Preocith comes. Graesth warned as Streth, Diretta's queen, warbled a greeting. Jurille turned in her seat, then rose to greet Meredad, the senior queenrider of Igen as she loosened her flying gear in the heat.
"Felicitations and greetings," she opened cordially enough, "what's so important that has me timing it while Igen flies Fall?"
"I'm sorry, my dear." Diretta said, offering her a cup of chilled fruit juice, "but Ista and Telgar's hands are tied, and we," the slight emphasis suggested the Magnificent Eight, "knew you were the cleverest timer amongst us."
"Ooo, flattery. This is going to be trouble, isn't it?" Meredad retorted with a grin. "Alright then, I'm in, so long as it doesn't involve any long jumps." She winked at Jurille. "I can't hold my breath as long as I used to."
"How far back do you jump?" Jurille asked, sitting back down.
"Not back, forward." Meredad's smile slipped. "I had to get blight resistant numbweed seed, and the only place it existed in quantity is halfway through the Interval." She finished the juice with a long gulp. "And if you tell any harper, I'll denounce it, loudly."
"Duly noted." Jurille replied with a small shake of her head. Brinda coughed politely.
"Right then, what and when do you need fetched?"
"Three women, and their green dragonets that Impressed yesterday." Diretta explained. "And you need to deliver them to Telgar the night of their next Hatching." She looked to Jurille.
"Wilth will rise on or about the solstice, so... check in with me on the vernal equinox?" She suggested. Meredad nodded, then asked. "And when am I to raid Benden?" Garkis, glanced over at the entrance, gauging the length of the shadows. "In an hour, when the Wings are fully involved in Fall. And take brown Wingseconds you trust, no bronzes. L'rach, the Weyrlingmaster will help you if you run into him, but you must be in and out quickly."
Meredad nodded solemnly, then smiled. "Consider it done." She saluted the other queenriders, a fist over her heart, and turned on her heel, whistling a jaunty tune.
"And I worried about her," Diretta chuckled. "No fears, Jurille, you won't find a more daring, or cautious timer than our Meredad, for all that she gave me repeated near heart attacks as a Weyrling."
"Oh?" Jurille asked, willing to have her fears calmed by the older queenrider.
"Aye. She's the only rider I've ever known to figure out how to go between before her queen could truly fly." Diretta's theatrical sigh was not lost on Jurille.
"I hadn't heard this tale."
"You recall the exercise where the dragonets walk around the Bowl with their riders mounted?" Jurille and the other queenriders nodded. "Meredad gets this brilliant idea, and had her queen walk out to the feeding pens. On the day a tithe herd arrived."
"Oh no."
"Oh yes. And one of the panicked bulls charged them." Diretta paused to sip her klah.
"And that's when she went between?" Jurille shuddered at the thought of an undirected jump.
"Not just between, she timed the jump so she came out at sunset, when, in her words 'it would be safe.'"
"Oh... dear..." Was all Jurille could muster, as the other queenriders laughed softly, having heard the story before.
"The thing is, she became much more careful after that. Even when she made her hop forward, she only did that after careful consideration, and talking to that star harper. You'll get those weyrlings Jurille, make no mistake. Just make sure you stand some girls as candidates as well." Diretta said, and Jurille laughed.
"Is Gaesth telling on me?" She asked with a smile.
Never.
"No, but we're all probably thinking the same thing." Kenbib replied, smiling. "This close to the end of the Pass, it is time to return woman to the ranks of fighting colors." Jurille leaned forward, avidly curious.
"Why were they ever removed?"
"Pregnancy mostly, I think." Asvi said. "It's hard to fight Fall when a full quarter of your Flight is too gravid to fly." The queenriders shared a pained look, each remembering the problems with growing girths and tightening fighting straps.
"Still, female greenriders were certainly preferred over their male counterparts in the Interval. Everything I have read suggests that they were viewed as being less... colorful, shall we say? than male greenriders." Ryla said dipping her cold cuts in the sourfruit sauce.
"Hmm. That is certainly something to bring up at the next Queens' Meet." Brinda mused.
"What can I do for yo-" Zandur thrust his heavy black bag into her arms without really looking at her, then paused and gave her a searching look when she grunted.
"You're not C'bay." He stated flatly.
"Sorry." Charel replied, not feeling terribly sorry. Zandur waved impatiently.
"Don't dawdle then." He said sourly, and Charel trotted after him as he hurried past Jenlth without a word. The queen cracked an eyelid, her great faceted eye green with curiosity, and mentally Charel whispered an apology. Deerith snorted and closed her eyes, falling back asleep.
"Up Ofsee, you must move." He demanded of his patient.
"Ow, you're too rough." Ofsee whined tiredly as Charel placed the bag on the bedside table, and turned to help the pregnant woman to her feet. Zandur glanced at Charel, noting the technique.
