Apprentice to Master and Holder to Lord
Defer to their wisdom and to them accord
the trust and respect that is rightfully theirs
that their peers did bestow on the worthiest heirs
Apprentice to Master and Holder to Lord
Do not let ill use and misrule be ignored
Craftmasters and Conclave must act for your sake,
and lest evil follow, autonomy break.
Early evening, 14.3.35
High Reaches Weyr
The Weyr's feeding grounds were crowded. A full dozen of the larger browns and bronzes stooped beside their kills, while a handful more were circling above the scattered, panicked herdbeasts, waiting for their own chance to strike.
Alaireth ignored them all.
Rahnis slowed to watch as the queen passed overhead. Ahead of her, M'arsen kept walking for another half a dragonlength before he realised that she wasn't keeping pace with him and turned back, clearly irritated by the delay. Damrel, on the other hand, looked a little relieved. The ground of the herdbeast and wherry enclosures was far from level, rising steadily towards the walls of the bowl, and offered anyone outside the high stone walls a clear view of most of what took place within. Some dragons were messier eaters than others but, no matter how tidy a kill was, the unfortunate prey rarely died quietly, nor were the surviving beasts easily calmed. Rahnis herself had taken a good few months after Impressing Alaireth to become fully accustomed to the sight of a dragon casually dismembering its meal, but it had been twice as long again before the sound of teeth crushing skulls ceased to bother her. Over in the wherry enclosure, the sights and sounds were a little less gruesome, but the smells were far, far worse. The feeding grounds weren't a part of the Weyr that many visitors willingly went too close to, but she'd promised Ista Hold's Steward a proper explanation of why the Weyr's home-skinned hides weren't being produced in the quantities – or quality – that he expected.
"Isn't she going a bit fast?" Damrel asked.
Alaireth had dropped lazily from the slopes of one of the spindles, but her glide had gained in speed with every second of her descent. The other dragons in her path had already been forced aside and, from this angle at least, the queen did seem to be approaching the inner slopes of the bowl alarmingly quickly.
"At least someone is," M'arsen muttered.
He's not worth it, Rahnis reminded herself for the umpteenth time that day. M'arsen was Sh'vek's tool, and the pair of them would fall together...if only everything worked out the way she hoped. If. The way today had gone, she was starting to have doubts. Ignoring the brownrider, Rahnis forced a reassuring smile for the Steward. "For a glide, yes, but dragons can manage much more in powered flight."Alaireth would need to bank or backwing eventually if she wasn't to crash headlong into the far side of the bowl. Rahnis could already guess which option the queen would choose. "Keep watching."
Even as she spoke, the queen angled her wings and executed a sharp and graceful turn, nothing close to what a green or blue might manage, but still far tighter than many would suspect a queen was capable of. The bronzes and browns who'd already given way to her once were forced to move aside again. Try not to damage any of them, dearest, Rahnis thought with a sigh. We're going to need them.
Oh, all right.
Alaireth had been in a disgruntled mood all day, impatient and tired and snappish with almost every dragon who spoke to her. An hour before noon, a small contingent of Flamestrike's younger blues and greens had pleaded for the queen to watch over them during the next threadfall, as if that would somehow spare them the need for their own vigilance. Sasseny's Velsilth wasn't one of them, but she readily confirmed that they'd got the idea from her. Reluctantly, Rahnis had asked Alaireth to report all of them to Ormaith. It was the right thing to do – fighting dragonpairs couldn't afford anything less than complete confidence in themselves, and entrusting their safety to a queen who might be halfway to the horizon and looking the other way when something went wrong was just plain stupid – but she didn't envy either dragons or riders the dressing down that would follow, or welcome the long minutes of soothing, unctuous flattery Alaireth received from the Weyleader's bronze.
Some of the Weyr's other bronzes had proved an even greater annoyance. Pryanth and Cortanth had independently come up with the idea of flirting with Alaireth as a means of drawing more of Linnebith's attention. Alaireth had maintained a wall of silence towards them both, but it hadn't stopped Delene from overhearing everything the male dragons said, nor mitigated the other weyrwoman's spite. The first time it happened, it had taken all the control Rahnis had to stop her queen from overreacting to Linnebith's complaints. The second time, Alaireth did the same for her. There were advantages to following Sh'vek's orders to limit contact with the bronzes – the longer their attentions were focused on Linnebith, the later Alaireth would rise – but it didn't come easily to either of them, and Rahnis was conscious of the fact that she was subduing her queen's natural inclinations on the command of a man whose bronze wouldn't be easy to avoid under the best of circumstances.
After that, the constant stream of trivialities had become very, very grating for both of them. Most of the dragons had simply wanted to feel the reassurance of a queen's attention in the aftermath of Kiath's death: a perfectly natural response, but one which was ultimately insulting; her queen's presence alone ought to have been sufficient. It probably would have been, had Alaireth not been forbidden from asserting her dominance. Rahnis could hardly blame the queen for her mood, given all that.
