Chapter Ten
Caution: Please remember that this story is rated M. Some may find the scenes in this chapter disturbing.
At second watch little Path dropped to Monarth's weyr with her passengers. Monarth was awake enough to grumble that if they had come to his weyr all of them would have fit. Three pair of fire lizard eyes spun red from their warm spots on Monarth's back. Mirrim dismounted and ran to the great bronze's head. Pressing her torso against his snout she reached overhead with both hands to rub the sensitive brow ridges. "Six more days, we promise", she said aloud. "I've missed you too."
"Arwith bespeaks us," Path interrupted. "Her rider labors."
Mirrim hesitated only a moment then smiled at T'gellan in the dim light. "Your next child comes with the dawn. I've been called to assist Brekke with Talina."
"Should I come too?" T'gellan asked while trying to gauge Mirrim's expression but found no distress.
She giggled, "Wait for Monarth to tell you. Get some sleep, love." She leaned up and kissed his neck then vaulted to Path who leapt from the ledge to fly across to the queen's weyr that was flooded with light. T'gellan watched from within the weyr how the two of them floated across the bowl and lighted on the lip of Arwith's weyr. The queen's head emerged from the opening and dipped in dragonish welcome. The little green touched noses with the larger gold as Mirrim's agile figure dismounted and ran into the weyr, her hand lightly gliding along the golden's neck. About an hour later, as the sky had become imperceptibly less black, the three fire lizards left Monarth with several others who then flew to Arwith's weyr beginning their humming vigil.
Inside Talina's weyr, Brekke washed the squalling baby and swaddled him while Mirrim cleaned her up and propped her against some pillows. Mirrim dabbed a cool cloth over Talina's face, neck and arms then ran a comb through the long black tresses and braided them loosely. She handed Talina a mug of watered down wine.
"Drink this, Talina, it will help bring in your milk. Little Tallan will need to suckle if we're going to shut him up." Mirrim said.
Talina took the mug and sipped cautiously. She leaned back into the pillows, relieved. It had annoyed her when shortly before the party for the new riders had started that she felt the first labor pains. She had intended to make her presence felt, especially to this pinched-face green rider. Shortly after the music started she called for a healer, but Manora had come, checked her and said she was several hours from delivering. Midway through first watch, Brekke relieved Manora. Both women had spoken animatedly about the celebration but were careful not to mention the only two Talina cared to hear about. During second watch, she came in, looking fresh and carefree. Talina hoped the look of the child was unmistakably T'gellan's. When Brekke had held the wet, blood-smeared child up, there was no doubt, "Tallan," she had cried triumphantly.
Mirrim had chortled and added, "With a nose like that, definitely T'gellan's son."
"A handsome boy and conceived on a mating flight too," Brekke added somewhat wistfully. Both healers looked to each other communicating something unknown to Talina.
Finally, the child was placed in her arms. Brekke and Mirrim tried to teach her to suckle the child. "What would either of you know about nursing a baby?" Talina spat, in frustration.
"Healers know," Lessa said with authority from the entry to Arwith's couch, "especially these two. How many babes does this make Brekke?"
Brekke shook her head. "I've lost count."
Talina's annoyance increased. Arwith crooned to convince her to relax like the healers suggested. She didn't understand her rider's animosity for Path's rider or Brekke or The Weyrwoman. Arwith was becoming distressed until Path landed beside her, humming. Monarth warbled from across the bowl and Ramoth looked from her ledge. As Arwith relaxed, Talina did too and the child took.
"There," Talina said derisively, "I don't need either of you now."
"The child's name is Tallan, then?" Lessa asked pleasantly but only Brekke saw the hard, glittering eyes.
"Yes, a good mix, don't you think?" Talina looked up from her suckling son to her Weyrwoman.
"Yes" Lessa agreed. "Mirrim, you have flight class this morning. Felena saved you a plate and you should have just enough time to eat it if you leave now".
"Thank you, Lessa", Mirrim replied gratefully but she looked to Brekke for release. Brekke nodded and the girl exited.
Brekke finished cleaning with Lessa's help. As the two women made to leave, Lessa added, "Get some rest and get acquainted with Tallan, my dear. Ramoth will check in with Arwith to know how you are getting along. Brekke, you need sleep!"
