Were Wher You?

A/N
A petty thief gets nipped by a watch-wher and begins to undergo a horrifying change. Or is it really that bad? These events take place shortly after "All the Weyrs of Pern." The story is rated K-plus; the language is all K.


"I'm telling you, Baybar, this is the best opportunity we've had in months! Maybe the best opportunity we'll have all Turn!"

Meglin had been leading our little band for three Turns now, and he had never been so insistent before. We had helped ourselves to the belongings of countless minor Holds, and we had always kept it small – just a few goods that we could easily sell, and enough food to keep us going. We didn't want to get greedy and draw the attention of any Lord Holders. We'd heard about how Thella and her band had pushed their luck too hard, and they'd been hunted down until their gang was dispersed and most of them were dead. Now Meglin seemed to be suggesting that we should make the same mistake.

"Robbing a major Holding?" I asked. "Meglin, how could that possibly be a good opportunity? If we humiliate the Holder like that, he won't rest until he's caught us!" Garso and Adobo nodded in agreement.

"For one thing, Lord Jaxom is still young and inexperienced," Meglin lectured me. "He just got confirmed in his honors a few Turns ago; he's still getting a feel for how to manage his Holding. He's probably never faced a robbery before and he won't know how to handle it."

"He's got a veteran steward to help him," Garso warned him, "and he probably still has Lord Warder Lytol backing him up if he needs it."

"But if he's anything like the other Lord Holders, then he'll want to make his own decisions," Meglin replied, "and those decisions will be bad ones until he makes a few mistakes and learns from them. That's where we come in. We'll give him the chance to make a decision about us, like any good citizen, and he's welcome to learn from it so he'll handle the next intruders better... but not us. The other good news is that, according to my sources, Ruatha Hold just got a brand-new watch-wher."

"So why didn't we strike when they had no watch-wher at all?" Adobo demanded.

"Because I didn't know about it until yesterday," Meglin admitted. "But a brand-new watch-wher won't know who belongs in the Hold at night and who doesn't. Even if it scents us, we can smooth-talk our way out of trouble." There was no question that Meglin was a master of smooth talk.

"Are you saying that a brand-new watch-wher is as good for us as no watch-wher?" I asked.

Meglin grinned wickedly "I'm saying that a brand-new watch-wher is better for us than no watch-wher, because the human guards will let their guard down at night. They'll rely on the wher to sound the alarm, and tomorrow night, with an inexperienced wher on duty, there won't be any alarm!"

"Okay, I'm convinced," Garso said.

"Me, too," Adobo nodded. They all looked at me.

I shrugged. "We're close enough to Ruatha that we can be there tomorrow night, and I won't mind looting some real valuables for a change. I'm willing to try it, as long as I don't have to smooth-talk the watch-wher!" I wasn't about to admit it, but I was afraid of those foul-smelling things. Anything that could see in the dark better than me was a threat to my livelihood and my freedom. Besides, I'd had a couple of near-misses with watch-whers back in my youth, when I marauded on my own. Now there were four of us marauding together, which meant that the wher had four times the chances of seeing, hearing, or smelling an intruder.

"Then it's settled," Meglin grinned. "We'll rest this morning, travel in the afternoon and at night, do the same thing tomorrow, and we'll pay Ruatha Hold a social call in the early morning hours. Young Lord Jaxom is about to get his first lesson in how to be hospitable to strangers!" We all laughed, finished our meager meal, and settled down to rest. After tomorrow night, our meals wouldn't be so meager.

We were a hard-living bunch, the four of us. We worked hard (if you called what we did for a living "work"), we played hard (whenever we could), and when our food and money ran low, we made things hard for others. We followed two ironclad rules: share and share alike, and don't hurt anybody. The first rule kept us from quarreling with each other, and the second rule kept us from drawing much attention from the authorities. Of course, the "share and share alike" rule caused problems sometimes, like the time when Adobo made off with a sack of food that was supposed to feed us for a sevenday, but which turned out to be herdbeast kidneys destined for somebody's captive wherries. But for the most part, we got along okay.

Garso had originally formed the group out of four Holdless petty thieves, but Meglin had risen to the place of leadership by virtue of a strong will, good ideas for when and where to steal, and an above-average supply of good luck. Garso knew people all over Pern who would pay fair marks for our goods without asking questions, Adobo was a good-hearted giant who could do the heavy lifting, and I played the dual role of being both the sneaky one and the voice of caution. Together, we were doing pretty well. I still wasn't fully convinced that this raid on a major Holding was a good idea. But the other three were convinced, and I wasn't going to go against the will of the whole group.

As the sun began to slide down toward the horizon, we woke up and saddled our runnerbeasts. In order to get to Ruatha Hold in time for tomorrow night's caper, we would have to push our beasts pretty hard. Both our mounts and our pack ponies weren't used to moving at such a pace, and we had to stop and rest them every now and then. An additional benefit to travelling that fast was that we didn't stay side-by-side with any chatty travelers for very long. If someone commented on how fast we were going, or wondered where we were headed, Meglin would call, "Replacement runners for a carter in Tillek" over his shoulder as we passed them by. It sounded reasonable; no one questioned him.

The next morning, we slept under a ledge near the main road. It was cramped; we had to crowd ourselves together so we'd all fit under the ledge; but the sky had that awful shade of gray that usually meant that Thread was going to fall. Maybe we were wrong, or maybe the dragons got it all, but we didn't see any Thread, and the runners didn't act panicky the way they did when Thread was nearby. Garso decided that this was a sign of good luck, and that our upcoming business venture was sure to succeed.

We arrived at Ruatha Hold just before sunset. We found a stable where we could leave our horses, and we paid the stabler his marks. As he was setting out fodder for our beasts, I came up behind him, slit his money pouch, and recovered our money. Then we found a guest house where we could buy meals and a room for the night. Again, we paid the usual fee, and again, I quietly arranged for a full refund. Then we retired to our room and waited for darkness.

The first part of the caper went well. The watch-wher acted alert, but it didn't know which way to look for trouble, and the breeze allowed us to stay downwind of it. Three of us edged along the front wall of the Hold building (Adobo had been sent back to fetch the runnerbeasts) until we found a window that wasn't barred shut. "Do you all have glows and sacks?" Meglin hissed. We nodded in the darkness. "Okay, here we go! Remember, go for food, good clothing, and small valuables. Nothing big and bulky." We nodded again. We wanted no repeats of the night when Adobo wanted to carry off a heavy wooden desk because he thought there was money locked inside. I eased the window open and we all tumbled in, one after the other.

We waited for a few seconds to make sure that no one had heard us, then lit our glows and spread out. Garso found the kitchen, Meglin searched the living spaces for valuables, and I hunted until I found the Hold's office. I had some ideas about valuables that might be found there, and I wasn't disappointed. There were a few pouches of small marks lying around, there was a partial skin of wine, and – best of all – I found the Steward's signet ring, which he had carelessly left on the desktop. We could melt it and sell the silver for a nice profit, or we could use the ring to seal orders for anything we wanted, in the name of the Steward of Ruatha Hold! Either way, this little ring would surely be the top prize out of everything we found tonight.

As I was shoving my new acquisitions into my sack, I heard a rustling behind me, followed by a small chirp. I turned and looked by the dim light of my glow. It was a miniature dragon, one of those "fire lizards" that attached themselves to rich people and lucky people. This one must belong to the Lord Holder, I decided. I didn't want a little spy messing up our caper; I waved it away. It let out a shriek, its eyes turned red, and it lunged at me. I dodged it and ran back to our open window. Garso and Meglin were headed that way as well. We all stopped for a moment, not sure who was going to jump out first, and in that moment, a loud bellow from outside told us that the watch-wher had been alerted by the fire lizard.

Meglin jumped first. A clatter of metal chains told us that the watch-wher was chasing him. Garso waited a moment, then jumped out the window and ran the other way. I followed him as closely as I could. A metallic clang told us that the wher had reached the end of its chain, which meant that Meglin had gotten away from it. We kept running, which turned into an all-out sprint when we heard the wher turn and pursue us. We almost got away clean, but at the last moment, the sharding creature lunged and bit me in the rear end.

I yelled in pain and kept going. We were quickly beyond the chained wher's ability to chase us, but its snarling and bellowing would quickly wake the entire Hold. Adobo had brought the runnerbeasts, just like he was supposed to. We stuffed our loot into the saddlebags of the pack beasts, then sprang into the saddles of our riding beasts. For me, that was a mistake; sitting in the saddle hurt my wound as though I'd been branded. I bit down on another scream, and we turned and headed up the main roadway as the first of the glows came on in the Hold.

After five minutes, we pulled off the road, hid, and waited. There was no pursuit; we had made a clean getaway. It had been a perfect caper, except for me getting bitten, and I would probably make a full recovery. In the meantime, I had to ride while standing in the stirrups as much as possible. That was uncomfortable, but it was less painful than sitting. No one would comment on my unusual riding style because no one could see me; it was still nighttime.