No, you can't, Alaireth thought forcefully. If you must blame someone, blame yourself.
The thought stung, but at least it was honest...and accurate. Oh, Alaireth! You know that I already do. I'm doing everything I can to fix this.
A little apologetically, the queen enfolded her in the comfort of a mental embrace. It helped, a little, but it couldn't completely dispel her anxiety. There was so much that was out of her hands.
Why? Alaireth demanded as she circled above the herds. Why must we wait before you act? Why suffer? Why risk it? Why can't we drive him away right now?
Because he's Weyrleader, my dearest, in fact if not by law. Harpers and Lords Holder have other ways of dealing with these problems, but this is a Weyr, and Delene's still acting Weyrwoman. I wouldn't trust her with the basics of prepping my flamethrower properly, and I certainly wouldn't trust her to act on our behalf in this. She'll be worse than she was yesterday when she finds out.
I don't like her listening to us.
I know, I know. She's not listening now, is she?
No.
Good. We won't have to worry about her for long, thank Faranth.
But you still worry about Sh'vek.
Yes. Delene can't do anything to hurt us. He can. It'll be hard enough swaying the others to take our side even after you've risen. By then, I hope, all our traditions will be on our side rather than his. We're going to need that advantage.
I like that even less. And I don't like that I can't do anything to help!
Oh, love. You help me more than I'll ever be able to say.
And if tradition isn't on our side, after I've risen? What if I fail you, Rahnis?
If that happens, the failure will be mine, not yours. If Sh'vek kept his rank...Rahnis really didn't want to think about that, but she couldn't deny it was a possibility. Trath was a long way from fit, and although the other bronzes were in decent enough shape today, their condition a few days from now would depend a lot on how badly the next threadfall played out. Gossip in the Lower Caverns was already sharding pessimistic about the upcoming fall, but it was far more positive than what was being said about F'ren. That wouldn't help him much, either. If it happens, we'll just have to accept it, and wait for our next chance for me to get free of Sh'vek. It was rare indeed that the preferences of both Weyr and woman were embodied by the same man, and she'd hardly be the first Weyrwoman to pay that particular price for riding gold. A turn isn't all that long, and there'll be far more bronzes capable of catching us next time you rise, no matter what new tricks he can come up with in the interim.
So she hoped. The condition of the other bronzes would probably be the only thing in their favour. F'ren would undoubtedly be long gone from the High Reaches the next time Alaireth rose, and C'nir had made it sharding clear to her that he wasn't going to challenge Sh'vek's authority again any time soon. Telemath wouldn't have been a good match for Alaireth anyway, but his rider might have inspired other riders to make their own challenges. M'gan was too unimaginative for that – assuming he and Baxuth ever fully recovered from the trauma of Maenida's death – S'kloss uninterested, and the other Wingleaders were all too accustomed to their obedience. She'd need to be wary of that one herself, if Sh'vek was given the best part of a turn to consolidate his position. That left the younger riders...and she'd seen how well he dealt with them. Talent alone wasn't half as useful to an ambitious rider as loyalty.
M'arsen coughed impatiently. Rahnis gave him a sour look. "What?"
"Other dragons need to eat too, you know."
Biting her tongue, Rahnis carried on towards the drystone wall that bordered the herdbeasts' enclosure. A handful of riders were sitting atop it, watching over their dragons, but there were several others about who'd crossed thewell-trampled field to join their partners. She noted who was where, then made her way towards where S'kloss was standing. He wasn't the man she needed most right now, but she hoped he'd be quick enough to serve her purpose. Would you bespeak Hieth for me Alaireth? Quiet as you can.
I understand, Alaireth answered. I know what to say, and where to go.
On the ground, the queen's racing shadow spooked a small group of animals to renewed flight ahead of M'arsen's Pellenth. The brown landed heavily, empty-clawed; behind Rahnis, M'arsen himself spoke up. "Did she have to do that?"
"Do what?" Rahnis asked innocently.
S'kloss looked back over his shoulder as Rahnis and the two men arrived at the foot of the wall. "Ah, M'arsen, just who I needed to speak to! I could do with your expert advice right now." He stretched out a hand towards the brownrider; M'arsen ignored it, and vaulted up one-handed. S'kloss offered his assistance to Rahnis instead. "Good evening to you too, weyrwoman."
Rahnis clambered up onto the wall and shuffled along carefully until she found a more solid spot to stand. While S'kloss helped Damrel up as well, she lifted a hand to shield her eyes from the last of the direct sunlight and watched as Alaireth made her kill, the queen swooping low to pluck an exhausted bull from the tail end of one of the slower groups of panicked animals. It hung limply, spine broken, from the queen's jaws. Nicely done, dearest, she thought as the queen landed close to a heavily scarred brown.
By then, Pellenth had also managed to bring down his prey. "Whatever it is, S'kloss, it can wait until later," M'arsen was saying.
"Not really," S'kloss countered. He pointed towards a large green pulling quill-feathers off her meal in the wherry-enclosure. "Oth, the green my Wing got from Flamestrike. She never touches the feathers, nor half the rest of the good eating on a wherry."
