Chapter 10

Groggy, R'meri woke to the dim light of glows instead of the bright sunlight he was accustomed to in his weyr. A fuzzy blotch of color swam in one eye; the other was swollen and bandaged shut. White gauze framed his vision. R'meri blinked and the face of a girl slowly came into focus above him. Wide spaced brown eyes stared at him below a cap of dark hair. He recognized her; she was the girl from the merchant caravan in the forest. And she was holding his hand.

"Hey. What are you doing?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.

The girl—Teri, he remembered now—jumped at his voice. The little bronze fire lizard on her shoulder squawked as his perch jolted beneath him. Color flooded the girl's face and she dropped his hand as if it were a tunnelsnake. She muttered something unintelligible, rising to leave.

R'meri instantly regretted the harshness of his words. He didn't mean to scare her off. In fact, he wanted to talk to her and get to know her better, having thought and worried about her ever since they had found her. He was so glad to see her fully recovered. "Wait, don't go! I didn't mean to startle you," he said, propping himself up on one elbow as she stepped away.

The girl stopped and turned back towards him, uncertain emotions flickering over her face.

"Please stay, Teri," he said. He wanted to reach out and take her hand, but his other arm was strapped in a sling against his chest. "It'd be nice to have company," he finished awkwardly. The infirmary was completely empty except for them, and he did want to talk to her, and not just because she was the only other person around.

Teri's brow furrowed and for an instant, R'meri wondered if he had said the wrong thing. Then she nodded and slowly sat back down on her stool. Relieved, R'meri lowered himself back onto the bed, gasping softly at the pain. The numbweed had obviously worn off a little.

"You're hurting?" she asked in concern.

R'meri shook his head. "Not much. I'll be all right," he said brightly.

"Let the healers decide that. You're in bad shape. I should get Jana." She made to stand up again but R'meri pulled at her arm.

"I've survived so far, I think I'll live for a little while longer." He smiled ruefully, surveying his various wounds. His left arm and leg were both bound with thick bandages, the latter splinted and raised on an overturned bowl. It seemed like his chest and left shoulder had been scored the worst, and a little on his face, from the masses of linen swathing his upper body. "How long have I been out?" he asked.

"Two days," replied Teri.

Two days! R'meri tried to get up, but he fell back as sharp pain lanced through his left side. He had never been out of action for that long before, and it was obvious that he'd have to take an even longer time to recover. "Oh shells, Nemath must be insane with worry." Belatedly, he reached out to his dragon. Nemath, are you there?

You're awake! The joyous reply burst into his thoughts and he grinned.

Yes, how are you doing? asked R'meri.

I'm fine, but they won't let me in to see you, said Nemath plaintively.

"Nemath is your dragon, right?" asked Teri. She was staring down at one hand in her lap, the other at her neck, fiddling with a small pendant on a braided cord. "I'm still learning about the Weyr."

Promising Nemath that they would talk more later, R'meri nodded. "Oh. That's right, you've been here less than a sevenday, haven't you?"

Teri frowned again and raised her head. "How did you know that? Have we met before?" she asked.

"Oh, I guess we haven't, not technically. We—well, Nemath and I—found you in the forest and brought you here, so that's how I know you," said R'meri. He wished he could see out of both eyes. Darkness kept encroaching on the edges of his vision in his one good eye unless he blinked constantly.

"So you saved my life?" Teri asked softly, tracing an invisible design on the blanket.

R'meri blushed and shrugged his uninjured shoulder. "No, not me. We saw the caravan and found you, but N'hal is the one who did the saving."

"Well, thank you. I guess I owe you my life," said Teri.

R'meri didn't know what to say. He cleared his throat and smiled uncertainly. He wished he could sit up or something. It was awkward to converse while lying down. "I'm R'meri," he said to break the silence, "rider of brown Nemath."

A small smile twitched at the corners of Teri's mouth. She motioned to herself and replied, "My name is Teri. This little fellow is Wren." The firelizard chirped brightly and R'meri laughed. Teri's smile wavered, then broadened slightly. "We're from Keroon."

"Well," said R'meri happily, nodding to both the girl and her firelizard. "welcome to Benden."