We were about half a day's ride away from one of our favorite hiding places, an abandoned cothold on a small piece of land whose well water had dried up. We went slowly this time, in part to avoid drawing attention and in part because I couldn't ride fast. We got there in mid-morning, rested the runners until a small trader's train had passed by so they didn't see us leave the road, and then headed up a barely-visible trail to our cothold.

"Hey, Baybar," Meglin called from ahead. "Look back and see if we've been… 'tailed.'" The others smirked.

"Oh, ho ho, I bet you think that's very funny," I snarled.

"No, we're very worried about you," Garso said earnestly. "When you yelled out in pain, I thought it was… 'the end.'" More laughter from my so-called friends as we tied up the runners.

"I'm still not laughing," I muttered. "Do we have anything for breakfast?"

"I'll start a fire and cook something," Adobo suggested. "How about some nice, fresh… 'buns?'" Garso was nearly rolling on the ground with mirth by now.

"Guys, it's not that funny!" I protested. But their reactions proved that, to them, my plight was the funniest thing they had seen all Turn. I gave up, went behind the cothold, and checked my injury as best I could. It wasn't a bad wound; the wher had gotten only two teeth into me. It would heal without stitches or anything else that a Healer might offer, if I could just rest for a few days. Fortunately, resting was what we usually did after a successful operation. We had plenty of food, and we could get water. The hardest part of my recovery would probably be enduring my comrades' crude sense of humor. The nature of my injury had already made me the butt of their jokes, and if – oh, shards, now I was doing it too!

The next few days were uneventful. Meglin sent Adobo, who had the most honest face, to a nearby cothold with two empty buckets and an eighth-mark coin. He returned with no coin and two full buckets of water. That would last us at least a day or two, and we had plenty of eighth-mark coins to get more water. We examined our newly-acquired treasures, and I was right – the signet ring was the prize of the lot. Meglin had acquired a couple of small fur stoles (ironic?) that we could sell, Garso had done well in cleaning out their kitchen, and my little pouches of money would have been the top prize in any other caper but this one. Meglin had been right; robbing a major Hold had paid off handsomely.

The fourth night after we went into hiding, it was my turn to stay up late and watch for intruders. I never minded that duty; I'd rather be awake at night than in the morning anyway. It's quiet, the night sky is a lot more interesting to look at than the sky in the daytime, and I have a chance to sit and think for a while. We never had intruders anyway; Meglin was too careful in his choices of hide-outs. Tonight was a great night to be awake. The sky was cloudless, and Belior, the larger of the two moons, was full, casting its luminous light across Pern. It gave me plenty of light to see if anyone was approaching our hideout, but it was also beautiful to the eye.

I was leaning against the cothold, enjoying the peace and quiet, when I felt a stabbing pain in one of my fingers. At first, I thought I had somehow gotten a splinter in my finger, but a quick glance at my hand dispelled that thought. No, it was much worse than that. My fingernail was growing and thickening into a nasty-looking claw. Then another fingernail began to grow, and the pain became unbearable. I tried not to scream – I didn't want to wake the others – but when the nails on my other hand started turning into claws, I couldn't help it. My skin was turning dark; my arms and legs were growing shorter; something was growing from near my injury, and two other somethings were growing out of my back; and just before I blacked out, I felt my body growing and bursting out of my clothing…

When I awoke the next morning, I was lying curled-up and naked on the ground next to the cothold. My hands and face were covered in dried blood. Every joint hurt, and my eyes couldn't endure the light of the sun. My three comrades stood at a distance, nervously watching me.

"He's awake," Meglin said, and they all took a hesitant step closer to me. "Baybar, what in the name of the First Egg happened to you?"

"I don't know," I moaned.

"How can you not know?" Adobo wondered. "Your clothes are shredded, you're a gory mess… how could something this extreme happen and you don't even know what it was?"

"I don't remember anything," I said as I struggled to my hands and knees. My sense of balance was all wrong; I nearly fell over.

"Do you remember anything about that?" Meglin exclaimed. He pointed to the half-eaten remains of one of our pack runners, about a hundred feet away.

"It looks like a dragon ate it," Garso added.

"Was a dragon here?" Meglin asked pointedly.

I shook my head. "I don't remember any dragon. I really don't remember anything about last night, anything at all."

"Whatever happened," Adobo commented, "it sure made a mess out of him."

"Yeah," Meglin nodded. "Adobo, go get another bucket of water from the neighbors. Baybar is going to need to wash up, and then we'll see how badly he's hurt." Adobo nodded and set off down the trail with his bucket. When he returned, I used a damp cloth to clean myself up. There wasn't a scratch on me, except for the bite wound on my tuckus, and that was slowly healing.

The others helped me into bed. All I wanted to do was sleep, and that's all I did for most of the day. At one point, I was awake enough to hear my comrades talking about me.

"Maybe he's got a fever from that watch-wher bite," Adobo suggested.

"A fever wouldn't make him kill and eat that runnerbeast!" Garso countered.

"He couldn't have done that," Meglin added. "Nobody can eat that much. That part is a dragon's doing. But I never heard of a dragon attacking somebody else's runnerbeasts before, and I thought they ate so much, they left nothing but the bones. That poor runner is only half gone."

"Maybe a wild dragon attacked the runner, and Baybar tried to protect it," Adobo thought out loud. "He chased the dragon away before it could finish eating. Then it attacked him and knocked him over, and he hit his head on a rock, which is why he doesn't remember anything."

"That makes sense," Meglin decided, "but he doesn't have a bump on his head, and it still doesn't explain how his clothes got shredded. If a dragon did it, then its claws would have shredded him, too."

"Is there such a thing as a wild dragon?" Garso wondered.

"I don't know," Meglin said. "All I know for sure is that something weird happened out there last night, and I hope it doesn't happen again. Baybar seems to be okay, but he's going to need some clothes, and replacing that runner won't be cheap." Nobody said anything for a few minutes, and I fell back to sleep.

I awoke around midnight. I still ached all over, but I had to get out of bed to refresh myself. I drank some water afterward, but I wasn't hungry, even though I hadn't eaten anything all day.

What had happened to me? The scariest part was that I couldn't remember anything, except for that nightmare about my body starting to change into something different. Had it really happened? I glanced at my hand; it looked perfectly normal. I looked up at the night sky. Belior was just past full; the stars looked like stars; everything in the sky looked the way it should.

I shook my head… and a partial memory returned. I recalled being high off the ground, looking up at Belior, then down at the ground. I could see the cothold from above, with the runners grazing nearby. They looked small… and the memory ended. It made no sense. I had never been high off the ground in my life! Was I losing my mind? It was possible, but that couldn't explain all the other things that had happened to me last night.

The next day, Adobo and Garso set off down the road with some of our marks. They were headed for a minor Holding about half a day away; they meant to buy another pack runner, and some clothing and boots for me. Meglin and I had nothing to do until they returned, so we recounted to each other every tiny detail that had happened during our raid on Ruatha Hold. Maybe something had happened there that we hadn't noticed, something that might help explain what was going on with me. Our exploits made a good yarn that would earn us some respect if we ever met another band of renegades, but there were no clues to my situation.

Adobo and Garso returned late that evening with the runner and the clothing, and with most of our marks as well; apparently they had arranged a five-finger discount on the runnerbeast. I had been wearing a loincloth all day, and it was good to change into a full set of clothes again, even if it was just for a couple of hours before bedtime. Then I relaxed, lay down… and another memory surfaced. I had just pounced on the runnerbeast and was tearing into it with my teeth… but that was impossible! I couldn't pounce on anything that big, and I didn't even have teeth like that! Yet I clearly remembered doing it. I was definitely losing my mind. These so-called memories were scaring me.

But, if I was really losing my mind, then what had happened to that runnerbeast? If I hadn't killed it and devoured half of it, then what did? None of this made sense. I tried to close my eyes and go to sleep, but then another memory came back. I had just finished turning into a dragon-like creature, and I was ravenously hungry. I spread my wings and vaulted into the starry sky…

"No!" I screamed out loud, and covered my eyes with my hands, as though that would keep the memories away. I was putting two and two together, and I didn't like the answer I was getting.

"What's the matter?" Garso said from the doorway. "Why did you yell 'No!'"

"Something is really wrong with me," I said shakily. "I'm remembering things that couldn't possibly have happened. They make sense, but they're impossible!"

"What?" Meglin asked over Garso's shoulder. "Did you turn into a dragon or something ridiculous like that?"

"No, nothing crazy like that," I said slowly. As they began to relax, I added, "I turned into a watch-wher."