"Oth? She's always been a fussy eater. What of it?"
"Come with me, and I'll show you." He gave Rahnis an appealing grin. "You won't mind if I borrow M'arsen for a while, will you?"
As if she would! "Not at all, S'kloss. I'm sure he'll be far more use to you than he would be to me. That's Zallackuth finishing up over there, isn't it? I'll just borrow J'an instead. Come on, Damrel, before the herds get scared our way again."
Before the brownrider could offer a complaint, Rahnis hopped down from the wall. Damrel descended more cautiously, torn between watching the stones under his hands and feet and the animals racing around behind him. "Do we need to run?"
She shook her head. "A brisk walk will be fine. They're called herdbeasts for good reason," she explained as they walked, "and so long as the lead animals stay near the walls, we shouldn't be bothered. Once we get close to Alaireth, they won't come near unless they're already scared out of their minds."
"And if they do?"
"She'll keep us safe, trust me."
"Ah. And is it always wherries for greens and blues, and herdbeasts for browns and bronzes? That's not what I'd have guessed from what we tithe to our Weyr."
"What?" She looked back at the wherry enclosure, and confirmed for herself the pattern that the Steward had spotted: there were half a dozen blues and greens on the ground inside the wherry enclosure, and a blue she didn't know on sight and old O'kash's green circling above it. Shonath's back from Fort, she thought softly to her queen, before giving Damrel his answer.
"I see what you mean, but no, it's not the norm. Usually a dragon will make a meal of several beasts, and will choose whichever they fancy the taste of that day. Most of the dragons out here now are probably just taking on a bit of extra sustenance, ready for the long threadfall tomorrow. The greens and blues are just as likely to hunt down a herdbeast as a wherry after a Fall, but a whole one can be a bit much to comfortably digest, especially with the extra weight of firestone they'll be chewing." It didn't normally stop them from eating the best parts of a beast and leaving the rest to go to waste, much as Oth was doing right now, but perhaps the winter's frugality had finally sunk in.
"I see. And...ah. Um." Damrel swallowed anxiously. "He won't be hungry for more, will he?"
Ahead of them, Zallackuth had the last quarter of his kill in his mouth, the hoof poking out between his jaws while he crunched down on the bones noisily. The remains of the carcass slid further out as his jaws worked, then the brown suddenly tossed his head into the air and swallowed the limb down whole.
"You'll have to ask his rider that one, not me." Rahnis slowed to a walk and waved at Zallackuth's rider. "Brownrider J'an! Come and reassure the Weyr's guest, would you?"
And tell him to do it quickly, Alaireth added. I'm getting hungry.
This won't take long, I promise. Leaving J'an and Damrel to introduce themselves, Rahnis went to her queen and pressed her face against her neck. We can head back to our weyr as soon as you've eaten and I've given J'an my message. Sh'vek will still want his report – sooner rather than later, knowing M'arsen – but after this I'm all yours.
Rahnis stepped back from Alaireth and went to crouch beside the cow the queen had caught. "J'an, could you come back here and lift its head for me?"
J'an did as she asked. Rahnis beckoned Damrel closer and traced a line on the animal's neck. "Here's where a person would..." Her head swam; she could feel Alaireth's touch on her mind, blanking the visual part of her memory and the echoes of half-sensed horror that had somehow been carried across the spaces between four minds. Shells, Alaireth. This is...
Don't think about it. You're right. But don't think about it.
She forced herself to keep speaking. "Where you cut to bleed a herdbeast out. Leaves a nice, neat hide, assuming whoever skins it knows what they're doing, but it's not an easy place for a dragon to reach. It can be done, but the horns can be a problem, and one should never underestimate how far a cow-kick will reach. It's best to finish them off quick. Once it's in the air, your dragon's got the animal's whole weight in her claws or jaws. Jerk too hard...would you step back a bit now, please J'an?"
She waited for him to move away, then nodded at Alaireth. The queen lunged for the beast's neck, gripping it from the side between her teeth, then lifted the animal hard off the ground with a quick movement of her head. The cow's neckbones crunched audibly under the pressure of the queen's teeth, and the flesh began to tear almost instantly. Alaireth opened her mouth and let it thump back to the ground just before its head would have been severed from the rest of its body completely.
"And that's why most larger dragons go for a spot lower down the spine," Rahnis explained. "Even then, there's usually a fair bit of tearing." She went to crouch beside the cow's body, beckoning the Steward to follow. "Here's where she holed it when she killed it," Rahnis said, pointing out the bite-marks to Damrel, "and I'd say the tearing to the hide is pretty average for a large dragon."
"What about smaller dragons?" Damrel asked, pulling back a ragged flap of torn hide with his fingers. "Not that any of them seem very small to me."
"Claws are even worse than teeth if you want to get a good hide," J'an said. "Dragons don't mind if their meal's a bit ripped up, that's for sure. So long as the blood's still warm, Zall's happy."
