To my dear Lady Holder Anne McCaffrey: Thank you for allowing me to play with your property!
WARNING: Death and angst involved, but no gore. (Also, no more lairs. :))
Next Day
Mara woke to a gentle breeze that carried the scent of raw wherry and firestone ash. She was lying on her left side, her back to a large warm presence, with a large furry arm holding her right hand tight to her left shoulder – G'raden. She marveled at how wonderful she felt; warm and safe and well rested. What had happened after she laid down last evening? G'raden had been bathing, she lay down, and now she was waking up in his arms. She moved a leg, preparing to rise, and noticed that she still wore trousers. She moved her free hand to her waist and found she still wore a tunic. Had she missed something? She opened her eyes to the dimly lit room. An indirect light source barely illuminated the woven curtain of dragons hanging between G'raden's sleeping room and Normond's weyr. The lighting brought the dragons to life as the curtain swayed. Another breeze caused the curtain to billow into the room, followed by more raw wherry and firestone.
Normond? Is that you?
Two short huffs came from the other side of the curtain. G'raden doesn't like to be woke up suddenly.
Oh. Maybe I can help. The arm was heavy, but once she lifted it far enough to start moving, G'raden pulled it back. When he grumbled a complaint, Mara spoke quietly. "I'll be right back." As she walked barefoot to the necessary room, she watched the big dark haired man roll to his back and stretch. He wore only a pair of lightweight shorts. Had anything happened? She hoped not as she hurried to get past the curtain. How truly sad it would be to forget or sleep through what she had hoped for.
As G'raden stretched, arms hitting the wall at the head of his bed and toes reaching over the other end, he took a deep breath and grimaced with disgust. He turned his head to sniff an arm pit – that wasn't the source. Normond? Did you wake her up?
I was trying to wake you up, my rested one.
Why? It's a rest day!
Tell that to the eggs.
"What about the eggs?" Mara tried to smooth the wrinkles out of her clothing as she returned.
G'raden was out of bed and about to don his trousers. "They're hatching today." He grinned at Mara and then spoke to the air. "How soon, Normond?" His excitement was evident and contagious. Only Normond seemed somewhat calm.
We can hear them now. You have time to eat.
"Good. Mara, you should bathe." He looked at her obviously slept-in clothes and his eyebrows rose. "I think I have some clothes that will fit you.
Mara, excited at the prospect of witnessing a Hatching for the first time, began lifting her tunic as she slipped back through the curtain to the bathing room. After reopening the glows, she tossed the tunic on the stone bench, removed her trousers, tossed them and stepped into the gurgling hot pool. A neat stack of small folded cleaning clothes sat near a container of sweet sand at the edge. She washed quickly, wishing she could spend more time, but not wanting to miss anything happening on the Hatching Ground.
G'raden rummaged through his bedside chest and found what he was looking for. He held a lightweight pair of loosely woven medium toned green trousers to his waist and smiled with remembrance. The trousers didn't quite reach halfway around his waist. He shook them out and frowned at the fold marks caused by years of storage. He held up a matching tunic, shook it out and laid it over an arm. He picked up the trousers and hurried to the curtain of the necessary room.
On hearing sufficient splashing from the pool, he backed in, keeping his face to the wall. "Mara, I'm hanging these in here so the wrinkles will be steamed out." The splashing had stopped when he began speaking. "Hurry now!" He moved back to the curtain, carefully watching the wall, and left.
In his sleeping room again, G'raden quickly straightened the bed cloths while bespeaking his bronze dragon. Normond, do Lessa and F'lar need help conveying people?
No. You are to convey Mara directly to Lessa. She strongly suggests riding straps and full riding gear.
G'raden nearly ran to the ledge and began preparing Normond, who was busy observing all the activity at the other end of the bowl. Even in a rush such as this, the experienced bronze rider meticulously inspected each strap and buckle before throwing it over or under the crouching dragon.
As the last buckle was being fastened, Mara walked past the flying dragon curtain, carrying last night's small carisac. G'raden finished with the straps and watched her approach, smiling broadly. Mara blushed at seeing G'raden's appreciative smile, not sure of the reason. The big man walked to meet her halfway through the weyr, fascinated by the way the outfit highlighted the green in her hazel eyes, and held out his hands. "That looks far better on you than it ever did on me!"