My two comrades looked at each other and shook their heads sadly. "Our gang is going to need a new sneak-thief," Meglin decided. "Baybar has gone stark raving mad."

"No, listen to me!" I begged them. "It all adds up! My clothes were torn because they were too small to stay on a watch-wher. Only a watch-wher is big enough to kill a runner, but small enough to not eat it all. That explains the gore on my face and hands; I was eating it when I turned back into a person."

"And why did you turn into a watch-wher in the first place?" Garso demanded scornfully.

"It must have something to do with the wher that bit me in Ruatha Hold," I answered. "I can't think of any other answer."

"Here's something else I can't think of," Meglin wondered. "Why haven't you turned into a watch-wher again since that first night?"

"How could I possibly know that?" I burst out. "Do I look like an expert on watch-whers?"

"If you are one, then you ought to know something about them," Garso challenged me.

"I never used to be one before," I said defensively. "The Harpers didn't tell us much about how to be a watch-wher when we learned our Teaching Ballads."

"Just go back to sleep," Meglin advised me. "You'll feel better in the morning."

I couldn't sleep. The memories tormented me, and every minor ache and pain made me fear I was changing again. When morning came, I was more tired than I was when I lay down. I stayed in bed and missed breakfast for the second straight morning. When I finally got up for lunch, I was just beginning to feel hungry. When I reached for the stew-pot, Garso pulled back in mock-terror. "Please don't bite me!" he quavered. I ignored him and served myself some lunch.

The next few days went by uneventfully. I didn't change into anything else. My bite-wound was healing well, so I could ride again if I took it easy. For a while, whenever I came out of my room, the others would solemnly recite, "Watch-wher, watch-wher, in your lair. Watch well, watch-wher! Who goes there?" When I didn't respond, they gave up, and things slowly got back to normal. Meglin eventually decided that it was time for us to visit some of the nearby small Holdings and acquire more food. "While we're at it," he told me, "maybe you can sneak into the Hold buildings and find something small and valuable for us." I nodded. That was my special job within the group.

We rode to within half a mile of the nearest Holding, tied up the horses, and walked the rest of the way. The Hold wasn't a big one, but it was surrounded by a lot of land, so it must be fairly prosperous, we decided. We approached from the side away from the barn, so any restless livestock wouldn't hear us and sound any kind of alarm. Belior was waning, but Timor, the smaller moon, was full, so there was plenty of moonlight to see by. Garso and Adobo found the grain storage bins and began filling their sacks; Meglin helped himself to some almost-ripe redfruits from a barrel; and I located the front door so I could invite myself in.

The door was barred shut; I wouldn't get far that way. I crept around to the back of the house, hoping that the Hold had a back door and that it wasn't barred. Yes, there was a back door. I reached for the latch… and felt a stabbing pain in the fingers of my other hand.

"Oh, no," I moaned. I held my hand up to the moon so I could see it, and sure enough, my fingernails were turning into claws again. The pain was horrible, but I was resolved not to black out this time. Whatever was about to happen to me, it couldn't be worse than being ambushed inside my own head by those horrible, half-remembered memories.

I quickly took off my tunic; it was hard with my hands changing their shape. Then I kicked off my boots and tried to get out of my pants, but my hands, such as they were, would no longer cooperate. I felt very dizzy for a few seconds, but I didn't lose consciousness. Within two minutes, I knew I wouldn't recognize myself in a looking-glass. I couldn't see my face, of course, but the rest of me, all twenty-plus feet of me…

There was no longer any doubt. I had turned into a watch-wher again. And I was hungry again.

"Hey, Baybar, are you having any luck over there?" Meglin hissed from around the corner.

I tried to answer, "No," but my voice wouldn't cooperate either. All I could manage was a harsh croak.

"What the…" He stuck his head around the corner, took one look at me, and shouted, "Run for it! The Hold has a watch-wher!"

"No, it's me!" I tried to shout, but it came out as a guttural roar. If anything, that only made the others run faster. I started to chase them on foot, and I was actually overtaking them, but realized that they would scatter if they thought I was going to catch them. I gathered myself and took wing instead.

The moment my clawed feet left the ground, I felt like a new creature… and a much better one. I could fly! I could see in the dark! All three of my human friends were just below me, fleeing like frightened wherries to get away from me. Their runnerbeasts were tied to trees just ahead, and I could see them clearly as well. I couldn't make out colors, but their shapes were as plainly visible to me as if it had been broad daylight. I also knew that they would be delicious.

Was I really going to kill and eat a runnerbeast? Well, I had to eat something, and I wasn't about to consume my friends. That limited my options. Then I noticed the glowing outline of a young herdbeast wandering on the outskirts of the Hold lands. Evidently, it hadn't come in with the others as the sun went down. Dinner is served, I thought, and my friends won't get stuck with the bill. I smoothly altered my course, glided for about four hundred yards, then pounced.

As I ate, I wondered how I had learned to fly. After all, I never had wings before. It must have been some kind of instinct, like the way this herdbeast had panicked at my scent, even though it had probably never smelled a watch-wher before. It made a fine meal for me, and it was good to know that my friends wouldn't have to replace it tomorrow.

Then I wondered at how casually I was rending and devouring a raw animal. My mother didn't teach me to eat that way! But without thumbs, how else could I eat? My limbs had three claws each, so I could grip objects that were the right size and shape, but knives and forks were right out. I could probably learn to catch fish with those claws, but I didn't know where the nearest large body of water was. Maybe my friends would be willing to feed me somehow…

…but that was never going to happen. My friends associated watch-whers with the law and punishment, just as I had always done. The moment they saw me in this body, they would turn and run, just like they'd turned and run tonight. They might not fear me while I was shaped like a human, but they would always worry that I might turn into an avenging pseudo-dragon when they didn't expect it. They would never fully trust me again.

Where did that leave me? I had just become a friendless, Holdless vagabond. I could never show my face in Ruatha Hold again; the stabler and the innkeeper had surely described us to the Holder, who would tell everyone to watch out for us. Tillek, Crom, and Fort were probably on the lookout for us as well. I could use my group's hideouts in other Holds, as long as they weren't trying to use the same hideout at the same time. As for finding food, I was on my own.

I was also lacking in clothing. My tunic and boots, along with the torn shreds of my pants, were back at the Hold we had just tried to rob. All the shouting had surely awakened the Holder and his family; I'd have no luck recovering my clothes tonight, no matter how sneaky or quiet I might be.

I was bending down to take one last bite of my meal when my wings and tail began to hurt. Turning back into a person wasn't quite as painful as going from person to watch-wher, but it was no picnic in the meadow, either. I blacked out for a moment, and when I came to, I was in the same state I'd been in when I transformed the first time – naked, bloody, and unable to convince anyone of what was happening to me. Of course, there was no one here to convince; my friends had taken off on their runnerbeasts and they were long gone.

Well, I had little to lose by trying to recover my clothes. It was still nighttime, and I was still the quietest thing on two legs (now that I was back to having two legs again). I might not get my stuff back, but if I didn't try, then I faced a long, unclothed, barefoot walk back to our hideout. I sneaked back toward the Hold, and got there just in time to see the Holder go inside and slam his door shut. I heard the wooden bar fall into place from the inside, but that didn't concern me. I no longer wanted to break in and steal; I just wanted to reclaim what was mine. Amazingly, my clothes were still right where I'd dropped them. Maybe the Holder hadn't seen them in the dark. I donned my tunic and boots, and turned a piece of my shredded pants into a loincloth. For a moment, I contemplated sneaking into the barn and making off with some livestock, but my heart wasn't in it. I rinsed off my face and hands in the Holder's water barrel, then set off down the road. My appearance was unconventional, but not criminal.

It was a long walk home with sore limbs; I missed being able to ride. On the other hand, it gave me plenty of time to think. If my friends turned me out (which they probably would do), where should I go next? I hadn't had much luck as a loner; it wasn't until I fell in with Meglin, Garso, and Adobo that my skills began to turn a profit. Maybe I could attend a Gather, lurk on the outskirts, and find some new friends to work with… but what would those new friends do when they found out I was a part-time watch-wher? I could spend the rest of my life gaining new friends, and then losing them when the truth came out, over and over again.

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of approaching hoofbeats. There were only two runners, by the sound of them, so they couldn't be my friends. I ducked off the road and hid in some weeds.

After half a minute, two men in leather uniforms appeared, riding well-trained mounts. They must have been a patrol from Ruatha Hold, watching the roads for people like me. They were going slowly and talking to each other, right up to the moment when one of the horses scented me, whinnied, and stopped in its tracks. The other runner stopped a moment later, snorting and tossing its head. Did I still smell like a watch-wher?

The men looked all around. My hiding place would have been good enough if they weren't alert, but they were fully alert now. "You there! In the weeds! Stand up and identify yourself!"

