Eyes closed and still half asleep, Tarrie listened to the sound of the waves gently lapping on the shoreline. It was normally such a relaxing sound, but at that moment, Tarrie wished it would stop. Each wave was like the tick of a clock, each one seeming louder than the last, like an insistent alarm that wouldn't go away. The more she tried to slip back into sleep, the more awake she became, and with wakefulness came an increasing sense of discomfort. The pleasant sea breeze that the riders had enjoyed earlier in the afternoon had died away, and the air's humidity had risen shockingly. Rukbat's growing glare was another reminder of time passing; Tarrie could feel the sun's heat inching up her face, as the shade she'd been lying in slowly vanished. She was hot, sticky, and... bloated?
Tarrie slid her hands down to her belly, realising as she did so that some of the sensations she was feeling weren't her own. In a panic, she sat bolt upright, her head pounding, and flung her mind out towards Porth.
Porth!
Her dragon's mind unfolded around her, and Tarrie suddenly became aware of everything the queen dragon was feeling - far more than just the mild discomfort that had leaked through while Tarrie slept.
I didn't want to wake you... but could you come back soon?
Oh Porth, I'll be there as soon as I can. You should have woken me. It's time, isn't it?
Far away to the north, the gold dragon rumbled uncertainly. I tried to wait for you.
Waves of guilt washed through Tarrie, even as Porth tried to reassure her.
I should have agreed to use the blankets, then you'd be here.
Porth, no. There's no excusing it, I should have been back with you by now. I should never have left you.
Tarrie sighed. It had all seemed like such a good idea that morning. Porth, sensing that she was near to clutching, had spent the early hours pacing in and out of the hatching cavern, finding fault with every piece of ground not already occupied by Chereth and her eggs. The heated matting and blankets caught on her claws, and were too awkward to rearrange around the soon-to-be-clutched eggs. And as for the completed section of hypocaust flooring - well, that was far too draughty. Chereth had scoured all the sand away from the one spot that Porth thought was reasonable, and the other gold was very reluctant to allow a work crew in to replenish it so close to her own eggs. Tarrie was doubtful that she'd let Porth clutch there, even if there had been enough sand. Eventually, Tarrie managed to get Porth to decide on a viable location within the large cavern - as far from Chereth as she could get - thankfully before the two queens' bickering got too far out of hand. The hypocaust works hadn't yet reached that far, so the matting had had to be shifted again, and a second compromise reached. Porth would leave Chereth in peace until she needed to Clutch, and in return, half the dragonriders would head south to the old Paradise stakehold, to gather enough fresh, dry sand to keep Porth happy.
Even then, Tarrie had worried about getting the job done in time... but Porth had been insistent that there was no immediate hurry, and that even if there was, she wasn't laying a single egg until the grounds were ready for her.
So, straight after breakfast, a small team of whoever wasn't otherwise occupied had gathered shovels and heavy-duty canvas skips and departed for the warmth of the Southern beaches. It was backbreaking work, especially in the growing summer heat, but they managed to shift quite a number of tonnes of soft white sand back to the Weyr before lunchtime. As they rested by the shore eating a lunch of sandwiches, Catherine had suddenly demanded to know why they were bothering. If the beaches were good enough for the dragonets, why shouldn't they do for a dragon? It'd be far easier to Thread-proof a large enough stretch of beach than it was to shift the beach grain by grain half way round the planet. Given Chereth and Porth's antagonism that morning, preparing a beach spot for either Tenneth or Milath was immediately deemed a Good Plan for another day. As it was, they hadn't yet transported enough sand to meet Porth's demands, so the afternoon had been spent the same way as the morning had been - sweating and shovelling.
Until Siglath rose to mate.
The only male dragon present who'd caught a queen before was Polenth, and David had quickly sent him back to Fort with a full load of sand, away from the queen's temptation. An unfortunate passing flock of wherries was rapidly decimated, and the participating riders quickly vanished for the privacy of the next beach down the coast. Tarrie had been left with David, seven spare shovels, and three empty skips that still needed filling with sand. Her hands were already blistered, her nose was sunburned, she'd barely had a wink of sleep all night, she was concerned for Porth... and it had all suddenly become too much to bear. But David had been there for her, strong arms supporting her, making her laugh at the ridiculousness of her worries. Catherine wouldn't want anyone lingering round in the aftermath of the flight, and the rest of the workforce would soon be back to finish the job - and even if they weren't, it wouldn't take five minutes to summon more people from the Weyr to help finish the last few loads. The one thing he had insisted on was that Tarrie's shovelling was done for the day, and that she needed a rest.