"And that's the other problem with skinning kills," Rahnis added, wiping her hands as clean as she could on the animal's hide. "Riders will rush it when they can feel how hungry their dragon is, and I certainly won't be skinning this one. No, the only way to guarantee a good hide is when the Herdsmen cull the stock...but dragons aren't carrion feeders by choice." She stepped aside and smiled up at her queen. "Thank you for waiting, dearest. Damrel, did you have any more questions?"
Damrel backed off quickly. "Oh, no! We shouldn't delay her if she's hungry! I'm quite convinced."
I should hope so too! Rahnis thought. Would you mind scaring him off now, Alaireth?
The queen placed a clawed foot on the cow's hindquarters, and tore open its belly with her teeth. Entrails spilled out, and she nosed them aside in search of the liver and heart.
"Best move back a little more," Rahnis said, smiling at Damrel. Behind her back, she signalled to J'an to wait where he was. "Or, if you're sure you've seen enough, you might as well head back to the Lower Caverns. I'd escort you back, but I'll need to clean first, and attend to Alaireth. Will you eat here, or back at Ista? It'll be getting late there now."
The old steward paled, his eyes darting between Rahnis and the mess Alaireth was making of her meal. "At home. I'm not...not hungry. My thanks, weyrwoman. And you, brownrider J'an."
"And mine, Steward Damrel. I'll have Alaireth notify L'sen's dragon that you're ready to leave."
Damrel hurriedly made for the safety of the boundary wall. Rahnis didn't stop to watch; she'd already seen M'arsen and Sh'vek coming the other way, and that barely left her any time at all. Shard it, Flamestrike shouldn't have finished their drill half as fast as that! As soon as Damrel was out of earshot she walked back to Alaireth, passing J'an by as if he wasn't there.
"J'an, don't say anything, don't do anything to let on that I'm talking to you," she said, stroking Alaireth's leg. "Just listen. This is important."
He's listening, Alaireth thought between mouthfuls. Tell him.
"I need you to get a message to F'ren," she began. She'd tried her best earlier, but M'arsen had been right there, and she wasn't sure that F'ren had picked up on all the subtleties. He'd certainly looked confused enough. "Tell him that doing nothing might not be good enough."
She and Alaireth had both hoped that a few days of recuperation would be enough for the bronze, but Alaireth had seen him fly today. Trath was recovering well, but not nearly fast enough. The dragon needed more time, and if F'ren was ever going to find some, he'd have to do it soon. "He needs to act, he needs to leave the Weyr tomorrow, and he mustn't refuse to fight."
That was what she was most afraid of. The bronze had been inhibited from going between by both queens – worryingly easily, too – but with Sh'vek insisting that they fight tomorrow, that order would lapse as soon as thread started falling. Alaireth and Linnebith certainly couldn't afford to maintain the level of oversight necessary to make Trath and F'ren fight the full Fall, and the obvious thing for F'ren to do would be to refuse to leave his weyr right from the outset. F'ren wasn't a fool: he and Trath had nothing to gain by joining his Wing in threadfall, and everything to lose. The problem was, if he did that, Sh'vek would surely have the queens order Trath to stay where he was – and that, they could enforce. F'ren wouldn't have any chance to leave the Weyr after that.
"Threadfall's the best opportunity he'll get," she continued. "Tell him to make sure he takes it. And to be sure to speak to H'koll before he goes." That wasn't quite as essential as getting F'ren and his bronze safely between times, but she wanted him to know what she was up against if she could. H'koll was her best hope, there. With a Healer Hall delivery ready to collect first thing in the morning, she'd be in and out of the infirmary several times before Thread fell. The greenrider already knew most of her troubles, and it wouldn't take long to fill in the gaps in his knowledge of what had happened in Maenida's weyr. "F'ren knows what he has to do. That's all. Just tell him, please, J'an. If you've got all that, stamp your feet twice, then go before the Weyrleader gets here."
A boot thudded against the ground, twice, and Rahnis sighed with relief. Thank Faranth! The message was likely nothing F'ren hadn't already planned on doing for himself, but she wanted him to know that she was with him. She gave J'an a few seconds to get back to Zallackuth's side, then turned and waved them both off. M'arsen had gone with Damrel, she saw, and Sh'vek was still several dragonlengths away, but she couldn't pretend she hadn't seen the Weyrleader beckoning her over. "Sorry, love," Rahnis said, slapping Alaireth lightly on the foreleg. "I won't let him keep me from you long."
Don't let him get to you, Alaireth thought soothingly. I can wait. I've told Ormaith to make himself useful and bring me another animal.
Rahnis kept her sense of dismay tightly to herself as she walked away. On another occasion, Alaireth might have noticed it no matter what she did, but the queen's attention was already more than half focused on the Weyrleader's bronze. It wasn't unheard of for queens to ask bronzes to hunt for them if they had eggs on the sands, or were lazy, or if they wanted a particular bronze to demonstrate that they knew their place...but usually the task was left to the queen's most recent mate.