Left alone with her son, Talina seethed. She knew from past observations that Mirrim in great spirits meant a night with T'gellan. T'gellan never let her come to his weyr let alone stay with her until morning. Monarth bespoke Mirrim but never her. And she called Lessa by name, like an equal! To find that this aberration of a green rider excelled on her first flight was the last crack in the egg. As a queen rider, she would take T'gellan away from Mirrim. She'd bring her low. Few knew that Mirrim miscarried while in the barracks but Talina was one of them.
By noon, the news was delivered that Talina birthed a healthy boy that she smugly named Tallan, after a good look at the babe. The fire lizards trilled while flying wild aerial acrobatics; the dragons bugled over Arwith's joy for her rider.
Later that evening T'gellan stopped by Talina's bedchamber to meet his new son. His happy mood only increased her resolve. He had given her forehead a perfunctory kiss then held his son tenderly. She knew it was useless to work her charms on this bronze rider. He knew his own mind and abilities too well. But she shared his son; sons were paramount in the holds. She had found that although all babies were welcomed at the weyr, bronze riders were known to want at least one son. T'gellan would prove no different.
# # #
Mirrim and T'gellan entered the happiest time yet of their lives together. A sevenday after earning her own weyr, Mirrim moved into T'gellan and Monarth's Wingleader weyr. Her mornings belong to the flight instructors. The seven new riders joined the previous 28 werylings in drills. In another three months the other 14 joined their ranks and the more senior weyrlings were assigned to wings. Their duties during falls were exchanging full bags for empties or exchanging flame-thrower tanks out for the queens's wing. Mirrim and Path were the first of their hatchmates to go between and the second to be assigned to a wing. S'kel gladly took them on his left flank. After falls, Mirrim was assigned to triage. Her training enabled her to a more senior rank. Most afternoons she was in the infirmary or on expeditions with Brekke and women of the lower caverns to gather whithies, berries and medicinal herbs. Evenings and nights belonged to T'gellan and Monarth.
# # #
T'gellan woke the morning of Turn's End, now familiar with the empty spot, still warm, in his bed. Mirrim rose each morning to stretch and work her muscles. While still a weyrling she found that her upper body lacked the strength of her hatchmates. In order to compete with them, she rose early to lift sacks of rocks. T'gellan found her, dressed in her wherhide riding gear lifting both sacks behind her back in the dragons' chamber. Her movements were measured and steady. When she squatted to release the bags he came up behind her and pulled her back into his chest. "Happy Turns' End," he murmured into her ear."
She spun in his arms and kissed him. "Happy Turn's End!" she replied. "I'm almost done."
"This morning you are done now," he admonished. "It's a rest day, no thread falls on land AND it's Turns' End. You are coming back to bed or else I will need to crawl into your wherhide!"
Mirrim discovered that T'gellan was clad in only a pair of shorts. She pushed him back into their bedchamber and under the furs. "Are you trying to catch a chill?" She teased as she dropped all her gear beside the bed and crawled in with him. "My stars, your feet are like icicles!"
T'gellan warmed himself in the most gratifying way to both. As they rested afterward, he rose up in bed and reached for a box wrapped in red cloth that was set on the press at the foot. Mirrim scooted to a sitting position in order to accept the gift. She untied the knots of the cloth to release the small wooden box inside. She pulled off the lid to find a glass blob nestled in more red cloth. As she lifted it out she saw the three fire lizards, two green and one brown, suspended in flight inside the glass. "Oh" she whispered. She looked at T'gellan, eyes glistening. She looked back into the glass blob, held it aloft as three fire lizards nosed under the curtain and flew to land on the bed.
Reppa landed on her shoulder, keeping her claws sheathed, and peered into it, crooning. Lok approached from Mirrim's raised knees and strained to look into it until Mirrim brought it closer to her. Tolly lighted on T'gellan's chest. Quickly he rubbed his head under T'gellan's chin, a gesture of greetings the little brown had developed with the bronze rider. He stepped across the man's chest, steadied his forepaws on Mirrim's arm and admired his miniature self under the glass as well.
"You commissioned this that day in Boll, didn't you?" Mirrim quickly wiped her eyes then leaned over to kiss him. T'gellan beamed. His patience to wait until Turns' End had paid off. He nodded. Mirrim quickly rose from the bed which sent Reppa to the air squawking. She padded over to the alcove where she pulled a bigger package wrapped in red cloth. "My turn," she smiled. "It's not as beautiful as this." She held up her glass bauble admiring it anew.
