Graesth finally let Jurille coax her into letting her go. She continued to growl in the direction of the Lower Caverns until the junior queens Freeth and Desirth joined her on the black sands, and then she curled up and went to sleep twitching slightly.
"What's eating Graesth?" Pilana, the youngest queenrider asked, stripping off her riding gear in the heat.
"I don't know." Jurille admitted, and glanced at the petite girl. She wouldn't have thought the fisherman's daughter from Ista would have Impressed, let alone a Queen, but the young woman threw her heart into anything she turned her hand to, and was well received in the Weyr because of it. "Will you join us tonight for cards?"
Pilana flashed the Weyrwoman a smile. "I wouldn't miss it for all the fish in the seas." She pointed to the returning Weyrlings. "And you shouldn't get many complaints from them tonight either. They did the Weyr proud today, clearing the fields for Holder Jardet." She giggled. "You should have seen his face when we landed on the road, and Farmer Mebeckle started divvying us up into work parties as if this happened every day. I thought his eyes were going to pop out of his head." She grinned and rubbed her shoulder. "I might have to ask Zandur to send up one of those smelly rubs of his. I don't think I've sweat this much since we rendered numbweed last."
"Really? Are you saying we're not working you hard enough during Fall?" Jurille teased her. Pilana laughed.
"On the contrary, that's always a workout! But," as her tone turned slightly serious, "swinging a tank around is merely making sure it's a fixed where it won't over balance you. Swinging a scythe and bundling the cereal, that's different." They walked together back to their weyrs, the few habitations that had the added benefit of being accessible from the ground. "I have a whole new respect for landsmen now." She admitted.
"So you won't be farming during the Interval?" Jurille asked, as they stopped in front of her weyr.
"Hah. No, I was thinking of finishing my cartography studies and charting the changes to the waterways from dragonback." Pilana said off handedly, smiling at a passing Weyrling.
Jurille blinked, surprised to hear that sort of planning from another rider. Mentally she berated herself for not realizing that others would be thinking of a time when Thread ceased to fall.
"I hadn't realized that you were studying such." She said with deceptive mildness.
Pilana looked back at her. "My foster mother is our fleets' Navigator. She started me to tracing charts, mostly to keep me out from underfoot, but when I showed a talent for it she took my training much more serious." She ran a hand through her hair, fluffing out the wavy brown locks. "I don't mind in the least putting my studies on hold for Desirth, but I really enjoyed chart-making, and having a dragon would certainly make the job that much easier, and safer."
"I had no idea it was such a dangerous task." Jurille said.
"It's not fighting Thread, but taking depths from a small vessel in deteriorating conditions has significant drawbacks." Pilana explained. "I'll tell you all about it tonight, if you'd like."
"I would. Have a good bath." Jurille said with a smile recognizing the signs. Pilana laughed and hurried to her weyr.
"Jurille!" The Weyrwoman turned as Reema trotted up. "Did you hear about the Mastersmith? He's refusing Search!" Reema was understandably angry, as she was in charge of this search.
"Yes, the Weyrleader informed me." Jurille replied mildly.
"And did our good Weyrleader have the decency to tell you why?" Reema demanded, slapping her riding gloves in her other hand, her brown eyes flashing.
"Yes, actually, it's one of the reasons I called for a Queens' Night." Jurille explained soothingly.
Reema pursed her lips then nodded. "I thought it was odd that you'd call for one on the eve of Thread." She gave Jurille a sour look. "Alright then, what am I to tell my riders?"
"Search, just steer clear of the Smithhalls for the time being." Jurille said patiently.
"And when they want to know why?" Reema arched an eyebrow at Jurille.
"Explain that the Weyrleader is honoring the Mastersmith's request to not leave him shorthanded in these last few, but critical Turns before the end of the Pass." Jurille elucidated. Reema frowned, then visibly thawed, clearly in some communication with her queen. Jurille squashed the temptation to wake Graesth and ask what was said.
"Alright then. But I'd like the whole story, tonight."
"Which you'll have," Jurille promised, then smiled sympathetically at the younger woman. "It won't stop them from speculating, I fear, but that's the official reason."
Reema nodded, then her scowl erased entirely with a laugh. "They do gossip don't they?" The two women shared a commiserating look, then Reema departed to take her half wing of blueriders to Search the minor crafthalls that dotted the eastern coast of Nerat. Jurille was just contemplating sneaking away to steal a few moments in leisure reading when she heard her name called, this time uncertainly. Turning she saw Koru, another junior queenrider, dressed in the worn leathers that most of the Weyrfolk adopted when working with firestone. For a moment Jurille cast about for why the black-haired woman would be wearing those leathers, then she remembered that Koru had asked for the task of organizing the weyrlings to fill the bags of firestone.