"I can't imagine you wearing this." She opened the carisac.
"I never did. It's too small."
"Then why . . ." She pulled out the two meatrolls.
G'raden let out one big guffaw. "It was a gift . . . from a weyrmate. She wasn't very good at guessing sizes."
Mara's eyes grew big. "Will she get upset if she sees me wearing it?"
"She doesn't live at Benden Weyr anymore."
G'raden? Normond was shifting impatiently from side to side.
"Coming, love." G'raden took one of the meatrolls, took a big bite, took the carisac from Mara and tossed it to Normond's indented rock couch. "We better hurry!" he mumbled.
He took his riding jacket from a wall peg, slid it over one arm and handed Mara his meatroll before slipping into the other sleeve and climbing up Normond's riding straps. He turned back to Mara, caught the two meatrolls she tossed at him, and watched as she followed his example, helping with an outstretched arm.
Mara settled behind the big rider and wrapped both arms around him, being careful not to damage her meatroll. "G'raden?" she asked near his ear. "What happened last night?"
G'raden had just taken another bite out of his meatroll. "Hmmm?"
"After your bath?"
"We slept."
We go now! Normond's thought was barely complete when he stepped off the ledge.
Mara held tighter as the near freefall lifted her from the dragon's back. The exhilaration was short-lived as Normond spread his wings to slow their descent. They glided smoothly on a straight course to the Hatching Grounds at the far end of the mile long bowl, buffeted only slightly by morning breezes. The summer mountain air was cool, crisp and dry. The bowl was nearly empty of people; the last groups were entering the large entrance as Normond approached. He landed barely a dragon-length from the entrance just as smoothly as the night before.
Weyrwoman Lessa stood just outside the grounds, and motioned G'raden and Mara to hurry. The bronze rider slid off the dragon's side and turned to smoothly catch Mara. They each took a bite of their meatrolls as they moved quickly to enter the enormous Hatching Grounds.
Lessa met them and spoke sternly to Mara. "It is very important that you 'just listen' today, understood?" She took Mara's hand firmly – physical contact made it easier to monitor the big woman.
"Yes, Lessa." Mara nodded with an excited grin as the weyrwoman led her inside and to the top of the steps just inside the entrance. The noise was almost deafening; excited, expectant talking from people and the flapping of dragon and fire lizard wings, and their grunts, huffs and chirps. As they moved quickly, Mara looked around and noticed the many ledges all around the inside of the huge cavern. Each ledge was packed with dragons; smaller ledges were packed with fire lizards. Mara hadn't seen any fire lizards at Benden Weyr since her arrival and wondered who they all belonged to.
Weyrleader F'lar was at the top row of seating next to a man who Mara believed just had to be related and a woman with haunted eyes. Bronze rider T'men sat one level down next to a tall handsome man in harper blue. Next to him was Journeywoman Healer Loralin, an old hunchbacked man and Masterhealer Tarminas. Everyone appeared to be smiling with the anticipation of the event, with the exception of the Weyr Masterhealer, who seemed rather nervous and extremely uncomfortable.
F'lar stood to greet his weyrmate. As soon as Lessa, Mara and G'raden were seated, he squinted challengingly at the big woman. "Mara, how many of each color?" He gestured toward the floor of the cavern and the multitude of mottled eggs.
Mara caught a disgruntled scowl from Lessa. The big woman studied the twenty-eight eggs and then grimaced apologetically at the weyrleader. "I can't keep track."
T'men turned on his bench and handed Mara a small pad of neatly cut paper and a pencil. "Use these."
When Lessa laughed and shook her head, Mara reached forward and took the offering between fingers that were not holding her meatroll. "Thank you." She took a big bite out of the roll and thought about putting it on her knees, but dismissed the idea, not wanting to dirty G'raden's clothes. She turned to the bronze rider at her side and offered it to him. He obligingly took it from her. Lessa let go of her hand and gripped her upper arm to allow full use of both hands. Mara wrote the five colors down the side of the small page and studied the eggs again, placing tick marks next to each color. She then counted the tick marks and wrote the appropriate number next to each color; Gold – one, Bronz – four, Brown - five, Blue – nine, and Green – ten.
