was being praised or openly mocked – not that Sh'vek knew her well enough to do either one! And was he disappointed by M'ton's absence, or being disparaging of it? Alaireth, are you all right out there?
Perfectly comfortable. Is there a problem?
She shrugged mentally. So, it wasn't Alaireth's worries but her own. And over what? Warm smiles, kind words, and her own paranoia? Whatever it was, even if it was nothing at all, until she'd made sense of things in her own head she wasn't going to be comfortable. "I'll take the tour, I think, Weyrleader," she said, in spite of feeling pushed into doing so. Hopefully the headwoman would make better company.
"Excellent," Sh'vek drawled. "M'arsen will show you around."
Concealing her disappointment as well as she could, Rahnis pushed her chair back and stood up. The brown Wingsecond did the same, and gestured for her to precede him out of the room. She looked back, briefly, as she left.
They were still watching her. All of them.
She pulled her new coat closer to her body, and tried not to shiver.
M'arsen's tour of the Weyr filled the best part of two hours, and was exceedingly thorough. The man's conversation was somewhat stilted, but she soon figured out that he could be readily steered into one stock lecture or another. Rahnis was generally content to listen and observe, filing away the key differences between the High Reaches and Ista as they came up, and prompting the brownrider with further questions whenever his latest spiel had run its course. Truth be told, one Weyr was much like any other, and there were very few surprises for her along the way. The ground level weyrs were all fairly typical, the weyrlings comfortably housed in the usual large, slate-roofed stone hall, and there were a number of weyrfolk engaged in different crafts or chores around the edge of the bowl. The hatching cavern was warm and spacious, the Weyr's livestock was healthy, with the day's culls clearly marked with splashes of yellow paint, and the lake was large, cold, and well supplied with ice-breaking equipment and drainage sluices. The Weyr's laundry was set in a cavern close to the lake, beside several other heated rooms which were apparently reserved for steam-bathing, whatever that was. She'd asked M'arsen about that, but his answer of 'Bathing, with steam' and a look that clearly questioned her intelligence didn't leave her inclined to press him any further on the subject. Short of interrupting the weyrfolk currently making use of those facilities, she'd have to stay ignorant of the details until she had the chance to ask someone else.
After the lake, they'd crossed the bowl back towards the Lower Caverns, while M'arsen explained which parts of the Weyrbowl were used by wings and weyrlings for drills, where the Weyr assembled before Threadfall, and where the healers set up their supplies ready to treat the injured. Those details were good to know, and the sooner she had them fixed in her mind, the better. They'd be fighting Thread from the High Reaches within the sevenday, and the enormity of what she had yet to learn about this Weyr's responsibilities was a fact that she was far too well aware of. Learning the geography would come with time, and she and Alaireth wouldn't be bearing the brunt of Threadfall on their own – but the Weyr would be relying on them to get the most seriously injured dragonpairs safely home, and treated fast. Rahnis made a mental note to speak to the dragonhealers at the earliest opportunity – assuming M'arsen's tour ever finished.
Unlike at Ista Weyr, there was only one main entrance into the Lower Caverns, but there was also a long stone building running alongside the crater wall. This housed the Weyr's kitchen and dining area and the living quarters for many of the staff, while the cavern-proper held the larger communal living area, storage rooms, the headwoman's offices, the teaching rooms and a number of smaller sleeping areas for families. Just as in Ista, the Lower Caverns were thick with activity. It all seemed rather chaotic, but she supposed that would be true from an outsider's perspective wherever you were. The headwoman would surely shed light on how everything worked, but instead of introducing her to whichever of the women was actually in charge, M'arsen led her back out into the bowl again, and pointed out the queens' weyrs.
"There. Kiath's weyr has the passage that leads on to the hatching ground, and Delene and Linnebith are accommodated on the other side of it. You can have your pick of one of the other three. C'nir and M'gan are making use of the two to the left at present, but if you prefer one of theirs rather than the unoccupied one, that's your prerogative as a queenrider. They won't complain."
"I'd like to look around them, if possible. Will they mind that?"
M'arsen grunted. "Shouldn't have thought so. Tough luck for them if they do."