---

The glazed ceramic cup was cool and smooth beneath Teri's fingers. She ran her hands over the rim and sides, following the tracks that the potter's fingers had made. It was unadorned, a practical shape with a wide bottom and high, steep sides, yet there was a quiet beauty in its simplicity. Teri smiled sadly and put it back on the table beside the bed. Here she was, in one of the most important and exciting places on Pern, and all she could do was admire pottery. She sighed and turned her attention to Faire and R'meri. The healer was making a detailed examination of R'meri's injuries.

"How are your scores?" asked the healer's brisk voice. "Are they painful?"

"Not really," replied R'meri. "I'm a little sore, but that's only when I try to move." He had a nice voice, Teri reflected, full of tones and inflections. It was fun to listen to him talk and imagine what sort of facial expressions would accompany each phrase.

Wren chattered on her shoulder, relating his various exploits around the Weyr to her, of flying over the fire heights with other firelizard fairs, and playing with the dragons in the lake. He had met Nemath, she guessed from the mental image of a scored brown dragon followed by one of a bandaged man lying in bed. Teri pondered over Wren's depiction of the brownrider, comparing it with her own imagination. According to the firelizard, R'meri was thin and gangly, not yet having filled out his lanky frame. An unruly mop of reddish brown hair flopped into muddy green eyes. Well, one muddy green eye. The other was covered by a patch, giving him a comical look. He had a fair dusting of freckles scattered across his crooked nose and sun reddened skin and an earnest smile.

Teri wrinkled her nose, Wren's R'meri completely different from the one in her imagination. It seemed odd to have such an unfamiliar face to match with his voice. She had imagined him taller and not as skinny, with curly hair and grey eyes. With a start, Teri realized that her mental image of the brownrider was a younger version of Aren.

Teri's eyes smarted and she ducked her head as tears appeared from nowhere and threatened to spill down her cheeks. She missed Aren so much. Too much had happened in the past sevenday. It seemed so long ago, the morning after the Gather when her entire world had changed. And with her arrival and adjustment to the Weyr and Aren's death, she hadn't had any time to process everything properly. And now she was being sent back.

It would be somewhat of a relief to go back to Keroon, if only because it was familiar territory, but she didn't know if she really wanted to go back or not. She was out of her depth at the Weyr, constantly feeling lost and a burden to everyone around her. Even if there was no life for her to return to at Keroon, she would be among people she knew and who had raised her, but Keroon was so full of memories, of Aren, of her parents. She didn't know if she could return to a place that constantly reminded her of what she had lost. She didn't want to go back to Keroon without Aren.

Teri also didn't want to leave R'meri without getting to know him better, or before he recovered. Meeting him was the only good that Teri had experienced at the Weyr. It had been so long since she had met someone who genuinely cared about her and wasn't afraid to show it. R'meri was the closest thing to a friend that she had had in a long time, even though they had only met a few days ago. They had been in each other's company almost all the time since they met. She would miss him so much; she didn't think she could go back to a friendless place.

But what could she do if she stayed at the Weyr? Live in the infirmary and hold the hands of wounded dragonriders? Noble as that task was, it wasn't enough. At least at Keroon she had her pottery. Even though Mhera and Lena didn't take her efforts seriously, she knew she could prove them wrong, work hard and gain their respect. Teri sighed, her heart torn.

"You're lucky that there aren't any infections. You're healing well," said Faire, pulling Teri's attention to the present.

R'meri laughed, relieved. "I'm glad. The sooner I get out of here the better. I can't wait to fly again."

"Well, that probably won't be for a while, so don't get too eager," said Faire.

"Will I miss the hatching?" asked R'meri fearfully.

"When is it due?" asked the healer.

"We can't be sure," said R'meri, "but it will be soon. Probably anytime in the next sevenday."

"Then there's no way that you'll be able to make it," said Faire kindly. "I'm sorry."

R'meri sighed mournfully and the sheets rustled as he fidgeted. "Teri, I'm so sad that I'm going to miss the hatching."

"I'll miss it too," said Teri wistfully. She imagined R'meri pouting and couldn't help but to chuckle, a bittersweet feeling in her chest. "I'm leaving tomorrow."

"What?" asked R'meri, shocked. "You can't!"

"I'm going home," said Teri. She was touched by his reaction, and distressed at the same time. He doesn't want me to go! she thought. Does that mean he wants me to stay?

