"It's a good thing you were never searched," B'ton laughed as Namul rolled his eyes. "There isn't a Weyr that wouldn't tremble at your name."
"Hah, they already do." Fulsa retorted, smiling. "Okay Telly." With a happy croon the blue flopped down and rolled onto his back, waving all four clawed feet in the air. B'ton watched with amazed bemusement as Fulsa put a new handful of sand between each toe and rubbed as the wher writhed with pleasure.
"Wondering if Wubath would like a foot bath?" Namul asked.
Absolutely not. The bronze informed all three of them and Telgarsk made a funny compressed snorting sort of noise. Fulsa giggled.
"Oh~ pray tell, Terror of Telgar." Namul asked, working the sudsing sand into Namusk's neck ridge.
"Telly just said 'more for him'". Fulsa said, as the wher drooled in pleasure.
Wubath snorted in B'ton's mind.
What do you think of whers? B'ton asked his bronze.
They are our cousins, although bred to a different purpose. Wubath replied candidly. It is people who put a judgment value on them. They are very intelligent, if at times difficult to understand.
You have a hard time understanding whers? B'ton blinked at that little revelation.
Unimpressed ones are the hardest to understand. Those with particularly stupid handlers are also difficult to understand.
Namul and Fulsa shared a glance.
"What's your bronze telling you?" Fulsa asked, and B'ton flushed, realizing he let the conversation lapse.
"Ah, Wubath was just explaining that some whers are harder to converse with than others."
The wherehandlers nodded, not seeming surprised by that tidbit.
"Wild ones, right?" Namul asked over his shoulder, as he fetched another bucket of water. "Namusk doesn't like talking to them either."
"Why's that?" B'ton queried, rubbing a wing knob clean.
Because their thoughts are unfocused, like a baby's. Wubath supplied, causing all the humans to blink.
"Is that the case for you too?" Fulsa asked Telgarsk, who nodded from his wallow on the ground.
"One more point in favor to your theory, love." Namul said, carefully pouring the warm water down Namusk's neck and back. The green shook all over, sending the water flying.
"Oh, you have a theory?" B'ton teased, ignoring the splashing as Namul fussed at his wher. Namusk arched her neck coyly.
"Which one?" Fulsa grinned, moving on to the next foot.
"Wher intelligence. Whenever we insist that the whers are smart-" They are. "-some dimglow always brings up the Beast of Bitra." Namul sighed, and B'ton winched sympathetically.
"But I think, if anything, it proves my point. The Beast's handler was, by all accounts, the Hold idiot. He was only given the wher egg because some fool lost it in a game of cards and no one else wanted it. Result? A mentally deficient brown wher that has the hardest time preforming even the simplest of watchwher duties." Fulsa explained. "It's really a shame it didn't bond with anyone else, and went between when his handler died." Fulsa sighed, and slapped the side of Telgarsk's leg. He offered her another foot.
"Some would call that admirable loyalty." B'ton said quietly, thinking of the two hatchlings.
"I suppose it is that too." Fulsa amended sanding the pad of Telgarsk's foot. "But when I go, I expect Telly to stick around long enough to make sure everything is in good order before making that long jump between."
Charel's days fell into routine. She'd wake at early, dress and eat, then help Ofsee up and through her exercises. When those were done, provided Vaeth was still asleep, she'd fetch breakfast for the queenrider, and carve Vaeth's breakfast, and anything more the kitchen might ask for. Feeding Vaeth took less time, now that the little blue had figured out the mechanics of chewing, and Weyrling lessons would take the rest of the morning. Lunch would roll around, and Lybae would find her and share the latest news, although now that the Weyr was rendering numbweed some lunch meetings consisted of little more than a friendly wave at one another. After lunch more lessons, with either the Weyrhealer or Weyrharper. Vaeth would need to be fed again before dinner, then Charel could relax and recount the day's events with Lybae. Lybae proved to be an invaluable source of information, both for Weyrlife, and events across Pern, and her friendship opened Charel to the company of other weyrling girls her age, something Tress quietly encouraged. Charel, unaware that Jurille had passed on Gwedli's impassioned plea to Tress, attributed it to the open nature of the Weyr, and the rumor that girls were going to be allowed to stand at the next Hatching, regardless of a queen egg. Charel found no end of eager girls wanting to hear about Vaeth's training, and just as eager to share their own experiences, growing up around dragons and fire lizards alike. And, although raised to be humble, Charel relished the evenings when she could talk about her Vaeth, although common sense told her that she would soon be listening to some of her friends brag on their dragonets.