She handed the pad and pencil to T'men, who added an 'e' to 'bronze' and nodded approval as he handed it back to her. She handed the pad to Lessa, who looked at it and nodded. Lessa passed the pad to F'lar, who nodded and smiled. F'lar then handed it to the man next to him, who scrunched his face into a pained frown and shook his head. He turned the pad to the small woman at his side, and she just shrugged her shoulders. The pad was handed back to F'lar, who tore off the top page and handed it back to T'men just as the dragons and fire lizards began their low welcoming croon.
The noise, except for the growing croon, subsided quickly as sixty young people, all wearing simple white robes and thick-soled sandals, were led hastily onto the sands to form a semi-circle around the eggs. Most of the eggs were already rocking as the escorts moved to outside walls.
Mara felt slightly dizzy as she realized the entire mountain seemed to be vibrating with the dragon's welcome. Lessa's sparkling eyes caught her attention. "Do you hear them?" she asked the slack-jawed woman.
Mara nodded. "They're excited . . . and hungry!" She pointed to the far wall. "Except for that small one."
"They don't all survive."
A loud snap caused a collective gasp as hundreds of people all held their breaths. Several other eggs cracked all at the same time. One of them shattered as a small wet-darkened bronze dragonet jumped free of the shell. Held breaths were released into relieved sighs and a few laughs.
"Good sign" Lessa said to Mara.
The little bronze wobbled on his hind legs as he searched the line of candidates and let loose an ear-splitting squawk as he found his mate. He wobbled awkwardly toward a young man encouraging him with "Come on, Fradeth. Here I am." The boys face seemed lit from inside with joy which turned to slight worry as more dragonets emerged from their shells to block the path of his Fradeth. He kept up the encouragement, moving sideways in the line to shorten his little bronzes trek. Fradeth tripped over a little blue and rolled almost gracefully, squawking angrily even as he landed upright, and kept moving, around a little brown and two greens, and finally, desperate to reach his goal, over the top of another green, drawing ichor as he lunged the last small distance toward the now kneeling youngster with tears running freely down his glowing face.
A young woman ran around the outside of the semi-circle and past Fradeth in to the little green who was squawking pitifully at the painful punctures in her back. The girl picked up the green, who she called Dirth, and carefully made her way through other pairs to the healers near the walls.
Mara let out an unintentional squeak as dragonets jumped or climbed or rolled out of eggs all within heartbeats of each other. She covered her mouth to prevent a reoccurrence when G'raden laughed at her excitement. The frenzy below was almost too much to take in. Only one young man was injured when he tried to step between a bronze and his selected mate. And then suddenly, there were only two eggs still unhatched.
The junior queen's rider gently, but firmly, encouraged her golden dragon away from the largest egg of them all. It was rocking steadily as the sands cleared of matched dragonet pairs and unimpressed boys, as if waiting for a grand entrance.
Lessa squeezed Mara's hand to get her attention. "Just listening?"
Mara nodded. "Her name is Biradeth." Lessa was about to order G'raden to remove her when Mara continued. "She's looking for Tianna."
A small talon pierced the egg shell near the ground. A crack began to form around the shell in a nearly straight line. And then the shell simple fell apart. A very regal, but wet and wobbly golden dragonet rose up between the halves of the shell and surveyed the remaining girls standing around her. She looked into the eyes of a tall brunette and squawked once before waddling, not too gracefully, from the remains of her last home. Tianna smiled beautifully and stood gracefully, waiting as her little queen approached. She bent down to caress Biradeth's head only after the little gold nudged her thigh.
The remaining girls were led off the hot sands as Tianna led Biradeth with one hand caressing the little gold's neck next to her thigh, crooning "I know you're famished. We seek food right now. Come, Biradeth."
As the stands cleared of mostly joyful people; parents and friends of those who impressed, as well as those always thrilled by a good hatching; and some rather disgruntled people; pompous parents who believed their child deserved or had earned the right to impress, Mara and G'raden stayed at the top of the stands to watch. Lessa and F'lar were impressive with their congratulations and condolences, one or the other of them always calling the recipient by name.
Mara watched the small egg as it occasionally rocked, and listened. "G'raden, that little egg is alive. I can hear it."