"Home? But what about the hatching?"

Teri frowned. She hadn't thought that she would have been invited to attend the hatching if she were there, nor had she thought that she would go. "I don't mind missing it," she said.

"What do you mean, you don't mind? Aren't you a candidate?" R'meri asked in dismay.

"A candidate?" asked Teri blankly. She was totally lost. Was he delirious again or something? Wren cheeped questioningly. One of the firelizard's images popped up in Teri's mind, of R'meri's face. The brownrider's expression was anything but delirious.

"You know, like a prospective dragonrider? Didn't you know that you were Searched?" he asked.

"No," said Teri slowly. "Wait, I was Searched? When?" Teri felt ecstatic hope suffuse her, but half of her held back, not wanting to believe it lest it all turn out to be a dream. But to have a chance to become a dragonrider! It was the solution to everything. She would be able to stay at the Weyr and her life would have meaning. She would be important, one of the most important people on Pern! No one would ever be able to call her useless again. A dragonrider! She raised her hands to her face in wonder.

"You can't possibly leave before the hatching. Rinth thinks you will impress. N'hal didn't tell you—Shells!" R'meri swore. "Faire, is N'hal here?" he asked the healer.

"I can check," she answered and her footsteps left the room.

Teri was overjoyed, her troubles forgotten. This was why she had been brought to the Weyr. It was fate, it had to be.

"Is everything all right in here?" asked N'hal's voice soon afterwards, coming through the door.

"N'hal, you didn't tell Teri that she's a candidate?" asked R'meri incredulously.

N'hal's approaching footsteps stopped in their tracks and there was a sharp intake of breath. "Oh no," he whispered. "There's been a big mistake. Teri, I'm so sorry."

"Does this mean I can stay? Because I don't mind not going back," said Teri quickly, her heart fluttering in excitement. "I don't have to go home yet."

"Oh shells, how can I possibly explain?" N'hal muttered.

"What happened?" asked R'meri. "Did you just forget?"

"No, you don't understand, that's not the problem," said N'hal, pained. He sighed and continued haltingly. "Teri, you—you're not a candidate."

Teri's heart jolted and her breath caught in her throat. "What do you mean? Did I not get searched or something?" she asked fearfully.

"No, Rinth searched you, but you aren't going to stand for the hatching," N'hal replied softly.

"What? Why not?" cried R'meri. "Anyone who's been searched has to be a candidate. That's how it is, how it's always been."

"I know, but the Weyrleader won't allow her to stand."

"Why?" R'meri demanded.

"Because—because she's blind."

Teri felt her heart plummet, her hopes crushed. She had known, somehow, that it couldn't work out, that her problems couldn't be solved so easily. She felt so stupid, so ridiculous to have hoped for the impossible only to be left devastated when everything fell through. She would always be useless, there was no changing that. Wren trilled softly in her ear but she pushed him away.

"How does that ban her from candidacy?" asked R'meri hotly. "What does being blind have to do with anything?"

"It has to do with everything," said Teri dully. Something had broken inside of her and there was nothing left to hold back her despair. "N'hal's right, I can't be a candidate. I shouldn't impress."

"What?" R'meri was incredulous. He couldn't believe his ears, what he was hearing. Was Teri actually agreeing with N'hal? He looked quickly at the greenrider, and the other man was as shocked as he. Teri sat quietly on her stool, her white knuckled grip on her skirt the only sign of her distress. The little bronze had left and she looked incredibly small without him. Her expression was bleak, her eyes bright with unshed tears staring at the floor.

"Don't tell me you don't want to," said R'meri. "Everyone everywhere has dreamed of riding a dragon."

"But I can't. I wouldn't be a good rider," said Teri, unable to deny it any longer.

"That's not true!" R'meri exclaimed. He didn't know Teri extremely well, but he knew that she would make a wonderful rider. "What did B'nonin say? What were his reasons?" he asked fiercely, pulling himself as best as he could into a sitting position.

N'hal shut his eyes and scrubbed his hands over his face. "He said—" he sighed and his voice was muffled against his palms, "he said it wouldn't be safe, that a blind dragonrider would be a hazard to herself and others."

R'meri looked at Teri; her features were crumpled and she looked utterly defeated.

