The hatching at Benden depicted in Dragon Drums is altered. Ramoth can't have all the clutches if there are two other queens at Benden Weyr.
Chapter Seven
T'gellan stepped to the lip of his new weyr with a cup of hot klah in his hand. It had direct access to the bowl as was fitting for a wingleader of his renown. His wing, that had drilled in mid air rescue that day was lauded throughout the weyrs after the dramatic rescue of F'nor and Canth's ill-fated jump to the Red Star. He had been the only rider aloft to direct thousands of dragons.
The sun had not cleared the lip of the bowl to shine down on him yet but the sky was clear and promised to be a warm day. Monarth poked his head out beside T'gellan. Moving his cup to his other hand he caressed the great bronze's nose and cheek then under his jaw. Monarth crooned.
Across the bowl, Mirrim stepped out on the landing to the infirmary, looked up to them and waved. T'gellan waved back. Monarth warbled.
Their relationship over the past two turns had been comfortable but a bit trying. She and Brekke had spent most of it caring for F'nor and Canth. Both had been badly burned and Mirrim moved to F'nor's weyr to spell Brekke who was recovering herself from the loss of Wirenth. The move to the infirmary was fairly recent. He had convinced her to come to his weyr a few times, usually after Monarth had failed to catch a queen on a mating flight or Brekke was out of the Weyr. It rankled him that she appeared to come to him out of a sense of duty than because she wanted to be with him. But once together, she dropped that ridiculous dutiful act, and became the ideal woman for him.
"For US!" Monarth reminded him as he lumbered onto the lip then sprang to the air. He watched his dragon angle toward the lake that was sparkling in the sun. Three fire lizards shot out from the lower caverns to join him. T'gellan looked into his cup, now sprayed with sand. He dumped it over the side. Sighing he stepped back into his weyr.
Arwith's clutch lay on the hatching grounds. Monarth had flown her well, 21 eggs. No queen egg among them but then Benden had enough at the moment and this was her first clutch. He hadn't managed to evade Talina after that first night; she was persistent. After a few evening meals with both women present, Mirrim had retreated to her studies at the infirmary. He had stayed a few nights in Talina's weyr and he stood with her for the official count. She fully expected him to stand with her when they hatched, even presenting him with a new tunic for the event.
"Might be today," he said to the walls as he looked at the white garment with its garish, ornate stitching around the neck.
# # #
Monarth landed by Arwith after T'gellan had deposited his last guest on the tiers. T'gellan slid off. Both dragons touched noses then Monarth lifted to the shelf above her and trumpeted over the results of his prowess.
Talina turned a triumphant smile upon T'gellan which immediately turned to a frown. "Where is your new tunic?" she demanded.
"There wasn't time. I'm here, aren't I?" he retorted as he dropped his jacket on a nearby outcrop. She clucked her tongue and retrieved the coat, hanging it on a peg in the alcove behind them. One of the eggs rocked violently which brought everyone's attention to the hatching grounds. The candidates had just arrived. Talina grabbed his hand and pulled him forward, excitement shining from her dark eyes.
She had let her raven hair down and it waved in an obsidian curtain as she tossed it to her back. Although not the white tunic of impression, her dress suggested it. Heavily ornamented about the neckline and belted in finely-tooled, back leather, she looked the epitome of a proud queen-rider. T'gellan suppressed a gag when he realized that his new tunic matched her gown. He looked to his wing; they were watching the grounds. He looked to the tiers and on the second level, he saw Mirrim, talking and pointing with Menolly. He was relieved she had company, knowing that part of Talina's show was to annoy her.
The dragonets and new riders were paired quickly except for one green who cried piteously from the grounds. Talina had dropped her grip on his hand. He shook it absently as he watched the little green's progress to the base of the steps. She cried as her chin smacked against the step. Monarth was still droning and it was getting louder. "Go to her dark one", he chanted. Arwith joined his drone. Implausible as it seemed, Mirrim was approaching the little green. He hadn't realized he had been holding his breath until she cried out "She says her name is 'Path'".
"Path." said Monarth at exactly the same moment.
T'gellan stared at his dragon, eyes rapidly spinning red with flashes of purple, a predatory look. He dared not look at Talina.
# # #
T'gellan walked beside Talina while making the rounds to families of new riders but his mind was with the new green pair. He was acutely aware that almost every blue and several browns were ringing the bowl where the new pairs had received their first instructions from Weyrlingmaster B'mezal. Several blue and brown riders were excited by the idea of flying the new green with a female rider. As exhilarating as a mating flight was, some riders endured their dragons' desires more than enjoyed. Greens rose more often and there were more of them.
Talina lead him to a table of a new brown rider where Sebel, Oharan and Menolly had finished singing. She stiffened as soon as she heard a snippet of conversation. "… werybred and records do indicate that many green riders were female in times past," Oharan said with authority.
T'gellan watched Menolly as she nodded her head and strummed soothing chords from her guitar. After a few niceties to the proud family he pulled apart from Talina to speak with Menolly. Discreetly the two stepped away.