Sh'vek, too, was watching his dragon hunt. "She's got quite an appetite, hasn't she?" he drawled as Rahnis reached him. "Nothing we can't sate, I'm sure."
"You can try," Rahnis snapped back at him.
He dropped his gaze and looked her in the eyes, full of amused, masculine charm. "An invitation?"
"You're aware you require one then," she answered. "Good."
He chuckled softly, then looked back towards the sky. "The Weyrwoman is discerning, Ormaith. Show her what you can do."
Rahnis stared blankly at the striated walls of the Weyr, leaving the dragon's hunt to her queen to watch. She didn't like the approval she could sense in Alaireth's mind, and had no intention of inadvertently adding to it.
If you dislike him so strongly, you ought not to worry so much, Alaireth said. Ormaith is no choice of mine any more than his rider is yours. But I will have the best of this Weyr and, like it or not, here and now he is the standard by which the other bronzes must measure themselves.
It was an uncomfortable truth. Let's hope that changes. It's not going to be an easy threadfall for any dragon, tomorrow. Reluctantly, she decided she would watch the bronze make his kill. Hunting instincts came to the fore in mating flights, and there was always a chance she might learn something useful from it. In the end, the bronze's strike was sudden and deft, and not for the beast she'd thought he'd been eyeing. As Ormaith brought his kill back to her queen, for the first time in her life Rahnis found herself seriously hoping that a dragon wouldn't return safely from Threadfall.
The queen made short work of her second herdbeast. Ormaith stood attentively beside her the whole time.
"I don't appreciate having to cut my Wing drills short, Rahnis," Sh'vek said as the queen finished. "Don't do that again."
Rahnis made a disgusted noise, but privately she was rather pleased with herself. No one had shown the slightest bit of interest in old O'kash and Shonath's departure earlier in the day, and their mission had been of far more importance. But if she so much as got within a dragonlength of a member of F'ren's Wing, that got M'arsen worried. "Pellenth called you back?"
"He did."
"So I get your company instead of M'arsen? That's reason enough to put up with him, I suppose."
Sh'vek smiled again. "The steward's visit went well today? Tell me about it while we walk."
"Alaireth will want to swim," Rahnis said, shaking her head.
"Ormaith needs to eat, too, but neither of us need to watch them at it," he countered.
"...and I'll need to oil her, afterwards."
"Yes, her colour is starting to show, if you know to look for it. Shouldn't take too long if I help you."
"I don't nee-"
"You're getting it. Now come along."
Rahnis did as he asked; it really wasn't a battle worth fighting. Besides, the sooner Alaireth was oiled and settled, the sooner she could ask Sh'vek to leave her and her queen to their rest.
Back in her weyr, she swept Alaireth's ledge and quickly washed and changed. Sh'vek had summoned a drudge to bring up a light meal; Rahnis resumed relating the details of her day between mouthfuls. It helped that Sh'vek already knew what she and Damrel had had planned. The first hour after the Steward's arrival had been spent touring the Weyr's Lower Caverns and acquainting Damrel with the section leaders and their teams. After that, they'd moved on to the Headwoman's office to check on the Weyr's accounts. Rahnis didn't linger on F'ren's brief interruption. The afternoon had been spent in visiting the dragon infirmary, a quick meeting with the senior herdsman while M'arsen went off to supervise some unfortunate's punishment, then a check of the main storage caverns beside the barracks and the entrance tunnel. Damrel had surprised her then by asking to go back to the Weyr's creche and the play and work rooms of the younger children; Rahnis had always thought it the smoothest running of all the Weyr's sections. That, Damrel had explained, was the point. When Hold management went wrong at a high level, attention would always fall on the worst areas, but problems could arise anywhere and everywhere. The better-managed teams would lose people and resources, and their own failings would be overlooked.
Embarrassingly for her, Damrel had been proved right in short order. Quaiya wasn't anywhere to be seen, nor either of her two usual deputies. Rahnis had to ask four different women before she had the complete story: Quaiya was resting in bed, having overworked herself well past the limits of her ageing, frail body. Young Maree, a relative newcomer to the Weyr from two Searches back, was down with the same rash and sickness that half the Weyr's toddlers were currently infected with. Parilly had been moved to the Healers' section to assist them on a regular basis until the Weyr could obtain someone more qualified from the Hall. At a glance, everything was still running smoothly enough: the children were playing and babbling and screaming in their usual cacophonous fashion, mending was being done, teaching songs were being sung, and no-one was obviously hungry or thirsty except the babes latched on to their wet-nurses. But no-one had cleaned up the mess from the afternoon pastries, the infants' reeking laundry pail was on the verge of overflowing, half of the children were wearing dirty or damaged clothes, the daily mending and crafting was well behind schedule and three of the larger youngsters had shoved a bruised and snivelling fourth into the top of a cupboard and locked him in.
"They still do that, do they?" Sh'vek asked when she mentioned it.