The only change to this routine was Threadfall, and then the Weyrlings and weyrlings alike spent the morning bagging firestone, and their afternoons in Weyrling lessons. The day of Fall was always a little random. If Fall was in the morning, then the afternoon was spent helping the riders clean their dragons. If Fall was in the afternoon, then there were lessons with the Weyrharper in the morning, and everyone worked into the night to clean the dragons. Most Falls, Charel noted, tended towards afternoon and early evening, but all ended by sunset.
"I wonder why Thread never falls at night." She mentioned to Lybae over dinner one night, as older dragonriders laid bets on the first frost. She had brought her most recent letter from home with her, intent on writing her family before calling it a night.
"I don't know why," Lybae admitted, "but it never has."
"I bet Harper Valtree knows." Clakessa, Lybae's foster sister said.
"It has something to do with the rotation of Pern." Shy Thelil said. Thelil was actually a Turn older than Charel, and had a passion for astronomy that caused Valtree to lobby to have her sponsored at Harperhall. "I-I could look it up, if you'd like," she offered hesitantly.
"I'd love to know, if you have the time." Charel replied, encouragingly. Of all the girls that routinely shared dinner with her, Thelil was the only one who never said much. Lybae had told Charel in a moment of privacy that the older girl was found by a sweeprider after a Fall, turned out of her Hold by an irate Holder who accused the eight Turn old of pilfering food. The Weyr had taken her in but she was always timid thereafter. Charel had come to like the girl despite her timidity and often included her in whatever task she was engaged in, be it writing a letter or tending to Vaeth's needs.
"What are you writing your folks about?" Lybae asked, savoring her pudding.
"I'm telling Ma about Ofsee's babies." The queenrider had birthed twins in the early morning hours the day before.
"Are you going to tell her about about C'seld?" Clakessa asked, stirring more sweetening into her klah.
The Benden Weyrleader had flown in a week before, shortly after the second wave was called for change over, intent on collecting his missing queenrider. The only obstacle to his success was her very angry queen, who had backed up against the Bowl entrance and spread her wings flat to the wall, forbidding him admittance. The only other dragons in the Weyr at the time were the dragonets. In a mind boggling show of support every dragonet woke from a sound sleep and raced to protect the Benden queen. Charel's head buzzed, not for excitement, but the sheers volume of dragon mindvoices, not speaking words but emotion.
Turning, C'seld found himself surrounded by hissing dragonets. He snarled, and Vaeth, her darling, sweet tempered blue snapped as he made another step towards the growling queen. Enraged, the bronzerider raised his fist, and with an inarticulate shout Charel grabbed a firestone shovel and stepped between the two, fully intent on doing the much larger man bodily harm.
"HOLD!"
Weyrling and rider both froze as Zandur stalked across the Bowl, his towering rage as palpable as the dragons'.
"You, C'seld- you are out of order!" he snapped his chronic wheeze vanished in his fury, his voice closer to the deadly hiss of the queen dragon. "And you!" He grabbed the shovel out of Charel's hands, "go tend your blue." He ordered roughly as Charel backpedaled to her still hissing dragonet.
"I demand to see Ofsee!" C'seld ordered, ignoring the offending girl and her blue.
"You can demand all you want – you're not seeing her." Zandur shot back. "She is too ill, and as a healer you lot answer to me, not the other way around." The two men of equal height stood toe to toe, staring unblinkingly at each other.
Then, the air was full of gold dragons. Charel sank to her knees, buckling under the combined weight of twenty angry queens. Vaeth whined slightly, and extended his wings as if to shelter her. Blindly Charel reached for him, and the relief she felt when her fingers touched his skin was immediate. She still felt the fear and anger as strongly as before, but now the pressure, the weight of those emotions was bearable. Charel tightened her arm around Vaeth's neck, clinging to him.
One gold, more bronze than gold with age, landed. C'seld's bronze, towering over the dragonets a moment ago was curled up into a near fetal ball, under the queens' combined fury.
Brinda slid off Couragth and strode over to the two men, almost shaking from anger.
"You gutless son of a tunnel snake." She hissed lowly, although her voice carried to the Weyrlings closest to them.
"Stay out of this, hag!" C'seld spat, and was rewarded with a slap to his face by Brinda.