"Have you seen her?" they both said simultaneously. Menolly chuckled. "Not since she impressed. All the other new pairs are here and the feast is about to begin. Shouldn't she be along soon?"
Talina, who had sidled up to them spoke coldly. "She's probably being grilled about touching eggs before they hatch."
Menolly strummed a major chord then plucked a minor arpeggio. T'gellan chuckled.
Talina relented. "Oh go on and find that pair, then. You're no good to me here." She stalked off.
"What a prize you have won, T'gellan," Menolly said dryly.
He looked at her puzzled, "I thought Mirrim'd told you." He paused. "About us, that is. I thought the two of you good friends".
"Mirrim is private about her true feeling. You know that, but I do know that she is very fond of you. You two have an understanding?" Menolly looked into his face, "O-ho, so you do. How does her impression of green Path affect you?"
T'gellan shook his head, "Dunno."
# # #
It was close to evening by the time he found the new pair. Mirrim had indeed been called to the Weyrwoman's chambers. She and Path had indeed been grilled by F'lar, Lessa and the Weyrlingmaster but she was allowed to eat her portion of the feast with F'nor and Brekke who usually remained in their weyr when so many strangers were about Benden.
F'lar had slapped him on the back, grinning when T'gellan had asked her where-abouts, and was the one to direct him to F'nor's weyr.
F'nor greeted him heartily while Brekke nodded and handed him a cup of wine. The two men toasted the little green and her rider. Brekke interrupted to say that the pair was on the lea side of the tunnel, near the lake. Her gaze upon T'gellan was enigmatic. He held her stare and nodded then she looked down.
Mirrim was rubbing down Path with the help of Reppa, Lok and Tolly who enjoyed a few rubs themselves. Monarth was with them, laid out flat against the sand in a most undignified sprawl. His eyes roiled a deep blue. As he stepped up to his dragon's head to rub the knob above the eyes, Path turned to him. He was struck with how perfectly she was shaped, her iridescent green skin, glimmering in the receding light. He took the few steps to kneel before her. Taking both cheeks in his palms he rubbed, "You are the most beautiful green on the planet."
Mirrim turned to him, the radiance of impression still reflected in her smile. "I don't know why she chose me."
"I do," he said looking back into the green dragonet's eyes, "you match, perfectly!"
She rubbed the last bit of hide with her rag then dropped it by the bottle of oil. T'gellan stood to take her in his arms, he was certain they were quite alone. "I'm dirty and oily and you are wearing your best clothes," she protested. He gathered her into his arms anyway. She returned the embrace.
He let out a hearty laugh as they held each other thinking that if he had worn that white tunic; he could have ruined it and have been able to turn it into a rag. He didn't have to know what Mirrim was thinking to feel her turmoil. "How did Brekke take the Impression?" he asked after a few moments as darkness descended on the bowl.
"Not well. How did Talina?"
"I don't care a shard." He led her over to the crook behind Monarth's shoulder and the two sat down. Path waddled over and lay with her head on Mirrim's lap. Tolly, Lok and Reppa snuggled themselves in with the humans. A quiet ease took over the group.
As the dragons and fire lizards' eyelids closed, the darkness became complete. Around the bend of the double ring bowl they could hear the festivities and see the lights that played on the bowl walls opposite them. "They sound like a group of wherries in the marshes," Mirrim observed.
T'gellan chuckled. "Now that you say that," he faced her as a woman's cackle rose above the rest of the garble, "they do!" She looked up and he bent to kiss her. For the first time in a too long a time she returned his kiss with passion." He was the first to pull away and she burrowed her head into the crook of his shoulder.
"You're holding in, Mirrim. Let go."
She let out an explosive breath. "We're never going to get there, T'gellan. Never to a time or place where we can be true weyrmates." Her hand rested on the back of Path's oversized head, absently caressing her. "You are tied to Monarth's appetites and I say I understand but that doesn't mean I like it. I'm now tied to Path's. See all those swirling eyes above us? They belong to blues and browns whose riders are now contemplating a green's mating with a female partner."
T'gellan looked up and sent a mental note to Monarth, "If any of them are in our wing, send them to their couches."
A few dragons either retreated or flew off. I can fly Path too," he added smugly. T'gellan had entertained the same thought.
"Mirrim, love," he began gently, "We have a turn or two before she's mature enough to mate. Nothing says that a bronze can't join in the chase."
Monarth punctuated his statement with a rumble that shook them.
"And I think you're wrong about being weyrmates. Once you and Path fly, we can return to my old weyr. Just think how lovely the four of us," Reppa lifted her head and hissed," "the SEVEN of us will be. There's little to stop us now. As a dragonrider, your status at Benden is changed and if the four of us determine that the best living situation between fights is together, then the Weyr will concur."
"They'll let us fight thread, you think?"
"Pern needs every dragon if we are to prevail through this pass." He had a momentary vision of threadscore across Mirrim's face and couldn't help flinching. "But, not in my wing, you probably shouldn't," he replied after some deliberation.
They stayed together at the far end of the bowl as they watch dragons lift and pop between. Sometimes dozing, sometimes talking. T'gellan retold his and Monarth's impression now that Mirrim had truly experienced the same exhilaration. They reminisced about their few days in Southern and their few days after Brekke's recovery.