"You've seen this done before, girl?" He asked in a slightly less testy voice.
"Ma's a healer." Charel offered, and staggered a little as Ofsee found her balance.
"Educated help, how refreshing." Zandur's response still sounded sour. Once upright Ofsee was directed through a series of stretching exercises. By the end of them she was dripping sweat, and Charel moped her brow with a damp cloth as she sat back down.
"H-how often?" Ofsee stammered.
"Before each meal. If you need the company of someone who's already gone through this, have Nene help you. Although..." Zandur looked speculatively at Charel. "If you're up before your dragon, girl, you should come by and help Ofsee. These exercises won't hurt you to do."
"Yes sir." Charel replied as Ofsee looked at her in unveiled surprise.
"You're the girl that Impressed a blue?" She asked, still puffing from the exertion. Charel nodded, resigned to the reaction. What she did not expect was when Ofsee pulled her into a tight hug and kissed her forehead.
"Good on you," she told Charel. "Don't let anyone ever tell you that you can't do something." She added fiercely.
B'ton surprised the wherhandlers by showing up the following evening. Telgarsk still stunk of firestone and Namusk was overdue for a bath so the wherhandlers had a large kettle warming water when the watchwhers awoke.
B'ton grinned broadly as the watchwhers stretched and crooned, arching their backs in delight as Namul and Fulsa attacked each and every crevasse with fierce determination and sweetsand.
"You're welcome to join us, Lord B'ton," Fulsa called, from under one of Telgarsk's wings.
"Alright," B'ton entered the wher enclosure and grabbed a handful of sand, applying it to Namusk's back. The green thrummed with such pleasure that Telgarsk turned to look, then made a whining noise.
"Telly, you big baby." Fulsa chided her wher, who looked at her and snorted indignantly. "You can wait your turn. Besides there's less of Namusk to clean, and then all three of us can scrub your between your toes." The blue perked up and burbled cheerfully. "Gotta admit, never thought I'd see the day a Weyrleader cleaned a watchwher," she teased the bronzerider.
"I am rapidly coming to the conclusion that there is more to your dragonkin than is given credit." B'ton replied, studying the pebbly hide under his hands.
"Ah, another convert." Namul replied, grinning at Fulsa who stuck her tongue out at him.
"Although, I do wonder, if your whers can go between, why don't you bathe them on say, a sandy beach in Ista?" B'ton asked.
"Easy, neither of us has ever been to Ista." Fulsa replied.
"And the only places I got to Southern Boll were the mountains." Namul added.
"And," Fulsa poured a bucket over Telgarsk's wing, "you forget that whers are territorial, so taking a jaunt to the seaside runs the risk of running into another wher's territory."
"How then are these two able to share a territory?" B'ton asked, getting that hard to reach area that whers apparently shared with dragons.
"They don't, technically. Telly's territory is the Hold and Lord Holder's family, whereas Namusk's is the Watch," Fulsa grinned.
"It probably doesn't hurt that they're mates." Namul added.
"So territory is partly determined by you?" B'ton asked, as Namusk crooned.
"It would stand to reason." Namul said, rinsing the green's neck. "Feral whers are always territorial over land, but Impressed whers can travel around, like the ones bonded to Traders."
"And because the Lord Holder's family is part of Telly's territory, that's why I and not Namul ride around with Lady Minket." Fulsa made a face as Telgarsk head-butted her. "Fine, fine, so you like the Lady Holder."
"And you don't?" B'ton asked, arching an eyebrow.
"It's not that, she just irritated me, her priorities are skewed. The boys go to every Hatching in the hopes of an in stands Impression, but the girls only ever get to go if there's a queen egg. Ketke, her second eldest is great with the whers, but she wouldn't dream of letting him train to be a handler, even though I'd pen that letter of recommendation to the queenwher myself if she would. None of the girls are allowed a fire lizard, 'least they shirk their duties', but all the boys got their fire lizards, bronzes and browns all of them, on their eighth Naming Day. Mistle's got a real talent for healing craft, but no daughter of Minket's is going to waste her prime breeding years learning healercraft." Fulsa huffed.
"You did ask." Namul reminded B'ton, who chuckled.
"So I did." He grinned unabashedly at Fulsa. "I wonder how she'll take the news that we're going to start standing girls on the Sands for fighting colors?"
"You are?" Fulsa looked up. "It's about time." She returned to scrubbing between Telgarsk's headknobs then grinned wickedly. "Can I be the one to tell her?"
There is much more to add to the conversation with the wherhadlers and B'ton but I'm going to have to break that conversation in half. Apologies.
If you see any spelling or grammatical errors please point them out posthaste.
Is anyone interested in a one shot about the Magnificent Eight?