I rose and affected an unintelligent stare. "I'm Torjar. I'm from Nabol." That was one of my standard aliases; no one had ever called me on it.

"Where are your pants?" the other one demanded.

"I was robbed. I had some marks in my pockets, and the thieves wanted to be sure they got all my money, so they took my pants."

"Why were you hiding from us?" the first one asked.

"I thought you were the thieves, coming back for more."

"Can you describe them?" the second one asked.

"There were two of them," I answered. "I couldn't see their faces because it was too dark, but I know they were on light-colored runners." All of our runners were dark-colored. "Can you help me get my money back?"

The first one glanced at the second one and muttered, "They must have split up." Then he turned back to me. "I'm afraid your money is gone. Next time, stay off the roads at night, or travel with some strong friends. If you see those renegades again, report it to Brand at Ruatha Hold. Don't worry; we'll catch them soon enough." He flicked his reins, and the two runnerbeasts set off again, giving me a wide berth. I waited until they were well around the bend in the road before letting out the obligatory sigh of relief and continuing my journey.

Maybe my friends wouldn't be happy to see me again, but I had to warn them that Lord Jaxom was sending out patrols to look for us. Hopefully, I could get there before the next patrol did. All this walking was wearing out my legs, which hurt from my transition anyway. If I met another patrol, could I bluff them as well as I'd bluffed the first one? What if I turned into a wher before their very eyes? Could I get back to our hideout before my luck ran out?

At least I wasn't hungry.

As I walked along in the darkness, I tried to think of some explanation for what was happening to me. I knew this wasn't normal, but what could have caused it? Was it connected with the wher bite I'd suffered?

And then I was blindsided by another memory. This one wasn't something that my mind had hidden from me and then turned loose; this was a distant memory from my childhood. My father loved to tell scary stories to my older brothers and me when we were young. One night, as we sat by the fireplace, he'd told us a story so old, the first settlers to Pern might have brought it with them. It was about a man who was bitten by a diseased canine, and from that day forward, whenever the moon was full, he turned into a half-man, half-canine monster called a were-wulf. There was no cure for his condition except death.

I glanced up at Timor, full, bright, and suddenly not so comforting. The first time I had transformed, it was while Belior was full. Was this really happening to me? Was I turning into a… a were-wher?

When I finally got back to the cothold, it was mid-morning. Adobo was standing guard, and when he saw me, he quickly alerted the others. They met me at the doorway.

"Where were you last night?" Meglin demanded.

"Yes, unfortunately," I answered.

"What do you mean, yes? I asked you where you were last night."

"You just said it," I told him. "I was a were-wher last night."

"You were aware of what?" Garso challenged me.

"I was aware that I was a were-wher," I said, puzzled.

"No!" Meglin nearly shouted. "I asked you where you were, not what you were! Stop talking in circles! I'll ask again: where were you last night?"

"Yes, I was," I replied.

"What?" Adobo and Garso chorused.

"I was a were-wher. You saw me there, Meglin," I went on. "You asked if I was having any luck, then you stuck your head around the corner and you saw me and shouted the alarm. When I started flying, you must have heard the sound of my wings."

"What sound did your wings make?" Garso asked.

"A whir," I nodded.

"Again with the 'wher' stuff," Meglin muttered.

"No, not a wher, but a whir!" I protested. "A flying wher makes a whir."

"But where?!" Meglin nearly screamed.

"Yes, a were-wher," I nodded. Meglin nearly tore his hair out.

Garso smirked. "Where, oh where, would a were-wher whir if a were-wher would whir? Where?"

"Stop saying that!" Meglin exclaimed. "I'm begging you, please stop saying that! I just want to know where that wher came from."

"A weyr?" Adobo wondered.

"Don't you start!" Meglin burst out. "Okay, this is getting me nowhere."

"No, were-wher," I corrected him.

"Argh! Stop it! I'll try another angle. Baybar, you were supposed to steal something from that Hold. Did you get any of their wares?"

"Whers can't hold wares," I answered. "Do you think I'm some kind of ware-wher?"

"You just said you were," Adobo protested.

"You were a wher," Garso added maliciously.

"I am a wher, but I'm a were-wher! I'm not a ware-wher!"

"I'm not aware of what kind of wher you were," Garso said snidely. "Especially if you whirred."

"Word," Adobo nodded.

"I was aware that I was a wher, and I was aware of where you were," I shot back. "Anyway, after you guys ran away, I went back to get my clothes. My pants were ruined again, so I used part of them to make this loincloth. Then I walked home, but I got surprised by a mounted patrol."

"Okay, let me see if I've got this straight," Garso grinned; he was obviously going to milk this situation for all it was worth. "You were where we were, but you were aware that you were a wher, and not just a wher that whirs, but a were-wher, where we were. But you're not a ware-wher because you can't take wares, even though you need stuff to wear, you made underwear, and the patrol took you unawares?"

"Yes, exactly," I nodded. "Why is this so difficult for you to understand?"

"I don't know," Meglin whimpered.

"Third base!" Adobo burst out triumphantly.

We all looked at him curiously. "Why did you say that?" Garso asked.

Adobo shrugged. "I panicked."

"And that's another thing," I went on. "Ruatha Hold is sending out mounted patrols to look for us. I gave them a false description of us, but they know there are four of us and they're on the alert. Lord Jaxom is doing a better job of responding to our caper than you gave him credit for. The roads aren't going to be a safe place for us for a while."

"I think that's the least of our worries," Meglin began.

"Wherries?" Adobo asked innocently.

"NO!" the rest of us shouted.

"Look, Baybar, this is nothing personal," Meglin went on, "but if you're really turning into a wher, then maybe you should do it apart from the rest of us. Watch-whers and people like us… they don't mix. Whers are always on the side of law and order. We're not. We may have to ask you to leave our little group if you're going to keep turning into our arch-enemy."

"It only happens when one of the moons is full," I tried to explain.

"That's too often for my taste," Garso added. "Especially if you're going to kill and eat one of our runnerbeasts every time 'it' happens."

"And we'd always have to be afraid that you'd go lawful-good on us and report us to the authorities," Meglin finished. He sighed. "Baybar, you're a great cutpurse and we all like you, but I think it will be best if you take one-quarter of our loot and find someplace else to do your 'wher' thing."

"You're casting me out of the group," I said bitterly. "Right when the authorities are doing their best to find us? I probably won't get five miles up the road before they catch me, and then I'll be exiled. Thanks a lot, 'friend.'"

"So turn into a watch-wher," Adobo suggested. "You can fly anywhere, you won't need roads, and even a Ruathan runnerbeast can't catch you."

"But I can't just turn into a wher on a whim!" I protested. "I don't control it; it's not like opening and closing a glowbasket. When it happens, it happens, and when it's over, it's over. All I can do is go along for the ride."

"Then go for a ride cross-country," Garso said. "Stay off the roads, and the patrols will never find you. Pilfer a little here, a little there, enough to make a meal but not enough to get the authorities on your trail. You could live for Turns that way."

"All by myself," I countered. "Who wants to live that way? None of us do – that's why we stay together!"

"Maybe you'll find some more people like us, and you'll join a new group," Meglin said.

"Until the first full moon rises, and they learn about the real 'me,' and they kick me out, just like you're kicking me out," I retorted.

"What do you expect us to do?" Meglin said. "As long as you're here, you're a threat to the whole group, including yourself. On your own, you're a danger to yourself, but not to anyone else. There's nothing we can do to make your situation better, so shouldn't I look out for the rest of the group?"

"So, basically, you're saying that it stinks to be me," I growled.

Meglin waved his hand. "Oh, no, no, no... well, yes. I hate to put it that way, but that kind of sums it up. Besides, I just can't handle this situation. People aren't supposed to turn into watch-whers! It's too creepy."

"How do you think he feels about it?" Adobo wondered. It was the first sign of compassion I'd seen from any of them.

"He probably feels hungry enough to eat my favorite runnerbeast," Garso commented. So much for compassion.

"Can I at least wait a sevenday or two, so the hue and cry on the roads isn't so intense?" I pleaded.

Meglin turned to Garso. "When is the next full moon?"

Garso thought hard. "Timor was just full, so that's three sevendays away. Belior was full five or six days ago, so that's about three sevendays as well. I guess the watch-wher won't get us for at least two sevendays."

"Okay, you've got a deal," Meglin said. It wasn't much of a deal, but I wasn't going to get anything better.

The next two sevendays were strained. They all knew I was going to stay human for that whole time, but they still treated me differently. They didn't ask me to stand watch at night anymore; I think they were afraid I was going to kill and eat another runnerbeast while they were asleep. They would talk about things when I wasn't around, and stop talking when I joined them. I suspected that they were planning their next business venture, and they didn't want me to know the plan so I couldn't report them to the authorities. As my two-sevenday grace period came to an end, I faced my departure from my friends with mixed feelings.