"But it's so weak . . . it won't survive." The bronze rider worried. Mara, just starting her fourth decade, was considered far too old to impress any dragon – that's why Lessa had ordered him flight ready, to remove Mara quickly if necessary.
"Her name is Prieth." Mara began to grow angry at the rider. "And she needs help." She started down the steps, only to be stopped by the bronze rider's strong arms around her waist.
"No, Mara. You can't." He drew her in close hoping to give her some comfort. When she struggled, he gripped her arm firmly and led her down the steps. "Let's go now."
The stands and grounds were almost empty, with the notable exception of the junior queen, her rider and her weyrmate. His bronze had dropped to the sands and stood vigil with the others. They watched the small egg, both dragons crooning lovingly and reassuringly.
Lessa saw what was happening – this wasn't the first time she had witnessed an unhealthy dragonet die before even emerging to see the light of day. She nudged F'lar and they both turned as G'raden forcefully led Mara off the steps and toward the exit. Lessa took the big woman's hand and pulled, to no effect. Mara had locked her position. "Mara, they don't all survive."
The big woman's face was a changing mask of concern, anger, and something very close to disgust. "But, she's . . ."
"Prieth's alive, Daddy. Help me!" A girl in a white robe led her father by the hand back onto the hot sands.
Two blue riders stopped the man from proceeding. Both smiled gently, but one told the father, "She needs to do this herself."
The girl slapped repeatedly at the two blue riders; neither budged. "Let him go!" she screamed. "Prieth needs help!"
"If she calls to you, you are the only one who can help her." The girl kicked first the rider who spoke to her and then the other. Both flinched, but neither let loose of her father.
She let out a shrill wail of anger and broke free from her father's tightening grip.
Mara had stopped fighting G'raden and stood in his arms, watching and listening with almost clinical detachment. She, G'raden, Lessa and F'lar moved a bit closer as the girl cradled the small egg, talking to the dragonet inside. They watched as she removed a sandal and began beating at the shell, with no effect.
The girl, in desperation, turned to the queen rider and her weyrmate, and pleaded. "I need a rock! Please," she begged, "I need a rock!"
The junior weyrwoman and her weyrmate exchanged meaningful glances and then nodded to each other. The bronze rider moved to the egg, drawing his belt knife, and knelt opposite the egg from the girl. "Move back."
"Don't hurt her." The girl pleaded pitifully and leaned back keeping one hand on the end of the egg.
The bronze rider tapped the egg with the hilt of his knife, testing the thickness of the shell. Then he slammed the butt of the knife harder, and then harder. He used both hands and slammed again, grunting as he made contact. The shell cracked. He hit again with less force and the shell broke open. He stood and moved away as the girl separated the two halves.
Before revealing the eggs contents, the girl turned humble eyes to the bronze rider. "Thank you, sir." She turned back to her task. The small limp body she pulled carefully from the shell was a sickly grayish green. The girl cradled the underdeveloped body in her arms and sat back onto the sands. "It's all right, Prieth. I have you now. It's all right."
The bronze rider looked to Weyrlingmaster L'ret, who had been called back with one of the dragon healers. When L'ret closed his eyes and shook his head, the bronze rider removed his wher-hide vest, folded it and, as L'ret lifted the girl by the arms, placed it for her to sit on.
L'ret stood back and surveyed the small crowd that had formed nearby, conveniently blocking view of this event from anyone outside the cavern. Besides the junior weyrwoman and her mate, the weyrleaders were present – no surprise – and Wingsecond F'nor holding his weyrmate, Brekke, as well as several bronze riders, including G'raden holding Mara – oh, how he wished he could spare her sight of this reality – and T'men standing with the Master Harper of Pern himself and Master Healer Oldive with that other healer – his name was Tarmin-ass or something. Well, he thought, if he couldn't spare his newest helper from seeing this, then she would learn from experiencing it; and maybe that Tarmin-whatever would learn a thing or two as well. "Mara. G'raden." He motioned for the two of them to join him.
G'raden and Mara each took a deep breath and nodded acknowledgement. They walked behind the line of observers toward the wall where L'ret stood. As they passed the father, Mara looked at him. Tears streamed down his face as he muttered continuously to himself and the blue riders holding him in place. "Oh, my poor Brendeen. I never should have spoiled her so." His arms had been pulled back and were now wrapped, fists loosely clenched, around each of the men holding him. The riders each had a hand firmly on his chest and another on his back. Mara wasn't sure if they were holding him back or holding him up. Neither rider looked at the man between them. As Mara looked at them, one lifted his chin in defiance and the other nodded at her. She nodded at each of them and then looked away, back to L'ret.