They climbed back up to Kiath's ledge, and then up a second flight of stairs to inspect the empty weyr first of all. A slanted opening divided the dragonweyr from the broad outside ledge, following the softer strata of the rock. The dragonweyr was heated by hypocaust, M'arsen informed her, sparing the need for the braziers used in the upper weyrs – though he assured her she could still have one of those for her own quarters if she found them too cold in winter time. The inner room was spacious, but lacked the shuttered exterior window she had back at Ista; she didn't think that would be a disadvantage so far north. M'gan's weyr was almost identical to the empty one in design, while C'nir's was entered through a short but slightly curved tunnel. Aside from that there was little to choose between them on the inside.
"Well, weyrwoman?"
Was M'arsen expecting her to decide there and then? "Can we go back to the empty one again? I'll call Alaireth down to try it out. No sense asking anyone to move if she's comfortable there, and the ledge and dragonweyr there seemed a little bigger than the others."
"Ah, for your weyrmate's dragon?"
"Narnoth, yes."
On second inspection, with Alaireth present as well for scale, Rahnis was pleasantly surprised. This weyr was much bigger than their current accommodations at Ista. Why was it unoccupied though? Plumbing, perhaps? Or all the steps? She pushed herself away from the wall, meaning to inspect the flow of water in the bathing room while Alaireth was still settled comfortably on the heated couch, but before she'd taken more than a couple of steps she sensed that the gold dragon had pulled herself to her feet. Rahnis followed Alaireth out of the weyr and started down the stairs towards where M'arsen was waiting, while the dragon made the short glide past the Weyr's Hatching Cavern to the three other queens' weyrs.
Baxuth's weyr is better, Alaireth explained. These aren't the usual winds today, and that other one will be draughty.
It will?
Yes, Alaireth confirmed, her mental tone smug. I've spoken to Baxuth, and he agrees that his is best. Don't worry about making them move out; Baxuth says his rider won't mind at all. He seems to be quite pleased that I like it.
From the darkness of Kiath's weyr, a voice called out. "I'm sure he is."
Rahnis froze on the spot, and peered back over her shoulder towards Kiath's ledge. Even knowing who it had to be – who else could have overheard her conversation with Alaireth? – didn't make the intrusion any more welcome.
"Baxuth is such a flirt," Delene continued as she emerged onto the ledge, and hurried down the stairs. "Makes up for M'gan; he thinks so much of himself that he doesn't even try." She pointedly ignored Rahnis as she passed, but paused to speak briefly with M'arsen at the foot of the stairs. "Weyrleader Sh'vek is with her. She's expected. Linnebith needs me now, but I may be able to spare some time for her later. Probably not, though. Let Egritte deal with her." She walked away without a backward glance, even when the brownrider called out her name.
Perturbed by her encounter with the other weyrwoman, Rahnis touched Alaireth's mind, sensing how tightly the dragon was now holding her thoughts. Are you okay?
That was most strange, Rahnis. She heard me, but when I tried to speak to her alone, she closed herself, and became as deaf to me as almost anyone. She is the other weyrwoman?
Yes.
Then I shall introduce myself to Linnebith. Perhaps I shall like her better than her rider.
"I apologise for Delene, weyrwoman Rahnis," M'arsen said, climbing the steps towards her. "She's under a great deal of pressure right now, and is certainly most obliged to you for transferring to our Weyr."
It hadn't sounded that way. "I'll take your word for it then. She mentioned the Weyrleader?"
"Mmm. He's ready to speak to you now. I'll take you through."
Leaving Alaireth to build bridges with the other queen, she let M'arsen lead her back into the Weyrleaders' quarters again. The queen dragon was awake on her couch, and Rahnis greeted her out of polite habit while M'arsen knocked on the inner door.
"Good morning to you, Kiath."
My thanks.
The queen's mental voice was rich and warm, easing the surprise of hearing it in the first place. Rahnis quickly smiled back at her, then followed M'arsen in to the inner weyr. The room was well furnished and softly lit by glows. The Weyrwoman lay asleep – or perhaps unconscious – in her bed, and a healer was changing the bandages on her head. It had been a little over a month since the fateful Threadfall, but the Weyrwoman's injury looked more severe than Rahnis had imagined. Half her tightly-curled dark hair had been shaved away, and two lines of stitches tracked across one side of her scalp. The Weyrleader was seated beside her, holding one of her hands. He looked around as she came in.
"Come in, Rahnis. M'arsen, before you go, take her coat, would you? Here, sit down."