Splitting our loot four ways, and giving me a quarter of it, turned out to be a lot more difficult than we'd realized. I wanted to take some food so my human form could eat, but how would I carry it? Food is heavy. They finally offered to put some dried food in a leather pack that I could wear, and that I could drop when my transition began, so it would still be there for me when I was done being a watch-wher. In a similar vein, they filled a leather pouch with marks and hung it around my neck with a lengthy thong, so I wouldn't lose it when I wasn't human.

"Do you want to take one of the runners?" Garso asked. "You're certainly entitled to one."

"No, that would be a waste. I'd just kill it and eat it," I said dismissively. "You're better off keeping them. I'll go on foot."

"Okay," Meglin said uncomfortably. After a few seconds, he added, "Be careful."

"Yeah. Sure," I said. "You too. Don't rob anybody I wouldn't rob."

"Rob?" Garso exclaimed, offended. "That's a naughty word! We never rob! We just sort of borrow a bit from those who can afford it."

"Yeah, that's what we keep telling ourselves," I nodded. "Well, stay out of trouble." They nodded. I turned my back and walked down the path toward the road.

My appearance didn't draw any attention; I looked just like a farm worker going from one Hold job to the next. One runnerbeast patrol did overtake me that first day, but I kept my head down and they didn't recognize me. I found a fallow field with a hill that hid it from the roadway, and made my camp there. The food was cold and the bed wasn't much better. I stared up at the starry sky and started rethinking my life.

At first, I thought about whom I could visit at midnight, and then relieve them of some excess food and other belongings. That was how I had always approached life. But tonight, something felt wrong about that. Right and wrong had always boiled down to what was right for me. Now, I found myself thinking of others as well. The idea of taking things that didn't belong to me began to make me feel uncomfortable. This was unfamiliar territory to me. I mentally backed off a few steps and examined my thought processes.

Meglin had said he was worried that I might turn lawful-good, and that was exactly where my thoughts were headed. I didn't feel good about stealing anymore; all my old excuses could no longer justify it. Was I going to make a living by taking other people's things and leaving them less well-off than they deserved to be? Couldn't I do better than that?

Why was I thinking this way? Ever since my oldest brother took over our father's Holding and coldly informed me that my services were no longer needed, I had made a living by taking other people's stuff. I had never felt anything close to a pang of conscience. Until now. Was the watch-wher side of me affecting my thinking, even though it wouldn't put in an appearance for another sevenday? I didn't know, but I couldn't think of any other reason why I was about to abandon a lifetime's worth of habits.

The next day, I found the Hold that owned the land I'd slept on. But I didn't steal anything. I knocked on the door and asked the Holder's wife if I could do any work for them, in exchange for a sevenday's room and board. She told me that they didn't need any help, but suggested that I might find what I was looking for in another Hold about five miles to the north. I thanked her, set off on the northbound trail, and asked myself what was wrong with me. I could have made off with half of their wooly herdbeasts and sold them before they even knew I was there! Why was I trying to live life the hard way?

I didn't come up with any answers before I came to the Hold I'd been sent to. This was the poorly-maintained home of an aging widow and her two adult daughters. Those daughters were strong enough to farm, but they were lacking in the other skills that a Holder needs, like repairing broken tools and fixing a leaky roof. I wasn't well-versed in those skills, either, but at least I'd been exposed to them in my youth. I offered to help get them on their feet in exchange for room and board.

"I accept," the widow croaked, "but I don't trust you with my daughters. You'll sleep in the barn!" Neither daughter was particularly tempting, and both were senior to me by at least ten Turns, but I wasn't there to argue. My first project was to cut some fresh straw and make a bed for myself in the barn's hayloft, which was conspicuously short on hay. Then I set about sharpening the many sickles, scythes and other farm implements that were half-covered with rust. My hands were blistered and my arms ached by the time suppertime arrived. Living by theft was a lot easier on the muscles than this!

On the other hand, I felt an unaccustomed peace as we shared a simple meal at the end of the day. I decided that this was because I wasn't trying to hide anything from these people. I wasn't plotting to acquire their goods or make them suffer; I wasn't going to take anything from them except what they'd agreed to give me. I could be completely open with them, aside from the watch-wher part. It was an unfamiliar feeling, and a pleasant one. Maybe I could get used to this.

The next day was even more strenuous, because now that I'd sharpened all those tools, I had to start using them. The youngest daughter had been trying to harvest the hay field on her own, and she wasn't getting far. I was no expert farmer, but I could put more muscle behind my scythe than she could, and the reaping went much faster with two of us working on it. The women were plainly grateful for the help I was giving them. As for me, my main concern was the phases of the moons. Belior and Timor would become full within a day of each other, and that day was fast approaching.

When the fateful night arrived, I said good-night to the widow and her daughters, like I always did, and returned to the barn. I had to get far away from here, to be sure I wouldn't kill and eat the widow's one and only milking herdbeast. I didn't dare wear my clothing, for fear that the transition would tear them to shreds again, and I had no extras. But I didn't want to be caught in public wearing nothing, either. I settled for running into a nearby copse of trees, where I'd be out of sight, and then removing everything except my loincloth before the pain even started.

The change was agonizing, and it probably always would be. But it didn't shock my mind as much as it did before. Maybe that was because I had accepted that this was my life and, while I couldn't escape it, I could reduce the worst of my anti-social behaviors while I was in my "other" shape. As soon as the change was done and I could fly, I floated up and out of the copse of trees. I was hungry; no surprise there. But this time, I wasn't going to kill and eat someone else's livestock.

The Hold drew its water from a small river that flowed nearby. I suspected (and hoped) that I could find some fish in that river. I had no idea how a wher hunted or caught fish, but I was willing to spend the night working on it. A splash in the dark water told me that my first guess was correct; there were fish here, and at least one of them was fairly large. Now I had to figure out how to catch them.

It took half the night, and many failures, before I finally snatched a fish out of the water with my claws. It wasn't a big one; if I was slightly larger, I could have swallowed it whole. But the taste of food that I had acquired by my own hand (well, okay, my own claws) was sweeter than the fare on any Lord Holder's banquet table could have been. I eagerly went back for more, and I was almost able to fill my belly before I felt the transition beginning again. I quickly landed, endured the pain of becoming human, got dressed, and returned to my hayloft, shaken and exhausted, but well-satisfied with my night's work.

Tonight, Belior was full. Tomorrow, it was Timor's turn, and I would have to do it all over again. "One day at a time," I told myself as I lay down.

The next day, the daughters commented on how slowly I was moving. How could I tell them that my muscles ached because I had turned into a watch-wher and back? I made some kind of excuse about not having slept well due to bad dreams, and then I felt bad because I'd lied to them. The wher side of me was definitely ruining the criminal side of me.

I got through that second night as well. It was easier, in fact, because I wasn't so hungry. I caught and ate a couple of fish, then spent most of the night enjoying the sensations of flight and the wonders of my enhanced night vision. That changed about an hour before sunrise, when I overflew the first Hold I'd visited, and spotted two men in black clothes sneaking toward the Hold buildings. I owed that Hold nothing. But something inside me rebelled at the thought of men robbing and stealing from innocent people when there was something I could do about it.

I glided silently down toward them, waiting until they were making their way across a muddy patch of ground. Then I dipped, came up right behind them, and roared with all the volume I could muster. As I'd hoped, the two renegades leaped in terror, lost their footing, and fell flat in the mud. They scrambled and splashed like mad, trying to get back on their feet, unsure what had ambushed them or whether I might lunge at them again.

Then my sensitive ears picked up another sound – approaching hoofbeats. There were two runnerbeasts on the road, and their pace didn't suggest that they were pulling a cart, so they were probably another mounted patrol from Ruatha Hold. I faced in their direction and roared again to get their attention. I heard the hoofbeats pick up speed as their riders urged them forward to see what the commotion was about. The patrolling riders never saw me. But they did see two men in black, carrying empty sacks and covered in mud, trying to sneak across the roadway. Those renegades were quickly taken into custody, where they would soon get what they deserved.

As I flew back to the copse of trees, I wondered – what would happen to me if I got what I deserved? Was I any different from those men I'd frightened? I felt like a different man now, but there were hundreds of people on Pern who could tell tales of theft and cheating if they ever faced me across a legal table in a Lord Holder's chambers. The only thing standing between myself and a life-long exile was the fact that I hadn't been caught yet. The fact that I turned into a watch-wher when the moon was right couldn't protect me against that unwanted destiny. It was a sobering thought, but it wasn't enough to take the edge off my feelings of triumph as I landed in the trees and waited for the change. For the first time, I had done what watch-whers were supposed to do – protect good people against bad people. It felt good.

