Char laughed as they danced, holding C'bay's hands when the dance dictated it, letting loose when not. Fulsa danced with all the same graceful dexterity that she showed before, her laughter mingling with Char's. From the sidelines Koru, acting in Jurille's stead as the sole remaining Queenrider, glanced at Tress.
"Should I worry about the drover?" She nodded at the odd trio.
"What does Sageth say?" Tress asked, although something in her tone suggested she wasn't worried.
They are friends, nothing more.
"She says they are friends." Koru dutifully relayed.
"Then the Weyr has nothing to fear," Tress replied with a smile. "Relax, our unusual bluerider is wise enough to surround herself with honorable people."
Char was still laughing and grinning when at long last Fulsa called it a night. Keslo, C'bay, Lybae tagged along as she walked out to the Hatching Grounds where Telgarsk basked in the heated sands, curled around sleeping Vaeth. Fulsa nudged Char, who smothered a giggle at the sight of the dragonet cradled almost maternally by the blue wher.
"Wake up Vaeth, it's time for Telgarsk to go home," she lovingly caresses Vaeth's head as she coaxed him awake. Telgarsk whined, and headbutt her hand.
"Telly, do I not give you enough attention?" Fulsa laughed, rubbing him behind the headknobs, to which the wher hummed his pleasure.
Time to go...? Vaeth cracked an eyelid, his eyes the deepest blue as he blinked and eeled out of his sleeping spot. Lybae held Char's crutch as Vaeth took his customary position on her uninjured side, and Fulsa checked the harness straps on Telgarsk's back, before swinging up onto his neck.
"Prosperous New Turn to you all." She called, wishing them the traditional farewell as Telgarask sat up into the traditional 'launch' position.
"Happy New Turn!" "Come back for a visit!" "Prosperous New Turn!" "Thanks for coming!" They called to her as the wher leap skyward, his sturdy wings stirring the black sands around them. Char waved as he gained altitude, then vanished between.
"Well, I'm knackered." C'bay yawned and ruffled Char's hair. "Rest well, bluerider. Prosperous New Turn to all of you." He clasped hands with Keslo and Lybae before heading to the south end of the Bowl where Mirrth was spiraling down to meet him.
"We'll walk you back to the barracks." Lybae announced, and Char's smile turned chagrined, knowing she wouldn't make the trip back without a little help.
"Thanks."
Bukset's tenor blended with the voices of the holders as feet stamped and the children danced. Almost everyone in the Hold had a firelizard, all offspring of Regaej's queens, with only the very youngest children still unpaired, although when they turned six they would be given their choice of egg from the next clutch, the WherHunter explained over the Turnover meal. The eggs not claimed the Hold used for barter, and Regaej was granted a place in the Hold whose whole industry revolved around the mining of pure white sand for the glassblowers in the Smith Hall.
When the children's dance ended, then the women had their turn, and Bukset played a lively tune so the leaping dance could be preformed to the best of the dancer's ability, many a pair laughing as they spun about. For so distant a hold, it had a surprisingly large population, eighty people in attendance from the wizened grandmother of the current Holder, to the only a month old baby who slept through even the noisiest music. Between the harper's sets several of the younger adults located drums and clay pipes, providing music for the individuals who chose to sing. The Hold had a tradition of 'singing in the new Turn', something Bukset had experienced in Half Circle, but this was the first time he had observed it away from the seaholds. Each person sang a song, it didn't matter what they sang, and he smiled at on youngster's lisped rendition of Teaching Song 'Holds To Halls'. Singing in the new Turn was an old tradition, one he had traced back to the end of the first Pass, although in the parlance of the day it had been called a 'year', and was the result of singing competition between three sailors, all vying for the same woman's affection.
