Lybae staid and chatted with Charel as she bathed, answering her seemingly endless questions about life in the Weyr. For her part, Lybae had her own questions about life outside the Weyr.
"Technically both of my parents are Hall," Charel explained, lingering for a moment in the warm water. "Ma's got her journeyman Healer knot, she wears it sometimes at Gathers when the Hold healer wants extra bodies on hand. It's just 'cause neither Ma nor Pa have any 'prentices right now that we're considered a cot hold and not a cot hall." She stood and took the towel Lybae offered her. "Ma sometimes says she wishes she had more hands around to help her, but then Pa says that's why they had us younglings." Lybae chuckled at Charel's good natured grimace. "What about your folks?" She asked the weyrling.
"Weeell... my birth mother's a queenrider-" Lybae paused seeing Charel open her mouth.
"Really? Does she ever have you help tend her dragon?" Charel asked, Lybae blinked then laughed.
"When Freeth wants tending, all the weyrlings help! A queen's a lot of dragon to clean." She giggled as Charel dressed in her last clean change of clothes. "I thought you were gonna ask me if I was gonna be a queenrider."
"That's a silly thing to ask. I thought the dragons choose." Charel said, pulling a comb through her wet, chin length hair.
"They do! That's the thing, some folk just expect that I'm gonna Impress just because my father's Weyrleader and my mother's a queenrider." Lybae said a little crossly.
"Well, I for one think you're crazy lucky to live around dragons." Charel said honestly, wincing as the comb caught on a tangle. "I mean, there's what, one queen for every hundred dragons, right? Most people would think they were incredibly lucky just to get Searched, but to get Searched for a queen, that'd be like getting struck by lightning twice in the same hour. And then to Impress the queen? That's be like getting hit by lighting a third time." Charel shook her head at the odds. "You have a better chance if you played cards against a Bitran."
Lybae stared at her for a moment, a slow smile dawning on her face. "That's the best description ever! I'm gonna use that the next time someone asks. Thanks!" Charel smiled and sat down to pull on her boots.
"You're welcome. Say, you think there's still time for me to polish my boots? I can't help not having my Gather clothes, but I could at least look presentable."
"Yeah, sure, you need polish too? I'll show you where Niko keeps it." Lybae lead her back to the entrance, then around the quarantine field to the shelter built out from the wall of the mountain. Inside was the tact room, and a number of barrels of leather oil and bit polish.
"Here, will bootblack do?" Lybae passed her a smallish tin. "What about a rag? Do you need a buffing brush?"
"Yes please." Charel's polish kit had been a casualty of the stampede.
"Great! We can sit under here." She led Charel to under the sugarfruit tree, then sighed as a green fire lizard appeared and landed on a branch, chirping down at her. "Okay, tell Nene I'm on my way. " The little green flit away. "I'm sorry, they need all us weyrlings to help in the kitchen. I'll come right back and get you if Hatching starts, okay?"
"That's fine, but shouldn't I be helping?" Charel asked, perfectly willing to help.
"No! Today you're a guest! Enjoy it, after all, you're part of the reason we're eating fresh meat tonight!" Lybae waved at her, racing back to the entrance in the side of the mountain.
Charel shrugged and bent to apply herself to polishing her boots, whistling Keslo's tune.
She was finishing the second boot and about to set it aside in the sunlight when a shadow fell on her. Startled, she looked up and saw Branth standing over her. The young drover smiled at her in a manner closer to a leer.
"Polishing your boots for the Hatching?" He asked, and belatedly Charel realized that she was backed into a corner, between the tree and the side of the mountain. When she didn't answer he continued. "You know you're awfully pretty, why do you always keep to yourself?"
"I-I don't always keep to myself." Charel said, putting the bootblack aside nervously. She'd have to leave her boots behind, but anything was better than letting him get any closer to her.
"No, that's right, you like to hang around with Keslo. What's that one legged wherlover got that I don't?" Branth demanded, his smile fading.
"He doesn't scare me, for one." Charel said, gathering her feet under her.
"Scare you? I don't want to scare – let me show you how good I can make you feel." He grabbed at her as she tried to leap past him, catching her by the shoulder, throwing her to the ground. Stunned, Charel let out a garbled shout as he started pulling her pants off.
For one dreadful moment Charel felt the heavy weight of him on her, his hard fingers poking in places they didn't belong, then the air was filled with the roar of an angry dragon. Charel's vision was filled with the visage of a green dragon as it literally backhanded Branth off of her. Sobbing, she clutched to the green's neck as the dragon leapt up and glided over to one of the feeding pastures. There a young man with a rider's tan ran to meet them.