Rahnis didn't ask how the Weyrleader knew of it, and continued stirring her barrel of oil. The ash and dirt had a tendency to clump and separate, otherwise. She gave the mixture one last stir, then dipped two fingers into it and rubbed some onto the inside of her wrist. Holding her arm up to the light, she checked for streaks: her usual skin tone wasn't much changed, but the colour was uniformly dull and flat. I'm all done here, she sent to Alaireth, floating primly and half-submerged in the deepest waters of the lake.
Rahnis tapped the end of her paddle on the top of the barrel, and set it back in its usual bucket to drip dry. The other half dozen buckets in the stack beside the wall she started part-filling with oil, one by one. "Parilly's in charge of all the creche shifts now," she said while she worked, "at least until Quaiya's back on her feet again. Tarkan and Tilga will have to make do with someone else. Damrel says she's one of the first he wants to take back to his Hold with him, to see how well she manages in a different place and with unfamiliar people. He thinks it'd be better doing that than rotating workers through the different sections here."
Sh'vek moved back from the short passage that led out to Alaireth's ledge. "You've agreed to it already, haven't you?" He didn't sound pleased.
"Delene did it, and she had every right to do so."
"And how much prompting did she get?"
"Surprisingly little, actually. But she wouldn't have taken being told to ask for your approval very well right then, so I left it at that."
She dropped the last bucket to the ground at his feet, then turned to see to the rest of her equipment. Cloths, brushes and mops came next: two full sets of each, assuming the Weyrleader had been honest about meaning to help, and wasn't just going to traipse after her getting on her nerves all evening.
"It's a good idea, Sh'vek," she said, glancing back at him; he had followed her again. Faranth, she felt like she was half inside her storage alcove already! "They won't be carried by their friends, and the capable will come back with enough confidence to stand up to people like Dannia and Varral when we do start rotations." And you, she thought to herself as he took another step closer. If the worst happened, she'd want stronger allies in the Lower Caverns than Delene's appointments.
Sh'vek placed a hand on the wall and leaned towards her. "I don't care how good an idea it is. These decisions get cleared with me first."
She shoved her spare mop into his chest, hard. "Then consider it cleared! If you want things done any differently, you can waste your time telling Delene."
He tossed the mop aside and lunged forwards, grabbing her by both arms. She let out a small yelp despite herself, cursing herself for a fool.
"Must I remind you of your place, gold rider?"
Rahnis bit her lips between her teeth, swallowing an automatic retort that would only have worsened things.
Rahnis!
It's all right, I'm fine, Rahnis reassured her queen, wishing she could do as much for herself. Stay calm, please Alaireth, just stay calm. Thinking rapidly, she assessed her options. She was far too riled to summon up anything resembling meekness closely enough to be believable, but arguing with him would surely end disastrously. Neither of them were likely to back down, and she really didn't want to force his hand.
His fingers tightened painfully on her arms. "You will not undermine my rule, Rahnis. Not now. Not ever. Faranth, what will it take to get through to you?"
The look in his eyes was telling; Rahnis could see that her silence wasn't working, and that if she didn't act, he would. Alaireth was a knot of furious concern in her mind; if the situation wasn't defused soon, the queen would do far more to damage Sh'vek's authority than her own minor act of autonomy had. I can handle this, I hope, she told Alaireth, with all the resolve she could summon. She didn't much like what she was about to try, but she couldn't think of anything better. Try not to listen, just get back here quickly, please!
Her heart was pounding, and she'd stiffened up under his touch. Rahnis made a small sound, and forced the tension in her body to ebb away as she took a half step towards him. There was the briefest moment of uncertainty before her language was understood, and answered. The act came almost too easily to her. Trying hard not to think about that – trying hard not to think at all – she lifted her face to meet his.
The sounds of Alaireth's arrival on the ledge outside were as welcome as they'd ever been. Breathless and aching, Rahnis broke the contact and turned her face against his chest, smothering the opposing urges inside her as hard as she could. Faranth, but it was wrong that he could make her react like this.
"Shells, but the pair of you are proddy!" Sh'vek murmured into her hair.
He was right, flame him. Rahnis flushed with genuine mortification. "Alaireth's back."
"So she is," he said, and let her go. He stood his ground beside her as the queen entered her weyr and swiftly went to her rider; Rahnis had to credit his nerve for that.
Dearest Rahnis! I came as quickly as I could. Alaireth pressed her nose against her rider's chest, jostling Sh'vek aside. What under the Red Star were you thinking?
It was the only thing I could think of to reinforce his ego. Faranth, I must have been mad...but at least it worked!
It worked far too well, from what I can feel...and I know you were trying to block me, so don't pretend I'm wrong. Please don't do that again, Rahnis.
Don't worry, I don't plan to. "The Weyrleader offered to help me oil you," she reminded her dragon out loud, wishing she sounded less shaken. "I've already made my report, so he can leave us to our rest as soon as we're finished."
"Is that s-"
Good, the queen said, cutting him off as she slipped her head between the two riders. I've told him he shouldn't get any ideas. Ormaith promises that his rider intends nothing but to treat you as honourably and respectfully as you deserve.