"Do you have a song to add, or will you play your tiny guitar all night?" The giggly lady Holder asked, hanging off her husband's arm. Bukset flashed her a smile, his ukulele in his lap. This too was another deviation from the tradition, usually harpers were barred from participating, as the Hold music instructor, according to legend, had suggested a singing competition over a knife fight. "If you insist, I will be delighted to sing, but for singing in the new Turn, I would be better suited to supporting the singers." He demured as his brown raced the hold firelizards high above the holders head. The hold was actually a continuation of the canyon, rather than spend massive amounts of labor craving out a hold the inhabitants laid slate slabs across the thin ribbon of open canyon, three layers, allowing them a line of tall rooms and the free flow of air, even during Threadfall, and the Gather hall, as this room was called.
"Sing, don't sing, this Turnover you are our guest, Harper, and are welcome to do as you wish." The Holder replied jovially, as a new man, one dressed in riding leathers, strode over to their table, and slapped a torn and bloodied shirt down in front of Regeaj.
"You said you had taken care of the mankiller. This is all that is left of my son." He spat at the wherhunter, his rage and sorrow radiating off him with such intensity that every lizard found their human and hovered protectively.
The next day was quiet, when, out of habit and despite her own short night Char woke up and stumbled down to the cold storage to chop up Vaeth's breakfast. He was getting large enough that she no longer had to debone the carcass, and so she finished quickly, then, out of habit disarticulated a wherry for the kitchen. She carried the bag of wherry into kitchen, as Vaeth ate, where she was surprised to see seven of the kitchen seniors industriously preparing a second feast.
"Ah, Char, thank you!" Tress said, taking the stew sized wherry bits and pouring them into a large pot, onions and chopped orange roots going in after. "Hungry? We have grits on the flatiron,'' she pointed with a wooden spoon to the metal insert, where finished dishes sat to keep warm. Char nodded tiredly, and helped herself to the dish, flavoring the cereal with some crumpled bacon and a dollop of sour cream. One of the other women brought a mug of fresh klah over, and she smiled her thanks before leaning against a tall stool, out of the way.
"Why is everyone up so early?" Char queried, between mouthfuls.
"We're hosting the Queens' Meet today. " Tress explained, adding water and several handfuls of herbs to the pot, before sending another to place it over an unclaimed fire pit to cook. "You might want to get a nap in before they arrive this evening, the dragons will be up until the queens leave."
"Queens' Meet?" Char tilted her head. "The Weyrwomen are coming here?"
"No, lass, all the Queenriders. Every Turnover they choose a rest day to gather and discuss the past Turn and any changes they are considering for the new Turn." Tress explained, returning to her pastry dough and rolling pin.
"Oh." Char took another bite, then glanced around. "Where will they put all those Queens?"
"Anywhere they wish to go." Desnie quipped, and everyone laughed. Char smiled faintly, and sipped her klah, Vaeth joining her and carefully curling his tail around his forefeet, so as not accidentally get trod on.
Wubath says some like to sit on the rim, others will rest on the Hatching Sands. Sometimes they swim, when the Queens' Meet is at Ista.
"Huh. Do you need any help getting ready?" Char offered. She might hobble about with her crutches, but her hands were perfectly good.
"Only if you get a nap in later. " Tress replied, and pointing at a burlap bag on a nearby counter. "I need those berries washed and destemmed. Feel up to it?"
"With pleasure." Char collected the bag and a pairing knife as Zursha brought her a bowl of water to wash them in.
Fulsa woke up with a start, not feeling her mate in bed next to her.
"Sorry, love, I didn't mean to startle you." Namul said, sitting in the heavily padded chair the healer provided once the wherhandler was starting to move around again. He had several reports spread out before him.
"Mmm, no worries. The Masterharper again?" Fulsa murmured sleepily.
"Yes." His response was slightly absent as he read the tight handwriting in the sliver of wintery sunlight coming through the window. What he did not say, as he didn't wish to trouble her sleep further, was about the sudden trade in watchwher eggs going to traders who then seemed to vanish entirely. He raised his head and looked out the window without actually seeing the snowy landscape beyond it. What was Redell up to?
orange root: carrots