T'gellan sat up on the side of the bed. He pulled on the ties which fell away easily enough. Inside was a wide belt. He stared at it, not comprehending. "What is it?"
"I was practical," Mirrim responded. "It's a belt to wear under your jacket. It will support your back when you ride." She paused. "You don't like it."
"Where do you get something like this?" He asked turning it over.
"I made it. After seeing how you rode and knowing when your back hurts, I knew it was because you needed support back here." She caressed his lower back. "So I made this to wear, especially for wind pockets. It should help. Try it first before you say you don't like it."
"You made it after watching me," he stated as he stood. "Help me put it on, let me see how it works." He wrapped the belt across his waist.
Mirrim giggled, "You can't put it on naked. It goes over your clothes . . . although…" She stood and hauled on the two loops pulling his hips into her waist. She looked up at him impishly.
"Brekke and F'nor expect us in the dining hall," he laughed heartily, wrapping her in his arms and kissing the top of her head. After a quick dunk in the hot bath they dressed. Holding hands and their other Turns'-end gifts they skipped down the stairs to the bowl's floor, newly coated in snow.
# # #
As the second turn passed by the anniversary of Mirrim and her weyremates' hatchday, speculation on which green would rise first began in earnest. Mirrim and S'bald had drawn first witness. The greens began to sit together for their noon meals watching each other intensely, trying to fathom the signs of arousal in each other and their dragons.
F'niral and H'race were the last to join the newest green riders at their usual lunch table that day. G'lenan made room for them by scooting closer to Mirrim who also moved down the bench until she was pressed against S'bald who hadn't adjusted his seat.
"Move over, S'bald," she hissed. "I'm getting squished. She could feel heat through his tunic. "My stars, you're hot!"
The reaction from the tables around them was immediate as all eyes looked at S'bald who was fixing a malevolent glare upon Mirrim. She shrunk back into G'lenan. "We all thought Path n'you'd be first," he whispered into her ear.
"Maybe you're coming down with a fever, S'bald," she said in a low voice that quavered. She put a hand on his shoulder but he shrugged it off.
"Leave off. Can't you ever think before you speak," he replied as no matter where he looked a rider's gaze was upon him.
"C'mon, we'll go for a walk, just … we'll get out of here."
"It's inevitable, you freak green rider." S'bald leaned possessively over his bowl of stew and continued eating, ignoring any other attempt to engage him in conversation. Mirrim was quiet too as she tried to spoon in a few more mouthfuls. The rest of the riders at their table were silently tense while the murmurs around them increased. Abruptly S'bald pushed his empty bowl away, rose and stalked toward the bowl. Like unplugging ears, the usual sounds of lunch returned as several riders trailed the new green rider at a respectful distance.
Shortly after the noon meal, as Mirrim was half way up the ramp to the Infirmary, a green dragon shrieked her boldness. Lieth was blooding her kill. Mirrim called to Path but she was asleep with Monarth in their weyr. "Monarth, can you keep her there? I have to go to Lieth's rider," Mirrim thought to him.
"We sleep." He replied.
The lunch stew settled like rocks in her stomach as she trotted to the stockyard. S'bald was already on the rise before the mating cavern while Lieth waved her bloody head over a fresh kill. She kept dipping her head and rising to stare at S'bald. Mirrim stepped up behind him and put her hand on his shoulder for support. He was trembling. Lieth shrieked and leapt onto another runner, not hesitating to blood it. She glowed. Looking about the bowl's rim, Mirrim saw several blue and brown dragons waiting for the green to rise. There was one bronze, an older animal, probably one of Feyrith's time, Mirrim thought. Suddenly Lieth shot straight up in a green blur. The other dragons gave chase, including the old bronze.
Taking S'bald by his upper arm, Mirrim began towing him backwards into the mating cavern. Men were starting to swarm around the pair, first with caresses then grabbing clothing. She heard the collar of her shirt tear.