I spent a month with that widow and her daughters. I can truly say that they were better off when I left than they were when I arrived, which is something I had never been able to say before. They were sorry to see me go, especially the younger daughter, who was beginning to like me. But I couldn't stay. I had evolved a plan, and I couldn't fulfill that plan here in Ruatha. I had to make my way far to the east, to Keroon Hold, home of the Beastcrafthall. If it was possible for anyone to solve my problem and find a cure for my situation, my answers lay there.

It took me nearly a Turn to get there. I worked my way across the land as a Holdless farm worker, trading my muscle and my limited skills for food and lodging, two or three sevendays at a time. Those muscles grew strong from much use. There were jobs that I hated to leave, because the people were kind and the work wasn't too hard. There were jobs that I couldn't wait to get away from, because the people were cruel and demanding. There were nights spent in barns, nights spent in open fields, and one night spent in a dank cave because Thread was falling nearby. I timed my changes of location to my wher-changes, so no one would grow suspicious. There were two Holds that I started to approach, then turned away from, because I recognized them and I feared that they would recognize me – my friends and I had victimized them in the past.

How were those friends doing? If they saw how I was living today, they would mock and scorn my choice of occupation. "Why are you doing it the hard way?" they would ask. If they did, I knew exactly how I would answer them: "Because living honestly is a lot more relaxing than stealing, running, and hiding." That answer wasn't a false front, either. I still loved being awake at night, but my sleep came quicker and left me feeling more rested than I had ever known before. If they pressed the issue... well, friends or no friends, I'd be tempted to turn them in. I felt nothing but contempt for the lifestyle that used to be mine, and that they still reveled in.

If it wasn't for the pain of turning into a watch-wher every few sevendays, I could have said that, for the first time ever, I was really enjoying life. I didn't even hate being a wher anymore; there were moments, like when I could defend a Hold against renegades, when I actually enjoyed it. Those moments were surprisingly common as I made my journey; I knew from experience that renegades associated watch-whers with large Holds and never expected to find one on guard at a small Holding. It was just the transitions from human to wher and back that really hurt.

There was only one occasion when I took something that didn't belong to me. It was a black leather vest with silver buttons, it was left unattended by its Woodcraft-journeyman owner, and it was beautiful. I took it, more out of habit than a desire to possess it. I didn't get a mile away before my conscience bothered me so much that I couldn't ignore it. I had to backtrack and return the vest; its owner never knew it was gone. That was the last time I ever tried to steal anything. For the rest of the time, I was a peaceful, law-abiding citizen.

At last, I made my way into Keroon Hold and got my directions to the Beastcrafthall. I was greeted at the main door by a young journeyman who asked how she could help me.

How should I answer that question? Should I say, "I need help because I keep turning into a watch-wher?" She'd call for the Healers and they'd take me away in a padded cart. I settled for saying, "I have a strange situation. I need to speak to someone who is familiar with watch-whers."

"That would be Master Mabalacat," the journeyman said briskly. "He's our expert on flying creatures. He's away on a trip, studying some wherries that have made their homes in the High Reaches mountains, where it's supposed to be too cold for them. He'll be back in about two sevendays. Maybe you can return then?"

Two sevendays... Belior would be full in two sevendays. The Beastcrafters would never believe me unless they watched me turn into a watch-wher, so I had to be here when it happened, even if the Master wasn't here to see it. But it would be better if he could see it. "I guess I'll come back in two sevendays, then," I said hesitantly.

"Is there a way we can contact you if the Master returns early?" she asked.

"I don't think so," I replied. "I'm not from around here. I'll have to find a place to stay and work to earn my keep."

"Oh, we can help with that!" she burst out. "If you're not too choosy, that is. We need someone to shovel up after our herdbeast breeders and bring them hay to eat. We'll trade you room and board for that kind of work, if you're willing."

That kind of work was a long way down from where I'd spent my life so far. But it was just for two sevendays, and it ensured that I wouldn't miss the Master's return. "Don't your junior apprentices usually do that kind of work?"

"Yes," she nodded, "but we didn't get many new apprentices this year. Everyone wants to join the brand-new Halls that have opened up on the Southern continent, like the Plasticcraft or the Computercraft. I suppose Beastcraft seems too tame and ordinary now. Our Hall is a bit short-handed."

"All right, I'll take the job."

"Excellent!" The journeyman called for a senior apprentice to guide me to my room and show me where the dining hall was. Then I was issued a pair of waterproof boots, a leather apron, a hay rake, and a shovel.

It was a good thing that I'd spent the past Turn toughening up my muscles. The work I did for the next two sevendays was not only pungent, it was also exhausting. Fortunately, I ate well and I slept well, thanks to the kindness of the Beastcrafthall. Otherwise, I doubt I could have lasted even two days.

It was at the end of the two sevendays that the journeyman came to get me. "Master Mabalacat has returned, and you have an appointment with him in his office, right after lunch." I made sure to shower and change my clothes before going to see him.

Master Mabalacat was an aged, gray-bearded man with weather-beaten skin and weather-beaten clothing. He obviously was not the kind of man who studied his subjects from within four walls, but who went out to where the beasts lived and studied them there. He steepled his hands as I sat down and said, "What can I do for you, young man?"

"You're not going to believe me when I tell you this," I began. I was right. He didn't believe me.

"If you were part of my Hall, then I would accuse you of trying my patience with an ill-conceived prank," he scowled. "But because you are an outsider, I can only accuse you of wasting my time." He got up to leave.

"But I can prove it!" I burst out.

"Then do," he said, and sat down again. "Quickly, please."

"Tonight, Belior will be full, and you can watch me turn into a wher," I said in a rush. "Will you doubt your own eyes?"

He scowled. "Let's assume, for the sake of argument, that you really are going to change into a wher while I'm watching you. What's going to keep you from flying away, which is what untrained whers usually do?"

"You have animal containment cells here, right?" I asked. Of course they had such cells; I had been shoveling them out for days. "I'll wait in one of those cells, so I can't get away. You can study me just like any other animal."

"You're really stretching to convince me," he said doubtfully. "All right, I shall humor you tonight. But if it turns out that you are lying or self-deceived, then I will require you to repay me by working with your shovel here for a month."

"I accept your terms. I'll see you tonight." I left his office feeling buoyant.

Then I stopped to think. What if he saw me change, and then told me there was no hope for me? This Hall had certainly never seen a case like mine before; what if there was no cure? I had heard tales of a device called an AIVAS on the Southern continent that was filling people's heads with long-lost knowledge, but what if even that source of information knew nothing about people turning into watch-whers? What if I was going to lock myself in a cage and be stared at, for nothing?

The best answer I could come up with was, "If I don't try, then I'll definitely never be cured. Maybe my hopes are slim, but slim isn't zero."

As night fell, I reported to the large-animal wing of the Hall. An apprentice guided me to an empty twelve-by-twelve-foot cell with a caprine-sized door and handed me a cloth apron. "Put this on, and then remove your outer clothes," he instructed me. "If what you say is true, then your clothes will be stretched and ruined when you, uhh, transform." The smirk on his face suggested that he didn't believe me.

"Unfortunately, you're completely correct," I nodded. I ducked into the cell, donned the apron, and disrobed, except for my loincloth. Master Mabalacat arrived, along with a young woman named Finamora who was probably his preferred apprentice. The other apprentice left and returned with two chairs for them, and they sat down to stare at me.

"What should we expect?" he asked after a silent minute or two.

"It starts with my fingernails," I told him, "and it works its way up my extremities to my torso. I'll try not to scream with pain, but sometimes it hurts too much to hold it back."

"I see," he nodded. He stared. He drummed his fingers. He asked his apprentice to fetch him a glass of water. He looked through the window at the night sky.

"I'm waiting," he said.

"I can't make happen at will," I replied. "When it happens, it happens, and I... oh, no..."

That was my cue to feel that all-too-familiar pain. I held up my right hand so he could see the fingernails growing and thickening, then fell to my knees. He was on his feet, staring in open-mouthed shock, as the transformation proceeded. Finamora just clung to her seat as though she was afraid she'd fall off. When it was done, neither he nor his apprentice had said a word, and I got the impression they had been holding their breath as well. I rolled from my side onto my belly, carefully stood up, and fanned my wings as best I could in the small cell.

The Master gripped the bars of my cell and stared at me, from head to tail and back again.

"He turned into a bronze," the apprentice managed to say. "He's a good-looking specimen, for a watch-wher."

He turned to her sharply. "Finamora, how many times have I told you not to talk just for the sake of talking?"

"I'm sorry, Master," she replied. "But somebody needs to say something! What we just saw is completely amazing. It's something that no one has ever seen before."

"That much is certainly true," he nodded. He turned to me. "Are you able to understand me?" I nodded my head "yes."

"Can you tell me how you're feeling?" I shook my head "no."