"Yes Koru?" She asked, moving to intercept the younger woman.
"I apologize, I had asked Saegth to bespeak Graesth-" Koru started hesitantly.
"But my great and growly beast is very much asleep." Jurille smiled at the nervous woman. She had never quite understood how Koru, one of the rare Weyrbred queenriders could be so painfully shy. "What did you wish to ask me?"
Koru twisted her hands, clearly worried. "The firestone." She blurted out. "It's not stacked right."
"How much is badly stacked?" Jurille's brow furrowed. Poorly stacked loose firestone could shift and bury anyone trying to fill the bags, making the dusty task of filling the bags a lethal one for young weyrlings.
"All of it." Koru gave her an anguished look. "I asked Mirrth to lay along the weak side while we filled from the top, but without a dragon's bulk, it's an avalanche waiting to happen."
Jurille shuddered. During her Weyrling days there has been an incident with badly stacked firestone shifting, burying three Weyrlings alive. A brown from the same Hatching as Graesth had gone between, when the Weyrfolk couldn't reach the boy before the rock had crushed the air out of his lungs.
"You did the right thing. Let the Weyrlingmaster know no one is to bag without a small green on hand. And I'll talk to Tress, she'll know who to chide for the poor stacking." Jurille pat Koru's shoulder.
"Can I tell him you said so?" Koru asked plaintively.
"Absolutely." Koru looked so relieved Jurille wondered what had the Weyrlingmaster in a snit this time.
The Weyrlings turn to her rather than him when they have a problem. Jurille didn't change her expression, but was faintly worried that Saegth had chosen to speak directly to her. But then that was just like the smallest queen, to speak up on her rider's behalf. Dragons didn't, as a rule, speak to humans other than their riders. But Saegth, as Graesth was always quick to remind Jurille, was a bundle of contradictions even among other dragons.
"Better yet, let's go together. Gl'tek wouldn't dare to growl at two Queenriders." She said, turning back towards the Lower Caverns.
He won't if he wishes to be allowed across the Bowl. Graesth added darkly, before lapsing back into her fitful doze.
The drovers had to travel by the light of the two moons, to make it to the Thread-shelter before calling it a night. The herdbeasts complained and lowed uncertainly in the last hour of travel, but Old Larst was adamant, and none of the other drovers disagreed, with Threadfall slated for the next day. Charel was yawning in her saddle when they finally entered the shelter, but she didn't argue when Larst told her to light a fire in the brick fireplace. Her father and Keslo went to help settle the herd. She had just gotten a few sparks to catch when Branth appeared, carrying a kettle of water.
"Good job. You'll make a good holder's wife." He said to her. Uncomfortably, Charel moved to one side, for though he smiled something else glittered in his eyes.
"I'm going to the Crafthall first." She said, careful not to let him corner her.
"Pppt, why do you want that? Don't you want children?" Branth asked, settling the kettle on the hearthstone and feeding the small flame a little more fuel.
"One day, aye. But right now I'd rather learn all there is to know about herdbeasts," she replied, torn between needing to tend the fire and wanting to get away from the drover. Branth turned and studied her with that disquieting gaze of his.
"Such a waste..." For a moment it looked as if he was going to reach for her, then Old Larst entered, carrying his tact.
"Tend your fire girl." He said sharply, dropping his gear along the far wall. "Branth, go help the Herdsman with the black cow, he seems to think it's trying to go lame." Branth nodded and left without another word. Larst waited until he left then scowled at Charel. "Don't be getting caught alone with him, girly."
Charel shivered and nodded. "Yessir." Despite it sounding like a criticism of her, Charel was obscurely relieved the old drover recognized that Branth was troubling her. Old Larst made excuses for staying in the kitchen area with her until Reelon returned, arguing with Keslo.
"Where's Branth?" Old Larst asked off-handedly.
"Tending the cow." Reelon explained, striding over to the fire to warm his hands. "Are there any holds between here and Telgar that will exchange cows with us?
"Dragons don't care if their meal is a little lame." Keslo said in an exasperated tone.
"Dragons might not, but the Weyr Herdsman will." Old Larst replied. "How old is the cow, Reelon?"