You could drive a whole tithe-train through the gaps in that one, Alaireth!
Perhaps. Shall I tell him to leave?
Rahnis was sorely tempted, but she feared it would do more harm than good. No. I doubt we'd like his answer, and I'm not putting myself through that again!
I agree. Alaireth nudged Sh'vek more firmly out of her way, her whirling eyes glinting redly in their depths. She settled herself onto the ground, dividing her weyr with her body.
"Rahnis, don't-"
"The mop's wherever you dropped it," Rahnis interrupted quickly, pretending she hadn't heard him, "and the rest is by the wall back there. Oh, and feel free to use her water barrel if you need to cool your head. It needs changing, anyway."
Sh'vek chuckled. "Suddenly, your so-called pragmatism makes a lot more sense. Just don't imagine we've finished this."
Thankfully, he left his goading of her at that. Rahnis gathered her own tools and started work on Alaireth's hide. Slowly, the bright gold sheen of the queen's body became dulled and muted, while Alaireth's steady serenity helped Rahnis re-build her own composure. She let herself drift into the tactile contact, almost forgetting that she wasn't alone with her dragon, even after Alaireth moved again and her work on the queen's wings brought her back to Sh'vek's side of her dragon. The next time he spoke wasn't until they were almost finished, and it startled her. "What?" she asked, ducking beneath the queen's neck.
The Weyrleader was standing at Alaireth's shoulder, studying the queen intently. "She's in very good shape, I said. Her musculature's well balanced, and we could do with more of her type of proportions." He reached up and tapped the underside of Alaireth's wing. "Extend, please."
"I've done her wings already," Rahnis said.
"And a good job you did of them, too," he said as Alaireth lazily lowered her wing towards him, and extended it backwards towards her tail. "Thank you Alaireth, that will do."
Alaireth snorted and lidded her whirling eyes again. From beside her queen's head, Rahnis watched as Sh'vek placed one hand on either side of the delicate wing-fabric of her queen's leading edge. Slowly, he felt his way along the length of the queen's wing, counting out the slightly stiffened cartilage of each batten rib as he went. He had to stretch to reach her elbow, and the queen obligingly flexed it at his prompting before he continued on towards the fingerjoint.
"She may be two ribs short of Kiath," Sh'vek said, "but there's still good depth and flexibility to her leading edge." His hands paused, and he craned his head round to look back at Rahnis. "Besides, she flies more from the spar, doesn't she?"
"Some queens do," Rahnis said curtly. "How did you-"
"You don't need to defend her to me. Like I said, she's in excellent shape."
The Weyrleader's comments left Rahnis feeling uneasy. Alaireth's preferred style of flight gave her just as good a fine control of her lift as flexing the leading edge would do, Rahnis knew, but they both thought it gave her an added edge during rescues. Even so, the exact details weren't an easy thing for an observer, even another dragonrider, to spot from a distance. She herself would have been hard pressed to describe Linnebith's habits of flight, and they'd flown beside the other queen for months now. Sh'vek hadn't flown with them since...
Rahnis sucked in a quick breath of air. "Wait. Those flights you took us on, right after we transferred. You were studying her, weren't you? Right from the start!"
"Naturally." Sh'vek lifted his arms again and felt over each of the tendons running from the queen's finger-joint in turn, checking for any sign of swelling or inflammation. "Surely it doesn't surprise you; we both know the value of accurate intelligence." He glanced back at her, and asked, "Does it displease you that I took an interest? You should be flattered; Ormaith says your queen is."
Slowly, the full impact of what he'd achieved sank in. He'd gained far more than familiarity with how her queen flew, though that alone was bad enough. All those hours of straight flights close to the Weyr would form the bulk of the experience that Alaireth would instinctively draw on when she rose. Her knowledge of the terrain, the local air currents and thermals...they were small things in themselves, but they might be enough to tip the balance in his favour. Rahnis looked away quickly. Are you flattered, Alaireth?
I wouldn't say I was flattered. Such attentions are a queen's due.
"Nasty injury, snapped tendons are," Sh'vek said, changing the subject, "and they can easily ground a dragon for life. Not so common as thread-damage, fortunately, but there's a slim chance we might see some tomorrow if the wind keeps up. You'll want to keep an eye on the older dragons, as well as the younger ones who still growing into their strength."
"I am familiar with dragon anatomy," Rahnis snapped, wishing Sh'vek would leave off the lectures; he was distracting her from remembering all the routes they'd taken away from the Weyr with him, and which they'd made with R'fint and the weyrlings.
"Of course you are." He gave the queen a heavy pat on the underside of her wing, then walked towards Rahnis, stopping when he was level with her dragon's head. "My thanks, Alaireth," he said, nodding respectfully at the queen before turning back to her rider with a loud sigh. "Thirsty work, tending a dragon as large as a queen. Did you want help finishing her head and neck?"