"If there's anything you can do for them . . ." L'ret's throat seized, but his jaw clenched as his chin lifted slightly.
Mara nodded and turned to the girl. She was about to kneel, when G'raden stopped her and removed his riding jacket, placing it in front of the girl. Mara nodded and knelt slowly. "What's her name?" she asked gently.
"Prieth." The girl was barely audible as she rocked forward and back, cradling what should be her life-mate.
"May I touch Prieth?" asked Mara.
Defensive, tear-filled eyes turned to study the big woman. "Are you a healer?"
"No."
"But, she can tell you what's wrong with Prieth." G'raden was on one knee behind the girl.
The girl nodded and moved her right hand to Prieth's flank. She seemed about to burst with a whole dam of new tears. After Mara wrapped a hand over the small back, the girl asked quietly, "What's wrong with her?"
Mara smiled gently. "I think you know that as well as I do. What do you feel?"
A new flood of tears streamed as the girl tried to control her voice. "She can't get enough air."
"Because her lungs aren't fully grown, yet."
"Is she . . ."
G'raden laid a hand on her back. "Don't be afraid, Brendeen." When the girl took a deep calming breath, G'raden continued. "Sometimes, this is the way of life."
"Then why did she call me?"
"She needs something from you, and you needed something from her."
"That's the biggest part of being a dragonrider" added G'raden.
"I can't give her air." Brendeen lowered her head and rocked more forcefully.
"But you are giving her love, and strength, and courage." Mara lifted the girls chin. "That's what Prieth needs."
"It's not enough."
"It is for Prieth." G'raden's gentle bass voice calmed the girl.
A small gray-green muzzle snaked up shakily as two pale eyes looked at the girl. A small hand cradled the muzzle as the girl said "I love you, Prieth, so very much." A small squeak came from the little muzzle as the pale eyes closed and the more-gray-than-green neck went limp in the girl's small hand. The girl hugged the small head to her slight chest and began to cry out loud.
G'raden slowly rubbed her back as the junior gold and her bronze mate raised their heads neck to neck and began their high mourning keen over the hugging junior weyrwoman and her weyrmate. As other dragons joined in to create an almost unbearably deafening sound within the cavern, the girl let out a wail of her own.
When the keening stopped, the exhausted girl looked at the big woman kneeling before her. Mara stroked her hair as she said, "She has known love, and feels no pain."
"Now it's time to let her go." G'raden's hand was now stationary on her back.
The girl panicked, and held the small dragonet possessively as she sought help from the junior weyrwoman.
The weyrwoman had already cut the front of her gown, using her mate's knife, and was ripping a large portion of the outer skirt. She walked to the girl and spread the beautiful fabric on the sands. "Lay her here. We'll take her between where all dragons go." She spoke softly, but firmly.
G'raden helped the defeated girl to stand, and then helped Mara to her feet. They both moved back as the girl and the weyrwoman wrapped the tiny green dragon in the luxurious fabric.
Several people were already fitting riding straps to the junior queen and her bronze mate. The weyrwoman's mate had gone to their weyr and retrieved riding jackets for himself and for her. He held his mate's jacket for her to slip into and helped with the fastenings. F'lar, at Lessa's suggestion, had retrieved his weyrmate's jacket and helped Brendeen into it. When the girl was fastened, F'lar, with due reverence, carefully picked up the tiny bundle and stood at attention, waiting. Lessa moved to his side and placed an arm around his waist, and waited.
G'raden tightened his grip on Mara to get her attention. "I should go. Normond and I are both ready." Mara smiled and nodded at him before he kissed the side of her head and left the cavern.
The junior weyrwoman and her bronze rider weyrmate checked their riding straps and each mounted their dragon. The girl was handed up to the weyrwoman.
The girl's father panicked and tried to break free of the blue riders. "She can't . . . What if she . . ."