"Move S'bald faster, Mirrim. Can you get his shirt off?" B'mezal was leaning against the entry wall. Mirrim turned to look at him briefly. The observation all nine greens witnessed back in their weyrling days was nothing like this. In the midst of the linked men she could smell their sweat, hear their heavy breathing and feel their hands grasp her arms and shoulders while trying to touch S'bald. The only other person not linked to a dragon at this moment was the old Weyrlingmaster and he was scrutinizing Mirrim more than S'bald who was being pressed about by riders. As she pulled him into the pit proper she dashed out hanging onto his ripped shirt and holding her own closed. Some of the men were coming out of their dragon-induced trances. Arranging their garb and speaking in low tones, they passed by the two observers, eyes lingering on Mirrim. She became unable to return their gazes. Soon only S'bald, the old bronze rider S'lel and a brown rider she didn't know remained. B'mezal nudged her, "Pull the curtain on the pit, will you?"
As she pulled the thick cloth across the heavy cord she tried not to look upon the scene. S'bald pushed the bronze rider away several times but before she could look away he had pressed her friend against the smooth wall and howled domineeringly. S'bald cried out as if in pain. She leaned against the wall trying her best not to slap her hands over her ears or lose her lunch. The brown rider emerged from behind the curtain. His eye swollen, his trousers in his hand, he watched Mirrim curiously.
She looked up at him realizing he could read the revulsion in her face. "Your eye, let me tend to your eye," she implored, falling into the safety of her healer's training. She took him by the hand over to the basin. Using a cloth from the sleeve of her ripped shirt she washed the cut below his eye.
"T'gran my name, Mirrim, Branth is my brown." The man said by introduction. "You shouldn't be alarmed. Each mating flight is different. You've done well by your friend, S'bald."
"You've been hit by a fist," she replied, swallowing a few times.
"S'lel never got to fly a queen's rider and he feared that with all the competition Tuenth would never'd get close enough to Path when she rises. I don't blame him for joining a green's maiden flight, even if it does mean I'll sport a shiner." He watched her face wondering why she refused to look at him. "But now I'm glad The Weyrleader closed Path's flight to bronzes. They tend to cheat when there's a fresh green involved." He pointed to his swollen eye. "I for one, hope Branth catches Path."
Mirrim blanched. B'mezal walked up beside T'gran. "Your dance is over, T'gran. Go back to your duties. Mirrim and me will sit vigil." Although his gravelly voice addressed the brown rider his piercing dark eyes never left Mirrim's face as she refused to look at him too. T'gran left while the old Weyrlingmaster escorted her to the padding on the stone benches. He seated her across from him.
"You are inhibited," he accused. She looked into his face then away. "I knew it. You are inhibited. We can't have this."
"Path says she is ready." Mirrim retorted.
"Shells woman, greens are always ready but YOU are not." He waited for her to speak while she shuddered at a particularly loud thud behind the curtain. "Is T'gellan the only man you have been with?"
Mirrim squirmed. "No, there's been, um, no." But to B'mezal she seemed to be lying.
"Perhaps, you two living in the same weyr is a mistake," he said after a while. He noticed that she flinched with each sound from the pit. "Perhaps you should move to your own weyr and spend more time with your wingmates."
She looked away from the old master and refused to look at him long after the noises and associated movements had subsided on the other side of the curtain.
B'mezal stood and moved to face her in his characteristic stance. "I need your assurance that you will be ready when Path rises."
She stood, stepping close to the burley man, staring into his eyes. "You have it." He was surprised to find her height to almost match his. As she tried to move away, he grasped her upper arm.
"You have not convinced me. You will be witness to each of your green hatchmate's rising until Path herself rises." His eyes narrowed as she fought to hide her distress. "You are no different than any other green rider, girl." He released her arm but Mirrim remained in front of him, her chest heaving, jaw set, eyes fighting to hold tears. When it appeared that he would finally break Mirrim's inner defenses, the two men behind the curtain laughed. Muffled dialog and movement continued. Abruptly she stepped away from him as S'bald and S'lel pulled back the curtain. Her smile for her friend seemed genuine as well as her friendly nod to the old bronze rider.
"Mirrim, it's wonderful," S'bald said as the two embraced. S'lel threw his arms around the two of them as well. She laughed with the two men as they turned toward the exit. B'mezal joined them, passing the two drudges who would tidy up the mating cavern.