They'd ended up walking down the beach together, knee-deep in the sea, Tarrie's hands soothed by a long dip in the cool water. Conversation had inevitably turned towards the flight, and the ones that had gone before. It seemed the experience had subtly changed - or rather, educated - the dragons, giving both Polenth and Porth a far clearer awareness of human sexuality than either dragon had had before. Polenth apparently hadn't been encouraging his rider in quite the same way as Porth had... but David had assured Tarrie, laughing all the while, that his dragon's remarks at times were as wildly inappropriate as some of Porth's suggestions. Further education was the key, he'd suggested. With appropriate
partners, chosen in a human, not draconic, manner.
Tarrie had had to agree. They'd paused to watch the dark shapes of the dragons dwindle into nothing high above, but distance was no barrier to the emotions the dragons engendered. Even so, without Porth's involvement they were no more than an aphrodisiac, an opportunity. Tarrie had seized the moment, and insistently stammered out that Porth was in no way nudging her at that moment, and she did have a human choice in mind. So, it seemed, did David. After that... well, things had gone rather well indeed.
Except of course they hadn't, because Tarrie had spent an afternoon indulging herself on a southern beach, and she was still stuck there, and all the while Porth had been needing her in the north. No, she should never have left her dragon, not today of all days!
Porth was clearly in no mood to disagree; despite the dragon's earlier reassurances, Tarrie could feel Porth's concentration drifting away from her rider's turmoil and instead focusing on the muscular pangs in her own body. Head still pounding, Tarrie hauled herself to her feet and stumbled down the beach. She had to get back to the Weyr, right away. David was nowhere to be seen, but Polenth had returned, and was watching the waves from his vantage point on a low sandstone bluff. She scrambled up the slope towards the dragon and called out to him, hoping he'd hear her.
"Polenth?"
The bronze dragon tilted his head, and looked down at her quizzically.
"Where's Dave? I need to get back to Fort. It's Porth."
Polenth gazed at her steadily for a few moments, giving no indication that he'd understood a word of what she'd said. Then he stood up, and turned to face in the opposite direction. Tarrie was just beginning to think that the fool beast was ignoring her, when she heard the sound of jogging footsteps, and realised that Polenth was simply watching Dave return. Moments later he joined her on the top of the bluff, dripping wet and bearing a sealed water flask.
"Went to find some fresh," Dave said quickly. "But Porth needs you, he says."
He didn't even wait for her to answer, immediately giving her a leg up to the gap between Polenth's neck ridges, and scrambling up behind her. It was a short glide down the beach to where the dragons' harnesses had been left alongside the riders' flying jackets and the unfilled skips; they'd need the harness and wherhide even if they did return without the rest of the necessary sand.
"Polenth's called back the others, to collect the last of the sand," Dave said, as if hearing Tarrie's unspoken concerns.
Tarrie nodded, too busy listening in on Porth to speak. As Dave began slinging straps over Polenth's neck and the other dragons appeared from further down the beach, Tarrie grabbed two jackets from the pile - there simply wasn't time to be fussy. Porth couldn't wait much longer.
I'm coming Porth, I'm coming. I'll be with you soon.
I can't wait any more, Tarrie! the gold replied.
"You'd better get us back in time, Dave," Tarrie snapped as he pulled her back up onto Polenth's neck. Both riders shrugged jackets over their shoulders as the dragon powered up into the air, quickly gaining the height needed to jump between. Tarrie could feel Porth lumbering hurriedly from her weyr towards the hatching sands, and knew in her heart that her dragon would reach it long before Polenth got them back... Between had never seemed so long, but then they were out above the Weyr, so low the peaks of the Weyrbowl rose high above them, and there, impossibly, was Porth, still not quite at the cavern's gaping entrance.
Polenth folded his wings and they dropped the last hundred feet like a stone. And then they were grounded, and Tarrie was off and running, finally back where she belonged. Otto and Shoth were waiting just inside the cavern, neither looking amused by Tarrie's last-minute arrival. But that didn't matter. Only Porth mattered now.
