So we enter the final phase before the advent of Thread - prepared or not...
30.12.197 - 5.1.198
"As I and my dragon rode the cold winds above you,
As I rode above you, and watching the skies,
I saw a wild dance there, a wild dance of dragons,
All riding the skies there to meet with their doom.
Oh lay me out nicely, oh wrap me in wherhide, oh take me up high and put me between,
Oh let me ride out there, eternally riding, my dragon and I in the cold skies of death.
The thread it falls on us, it falls and we sear it,
We burn it to ashes, from ashes to dust,
The dust it is falling, and we fall with it downwards,
Our wings they are failing, are failing and gone.
Oh lay me out nicely, oh wrap me in wherhide, oh take me up high and put me between,
Oh let me ride out there, eternally riding, my dragon and I in the cold skies of death.
Give me just one more day here, just one more to live here,
To meet with my fellows, to dance and to sing,
Before my fate meets me, before I die bravely,
Scored deep by my foe, and falling in death.
Oh lay me out nicely, oh wrap me in wherhide, oh take me up high and put me between,
Oh let me ride out there, eternally riding, my dragon and I in the cold skies of death.
But Pern will be saved now, the skies cleared by dragons,
Thread shall be seared now, not one shall get through,
Pern will survive this Pass, and go on with living,
Though I and my dragon mere memories will be.
Oh lay me out nicely, oh wrap me in wherhide, oh take me up high and put me between,
Oh let me ride out there, eternally riding, my dragon and I in the cold skies of death."
Jiverny ceased singing, her voice so low H'ric had barely heard it. It was another of Yorus' songs, but he rarely sang it, and more especially it was not suited for this Turnover festival. Somehow, though, it seemed fitting in this setting, the dining hall quiet for once, the dancers paused and resting, finding food and wine and returning to their seats.
"Give us a new song, Yorus!" someone called and he tuned his lap harp and began a short choppy tune to which he fitted funny and scurrilous words about most of the riders in the hall, causing laughter and shouts of appreciation.
"Is that how you feel, lady mine?" H'ric asked quietly as he poured more wine for them, the rich red of Benden that had come with the tithe. With that tithe had come the grievous news that Lord Arun was dead, fallen from his riding beast dragged to his death across his own lands. Both H'ric and Jiverny had gone to the funeral, and met with Lord Arun's eldest son Runanan. Both sides had been cautious, feeling their way to an understanding, but the new Lord Holder had told them he would do what he could to keep the tithe up to strength.
"I was thinking of Lord Arun. That son of his was fostered in Fort."
"I thought so. There was the unmistakeable taint of that place about him. Well - perhaps with constant contact with us, he will be a good provider."
Jiverny sighed and shook her head, looking around the hall. Like H'ric, she was all too well aware that with a possible two Turns to the end of the Pass, they had woefully few dragons. Haveneth had risen again, and all four of the junior queens had produced small clutches, but there were no golden eggs amongst them, or so Jiverny judged.
H'ric put a hand over hers, and they left the hall, walking out into the darkened bowl. Snow was falling, a slow steady dance of flakes, and H'ric caught one on his hand and watched it melt away, before the two leaders walked silently to their shared bed, because tomorrow and the next day after that and the one after that they must show a brave face again.
"Ho there! Weyrleader!"
H'ric turned, a mite slowly because of the wine in his blood, and saw G'las coming towards him with another man, well wrapped against the cold and carrying two large packs. G'las was smiling as he came up to the Weyrleader.
"Masterhealer Perera begged a lift off me, Weyrleader."
H'ric stared in astonishment at the Masterhealer, and then hurried him into the warmth of the hall.
"Was I expecting you?" H'ric demanded as he helped the other man take off helmet, jacket and gloves.
"No. I knew your man would be making observations, though, and asked for a lift from him to come and visit."
H'ric frowned at him and at the two packs.
"Observations. Yes, that come to nothing!"
"So he informed me. I understand you have compiled charts to show the Red Star's progress? I would be interested to see those."
"I send watchers to put in the exact place at each Weyr. Those empty Weyrs - they still trouble me."
"They trouble most of us who give serious thought to the progression of Interval and Fall," the Masterhealer responded in a grim voice. H'ric looked enquiringly at him, and the Masterhealer shrugged.
"I have a few things I want to give my journeymen, and some things I want to look into. This far north, the problems must be far different from those I usually encounter, when the Lord Holders will allow me any say in the matter."
"Are they stopping you again?"
Masterhealer Perera shrugged again as he accepted a warming mug of klah.
"They're grateful enough for the cures I can send them, but they want nothing more. Mind you, the Masterharper is feeling the same turning away and loss of interest. He came to see me to grumble about it, but he made his own bed and must lie in it."
"I insist on the teaching ballads as well as our own songs and ballads. And I'm pleased to see you."
The Masterhealer nodded. "I can see that. You have troubles enough, Weyrleader, and I can relieve you of the ones related to illness, I trust."
"I'll send for your journeymen, and see Lavand about a room for you, somewhere warm."
"That - going between - that was something I had never experienced. Sensory deprivation, is a term I found in some of the oldest records. I never realised its meaning until that short flash of nothingness."
"I'll arrange for some of the oldest records to be brought out," H'ric promised. "We've a small selection of healing recipes and notes of illnesses, and they might be different up here."
"There was a great plague of dragons in the Third Pass, and something that struck people in the Sixth Pass, as detailed in The Ballad of Moreta's Ride," Perera said with a nod. "I've studied that, but I'd be grateful for any records you have." He studied H'ric. "And of course, I am always at your service, Weyrleader, for you to talk through anything that troubles you. You, yourself, personally, I mean."
H'ric sighed out and took a sip of his klah.
"That would be long in the telling, Masterhealer."
"And all the more reason why I should visit," he replied, and H'ric nodded in tacit agreement that they would speak about the things that burdened him.