"Interesting. You aren't a true watch-wher, then. You have the body of a wher, which means that you can't talk like a human, but you can understand me, which means that you still have your human mind inside. You may, indeed, be a were-wher." He paused. "Since you can understand me, I have a request. I would like to draw an ichor sample, if you're willing."

I scratched three lines on the hard floor. "He made the shape of a 'Y,'" Finamora observed.

Master Mabalacat studied my marks for a second. "Are you asking 'why' I want to draw ichor?" I nodded "yes."

He leaned against the bars of the cell door. "I'm forming a theory. If, as you say, you contracted this... this sickness from being bitten by a wher, then something from the wher got into your bloodstream, and that is what causes the transformation in you. Other people have been bitten by whers, and nothing like this has ever been recorded. There's something about the unique combination of you and that wher that has caused this to happen. I would like to study your ichor and the other wher's ichor, find that mysterious something, and if possible, create an antidote."

I nodded "yes."

"Finamora, please get me some needlethorns and a specimen vial," he ordered crisply. "We may need more than one thorn because the skin of a wher is quite tough." She left at a run, and returned in about ten minutes with some medical supplies.

He took them and stuffed them in his pocket. "This will be a first for me," he said as he opened the cell door and ducked inside. "I've drawn blood from large animals many times, but usually, those animals have to be restrained because they don't like being jabbed with needlethorns. Tonight, no restraint will be needed because the subject animal has told me that he's willing. It's a shame that you can't tell the other livestock to be so cooperative." I braced myself as he jabbed the needlethorn through my upper forelimb (it took three tries; the first two needlethorns broke) and collected a few drops of my ichor.

There wasn't much else for me to do in that cell for the rest of the night. I couldn't get out; the cell door was too small for me. Someone brought me a large bowl of meat scraps from the kitchen, and I gratefully devoured those. Finamora measured my length and my wingspan, compared my coloration to a chart of other whers' colors, and had me bite down on a softwood board so she would have an impression of my teeth. The Master returned several times to check on me, then left again to do whatever he was doing. At last, as the sun began to rise, the pain rose and I became human again. The first thing I did was get dressed.

Master Mabalacat, who apparently had been awake all night, came up to my cell one last time. "You've made a believer out of me, Baybar," he yawned. "Effective immediately, by this Master's order, you are off of shoveling and animal-feeding duty. You have just become the number-one experimental animal in this Hall. You'll have your own room to live in, you'll have all the food you want – as human or as a wher – and if there's anything else you need, you have only to ask. The one thing I require of you is that you not fly away, but stay here. I want to learn everything I possibly can about your condition. My goals are to expand our knowledge of whers, and to return you to full humanity. I may get the Healer Hall involved as well, so they can help me with aspects of your human side. Is there anything you need right now?"

"Can you let me out of this cage?" I asked hopefully. The Master unlatched the door himself.

The next month was frustrating. After the first few days, I began to wish I had something to do; this enforced idleness bothered me. The Master drew some more blood from me in human form, and soon found something that he found interesting. He sent to Ruatha Hold and learned that the watch-wher there was suffering from an unfamiliar sickness and might not live much longer. The next day, he rode a bronze dragon to Ruatha so he could examine the source of my transformations for himself. He was away for several days, during which time nearly all of the journeymen in the Beastcrafthall, along with the Hall's Healer, ran a series of experiments on me. Their conclusion was that I was a normal, healthy human being, except that I turned into a watch-wher when either of the moons was full. I could have told them that!

Everyone in the Hall was kind to me, but they all treated me as something less than human. If I wanted to go for a walk outside the Hall, I had to bring a senior apprentice with me, and the apprentice always carried a coil of rope. I suppose that was to keep me from getting away. Didn't they understand? I didn't want to get away; I wanted to stay here until they found a way to make me all better. If they could.

One day, I was standing near the main entrance, watching people and their animals come and go, when a plain-looking young woman hesitantly approached the front-desk journeyman. I had never seen her before, but something about her seemed hauntingly familiar. When she paused, afraid to approach the desk, I walked over to say hello. That was when I noticed the scars of four puncture wounds on her forearm.

"That's a nasty-looking injury," I commented. It wasn't much of a pick-up line, but I'd never been smooth with the ladies.

"I got that from a watch-wher," she said. I got the impression that this comment was supposed to make me lose interest.

"It wasn't from the wher at Ruatha Hold, was it?" I half-joked. Her eyes went wide.

"How did you know that?" she demanded.

I bent down and whispered in her ear, "I know why you're here."

"No, you don't," she said sadly. "No one knows. I'm still not sure if anyone should ever know."

Again I bent down. "Do you turn into a watch-wher when the moons are full?"

She seized my hands with a surprisingly powerful grip. "How could you possibly know about that?! I hid all the evidence! No one saw me! How could you know?"

I whispered, "I have the same problem. I got bitten by the same wher."

For a long minute, she just stared at me. She blinked back a tear. At last, I said, "I can't show you my bite mark. It's in a... a private place. I got it from trying to sneak into the Hold; it was my own fault. But I know all about what you've been going through, because I'm going through the same thing. That's why I'm here. I'm hoping they can find a cure. My name is Baybar."

"Can they find a cure?" she asked hopefully.

"The Master seems to think he's found out what's happening to us. He's working on a cure. He doesn't know when he'll find one, but he's convinced that he'll succeed eventually."

"I'm Wondi," she said. "I'm from Tillek, but I was visiting a friend in Ruatha when this happened. The wher bit me by mistake; I tried to pet it, it couldn't see well in the morning light, and it mistook my arm for something to eat. What should I do next?"

"Come with me. I'll introduce you to Master Mabalacat," I told her. "With two of us to work on, that may improve his chances of finding a cure."

The Master wasn't nearly as skeptical at Wondi's story as he had been at mine. He still insisted on seeing her in wher form, although he didn't watch the transformation take place because he didn't think it was right for him to see her in nothing but an apron and a loincloth. "I've been studying Beastcraft for forty-three Turns," he commented, "and this is the first time I've had an issue with female modesty in one of my subjects."

A few days later, another new issue came up, and it wasn't so pleasant. My past had finally caught up with me. Four uniformed men rode up to the gate, dismounted, and demanded to see "whoever is in charge." Master Sograny came out to meet them.

"We have a warrant from Lord Jaxom of Ruatha for a man named Baybar, whom we are reliably informed is within this Hall," their leader announced, waving a rolled-up sheet of paper. "He is wanted on multiple charges of theft, robbery, larceny, burglary, stealing, and taking other people's stuff. We have orders to bring him back to Ruatha Hold to face trial for his crimes."

Master Sograny made a great show of examining the paper. "This appears to be in order," he finally decided. "But we can't surrender him to you at this time. He is the subject of some very important experiments, which could be ruined if we don't have continuous access to him. I'm afraid we can't let him go."

"Since when did the Beastcrafthall run experiments on people?" one of the other uniformed men asked.

"That is for us to know, and for you not to worry about," the Master retorted.

"Will you defy the traditions of the Holds?" the leader snapped. "Baybar is a wanted man in Ruatha. Lord Jaxom has the right to demand extradition."

"Will you defy the traditions of the Halls?" Sograny snapped back. "This is my Crafthall; I have full authority here. You have no right to enter this Hall or take anyone out of it without my permission. And my permission is not granted."

The officer wasn't pleased. "It's true I can't attend to him here as I'd like. But just try to keep him out of my way! Just try! It's taken us forever to track down this renegade, and we're not going to quit now. We'll wait here as long as we have to, and as soon as Baybar takes one step outside this Hall..." He pounded his palm with his fist. "Gotcha!" He and his men set up tents outside the main entrance.

I soon got word of what was going on. "So I'm a prisoner here," I said to the Master. "I can't leave. As soon as I go, I'll become a permanent prisoner somewhere else."

"You could always fly away during the next full moon," he replied.

"I'd be a fugitive," I answered. "They'll never give up trying to find me. Lord Jaxom has probably offered a reward for my capture. I've wronged too many people in too many different places; it would just be a matter of time before someone recognized me and turned me in. I don't want to spend the rest of my days running. Besides, if I leave here, then I'll never get a cure."

"If give you the cure, then you'll be a normal human again. You'll have no reason to stay in the Beastcrafthall," he observed with a trace of sadness. "Master Sograny will have to hand you over."

"Wait," I burst out. "You said 'the cure.' Does that mean you've found a cure for me?"

"Yes," he said firmly. He pointed to a pair of glass vials half-full of dark liquid on his desk. "I've worked with your blood and ichor samples, and with the ichor of the sick wher that bit you, and I believe I've got a cure. The vial on the right will reverse your condition if we give it to you while you're a wher. You'll change back into a human and you'll never transform again. And, unless I'm very much mistaken, Timor will be full this very night! Tonight could be the start of your new life!"