"One green's rising usually causes another", he mused as he watched the girl. He intended to bring the matter to T'gellan; he was shaping up to be a superior leader. Maybe he'd speak to Brekke too. She owed him, he figured and she had personal experience of the danger Mirrim faced if she didn't prepare herself.
That evening several of the green riders, especially the latest group of hatchmates, congregated around S'bald. The bakers had made special spice cakes and some of the kitchen women concocted a hot spiced wine for the occasion. Many of the blue and brown riders stopped by their table in the back of the dining hall to toast S'bald and Lieth for their first mating flight. As some congratulated the pair, they glanced at the other new green riders, especially Mirrim.
F'tamad, D'wer and B'nard sat with their wingmates, watching the new greens. While D'wer and F'tamad mulled over how their blues almost caught Leith, B'nard contemplated Mirrim.
Mirrim looked so much like Bagira, his intended, before he had been whisked away to Benden to impress blue Mowalth. Not that he regretted the incredible shift his life took in less than three days but what he was raised to be and what he was now sometimes depressed him.
He was the firstborn of twins. His father, Arden, had marked him with a cut to his upper arm moments after birth. From a young age he knew he was to inherit the hold and fertile fields above the Dunto River. Arden had arranged for Bagira, the niece of Bonogan, his mother's cousin and holder of the neighboring hold to the east. He didn't mind that his twin inherited the land, the hold and the wife when he was removed to Benden. B'nard rode Mowalth and fought thread while they hid. He hadn't been barred from his boyhood hold but since his father's death and Boland's ascension to Holder of Endyar, he was not exactly welcomed. Twining with Path and Mirrim could satisfy his desire for his brother's wife. Thus Mirrim and her Path measured large in B'nard's mind.
D'wer nudged him out of his reverie, "What new green d'you think will be next?"
B'nard stretched his legs under the table while extending his arms above his head giving his neck a crack as he shook off his musings. "Dunno, I fancy Miloth is getting greener." The three men turned toward C'logar who, at that moment had his arm linked with Mirrim as they leaned around S'bald.
B'mezal, making a rare appearance in the dining hall, moved toward S'lel and a few older dragonriders off to the side. As he sat opposite S'lel and R'gul, both older riders grunted their acknowledgement, suppressing any surprise at the Weyrlingmaster's decision to partake in the festivities.
"Good health to your Tuenth, S'lel," B'mezal spoke amiably. "He flew Lieth well".
"Aye," S'lel replied rather sullenly. "He sleeps, satisfied to have finally caught one in a mating."
"Cheer up," R'gul nudged his hatchmate and lifelong friend. "You gave a good try for goldens throughout the turns. You knew greens were always available to Tuenth." He paused, "Until Path."
The other riders grunted. A few gave B'mezal sour looks.
"T'wern't my decision to bar bronzes from Path's first mating. That were the Weyrleaders." B'mezal said resentfully. "You know that Monarth most likely'll fly Path if the bronzes have a go; T'gellan and Mirrim sharing a weyr and all. That's what made their decision. Them younger bronze riders are a randy lot."
More grunts emanated from the old riders.
"What chances did we have," S'lel protested. "Nemorth only rose four times in her sorry life and Ramoth chooses none but Mnementh. Who'd ever think we'd have three goldens in Benden and them young Bronzes take them every time." He gestured toward the raised dais where T'gellan, S'kel, B'irto, F'lessan and several other bronze riders were raising their cups in a toast. Their salute was drowned by the din of the green, blue and brown riders' joviality.
"An' look at Path's rider. Young Mirrim with her ripe body, not gawky like Celina or tiny like Lessa or flimsy like Talina, she'd hold up." S'lel tossed back the dregs of the spiced wine. A few hisses emanated from the old riders and they shifted uncomfortably.
"P'raps you should switch to klah, S'lel", R'gul reached for the heavy pot in the middle of the table.
"Yeah, cheer up, man", B'mezal added. "You did well by Tuenth; you're a true friend to your dragon.
S'lel merely scowled at the table of young green riders.
Mirrim, S'bald and their hatchmates B'salk, F'niral, G'naret, C'logar, B'mir and H'race gathered their cups together as G'lenan poured from a bowl Willa had brought them.
"Careful, don't spill it", G'naret said as he slid his cup in place of H'race's cup which threatened to brim over. His head moved in the way as he slurped the overage.
