"Green, brown and blue are the colors that fly true,
when the Weyr is roused to fight.
Bronzes lead them higher,
as the queens do aspire,
to flame what Thread,
makes it through the flight
Where's the rock for firestoning?
Where's the coordinates we're going?
Check your harness, check helmet,
make sure they fit just right.
Be sure to get good rest,
for tomorrow we will test,
our flame against Thread in the dawn's early light.
Dragons that are green,
are amazing to be seen,
speed and bursts of fire,
their weapons of choice.
Though quick to tire,
they fight with mad desire,
and roar after Thread with one voice.
Where's the rock for firestoning?
Where's the coordinates we're going?
Check your harness, check helmet,
make sure they fit just right.
Be sure to get good rest,
for tomorrow we will test,
our mettle against Thread in the dawn's early light."
Slora, Keslo's sister sang the Colors Song in the sweetest tenor as Charel and Shelt provided the melody.
Charel had been both pleased and flustered when the harper suggested they play together. With the drovers stamping in time to the Teaching song, the after dinner festivities were well underway way when a brown firelizard appeared, his eyes whirling yellow, a scrap of vellum tied to his leg.
"I thought you only had the green." The Holder said in the sudden quiet as Shelt put down his guitar to coax the agitated brown into landing.
"I do. This is my sister's lizard." He explained, untying the message and reading it. "Ah, and now she has a son as well," he smiled and turned the note over. His smile faded a little.
"What's wrong?" Slora asked as Charel whispered to her father "Girls can impress browns?"
"Ah," the harper smiled, but this time disingenuously. "The birth apparently was a hard one. The midwife sent Garnet here to keep him out of the healer's way."
"Firelizards and watchwhers both," Reelon whispered back. "Fort's wherhandler is the youngest daughter of the Lord Holder, and Fortsk is a brown."
"Your sister named him Garnet? Why? He's not red." One of the older girls asked, wrinkling her brow.
Shelt laughed.
"Because in our minehold, the garnets the miners unearthed are a brownish almost red color." He grinned at the question as he offered the little brown a tidbit from his plate.
"Has Garnet flown Flit?" Another child, a much younger boy, asked. Several of the adults winced at the innocently posed question.
"Not to my knowledge." Shelt said as Flit wound her tail around his neck. She chirped to the little brown, whose eyes slowed and moved back into green. "She always goes between when she rises. I presume to find other firelizards, but since I've never seen her lay eggs either, I don't know if she's successful." The ease with which he answered that question suggested that he'd been asked many times in the past.
"How about another song?" He asked abruptly. "I happen to have the newest reel from Harper Hall if anyone is interested."
Many were, and in short order the tables were pushed aside and the dancers lined up.
Much later that evening as Charel snuggled down into her sleeping furs, she wondered about the woman with a brown firelizard. If firelizards and watchwhers could Impress indiscriminate of gender, might not dragons do the same? Staring at the stars twinkling through the open barn entrance, she wondered how many generations of breeding it took to get a firelizard large enough to ride. But then, watchwhers were also bred from firelizards, so would crossbreeding them result in a really large firelizard, the way crossing two fancy breeds of poultry would result in a common bird? Or had watchwhers become too genetically different from dragons to crossbreed? These questions and others chased about in her mind like firelizards at play until at last she drifted off.
Jurille sat at the breakfast table with a group of blue and green riders. For a sevenday they had been tracking down the children of Benden's bronzeriders. It was depressing, she realized, the infant mortality rate in the smaller Holds where any unplanned pregnancy meant an unwanted extra mouth to feed. By not meeting the father's obligation, the Benden riders had condemned too many children to a slow death by starvation. Crafthalls were universally the opposite. Not only did the vast majority of the children survive infancy, the Halls took a certain amount of pride in having dragonseed in their midst. What the Halls wanted for their father's obligation was to have the children fostered at the Weyrs, and a chance to stand on the Hatching Grounds as candidates. The Holds more often demanded compensation in the form of Marks, in the case of larger Holds, and also food aid in the case of smaller holds. Discouraged, Jurille wondered if that didn't point to a larger problem with 'Holder mentality' in regards to women and their perceived usefulness. Certainly, it was suspect that twice the number of baby girls died compared to boys, but the death of any child to something as preventable as hunger was heartbreaking.
"Jurille, my Holders are insisting that we take the children as soon as they are weaned." K'kan said apologetically. Jurille nodded. It was not the first time in the last seven days that that particular demand had been laid at the feet of the Weyr.
Bring them to the Weyr. My children can be mates to their children. Graesth rumbled from the Hatching Grounds.
"If the mothers are insistent, then we'll arrange a place for them. In the meantime make sure the cot has all the food they need," Jurille said, then added, "but the rest of you, don't offer to bring them here unless you have reason to believe the child is in danger."
"And if the mother is in danger?"
Two days before a greenrider had been handed a toddler by a teary eyed mother with a large bruise on her jaw. As she returned to the cot the Holder stepped out and backhanded her with such force that she had stumbled back and struck her head on the stone of the pathway. It was only the timely intervention of the green's Wingleader that had saved the Holder from a savage mauling at the hands of both rider and dragon. The mother, and the little girl, were now both safely ensconced in the Healer's weyr.
"Dragonriders protect all of Pern, not just the parts we like." Jurille chided softly. The greenrider dropped his gaze, properly embarrassed. "But if the mother asks, and it's clear she's being abused, bring them both back. We can always use an extra set of hands in the Lower Caverns."
"Especially this close to numbweed season?" One of the older greenriders asked sardonically.
"Especially." Jurille agreed with a smile. One of the changes she had implemented as Weyrwoman was to move the rendering of numbweed from the Lower Caverns to an outdoor pasture. Since early spring misbehaving weyrlings had the dubious pleasure of collecting dried cowchips, and storing them in one of the smaller firestone storerooms until the women of the Lower Caverns were ready to use them to fuel the fires that would reduce the fibrous foliage into the gelatinous mass, that once strained, would settle into the blessed numbing salve so crucial to tending injured dragonpairs. Moving the operation outdoors had met with a lot of resistance, until the women of the Lower Caverns discovered that meals didn't taste of medicine and their weyrmates weren't avoiding them for reeking of the process. Still anyone who could get out of the smelly duty did, with an alacrity that bemused even the most seasoned of foster parent.
"One last piece of business, then I'll let you return to your breakfasts. The Weyrhealer will be flying with those of you that have reported illness at your Holds." Her announcement was met with a smattering of groans and eye rolling. "Ah-ah, don't think any of you are getting out of it. I want Zandur to have a chance to assess all of the Holds before the end of the Turn so don't be surprised if you have an extra passenger." She stood, having a long list of things to do before rendezvousing with Tress.
*Sigh* Apologies, I know it's a cardinal sin to tell not show in literature, but Anne was so vague about certain aspects of Pernese life that I'm spending a lot of time going back and filling in the hows to explain the why people do what they do.
Does anyone know how to tighten up the HTML code so I can group the song in proper verses?
As per usual, any and all grammatical and spelling errors being pointed out to me is greatly appreciated.