Rahnis slipped off her coat and handed it to M'arsen, and took the offered chair beside Sh'vek. The wooden seat was still warm from where Delene had been sitting in it. "How is she doing?"
"It's not as bad as it looks. The injury has healed well, and Tarkan here and Master Healer Rynder tell me that there's no need for further surgery."
"And she'll recover fully?"
"So I'm told. She's being weaned off the fellis and the other drugs gradually. Her head pains have eased at last, and she's improving more and more every day... It'll take time though, and she has a long way to go."
The bearded healer finished his work, and straightened up. "I should see to my other patients now, Weyrleader."
"Do that." He fell silent until the other man had left. "It kills me, seeing her lying here like this, but it won't be forever – and I certainly don't want her pushing herself too hard. Delene does her best, but..." Sh'vek's voice trailed off into a sigh, and he gazed tenderly at the Weyrwoman. "We've been weyrmates since the beginning. Much like you and M'ton, from what I hear."
The Weyrleader's face was grave, finally showing the full weight of his fifty-odd turns. The confidence she'd seen earlier was gone, and he seemed burdened by his cares. He and Maenida had led the High Reaches together for almost two decades, Rahnis reminded herself, and losing her help and companionship must have come as a heavy blow to him. "How can I help?"
Sh'vek looked away blankly across the room. "How would you sum yourself up, as a weyrwoman?"
"Well. I know how to do my duties, I think. That, or Vallenka has finally given up on me as a lost cause." Her joke fell flat, and before the silence could grow awkward she filled it with more details. "I'm not much of a dragonhealer, but we fight Thread well, I can manage the basics of servicing my own 'thrower, and we manage as good an ambulance service as any." She winced as a shadow crossed Sh'vek's face, abruptly remembering that that had been what Maenida had been doing at the time of her collapse, and swiftly continued. "The rest of it is caring for Alaireth, logistics, and liaising with others. Alaireth's in good health, and she clutches well, given the chance. Vallenka had me concentrating on the record-keeping and let Serreni deputise for her more regularly than I ever did, but I know how it works, and I've not offended a Lord Holder yet. I've also learned a lot from the records about how to deal with changing circumstances."
Sh'vek raised his eyebrows. "Ah, you heard about our last tithe then?"
Rahnis didn't answer, deciding that an answer in the affirmative would probably not be the wisest option.
"And you do know how not to offend. When you choose." He softened the reprimand with a brief smile. "Maenida was – is – a superb Weyrwoman. Got everything done before I even knew it needed doing, let me get on with the real work of protecting Pern. And Kiath is the beating heart of the Weyr. The other dragons look up to her, as they should, and she in turn... she supports them in their need, and they in hers. We had a difficult time, at the start, but with Ormaith's support and Linnebith and Delene – you know she can hear other dragons?"
"Mmm."
"Between us, we're there for Kiath when Maenida is too weak, or unconscious. And that's part of why I chose you, specifically."
"Oh?"
"I think you have just the experience this Weyr needs. Oh, I'm not talking about the training and willingness to run the place effectively as a junior pair, though you fit that well enough – or the fact that Alaireth can throw the large clutches we'll be needing for a good few Turns to come. No. You've demonstrated that you have the strength of mind to control your dragon, when you need to. Not everyone can deny themselves like that."
A pang of regret surged through her. Carth and Vallenka had never had to hold themselves back. No, it was still too soon to let herself think of Ista. "Weyrwoman Vallenka made it very clear what my options were right from the start. She doesn't approve of weyrmating in junior pairs, nor of 'burdening the Weyr through self-indulgence'."
"Nor do I, in principle...but we can discuss that another time. What I need to know now is this: how good are you and Alaireth at bolstering the minds of injured dragons? Or soothing those with injured riders?"
The purpose behind his questioning clarified in her mind. She sucked a hastily indrawn breath through her teeth. "Kiath?"
Sh'vek nodded. "Yes. It won't just be Thread injuries you need to worry about. As I said, things have improved greatly, but there's some way to go yet. Delene bears the brunt of it, but her sensitivity is too great at times, and Ormaith and I cannot always be spared. Can you and Alaireth stand firm against a senior queen in distress? Vallenka tells me you're a stubborn young woman."
Rahnis met his challenging look with one of her own. "We can hold our own against Carth. If we choose."