Don't worry, little drover. This man is my rider. He is a good man. A voice, soft as a breeze filled Charel's head. Unable to speak, Charel nodded, but clung fiercely to the dragon. Please little drover, if you don't let go I cannot catch the bad man.
"I can't, I can't," Charel trembled so badly she couldn't stand. "Dragons are suppose to protect, I can't let you kill him," she whispered, sobbing.
"She won't kill him, but I might." The young man muttered, putting his arms around her, offering comfort.
Go with the man, little drover. He is good, I love him. The green whispered in her mind again, but this time the tone was calmer, and that calm communicated itself to Charel. Go with him, so I may stop the bad man. I will not kill him, little drover. I am a dragon. We do not kill people. Finally reassured by the draconic promise, Charel let go. The green hopped up into the air, all wind and sound, then flew out of her sight.
"Are you alright?" The greenrider asked, easing her to the ground and holding her as her shuddering eased.
"I-I think so." Charel whispered, clinging to him the same way she clung to his dragon. She could hear others approaching, concerned voices, but confused and frightened she turned her face into his chest.
"It's okay, it's not your fault." He reassured her, just holding her. ''What's your name, lass?"
"Ch-Charrie." She whimpered, then looked up at him, tears streaming down her face. "A-and you can't be much older than me." She sniffed, and unlatched one hand in order to wipe her eyes. The greenrider laughed, one of those forced laughs with very little humor behind it.
"True. I'm C'bay. Mirrth is my green." He said helping her sit up. Charel felt the grass under her and realized she wasn't wearing her trous. Her tunic was long enough to cover her modesty, but she looked around, tears threatening again, for her pants.
"Mirrth is the biggest, bestest, bravest green in all of Pern," she avowed, new tears trickling free. "Please, has anyone seen my trous?"
"What are you all standing around for?" A familiar voice demanded and Tress pushed through the crowd. "By the First Egg, have you no sense? Back up! Let the girl breath!" Tress knelt down next to her. "Are you alright, drover?" She asked, concern coloring her tone. Charel nodded, unable to speak, keenly aware that the Headwoman should not be there, but inside, helping get ready for the Hatching festivities.
"Here." Someone shoved Charel's pants and boots at Tress, who took them, then ordered everyone away. C'bay made to leave until Charel whimpered for him to stay.
"At least turn around, C'bay." Tress said with an exasperated sigh, helping Charel stand. C'bay did, and Charel pulled her pants and boots on, sniffing, trying valiantly to get her emotions under control.
"Did you see what happened?" Tress asked C'bay, who shook his head. "Sorry, Mirrth did, not I." C'bay said angrily, then turned when Charel touched his elbow. "I'm so sorry Charrie. He walked by me not ten minutes ago. I'd have popped him in the nose if I'd known-" He choked off what he was going to say when she hugged him tightly around the middle.
"Dragonmen protect. Dragons protect." She whispered, holding him bone crushingly tight. C'bay looked helplessly at Tress who merely shook her head.
What was the old Igen saying? B'ton asked himself, 'it never rains but that it pours'? His first Hatching as Weyrleader was getting off to an inauspicious start. Mirrth had broadcast the attack on the drover girl almost instantly, forcing B'ton to leave the more than capable queenriders to greet the candidates while he headed up the manhunt for the would be rapist. He was peripherally aware of Zandur and Valtree going to Tress's quarters as he tried to muddle through the sea of volunteers. The dragonriders were rightfully irate that anyone who attack an innocent in their own home, and repeatedly B'ton had to bark out the 'no kill' order.
Three wings went out, and those riders not chosen to search were remanded to the task of collecting guests.
Freeth says Urlyra wants you to take a deep breath and count to thirteen. Wubath interrupted his train of thought.
Why thirteen? B'ton asked, taking that deep breath before he snapped at another rider. There was a slight pause as he counted to thirteen.
Because in your frame of mind you could use the extra three seconds. Freeth's voice, so similar to Urlyra's that B'ton actually turned to see if she was standing behind him, murmured in his mind.
Wubath, please tell 'Lyra I said thank you.
Here's a little bonus chapter. I have to go out of town for about a week and a half, I don't know if I'll have wifi where I'm heading. Sorry for the long stretch. Also, please if you see any grammar or spelling errors, let me know.
Glossary comment: I use 'Weyrling' for the human of a dragonpair that hasn't graduated to full fighting strength. I use 'weyrling' for any child living in the Weyr, as that was how I was introduced to it in Dragonquest. I do not like the term 'weyrbrat' mostly because I honestly don't recall seeing it in Anne's earliest works, which (mostly) my guide for language use on Pern.