"He's right," she whispered brokenly. "I would be worse than useless as a dragonrider."

N'hal cringed to hear so much of his conversation with B'nonin and J'den repeated here. None of it sat easy with him, yet if Teri believed it, could it possibly all be true? He felt awful. He had thought that Teri would never have found out, would never have been hurt. He didn't know what to do. There was too much happening all at once, with Rinth's mating flight, search and the impending hatching.

"I'm so sorry, Teri," he mumbled and hurriedly left the room, trying to squash the feeling that he was running away.

"This is all wrong," said R'meri when N'hal's footsteps were gone. "This isn't how it works. You haven't committed any crime, it's your right to have a chance at impression."

"You don't understand," said Teri, breathing hard around the tears she was trying to keep back. "I don't want to be a candidate. I don't want to impress." R'meri made a noise in objection, but she cut him off. "B'nonin's right, I can't impress. I would be not only useless, but dangerous. I'm blind, R'meri. I've never been able to do anything right, much less fly a dragon."

"There are ways around that," said R'meri. "Blindness can't keep you from being a good rider."

"Then it's me!" cried Teri. "It's me, I'm all wrong, completely useless. Maybe a blind person could be a good dragonrider. Other blind people succeed and help other people, but I can't. I've tried, you have no idea how hard I've tried." Tears streamed down Teri's cheeks and her nose dripped onto her hands as she dashed them away. I wish my nose wouldn't run when I cry. Can't I have that one at least? she thought bitterly. She was trying to hold onto her last vestiges of dignity, but she didn't think she could succeed. Her cheeks grew hot and the back of her neck prickled with shame. Of course she had to fall apart in front of R'meri. Each breath she took was a shuddering mess, fighting past sobs and hiccups. "I'm stupid and selfish and too proud to admit that I need help. All I can think about is myself and how worthless I am. Whenever I think I can do something, when I think I can actually help, it never works out, and then I just end up hurting people. You don't know what I've done," she trailed off, sniffling miserably.

"What? What happened?" asked R'meri gently.

Teri heaved air into her lungs and blew it out slowly. "I got my brother killed," she whispered. "He died because of me." R'meri was silent and she braced herself to continue. "It was during the attack, in the merchant's caravan, when the bandits came." Words were tumbling out, faster than she could control, far too much for her to break off or hold back. She told the whole story, starting from Aren's death and going backwards, digging deeper and deeper into her past until everything was laid out. All the bitterness and insecurity she had been hiding inside of her came pouring out like infected fluid from a boil.

R'meri let out a long sigh as Teri's narrative came to a limping end. She was weeping openly now, unable to speak past her sobs. She had been through so much and R'meri had had no idea. He wondered how someone could possibly live with so much grief pent up inside. He reached out to Teri and took her face gently in one hand, searching for something to say. "Teri," he began, his gaze flicking back and forth between her eyes, "you are not useless or worthless or anything else that you say you are. Your brother's death was not your fault."

"But if he hadn't been protecting me, he wouldn't have died," she wailed. "He was stabbed because he was shielding me with his own body."

I can't not look after you. I've done it my whole life. I love you too much to let anything happen to you. Aren's words echoed in Teri's memory and she squeezed her watering eyes shut. Why couldn't I have listened?

R'meri's fingers grew wet and he wished he could use his other arm so he could wipe away some of Teri's tears. "Teri, Aren didn't die because he was protecting you. He died because the bandits attacked. It was their fault and theirs alone. You had no control over what they did. It's not like they attacked because you were there. It's not your fault."

"Then it should have been me." Teri pulled away from R'meri's grasp, an expression of self-loathing etched onto her features. "I should have been killed, not him. I'm not worth it. No one would miss me, but he was so wonderful. It would have been better for everyone if I died."

"Oh Teri, that's not true," he murmured. "If you had died, who would have been there to hold my hand?" He pulled her to him and wrapped her in a one-armed embrace. To his surprise, she didn't resist, leaning her head against his shoulder and crying softly into his chest. Teri didn't know how much she needed a hug until she had felt R'meri's arm around her. The simple gesture stripped away any remaining inhibitions and she no longer worried about her dignity or what he thought of her. It was a relief to let everything out, to share her burden with someone else. It felt like a huge weight had been lifted and for the first time in a long time she let herself cry.