With practiced grace G'lenan tipped the bowl back without wasting a drop. "Tut, tut, men", he avowed, "I've been pouring wine in this Weyr since I got taller than the tables." Good natured chuckling came from their table and a few surrounding ones. The young greens were in a boisterous mood.
"Pour one for yourself too, G'lenan", Mirrim said as she put two cups to the side for him to turn and filled. Once all cups were filled the greens turned to the table of old men. S'bald raised his cup to S'lel.
"To you and your worthy Tuenth, I salute you", he called out.
"Salute," his green hatchmates yelled drunkenly.
With some help from R'gul, S'lel stood, raised his cup and slurred, "And to you and Lieth, S'bald, I salute you". He drank from his cup only to throw it to the floor and roar, "What wherspoor put klah in my wine?"
As the festivities quieted down and most of the riders had left the dining hall, B'mezal hoisted a half-empty wine skin and wandered over to T'gellan's table. Mirrim had left to help some of her drunken weyrmates to their dragons and he figured she'd not return. T'gellan and S'kel were in deep discussion when he tossed the wineskin to the table. "May I join you, Wingleaders?" he gruffed.
Both men smiled at their former master, "Yes, please sit." S'kel said while pouring wine into three cups. He lost focus for only a moment as his bronze relayed a request from B'mezal's brown to let the Weyrlingmaster speak privately with Monarth's rider. The three men raised their glasses in a toast to green Lieth and her rider. S'kel excused himself and walked toward the bowl.
T'gellan waited as B'mezal warred with his thoughts until his patience dropped. "Speak freely, Weyrlingmaster."
B'mezal nodded to some internal decision, "Mirrim observed S'bald today."
"Yes, I knew that", T'gellan replied.
"I've told her she must observe for the rest of her hatchmates until Path rises," B'mezal continued. "She is inhibited."
T'gellan nodded his assent. The silence between the men became oppressive. T'gellan drank a bit more wine then shifted toward the old Weyrlingmaster. "You're a bit inhibited yourself, B'mezal. What's your concern?"
B'mezal cleared his throat, gulped down more of his wine then looked directly at T'gellan. "A woman on a green is new for us all, an' I'm no authority on woman behavior." He poured more wine into his cup and gulped some more. "Benden hasn't lost a green on a mating flight since I was a boy, but I remember it." The pain in his unfocused eyes was haunting. "The rider wasn't prepared. When F'lon made me Weyrlingmaster, I swore never to let this weyr ever keen for such a useless loss." He finally blurted, "She was distressed, and she may have lied to me, p'raps for the first time. I asked her directly if you'd been her only man. She said you weren't."
T'gellan sat a bit straighter and looked over B'emzal head for a moment then back directly at him. "No, Mirrim doesn't lie; I wasn't her first … encounter. I suppose you're suggesting she experience more variety?"
"Aye," the old man replied. "In a lotta ways, Mirrim was an easy weyrling, more dedicated, more mature than her hatchmates, but I never broke her like I done the rest of you."
T'gellan chuckled, "That's due more to her gender. I remember telling F'lar that I feared more for you than Mirrim after his decision that she'd train with her hatchmates."
B'mezal guffawed then patted the bronze rider on his shoulder as he rose. "Good man, you'll lead us all one day." He walked off, unsteadily as T'gellan raised his glass to his old master's back in silent salute.
Mirrim was one of the most dependable individuals that T'gellan had ever known. She was steady, always walked the responsible course even as she railed at it. As first Brekke, then F'lar and now B'mezal voiced their apprehension over Mirrim's ability to act accordingly to Path's first mating flight, T'gellan wondered. They had valid worries but Mirrim would not put Path in undue danger.
He rose, figuring that she'd be back at their weyr by now. Best to get her to talk right away, he thought. Never a difficult prospect, Mirrim tended to jabber when she was agitated. Monarth and Path were curled together with the three fire lizards as T'gellan passed by them. He noticed a wet trail to their bedchamber which continued into the bathing room. He could hear Mirrim splashing.
"Rather late for a soak, isn't it, Love?" he said as he removed his shirt and flung it to a protruding rock.
"I had to take G'lenan to his weyr and while trying to get him to bed he puked on me. He may boast his ability to handle skins of wine, but he sure doesn't know how to handle it once he's got wine inside his skin."