Sh'vek laughed. "Good. I doubt you've been tested quite that far in the past, but Vallenka assured me that you'd suit our needs. And it's important to me – and the Weyr – that you're as confident in your abilities as they merit. So. Your duties in this Weyr. Kiath remains here during Threadfall, and Delene and Linnebith stay with them, except when they're needed for rescues. You and Alaireth will fight Thread as usual, but you will also supervise the post-fall sweeps and eradication of burrows."
"Fair enough."
"I appreciate that it will take some time for you to learn our local geography properly. How would you like to proceed there?"
That question at least had an obvious answer. "Could your Weyrlingmaster drill on recognition points with me?"
"I'll see that he does. Better than that, you'll drill with Ormaith and me as well."
It surprised Rahnis that the Weyrleader could spare the time for such a basic task. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet," he warned. "You won't find me an easy taskmaster. What else?"
"I'll want to take Alaireth out flying straight as often as possible. If nothing else, we need to rebuild our stamina after spending the last few months on the Sands and, as you say, we don't know the geography yet. I'd also like us to join the dragons that fly your pre-fall sweeps. It'd help a lot, to have it fresh in our minds – where the tricky thermals are, which zones have groundcrews in place, where a burrow can be easily missed."
Sh'vek nodded thoughtfully, stroking his chin. "You'd also have the chance to get to know our Weyr's riders better, too. How...efficient."
If he thought she had any motive other than efficiency, Rahnis wasn't willing to let him linger on the idea. "Yes, that too. Would you be able to supply me with Wing lists? And for the Lower Caverns staff as well?" The latter were arguably more important for her daily duties anyway.
"The first, yes. I'll send them to Ista with a Weyrling tomorrow. Ask Egritte for the second."
Egritte, the new headwoman...whom Rahnis had yet to meet. Gossip and Vallenka between them had given her a very poor impression of the woman, but was Sh'vek really the type of Weyrleader who would tolerate an incompetent in that role, even if Lower Caverns appointments were outside his traditional remit? He'd already as much as implied that the bulk of the organisational work would fall onto her own shoulders; what role would Egritte play in that context? "Egritte, yes. I'm looking forward to meeting her."
"Of course you are. I'll be sending you down to her offices next. But before you go, you need to understand a few things first." The Weyrleader leaned back in his chair, and looked at her steadily, almost as if he was making sure she was sufficiently attentive.
"Go on."
"Delene. She and Linnebith are the acting senior pair until Maenida is back on her feet again."
Rahnis nodded, leaving the thought of what might happen if Maenida's condition worsened safely unspoken. If it happened, it would happen soon, and Linnebith would inevitably be the next queen to rise under those circumstances.
Satisfied with her silent assent, the Weyrleader continued. "Delene will continue to act as the public face of the Weyr, and liaise with the Holds and Crafthalls. If there are any particulars that you desire, you'll pay for them in marks. We give a generous allowance to our weyrwomen and Wingleaders. Visit as you will, but steer clear of politicking for now. Delene will also maintain responsibility for Lower Caverns appointments. You will support her in that, visibly and fully. Advise her – and Headwoman Egritte – as you feel you must, but I'll warn you now, their decisions, not yours, are final. I doubt your opinion of Egritte will prove to be much better than my own, but even that shouldn't be an obstacle to the three of you getting this Weyr running smoothly again."
Sh'vek had phrased his restrictions reasonably enough, but Rahnis couldn't see how they could work in her own interests in any way at all, and wasn't convinced that they were any better for the Weyr at large. She had been about to ask whether a few staffing changes might not solve half the Weyr's problems there and then, but he caught the doubtful look in her eyes, and gave a short, bitter laugh.
"You work your way well enough around my sister, or so I'm reliably informed. I do not want to hear of any dissension. This Weyr has borne far too much instability over the last few sevendays, and I will not see it continue. I expect nothing less than perfection, Rahnis." He looked down at the weyrwoman, lying deathly still on the bed. "I owe it to Maenida."
As much as he reminded her of Vallenka, and in spite of what she'd heard of him in the past from F'ren, the love and concern he bore for his weyrmate – and their joint home – were obvious. And he knew this Weyr, where she herself did not. Was that enough reason to trust him in this?
"Will you do that?" Sh'vek asked. "For all of us?"
The look he gave her was intent, demanding. He was offering her the biggest challenge of her life but, for whatever reason, he seemed absolutely certain of her ability to meet it.