Did that mean he was leaving? "No, I'm almost done," Rahnis said. She gave the contents of her bucket a quick swirl while Alaireth made herself more comfortable on her couch, then wetted her cloth again, holding one hand beneath it to catch the drips of oil. "I do appreciate the help, Weyrleader," she added, hoping he'd take her thanks as a sign to go on his way. "You've saved me a lot of time, and we could do with the extra rest."
"Then I'll see to some refreshments."
Sh'vek was through the door to her rooms before Rahnis could stop him. Shard it, I thought I told him he'd be leaving as soon as we were done oiling you!
Ormaith says his rider won't keep you long, Alaireth thought drowsily. I can stay awake if you need me.
No, you get your rest.
Wake me if you need me.
Rahnis kept her fingers moving in small, soothing circles as she worked her way back and forth over the queen's head. Beneath her innermost lids, Alaireth's eyes were whirling a relaxed mixture of blue and green, full of sensual serenity, and her mind held a tone that reminded Rahnis of a purring feline. She let her mind drift on the wave-like rhythms, worries forgotten, barely thinking at all.
"She's asleep?"
Rahnis started; she'd been halfway there herself, leaning back against the curve of Alaireth's neck with one hand draped across her brow between eye ridge and headknobs. Sh'vek was standing in the doorway, an almost empty wine glass in his hand and an amused expression on his face. Leaving the glass in the wall-niche beside the glow basket, he strode forwards and gave her his arm for support as she extricated herself carefully from the queen's sleeping form. Untangling her mind took longer, and she couldn't stop herself from yawning.
"Looks like you could do with a good night's sleep yourself," Sh'vek murmured.
"So I've been telling you," she said, yawning again. "Was there anything else?"
"We were discussing tendon injuries, I believe. R'fint lost a weyrling to a snapped tendon a few turns back, from one of Linnebith's clutches by Telemath." He gave her knowing look. "I don't imagine that surprises you."
"Not particularly," she admitted. It would be better if it had. Faranth, why were almost all of the Weyr's best riders paired with unsuitable dragons, and the best dragons with unsuitable men? And its Weyrleader the worst of them all?
He reached across and firmly took hold of her right hand with both of his, pulling it into the space between their chests. "Don't tense up; I merely wish to illustrate a point." Turning her hand, he pressed down on the back of it with his fingers, feeling for her own tendons. "A dragon can sometimes manage minimal flight if they lose just the one tendon, but if all of them are severed...yes, that's a very nasty injury, however it happens: snap, score, or...otherwise."
The otherwise sent a shiver running up her spine; it was exactly what Igen's dragonhealer had done to Ankala's Fagreeth, as soon as she'd clutched a gold egg to replace her. "You don't trust Alaireth to keep Trath grounded, do you? Shard it, she's not the only queen on Pern!"
"You don't miss much either, do you?" Sh'vek said, letting her hand drop. "Tell me..." He fell silent, and waited for her to look at him before he continued. "What message did you give J'an for your weyrmate?"
"Faranth!" Rahnis swore. "You think I was... You don't trust me at all, do you?"
"About as far as you trust me." His face grew serious, and hard. "The truth, Rahnis. No more prevarication. I'm not going to interfere with its delivery, but nor am I leaving until I've had an honest answer out of you."
If he'd figured out that much, he'd have guessed most of the contents of her message anyway. "I told F'ren not to take any chances, and encouraged him to time it."
Sh'vek sighed and gave a small shake of his head. "I thought as much. Try not to let Alaireth's heat drive all sense from your head, girl. Thwarting me in this won't end happily for anyone. Ankala, remember? It won't be Trath's wings you'll need to worry about."
Now that was going too far! "You've had your answer, Weyrleader," she snapped. "Please leave, before one of us does something we regret."
He gave her a nod and fetched his coat. Rahnis glared at his back as he shrugged it on and walked away. As he approached the ledge, he slowed and looked back over his shoulder at her. "Something else, you mean," he said before he disappeared from view. "Sleep well."
As tired and emotionally drained as she was, Rahnis didn't hold out much hope of succeeding.
AN:As always, thanks for commenting/following/favouriting. The next update will be at some point this weekend.
Lynda - yes, it was just altitude. A dragonrider would be well acclimatised to it, but they do spend most of their time at Weyr level rather than in the air above it (and I imagine threadfighting over lower lying lands doesn't take them even that high), and the effects of altitude can still be something you notice when you exert yourself. Firelizards, I guess, do it all by instinct...and we don't know how much attrition there is when they learn the trick, do we? Thread doesn't freeze in space because at that point its in its static, ovoid form - it's the hot descent through Pern's atmosphere that strips the outer layers off and transforms the inner parts of the ovoids into long and hungry threads.
And yes, Rahnis *was* trying to figure something out in the previous chapter, and you saw some of the results in this one...maybe. Did you spot the relevance of the retired greenrider?
Mantlady - yeah, the last chapter was probably worth a re-read. Rahnis was being slightly oblique, and F'ren didn't pick up on all of the subtleties, but a careful reader should be able to pull the strands together.