The riders firmly, but gently pushed him out of the entrance. "Watch." They all watched as the queen's rider made a show of fastening her riding straps and then running another strap from one side of her waist, around the girl and to the other side of her waist. She then tugged firmly on the safety strap, drawing the girl even tighter to her front. The father relaxed, but new tears began to flow. Someone tossed a fur to the queen's rider, which she tucked over the girls bare legs.
Golden queen and bronze mate moved forward. The queen rose to her haunches and allowed F'lar to place the wrapped bundle in her forepaws. All on the sands moved to clear a path for the dragon pair. Both rose into the air of the cavern and flew, queen first, through the entrance out into the bowl of Benden Weyr.
F'lar bent to his weyrmate and spoke into her ear. "Very beautifully done, my dear weyrwoman."
Lessa looked into his eyes. "This was for the girl, and her father, who we still need to deal with."
The weyrleaders each took a deep breath and turned to face Brendeen's father. Lessa reached out her hands to the man as she thanked the blue riders for their assistance. "My dear Lord Holder Kashman. We are all so sorry that Brendeen had to experience this unfortunate event."
The Lord Holder of Keroon Hold straightened his tunic and brushed his hands against his trousers, trying with all his might to regain proper holder composure. "How could you let this happen?" he hissed.
"When a candidate is called to an egg, we do not interfere" F'lar stated flatly.
Kashman was building momentum. "An egg so obviously deformed should have been destroyed before the candidates were placed on the sands."
"If that were the rule, we would not have Ruth" said Lessa "and without Ruth, the Red Planet's orbit would never have been altered."
"If a candidate is called to an egg, and chooses to act on that call, as your very brave daughter did," F'lar would have preferred to call her spoiled, "we do not interfere for fear of losing another dragon like Ruth."
Kashman was apparently as exhausted as his daughter, for he could not find an appropriate response. Lessa took this to her advantage and took him by the arm. "Come with us. We should all observe the full ritual." She led him out to the middle of the northern segment of the great bowl and they all raised their heads to watch as the golden queen circled higher and higher above the bowl, followed by two outward spreading lines of bronze and then brown, blue and green dragons. Lessa squeezed Kashman's arm as she saw tears flow from his eyes into his ears. F'lar bit his lips, but placed a hand on his other shoulder.
The entire population of Benden Weyr, as well as most of the guests, stood in the bowl with heads raised to the sky. Near the Hatching Grounds, Mara stood holding the arm of L'ret near two other men she didn't know; one old hunchback and one wearing harper blue. As the dragons gained altitude, she couldn't help commenting. "I don't understand. Why did she go to all this trouble?"
The tall man in harper blue answered in true harper fashion. "Funerals, my dear, are not for the benefit of the dead. They are for the benefit of those left behind. And a funeral of this magnitude demonstrates the value placed on the loss felt by the good Lord Holder Kashman and his daughter."
"Oh," Mara looked at the tall man "so it's political?"
The man blinked. "Perhaps. I prefer to think of it as a compassionate hand held out to a temporarily disadvantaged opponent."
The draconic procession high above Benden Weyr disappeared for several heartbeats and then reappeared flying in the opposite direction. The large arrow spiraled slowly down, not at a dizzying speed, but definitely at a mesmerizing, peaceful trance inducing rate. The formation closed on the bowl, the two lines behind the queen broke off, each spiraling away from the center point, leaving the queen to descend the final distance on her own. The gold dragon glided smoothly down and around the inside of the volcanic ridges. As she glided along the eastern wall on her final approach to the Hatching Grounds, Kashman gasped. He could see his daughter, sitting like a fragile doll, leaning against the gold's rider. She stared straight ahead, emotionally blank, pale as the robe she was wearing.
Lessa led the distraught Lord back toward the sands. "It might be best if she were to stay with us for a while, Lord Kashman. We can help her get past this terrible loss."
"But, she needs her family. She needs people who understand her."
Lessa smiled far more gently than she wished. "She needs people who understand the loss of a telepathic and empathic bond, however short-lived that bond might have been." She stopped him and looked him square in the eyes. "Right now, she feels as if parts of her heart, mind and soul have been ripped away. Do you know how to overcome that?" When he hung his shaking head, she took each of his hands in hers. "We do. The connection was short and she is obviously a very strong willed girl." He blubbered an almost apologetic chuckle. "She will be all right. She may never be quite the same, but she will be all right." When he nodded acquiescence, she once again took his arm and led him toward the Hatching Grounds.