T'gellan laughed. "I hope you didn't jump into our pool with your soiled clothes."
"Please T'gellan, really? I know better," she replied. "I dunked fully clothed into his pool. It refreshes faster than this one. Got most of the solids off me but, ugh! I can still smell it. "
As T'gellan kicked off his boots and shucked his trousers he noticed her wet clothes spread about the rocks. He sniffed, shrugged and shook his head. "I don't smell any sick. So, you came back wet. It explains the water trail."
"It'll be a while before I drink spiced wine, I can tell you. I left him propped against Boath in case he wasn't done. Gagh, it was in my hair and full on the front of my shirt and new bodice."
"You're a good friend," T'gellan replied as he slipped into the warm water next to Mirrim.
"Oh, he's going to owe me if the leather is ruined."
T'gellan pulled her onto his lap kissing her which essentially stopped her prattling.
"Alright, I'm babbling" she said slowly as T'gellan nodded with a knowing smile. "I saw old B'mezal waited for me to leave before coming to speak with you. What'd he say?"
T'gellan paused. "First, you tell me. You observed for S'bald. How'd you do?"
She heaved a sigh then slumped against him. "I don't remember B'fol's mating being so violent. Those riders pressed upon and grabbed at both of us. I guess I didn't move fast enough." She leaned forward. "Look what one of them did to my back."
In the subdued light, T'gellan could see the long red finger scrape that started at the nape of her neck and traversed her right shoulder. She leaned back into him and he pulled her close to cradle her. "After, after we left the pit, I took S'bald to his weyr and tended to his back. You know how dark his skin is but he had more than 20 of the same kinds of marks and I could see bruising. A lot of bruising".
She sighed, he prompted, "Go on."
"I know S'lel had to be hurting S'bald even though he said it was 'wonderful'. I saw how S'bald kept pushing him away." She swallowed. "It scared me and that's what B'mezal got all huffy about. He says I have to observe all the rest of my green hatchmates' risings until Path rises for whatever good that is going to do me or Path."
"Perhaps Path with rise next," T'gellan offered. Mirrim stiffened. "He's right, you know, B'mezal."
"About what?"
"About making you observe for the rest of the greens. He told me that and he told me he thought you lied about having experiences besides me but I told him you hadn't."
Abruptly Mirrim stood to face him, the water just above her waist. Her face was guarded; her eyes sea green slits. He reached for her hands giving them a squeeze. "I told him you were no liar and that I wasn't your first." She relaxed. T'gellan stood to pull her into an embrace, "but I do agree with his suggestion. You need to prepare for Path's sake and that means experiencing more men. Maybe a blue rider or a brown…"
He felt her shudder. "Put your crafter sensibilities aside, dear heart. This is for Path, your dragon. When the harpers sing of the deep love dragon and rider have for each other this is what they hint at. It's why we live apart from the masses."
"You wouldn't mind?" She asked.
"Shards no!" T'gellan pushed her back by her shoulders and gave her a small shake. Looking into her eyes, he spied a vulnerability deep inside that he hadn't seen since the first night she spent in his weyr. "When Monarth wants to catch a Queen, I participate whether the she's Ramoth, Lamanth, or Arwith. When he flies, I am fully in his control. The nearer he gets to his queen the nearer I get to her rider. It's powerful. It's a marvel when he catches her and twines her neck, pins her. You know how, like impression, when you saw yourself through Path's eyes?" Mirrim shrugged while nodding her head once. "It's, I dunno, it's powerful for her too, the queen and her rider. You'll find out. I can't wait until you and Path have this experience too." He smiled widely even as a tear slipped down her cheek. "Someday, after she's flown a few times and the lesser male dragons are satisfied, Monarth will fly Path."
"I guess" she said looking away. "I guess I should for Path's sake. I wish that F'lar would allow bronzes back in. Bronze riders are used to a woman in a mating flight."
"I wouldn't say that", T'gellan replied. Since you impressed Path, I can't tell you how many blue and brown riders have stated their anticipation of Path's first flight and it's because you're her rider."
"It's because I am a woman; it's not for me, really." Mirrim interrupted. "Half these riders think I am a rampant harpy."
"You're my rampant harpy, C'mon; let's dry off and go to bed".