"That's us," Mirrim summarized, "moments of perfect bliss between turns of waiting. I'll never understand why you wait for me. I'm not that pleasant and no beauty either."
T'gellan gave her a brief squeeze, "Don't forget your pointy nose and big feet." They both chuckled. Silence descended upon them. T'gellan did wonder at his need for her. It was something he felt deeply but didn't think he could articulate. "I guess it's because you see me, Mirrim. You have always seen me, not the bronze rider, not the wingleader, but me."
Mirrim snuggled her head into his shoulder, "I suppose I do love you for more than your dragon."
As the sounds died down to people cleaning and moving tables, T'gellan nudged Mirrim awake. "Where did the Weyrlingmaster say you were to go tonight? Surely not with the other weyrlings!"
"His last words to me were something to the effect that he didn't want to see me ever, although he was being a bit huffy. I think he is the most upset by my and Path's pairing."
T'gellan remembered his own training by B'mezal. He was an intolerant sort who hadn't much use for females. Now he was in charge of one of the most difficult, sharpest woman in Benden. Perhaps Path will calm her, give her the poise she needs. Would this latest twist in Mirrim's difficult life bring them together finally, or tear them apart?
"Where do you and Path expect to sleep tonight?"
"F'nor and Canth said Path and I could go back to his weyr and Brekke agreed but I know we upset her.
"Stay with us tonight," T'gellan suggested. "We'll just sleep."
But they didn't.
# # #
When T'gellan awoke the next morning, Mirrim, Path and the two green fire lizards were gone. He stared into Tolly's gently whirling eyes as Monarth informed him that the females had left for weyrling class. He stretched, popping bones and cracking joints. After he relieved himself in the cistern, he trudged over to the basin to splash water on his face then to the shaft enclosed in the false wall to yell "Klah, one cup." Yes, there were benefits to the wingleader weyrs close to the bowl.
The rumble in the wall stopped and he extracted the steaming cup. Beside it was a bowl of meat scraps. He shook his head then presented the bowl to Tolly who attacked it with as much pleasure as he his cup of klah. "That means the women of the lower caverns know where you and your faire slept last night, Tolly." The fire lizard looked to him briefly, before dipping back into his bowl.
# # #
T'gellan entered the council room with most of the other wingleaders. They sat around the oblong table companionably conversing about the previous day's hatching and the new pairs. Mirrim and Path's names were mentioned most frequently. T'gellan enjoyed the banter, accepting the odd ribbing but mostly he was pleased that his peers were congratulating him as much as F'nor. F'lar stepped up to the head of the table from the hall that led to his private chamber. Everyone quieted.
"Nine Greens, Seven Blues, Three Browns and Two Bronzes." F'lar began proudly. Several congratulations were given for his and Lessa's son, one of the new bronze riders. F'lar beamed. He put forward a reed bowl with a lid on it. "With this newest group I now believe we are ready to form our 12th wing. Thus by lots, we will draw upon one of our own to make the newest. He shook the bowl and pulled a blue marble, F'nor began recording as the basket made the rounds to the other 10 wing leaders.
T'gellan pulled the black marble with the bronze streak. He would pick from his own wing the next wingleader and he was pleased for S'kel. Seated next to him, old R'gul pulled a clear marble and would not lose any of his riders on the first round.
"Pick your riders. When we meet in three days, we will welcome our newest wingleader. T'gellan?"
"S'kel!" He called out, proudly. "I will miss him on my right."
"Very well," F'lar smiled, "now for the casualty lists." The meeting continued for another hour before F'lar called it to conclusion. As the dragonmen filed out, F'lar detained T'gellan and F'nor. When the footfalls died away, F'lar turned to the wine cabinet and extracted a bottle and three glasses.
"I know you both made offers to Mirrim and Path to stay with you but I have decided she will live in the barracks with her hatchmates." F'nor was the first to protest but F'lar held up his hand. "If we expect to put girls to the egg then we have to expect them to go through the same training as any other fighting pair."
"The Weyrlingmaster has never dealt with a woman before," F'nor protested. "He will have absolutely no understanding of her. He won't even segregate her sleeping quarters, I'll warrant."
T'gellan recalled the long hall of beds in the room where he slept for the first six months of his and Monarth's lives together. He shuddered. The antics of boys and young men after lights out were infamous, he remembered with unease now. Mirrim was in for an ordeal. "B'mezel will need some instruction on womenfolk." T'gellan said. "Perhaps Manora could speak with him?"
F'lar shook his head. "Lessa spoke with him at length. He will comply or she will move to the barracks herself for the next six months. She is committed to this course and so must we." He poured the ruby liquid into the glasses then raised his own. "To change."
F'nor raised his glass, drained it in one gulp and set the goblet back on the table. "Change," he mumbled as he walked through the stone arch to the lower caverns.
T'gellan reluctantly picked up his glass and raised it, "I don't know who to fear for most, Mirrim or B'mezal." He then took a sip of the most fragrant wine he had ever tasted.