"I will."
Closing the door of the Headwoman's office – if that could possibly be the right word – firmly behind her, Rahnis took a deep breath and counted to ten.
Then she extended her count to fifty.
By the time she reached sixty, she'd already received odd looks from two passing weyrfolk, and reached the conclusion that however far she counted she wouldn't feel any less aggravated where she was. Whatever the source of the Weyrleader's certainty, it was proving very elusive to find for herself. Besides, Egritte herself might find some reason to leave her...room, and she didn't trust herself to stay tactful if that happened.
No, it was time to go. Home. Not that Ista would be home for her for very much longer.
Alaireth?
Mmm...?
The dragon's mind was soft, and still held echoes of sleep and dreams. Rahnis felt a little bad for waking her, but they'd both rest better back in Ista, back in the warm sun with Narnoth and M'ton.
Would you tell Ormaith we'll be leaving soon? I'm just going to use the washrooms quickly, but then I'd like to go home.
Alaireth's mental touch wrapped her in concern. The Headwoman?
The Headwoman. Be glad you slept through it!
Half way back to the main cavern, Rahnis took the side tunnel leading to the nearest facilities. As small as they were, she knew she could find the privacy she needed to compose herself. Inside, she went straight to the washstand set along the side wall. Ignoring the soapsand, which was far too heavily scented with sweetgrass for her liking, Rahnis emptied the remains of the waiting jug of cold water into the basin, and splashed a few handfuls onto her face. Deep breaths, and calm thoughts. That was what she needed. And oh, thank Faranth that she wouldn't be coming here on her own!
"Rahnis?"
She whirled round at the sound of the man speaking her name, a hand to her lips to stifle her gasp of shock. She hadn't even heard the door open! "F'ren. How did you find me here? And what do you want?"
"Trath asked Alaireth where you were, of course." He leaned back out through the doorway and looked both ways down the corridor, as if to check if there were any witnesses, before closing the door again and pulling a bolt across. Satisfied with his precautions, he strode towards her and gently took hold of her arms.
If he thought he could...! Rahnis half-heartedly pulled away from him, but she could tell from the look on his face that her initial impression had been wrong, that he was serious about something. "What do you want?" she repeated, unconsciously lowering the volume of her voice.
He seemed uncertain of exactly what to say. "Before you leave, you should know..."
"Know what, F'ren?"
"There's just been a change in the Istan leadership."
This was important, this meant that Vallenka...that N'essen hadn't...but why did she need to be warned of that news? Oh. Oh, no. Rahnis slumped backwards against the wall, dry-mouthed, cursing the slowness of her wits. "What has she done?" she asked needlessly, praying that she was wrong, that Narnoth hadn't...
"I'm sorry," F'ren said simply. He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. "I wondered, when I saw you arrive alone today. Sh'vek's just told me, a few minutes ago. I'm a Wingleader again." He sighed, then started chuckling softly. "You should be happy for M'ton. Sh'vek really outdid himself this time."
"No. Not M'ton." He hadn't said it, couldn't mean it...could he? Rahnis hugged her arms to her chest, and shook her head, willing herself to ignore the implications for just a little longer.
F'ren gave her a wry smile. "Every bronzerider's dream."
Rahnis swore, and slammed a fist against the wall. Unwelcome tears were distorting her sight, but there was no way she could stop them. She was going to be alone here, she realised. There was no need to hurry back now. He wouldn't be waiting for her. She hugged her arms across her chest, uncomfortable and hurting. Oh, it was true enough that a flight was just a flight – they'd weathered that once already – but this wasn't just a flight. This was the Weyrleadership, and there were certain expectations on that score.
"I'm sorry," F'ren repeated. He slid back the bolt on the door, and left her to her tears.
AN: Chapter 7 will go up on AO3 on Wednesday, and follow here on FFN at the weekend. As always, I really, really want to know what my readers think of this story. Would bribery help? A drabble in exchange for anything substantive? Is there any ancillary information you'd like to see posted (cast lists, scores to the songs, F'ren's first impressions of his new Wing...)? Or just tell me you like turtles or something - it'd just be good to know that at least some of the hits to the top of a chapter also equal readers getting right down to the end of the page, that's all! (And if, after reading this, you want to tell me I'm being paranoid and entitled, then sure, that's fine too.)