Charel quietly added refined klah powder into the kettle as the men discussed the matter of the lame herdbeast, and stirred it until the fine powder had all but dissolved. Brewing klah this way was new to her, and she sipped a little of the still tepid water to make sure the drink was properly proportioned. More drovers joined them, bringing in their tact and sleeping rolls and claiming their spaces for sleeping.
"Alright, I'll ask my sister if they will trade," Keslo sighed, running a hand through dusty hair. "We should reach their Hold tomorrow."
"Good." Old Larst turned to look at Charel. "Is that brew ready yet?"
"It's still warming." Charel said apologetically. Old Larst waved it off. "No worries. Get some rest, we'll stand watch tonight in threes." He pointed to two other drovers. "You two, stand with me." The other drovers nodded and laid out their sleeping furs. Reelon beckoned to her, and with a tilt of the head indicated where he had laid their gear. She nodded, weariness making her shoulders slump as she rolled out her furs, and without another thought tumbling into sleep.
By dinner the entire Weyr knew of the Mastersmith's refusal. When Tress arrived with refreshments to the Council Room, the first thing she noticed was that the pegboard was set up, but the deck of cards remained untouched.
Jurille motioned Tress over after she placed the plates of cookies around the table and poured the sweet klah liquor into glasses for all of them.
"You may as well join us." Jurille said tiredly, patting the chair next to her. "No one will think to tell you the entirety of the matter otherwise."
Tress took her seat next to Telgar's Weyrwoman, and cradled her own petite glass as Jurille talked.
"Today when our Weyrleader went to ask permission to Search, Master Vesher refused. Politely, but he refused all the same. When asked why, B'ton was directed to speak to Master Degal, which our good Weyrleader should have recognized as a sign of a larger problem." Jurille held up a hand as Urlyra, previously B'ton's weyrmate, opened her mouth to defend him. "I mean no disrespect, 'Lyra, B'ton is a good man and a good Leader. I am merely stating that he still has much to learn about politics." Urlyra shut her mouth and sat back in her seat. "The Masterharper presented B'ton, who in turn passed it on to me, a list of woman pregnant by Benden riders, that the Weyr is denying the father's obligation."
All the queenriders leaned forward as Jurille presented the list, then pandemonium broke out as everyone tried to talk at once. Jurille tried to restore order, then outside Graesth trumpeted, and was replied to by the other queens. The Council Room fell into startled silence.
"Yes, thank you." Jurille said with a sheepish smile. "As you can see there are over a hundred pregnancies that Master Degal could verify-"
"You mean there might be more?" Pilana asked, her look of outrage turning to disbelief.
"If the Masterharper complied the list, then you can guarantee there is one at least twice as long of claims he couldn't verify." Urlyra said over the rim of her cup. "I trained under him, the man is meticulous to a fault."
Jurille nodded. "He claims to have a list three times as long of unsubstantiated births." The entire room groaned, and Reema pulled the list over to her, reading it.
"What do you recommend we do?" Pilana asked.
"We must meet the obligation." Koru surprised the group, and apparently herself, as she turned bright red after speaking. Jurille swallowed her smile.
"Koru's right, the obligation must be met, but not just by Telgar. As soon as the Hatching is done, I'll meet with the other Weyrwomen and discuss how we can reach out to those women. Obviously, those that live in lands beholden to Telgar we will care for ourselves, but it is those that fall under the Benden's protection will have to be divided amongst us." Jurille explained.
"So we can't expect any help from the Benden Harem?" Urlyra asked.
"No. And don't waste your breath trying." Reema placed the list down, and looked up, making a point of meeting each person's gaze. "This is part of why I left Benden." She tapped the list. "What you don't know is what went on before Egoth flew Jentlth. While Th'cry was still alive, C'seld and five other riders started a competition, to see who could seduce the most women in the Lower Caverns." Reema looked sad. "The day before the Fall that killed him, Th'cry found out about it from a bluerider who's weyrmate was being harassed, and banned the practice. The ban was still in effect while we were Leaderless, but the moment Jentlth rose I petitioned Jurille to transfer here. And in light of what Reelu has written me, I got out in time."
"I'm sorry, who's Reelu?" Pilana asked hesitantly. Reema smiled easily, clearly taking no offense.
"My sister. We were both Searched. She stayed on as Benden's Archivist."
"What else has your sister reported to you?" Jurille asked, suddenly very worried.