When they reached the entrance, Kashman was surprised to see that all egg shells had been cleared away. He found his daughter standing like a statue between the junior queen and her weyrmate. Both were leaned down talking to her. Brendeen would occasionally nod, but showed no emotion whatsoever. He called to her with a shaky voice. "Brendeen."
The girl looked at him, registered who he was and walked mechanically his way. Kashman shook his head in disbelief, new tears escaping his already tear-encrusted eyes. This was not his precious little darling; she should be running to him, smiling and giggling.
Brendeen reached her father, wrapped her arms around him, and laid her head on his chest. "It's all right, Daddy." As he stroked her hair and back, and kissed the top of her head, she sighed. "Sometimes, this is the way of life. Don't cry, Daddy. Prieth doesn't hurt anymore."
Lessa laid her hand on the Lord Holders quivering shoulder.
Kashman nodded at the weyrwoman. He took his daughter by the shoulders and gently pushed her back so he could see her face. He nearly fell apart all anew when she didn't resist. "The weyrleaders think you should stay here for awhile, my darling."
A very short flash of fear shot through her eyes, but she nodded. "That would probably be best, Daddy." She backed out of his hands, turned and walked away.
Kashman's jaw dropped as his arms stretched to regain his hold. F'lar and Lessa each took one of his arms to keep him from falling. "We'll take good care of her, Kashman" said F'lar.
Kashman's arms dropped to his sides as he watched his daughter walk back to the junior weyrwoman. He took a deep breath as the woman put a hand on Brendeen's shoulder, bent to talk to her and then led her to the weyrlingmaster. L'ret spoke to the girl and when she nodded, he placed a large, but gentle hand on her shoulder and led her toward the bowl.
As L'ret passed the 'observers' to this tragedy, he stopped and turned to Mara. "Mara! When you are done . . . chattering, we could use your help at the barracks."
Mara stood straight and smiled broadly. "Yes, sir!"
Lord Holder Kashman, having regained a semblance of his decorum, stared at the big woman, and then squinted at Lessa. "Who is that woman?" he nearly demanded.
Lessa smiled her most innocent smile. "Mara? She's this weyr's most competent, most useful, and most versatile . . . drudge." She batted her eyes at the astonished man.
"Drudge?" Kashman couldn't believe that a mere drudge had been so close to his daughter.
Lessa was enjoying herself, now. She loved rubbing 'royal' noses in reality. She turned him toward the Lower Caverns and started leading him by the arm. "And, if she had been found fifteen turns ago, she would surely be a weyrwoman by now." When Kashman turned suspicious eyes to her, she beamed. "Just like me!"
When they came near the entrance to the Lower Caverns, Kashman stopped. He respectfully nodded at first F'lar and then Lessa and spoke quite formally. "Weyrleader F'lar, Weyrwoman Lessa, I sincerely hope you will understand if I do not remain for the . . . festivities." His voice cracked on the last word, but he raised his chin as if daring either to notice.
Lessa silently summoned the watch-dragon assigned to Keroon Hold as F'lar acknowledged understanding. As the brown dragon descended from the high ridges, Kashman turned back to the Hatching Grounds. "I've seen that woman before."
F'lar slapped him on the shoulder and turned him toward the landing dragon. "I doubt it. She's just a drudge after all."
As the watch-dragon launched into the air, F'lar turned and took Lessa by the shoulders. He leaned close to her face, frowning and spoke only loud enough for her to hear. "You lied to a Lord Holder."
Angry, resolute eyes met his. "I most certainly did not!"
"Competent? Versatile?"
Lessa's mouth twitched slightly. "That, my dear, is called anticipation."
"Weyrwoman?"
Now she glared. "Do you doubt my assessment, Weyrleader?"
F'lar searched her face for some sign of humor; none existed. He looked at the large woman on the sands and back to Lessa. "Of course not, my dear Weyrwoman. But . . ."
Lessa put her hands on his arms and lifted them from her shoulders, turning him toward the Hatching Grounds. "We have guests to attend to, my dear Weyrleader."
TO BE CONTINUED
This one was almost as hard as the green mating flight. Please let me know what you think! All reviews are welcome and appreciated.