Thank you so much, reviewers! This story has just broken my record for number of reviews! Never averse to setting and breaking new records though...
Note: there's been a time-skip of about a Turn and a half between this chapter and the last.
I promise that Pern isn't mine. No matter how much I want it to be.
"Off you go, Norekke!" said M'kai with a laugh. "My fingers will drop off if I play one more chord, and besides, it's time for you to go and help F'mon scrub Peroth. You were going to help him do that today, weren't you? Dareth is down at the lake, and he said that Peroth just arrived. You'd better hurry!"
"Oh no! Bye, M'kai!" she squealed. She carefully placed the spare gitar back on its rack, and bolted for the entrance.
It had been a Turn and a half since M'kai had Impressed, and during that time, a lot had happened. Tyrith had nearly finished growing, and they would soon be allowed to fly Thread. Together, the two of them had been to every major landmark in the Northern, Southern and Eastern Continents, and every minor Hold in the North.
Thanks to M'kai's interference, B'kennor and Riasa were now together, and M'kai now had a slightly crooked nose to prove it.
Through talks with M'kai, Lessa had come to realise that he couldn't hear all dragons. He could, however, hear Dareth, T'car's blue, though no one knew why.
He had started teaching Norekke and a few of the other weyrlings to play instruments, though Norekke was easily the best. All of them knew all the Sagas and how to read, write and reckon, and their parents, both blood and foster, were delighted with the progress they had all made under the new Weyrsinger.
M'kai had received irregular letters from Diara, though funnily enough, none from Drianne. Diara got her Mastery, and was going down to the Southern Continent to work in one of the Southern holds, where they were still finding new diseases.
x
"Hey, M'kai!" came a shout from the doorway to the Weyrling Hall. Startled from his reverie, M'kai looked up to find B'kennor beckoning from the door. "It's already an hour past noon. The wing's getting ready to leave now. You'd better hurry, or N'mek will have your ears, no matter how pleased Mother and Father are with you about Norekke's music!"
"Shards!" M'kai exclaimed, and scrambled from his seat. He had joined N'mek's wing once he was promoted from the weyrling barracks (metaphorically of course, because as Weyrsinger, he had his own weyr right from the start), and wanted to stay on his good side.
Taking the steps two at a time, M'kai raced to his weyr and collected his riding gear. Wake up, Tyrith! he called silently.
The big bronze stretched in his couch and turned to look at M'kai with his rainbow-coloured eyes. What are you so excited about? he asked sleepily. I was having a lovely dream.
The rest of the wing is leaving, and if we don't hurry up, we'll be left behind! M'kai explained as he tugged on his gloves.
Tyrith rolled himself off the couch and offered a foot to M'kai. Stepping on, M'kai was lifted through the air to the Bowl below, where the rest of the wing was gathering. He stepped off, and beckoned to Tyrith to bend down so he could put on the harness.
"Running late again, huh?" a voice asked.
"Aren't I always?" M'kai groaned, buckling straps and absently checking they were tight.
"Of course. What do you expect from a wind player?" the voice laughed.
M'kai turned to grin at V'lan, a brown rider who was once an apprentice at the Harper Hall. He had specialised in strings, so the two of them were always involved in the feud that happens between so many string and wind players.
"Where are we off to today?" M'kai asked, not rising to the bait.
"Somewhere that should suit you. We're making a sweep with a wing from Monaco over Tillek, and I think we're overflying Fer. After we've finished, you could probably visit your mother," he replied, serious again.
"Thanks. I haven't seen Mother since the last gather at Tillek, and that was only briefly," said M'kai thoughtfully.
Then something else V'lan had said sunk in. "A wing from Monaco? Why?"
"Oh, it's a newly-formed wing that's got a lot of weyrlings," V'lan said dismissively. "They want an experienced wing to demonstrate how to fly sweep patterns, but Monaco has Thread due today, so they asked for us. Apparently, one of the riders has a brother in our wing."
"Probably B'kennor," M'kai said with a grin. "He has brothers everywhere."
Any further speculations were halted by the arrival of Wingleader N'mek. He gave the signal to mount, and M'kai leapt up Tyrith's shoulder and settled himself into place.
"Time to go! Take the visualisation from Kripeth!" he called. He paused to give riders and dragons a chance to get a clear picture in their minds of where they were going, then he pumped his arm in the signal to rise and go between. The wing lifted aloft and then winked out to reappear over the sun-drenched fields of Tillek.
"There's the Monaco wing!" V'lan cried, pointing to a series of silhouettes in the sky.
"Form the sweep pattern," N'mek called, and training took over. They flew a perfect sweep pattern, then landed in a field near the main Hold.
Kripeth says that N'mek says all our riders must go and talk with the Monaco riders, Tyrith informed him as he backwinged and landed. We have to go and wait on Tillek's fireheights, he added, grumbling. I'll come back when you call. He lifted off and winged his way towards the Hold, still grumbling.
M'kai smiled fondly, then turned and went to meet the Monaco riders. He went up to a boy who looked about seventeen, and held out a hand.
"Hello," M'kai said with a friendly smile. "I'm M'kai, Benden's Weyrsinger. How do you do?"
"Quite well, thank you," the youth replied, returning the handshake. "I'm J'tim. It's nice to meet you. Your wing is great to watch, you know. Some of the patterns you flew were really impressive."
"They were just normal sweep patterns, but I was really impressed when I first saw them too," M'kai explained. "You'll get used to them."
"How long ago did you Impress?" J'tim asked, shaking his head a little. "I've only been partnered with Dementh for a Turn." Who does he remind me of? he wondered.
"I Impressed Tyrith a Turn and a half ago. I've only been flying with this wing for about a month," M'kai replied. "I heard that one of your riders has a brother in our wing. Where is he?"
J'tim pointed wordlessly at a tall, black-haired rider talking to B'kennor, too surprised to say a word. This boy has been a rider less than two Turns, and he's the Weyrsinger he thought, shocked.
"Thank you, J'tim," said M'kai, oblivious to the surprise he'd caused. "I might just go over and say hello. Goodbye." And he sauntered over to them, leaving a very shocked young rider behind him.
"Good day to you!" M'kai called as he came within earshot.
"Good day to you, my friend! Tell me, is B'kennor always this ridiculous?" the stranger called back, waving.
"Most of the time! What's he been saying now?" M'kai laughed, coming to a halt next to them. Something about the stranger was very familiar, he noted absently.
"He claims that you are Benden's Weyrsinger. I'm D'ron, rider of bronze Jarrath, by the way."
He held out a hand, and M'kai politely shook it. "Actually, for once, he was telling the truth. I am Benden's Weyrsinger, but when I'm not playing or teaching, I am M'kai, rider of bronze Tyrith."
"Whatever are you looking at us so oddly for, B'kennor?" D'ron asked. "You look like a fish gasping on the sand!" he chuckled, and began roar with laughter.
As M'kai joined in, he remembered winter nights at home spent listening to a voice tell stories and a laugh exactly the same… They stared at each other.
"Mordekai?"
"Dioron?"
See? I promised I'd get back to him at some point.