"You will respect my experience, if not my authority, pup," she snarled. "Ofsee is to stay here until the baby is born, by the Masterhealer's orders, not mine, not Jurille's. You force her between now and not only will you cause her to lose the baby, and her own life, every dragon here will set upon your dragon until the only escape for your pathetic hide's the long jump between!"
C'seld, his hand to his smarting cheek, was not cowed. "I see what you're up to, first my queen, then my greens. You think I don't recognize the Eight's med-?"
"What are you talking about, 'your greens'? Brinda demanded, hands on her hips. "Isn't your harem big enough? Flying all those queens, you should be ashamed taking on new lovers!"
"They aren't my lovers, they're my Weyrlings! Telgar stole them!" He yelled back.
"Look around you, dimglow, every dragonet in the Weyr is here. Do you see your greenriders?"
C'seld glanced around, and for the first time seemed to recognize that all the Weyrlings were indeed boys. For the first time, uncertainty crossed his face.
"Now, get on your bronze and return to your Weyr. You are not welcome here." Brinda ordered calmly, although her expression promised a very bloody outcome if he refused. Stiffly, C'seld turned on his heel and walked back to his dragon, who uncurled just long enough for him to mount, going between from the ground rather than fly the gauntlet of irate queens above.
"Thank you." Zandur murmured, his voice low, so only Brinda and Charel heard him. "And thank you for the promotion." He added sardonically.
"Nonsense. You'd have been Masterhealer if Cici hadn't been cuter in a dress." Brinda replied almost absently. Zandur snorted laughter. "How's Ofsee?"
"I go to find out." Zandur turned and marched up to Deerith, who recognizing the healer, folded her wings. Brinda turned to address the still hovering Wing of queens.
"Thank you, sisters. It should be safe enough for you to return to whatever task I called you from." Charel heard her soft words repeated, as if from a great distance, and singly and in pairs the sky above the Bowl emptied of golds. Brinda turned and searched the crowd until her gaze settled on Vaeth and Charel. She walked over to the dragonpair, and Vaeth peered up at her, still shielding Charel with an oiled wing.
"Vaeth and... bluerider with the heart of a gold." Brinda's tone was light, the wrinkles around her eyes crinkling with amusement. Charel looked up and wiped her face on her sleeve.
"L-lady..." She cast about for the queenrider's name. Brinda. A voice, rich with age helpfully provided. "Lady Brinda," she started anew.
"Just Brinda, youngster, we're all dragnfolk here. No need for titles." She held her hand out to Charel and grateful for the support Charel took it. "But names are helpful." Brinda hinted broadly.
"I- I'm Char." Char decided in that moment. "A-and I was just protecting Vaeth, I'd have never raised my hand against a Weyrleader, I swear." Veath, eyes still glowing yellow streaked with green, leaned against Char, offering wordless encouragement.
"You did precisely as a rider should," Brinda repiled soothingly. "and you, bold Vaeth, you and your clutchmates have done Telgar proud". She turned and surveyed the collected dragonpairs. "You have proven yourselves as true dragons today. No one will doubt your bravery when you fly Fall. But please, for now, return to your duties. The first wave will be returning soon, and they will have need of the succor you can offer." Like the queens moments before the dragonpairs moved off singly and in small knots, the dragonets to finsh their naps, the Weyrlings to return to their stations, heartened by the words of Pern's senior most queenrider.
If you notice any grammatical or spelling errors please let me know.
Additional notes:
Um... in light of a private message I received I feel the need to remind people that the theory of watchwher intelligence and abilities espoused by my wherhandlers is pure conjecture on my part. I know Anne spared little love for the watchwhers, and with Fulsa and Namul as intermediaries this is the best reason I could come up with for why a creature derived from the same genetic material as the dragons might eventually end up as the pitiful creatures by the 9th Pass. Please understand, I am not trying to rewrite cannon, only suggest a theory that wherhandlers could conceivably come up with on their own.
To the complaint of turning watchwhers into dragons, I really don't believe that's a fair complaint. Watchwhers were Wind Blossom's attempt to improve upon the design Kitti Ping laid out. As such it makes much more sense that they would have all the same abilities as fire lizards. But as Lessa's rediscovery of going between times suggests, if the concept is never introduced to the individual, how could the watchwher possibly conceive that it could do such things as teleport, pyrobreath, or even fly? Having said that, it will be rare when I have the watchwhers' teleporting, and they most definitely not be timing it. If you fundamentally disagree with my logic, I apologize, for you are most likely not going to enjoy the rest of this story, nor the follow up, Wherleader.