I'm here darling, I'm here.
I'm glad, Tarrie. Thankyou for hurrying.
Together, dragon and rider entered the cavern, heading directly for Porth's chosen spot. There was warm sand aplenty for the first few eggs; if Porth's clutching was anything like Chereth's had been, they'd have all night to get the last few loads delivered. On the far side of the cavern, Chereth watched them closely, curled protectively around her eggs. For a moment, she bared her teeth and made to rise, but Alianne was there to swiftly soothe her down. Porth didn't notice a thing, so intent was she on the needs of her eggs.
Tarrie was glad to have Alianne nearby, but Otto she could do without. She knew he was going to say something; he couldn't help himself. Sure enough, they were only halfway across the cavern, Shoth following on behind, when he started speaking.
"Well I'm glad to see you've got your priorities right." He snidely eyed the long shirt peeking out beneath Tarrie's borrowed flying jacket, obviously as much her own as the jacket was.
Oh, but Tarrie didn't need this now. Feeling guilty was one thing, but having Otto rub it in, now that she wouldn't tolerate! The man had been infuriating ever since Porth's flight, half the time acting the gentleman, and the rest his usual self. Perhaps there was too much pride on both sides, but every time Tarrie had tried to smooth things over, or apologise for judging him too harshly... well, it hadn't quite worked. And then there were Porth's nudges! Why wouldn't the man just leave her be?
Tarrie couldn't even spare time to glare at him; Porth's mind was totally focused, and Tarrie wasn't going to let her down now. The gold dragon pawed at the sandy ground, and Tarrie could feel her dragon thinking, gauging it, and all the uncertainty... Porth started to scrape the sand towards her, deepening it beneath her belly, and Tarrie suddenly understood exactly what her dragon needed. She bellowed out asking for help, for anyone near to get the rest of the waiting sand in quickly. Surely the others should have arrived with it by now?
"If you'd been back when you said, instead of..."
"Oh, shut up and do something useful, you possessive cretin!" Tarrie was furious, stressed, distressed... She turned to reassure Porth, and lost herself in the dragon's whirling gaze. It was Porth feeling lost and uncertain, needing confidence and calmness, not Tarrie herself. Guiltily, in the tiny part of her mind that wasn't consumed with concern for Porth, she decided she owed Otto another apology - but the man had already left. Tarrie soothed Porth as well as she could... everything would be fine, and Porth would feel much better once the first egg was safely delivered.
Porth's sudden accepting calm was contagious. The dragon was concentrating deeply now, and there was a sense of pressure, growing steadily. Tarrie swayed as it suddenly passed, Porth's muscles rippling, and she realised that she'd been holding her breath the whole time. But Porth had done it! She'd laid her first egg, it was there, safe on the sands, glistening and perfect. Tarrie felt an amazing upswelling of pride. The sense of relief from Porth was palpable as the dragon inspected her first egg. The dragon gently nudged it with her muzzle, trying to decide on the best position for it. It seemed to be okay, or at least Porth thought it was, even though she didn't know enough to be sure. Dragon and rider shared a moment of feeling totally lost and totally natural - revelling in the instinct of the moment - until Porth nosed a simple hollow in the sand, and rolled the egg carefully into it.
Tarrie looked up and met Alianne's eyes. The other goldrider grinned, not needing to say a word. She understood what this meant for the pair.
Porth's eyes were whirling a calm green now, the dragon content with how things were progressing.
How long before the next egg?
Not for a little while. I will lay another soon though.
Tarrie grinned, and turned back to face the cavern entrance, where a small crowd had gathered.
"Well? Where's the rest of our sand?" she demanded, still smiling like a fool.
Throughout the night, the workers just about kept pace with Porth's demands for more sand, and egg after egg appeared at regular intervals. Tarrie's back began to ache again sometime around midnight, but at least her headache had gone - whether it was the pills Dave had pressed into her hand with a glass of water that had done the trick, or the crisply cool bottle of white wine supplied by Kathy didn't really matter. Porth was doing fine.
Nearly a full twenty-four hours later, there were twenty-one eggs on the hatching sands and Porth had been given the all-clear. Her dragon fast asleep, Tarrie scratched the sand out of her hair and stumbled back to her own bed, nearly delerious with tiredness, but feeling happier than she'd done in weeks.