"Little things mostly. There's a lot of dislike amongst the other colors for C'seld and the bronzeriders in general. C'seld acts like a spoiled lordling, which, when you consider he was Lord Hewald's favored son, isn't all that surprising. The Weyrfolk living in the Lower Caverns restrict their interactions with the bronzeriders as much as possible, and have elected a Headman to interact with the Weyrleader." Reema shook her head. "I keep hoping the queens will get fed up with him, but he's been very clever there too. Do you realize," Reema ran a hand through her hair, "that all his queenriders are under the age of thirty?"
"I don't understand." Urlyra said, refilling Reema's cup.
"She's saying he's able to manipulate the queenriders because they are too young to know any better." Tress observed. Reema nodded.
"When the Fabulous Eight retired to Ista that left only Kimi and myself as queenriders at Benden. Willth had risen earlier that year, so I knew Kimi was most likely going to be the next Weyrwoman." Reema shrugged. "She's got a good head on her shoulders, for all that she's young, and everything I've heard suggests that she doing well for all that C'seld is making things difficult." Reema took a deep draught of her cup. "The other three queens are all from Jentlth's clutches, which C'seld has taken as a sign that he can do no wrong."
The room settled into an uncomfortable silence.
"W-what should we do then?" Koru asked hesitantly.
"We should check our gear and get a good night's rest." Jurille said, finishing her cup. "Sisters, I beg your pardon, you are welcome to stay and enjoy Tress's wonderful cookies, but I must be going." She placed her cup down and bade the others good night, then went looking for B'ton.
Reelon shook Charel awake a little after midnight. Yawning, she took the miniture glowbasket from him and visited the necessary before rejoining her father and Tuller, a cheerful drover who liked to whistle off tune, by the tiny kitchen fire, fortifying themselves with a strong cup of klah before taking their post by the entrance.
"Why don't we just bar the door?" Charel asked innocently enough. Tuller smiled and shook his head.
"Iffin' there's folk caught out, on their way to shelter, they're going to be mighty frightened to find the door barred." He explained.
"Oh." Charel smiled sheepishly, and rubbed the sleep from her eye. "Sorry, I'm not quite awake yet."
"No worries. You'll get to sleep in tomorrow." Tuller said cheerily. Charel nodded, and sat on the slight shelf formed by the brick wall. The warm night air was a pleasant change from the dank, slightly manure fragrant air of the shelter. The sound of night flying insects droned softly in the distance, and another thought occurred to Charel.
"What about ground crews? Will we be expected to help?" Both Fuller and Reelon shook their heads.
"Not when we're on tithe. But we're to keep a sharp eye out for infestations." Reelon rumbled, rubbing his sore foot. "Herd'll be jumpy after the Fall too, so be wary."
"Will they be jumpy because of the Fall or because of the dragons?" Charel wanted to know, causing Tuller to chuckle.
"Yer a curious one, artcha?"
"It's just that, back home the herdbeasts don't seem to mind Fall, but Star goes crazy whenever he catches a whiff of dragon." Charel explained, hugging her knees.
"No, you're got the square of it." Reelon smiled encouragingly at her. "Sweepriders are generally careful, but it doesn't hurt us to be alert."
B'ton was surprised when Graesth rumbled warningly at him, as he walked across the Bowl with Jurille in the predawn. The first six wings and the Queen's wing were already assembled, the Bowl resounding with the sound of dragons crunching firestone.
"Sorry, she's been like that since yesterday." Jurille explained, carrying several jars of numbweed.
"Is this normal brooding behavior?" B'ton asked, as he pulled on his flight gloves, no longer afraid to question Jurille about her queen.
"No, this is new." She admitted joining the women helping the Weyrhealer set up a triage station. This Fall was going to be a long one, and over the heart of Telgar's breadbasket. Neither senior Weyrperson said it, but today's Fall was particularly critical during the harvest. The dragons, B'ton knew, would give their all, as they always did when facing their ancient nemesis, but the riders would instinctively feel the added pressure to preform and become more reckless. It was like this every Turn at this time. Looking around, B'ton wondered, in the small quiet corner of his mind where Wubath couldn't hear him, how many of the assembled dragons would come back Threadscored or not come return at all.
"They'll all come home, Weyrleader." Jurille placed a hand on his arm, her eyes full of warmth and faith. "You've led them home before, today will be no different."
Hello! Sorry for the tardiness of this posting, life snuck up and clobbered me over the head with a responsibility stick. Please note that I reordered this and the last chapter. As per usual, if you catch any inconsistencies or grammatical errors (especially the grammatical ones) please let me know. Many thanks!
~Inu