"My new life as a captured thief on his way to trial, conviction, and exile, you mean," I said bitterly. "What's in the other vial? A cure for Wondi?"

"No, I need to work on her blood and ichor a bit more," he told me. "There are some subtle differences between your vital fluids and hers. No, that other vial is a mistake. I ran my process backwards the first time I tried it, and if I injected you with that fluid, it would make the wher-transformation permanent. You'd never become human again. I probably ought to destroy it, but it might be useful to science someday. Now, shall I make the arrangements for your cure tonight?"

"Wait," I said again. "Let me think." I thought hard. I weighed the pluses and the minuses of my current situation and my possible futures. None of those futures looked ideal, but some were much worse than others. Before Timor rose that night, I made my decision.


Being a watch-wher isn't so bad.

Actually, it has some really good moments, like the evening right after I took my once-for-all dose of wher fluids. Masters Sograny and Mabalacat walked with me out the front gate to where the uniformed men were camped. I was squinting against the remains of the evening sun. "Allow us to present Baybarsk, the man you came here to arrest," Sograny said formally.

"That's not a man!" the officer said with distaste. "That's a watch-wher!"

"Oh, you noticed that, too?" Mabalacat commented casually. "You're very observant."

"Don't mess with me," the officer threatened. "Where's Baybar?"

"You're looking at him," Sograny said. "This is what he looks like now. Thanks to a bite from a diseased wher, he's turned into a watch-wher himself. That's all the Baybar you're ever going to get."

The officer stared at me with distaste. "Are you really Baybar?" I nodded my big, ugly head "yes" and let out two grunts that sounded something like "uh-huh."

"Did you rob Ruatha Hold and steal the steward's signet ring?" he pressed me.

I hesitated, then nodded "yes" again.

The officer shook his head. "How am I supposed to believe this?" he exclaimed to Sograny.

"Has a watch-wher ever lied to you before?" he answered with just a trace of a smile.

"I find them to be quite honest, as a rule," Mabalacat added.

"People don't just turn into watch-whers!" the officer snarled. "Did you teach this wher to nod his head on cue? I don't like being deceived."

"I… am the Master… of this Crafthall," Sograny shot back tightly. "I am not in the habit of telling falsehoods about Craft business. If you're accusing me of lying, then either prove it or take it back with an apology. Now, I'm a busy man with things to do; I can't stand here arguing with you all night. Are you going to place Baybarsk under arrest or aren't you?"

"Are you crazy?" said the officer. "I can't arrest a watch-wher! I'd be the laughingstock of all Ruatha! Even if I did, how would I get him home?"

One of his subordinates asked, "Can't we tie a rope around his neck or something?" I stuck my tongue out at him, then bared my teeth and growled softly, and he quailed and backed off. They huddled for a short discussion, then packed up their tents, got onto their runners, and left without another word.

"I guess that means they have renounced their claim on you, Baybarsk," Mabalacat said to me, resting a friendly hand on my shoulder. "You're a free man... I mean, a free wher." I nodded. I'd done it the hard way, but I had put my past behind me.

Oddly, if the officer had waited a few more days, he would have gotten his wish, after a fashion. We received word that the Ruathan watch-wher had succumbed to its rare sickness and gone between forever. Did the Hall have another wher that they could send? The Hold urgently needed a night guardian; thieves would invade Ruatha by the dozen once they learned that there was no watch-wher. By writing marks on the ground with my claw, I told the Master that I would like to apply for the position of watch-wher at Ruatha Hold, which had just become vacant. Mabalacat wanted to know why.

"Many reasons," I wrote. It took a while for me to write, but he was patient. "I need something useful to do; I hate to be idle, and there aren't many jobs open for watch-whers, aside from watching. Ruatha needs a wher right now, and I'm available right now. I'm already somewhat familiar with the Hold grounds and the best ways for thieves to approach and escape. My main reason is that, if I could guard their Hold against renegades, then I could atone for some things I did there in the past that I'm not proud of."

"I'll tell Lord Jaxom your story and ask him what he thinks," the Master said. A few days later, he told me I had the job.

When I arrived at Ruatha Hold, the first thing they wanted to do was to chain me and clip my wings, just like they'd done to all previous watch-whers. I howled in protest, and I quickly found an unexpected ally: Lord Jaxom's small white dragon-friend, Ruth. He agreed that being mutilated and imprisoned was no way to treat an intelligent being, especially one who had come here voluntarily. He persuaded Lord Jaxom, and Jaxom gave the order. I was to be left free.

"I know who you were and I know what you did," the Lord Holder told me that night. "I also know that you're not the man you used to be… and that's an understatement! Anyway, I'm giving you a chance to earn my trust. If you betray that trust, then you'll never fly again." I nodded. I could understand his skepticism, and I knew I would have to prove myself before he could relax at the thought of me guarding his Hold. I began the process of proving myself two nights later, when a quintet of renegades tried to repeat my old friends' plan to take advantage of the new watch-wher. They had no idea that I was free and unchained until I swooped out of the night sky and knocked them all down, one after the other, like a row of children's blocks. Then I roared to bring the guards to the scene. That quintet had a criminal history almost as long as mine; they were duly tried and convicted. The older three were sent into exile, while the two younger ones were sentenced to dig Cromcoal for five Turns.

"Maybe you're really okay now, after all," Lord Jaxom told me early the next morning, just before I went off duty. Ruth told me that Jaxom was distracted by Lord Holder business, or he would have paid me a much higher compliment. There was no more talk of chains or wing-clipping after that. Two more gangs of bandits soon tried their luck with me and lost; then the word got out that Ruatha Hold had an unusually effective and vigilant watch-wher, and we've had very few problems since then.

For some reason, Master Mabalacat hasn't been able to find a cure that works on Wondi. Every time one of the moons is full, she turns into a watch-wher, no matter what he tries. She makes a point of flying to Ruatha on those nights, and we fly together for a few hours. Lord Jaxom understands; he doubles the human guard and gives me the night off on full-moon nights, which are never a thief's first choice for thieving expeditions anyway. Wondi and I both think it's nice that there's someone else who understands our unique situation. She's kind of plain as a human woman, but she makes a very pretty green wher (to my eye, at least). Greens being what they are, it's just a matter of time until she flies here with more than just friendship on her mind.

So that's my story. I went from being a human criminal who robbed Ruatha Hold, to the trusted night guardian of that same Hold. Life is strange... but I know that better than most people, because most people don't turn into watch-whers. I've left my life of crime behind forever and joined the forces of law and order, just like Meglin predicted. And I like it that way. I've also left humanity behind, but on the inside, I'm still as human as I ever was. They feed me well here, Ruth talks to me like an equal, I've made my peace with Lady Sharra's fire lizards (they give wonderful back-scratches), and I've got my freedom to fly, as long as I faithfully guard the Hold. As a fringe benefit, I get to be awake all night and sleep all day; it's wonderful.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I hear some intruders sneaking along the side wall of my Hold. It sounds like there are three of them, and they're about to meet the airborne incarnation of Justice in the darkness... oh, wait a moment. Do I know those voices? Yes, I do. That has to be Meglin, Garso, and Adobo, my so-called friends, the men I used to commit crimes with. Apparently, they never changed their ways like I did. And now they're trying to break into my Hold again? Not on my watch! I called them friends once, so I won't set them up for exile (this time), but they need to be taught a lesson so they never come back here.

I'm perfectly healthy, so I won't spread any unusual diseases like my predecessor did. But, after what that trio went through with me, I think a mild flesh wound or two will scare them silly. Which one should I bite first?

The End


A/N
This story was born from a simple suggestion on a Facebook group, making wordplay out of the unlikely concept of a were-wher. When I got the idea to make a real story out of it, it poured off the keyboard as fast as my fingers could type it; the story was mostly finished in three days, followed by a few days of edits.

One concern I had was the story's uneven tone. Parts of it are close to frightening, and other parts are so funny, I laughed at my own words as I wrote them. It's hard to effectively combine the two into one story. I'm curious to hear if you think I pulled it off or not.

At almost 16K words, this is the biggest single chapter I've ever posted. I'm not going to break it into smaller chapters because I've become convinced that Pern fans, who tend to read books instead of watching half-hour TV episodes, are accustomed to having the whole story at their disposal, so they can read a little here and a lot there, without waiting for the story's author to provide more.

The names for my characters come from a wild mix of sources. Baybar is derived from Babar, the elephant character in the classic children's books. I know it's not really pronounced that way, but that's how my mother pronounced it when she read the stories to me as a child. His name changes to Baybarsk at the end because watch-whers' names always end in "sk." Wondi was made up off the top of my head. Adobo is named for the Latin-American spice mix. Mabalacat was named for an airfield that was important during the Second World War. Meglin, Garso, and Finamora are variations on the last names of friends from high school. There is no significance to any of these names; they just sound good to me.