152Disclaimer: Pern and the dragons of Pern belong to Anne McCaffrey.
AN: Hi guys... not much to say this time, so on with the story!
Hideth was flying strongly, and J'mat took advantage of a thread-free patch of air to pat his dragon's deep brown hide. We're doing good!
You are indeed, youngling. Hideth relayed the voice of his wingleader's dragon to his rider, and J'mat grinned with pleasure, teeth flashing in his tanned brown face.
Here comes some more thread, Hideth. Ready?
He heard his dragon's mental acknowledgement, and Hideth turned his head to receive another lump of firestone that J'mat fed into his jaws, chewing it thoroughly. It was their first full length Fall and J'mat was desperate to impress his new wingleader. Get it, Hideth!
All in good time. The brown waited calmly until the patch of thread they had targeted was close enough to them before opening his jaws to breathe out the scorching cloud of flame that charred the thread into grey ash. Then he flicked a mental warning at J'mat before rolling over in the air to avoid flying through the fragments of hot ash, righting himself in a position a dragonlength to the left of where he had been, his rider clinging to his back. Out of the corner of his eye J'mat saw green Marith, a dragonlength below and behind, correcting her course to the right to fill the space that he and Hideth had left and mopping up the fragments of thread that had escaped their flame.
He didn't have time to watch the wing's well-disciplined teamwork. They were entering another thick patch of thread, and Hideth was angling upwards in response to his wingleader's command. Fidranth will take this patch and Garth and Jeth sweep alongside, but we are to keep any stray threads from falling on them, he told his rider, sweeping his gaze across the sky as he tried to pick out which strands among the ominous grey rain hissing out of the sky were a threat to his wingmates. J'mat let Hideth keep track of that, himself scanning the skies above and to the sides of them. The top position in the formation was the most dangerous, leaving the rider and dragon that occupied it more exposed to thread than when buried among their wingmates.
J'mat felt a breath of wind on his face, and winced as thread that had been falling straight down where a higher wing would have dealt with it was dragged off course and spiralled towards him. Hideth?
Hold your breath, the brown responded. J'mat glanced around, noting the positions of other dragons in the sky, then Hideth whisked them out of the thread's path into the freezing emptiness of between.
It was always shocking to feel one's breath snatched away as one was plunged into a silent and bone-chilling void, but J'mat prided himself that he was no wherry-headed weyrling to let it put him off. He counted silently one…two…three… and Hideth burst out into the grey skies of Pern again, placed perfectly half a dragonlength behind the offending thread. Almost lazily, the brown dragon exhaled and flamed it to cinders.
Compared to the iciness of between, Lemos' autumnal air seemed mild, even as it roared into J'mat's face as Hideth beat his wings strongly to pull himself up over the ash cloud and regain his place in their formation. The thicker patch of thread had been dealt with and the wing had returned to flying in a loose wedge formation, giving J'mat and Hideth the much more sheltered position half-way out from the centre on the left wing.
Not that it gave them licence to relax. J'mat tensed up as another gust of wind blew a patch of undulating silvery threads straight across the face of their wing.
Kaith has it, Hideth informed him before J'mat could issue any orders, and altered course smoothly to give the experienced blue a clear sight of the thread patch, himself targeting a smaller patch that looked as though it might slip through the wing and fall with deadly intent towards the productive green fields below. More firestone, please.
Here. J'mat reached for his sack, and realised that it was almost empty. Shards! he cursed. That's a weyrling's mistake! I should've known I'd need more if we were going to ride more than half a Fall. Here, Hideth, have what there is, and bespeak a weyrling to see if we can get some more in a hurry. He dragged out the last couple of pieces of sharp-smelling stone, and held onto them patiently as Hideth rolled and dodged again, looking for a clear piece of sky where he could relax his vigilance for a second as he turned his head round to accept the firestone from his rider's hand.
'J'mat!' The voice came from above him, and he looked up to see a pair of green dragons flying in tandem. One of the pair dropped down towards him, flaming a couple of stray threads as she did so, and her rider leaned over to speak to the young brownrider. It was F'san, whom J'mat had realised that it would be a good idea to respect almost as soon as he was assigned to the wing, despite the older dragon's lesser colour. He and Marith were old and experienced, and bad dragonriders didn't get old.
'I'm swapping out with H'don and Fineth to give Marith a break.' F'san patted his dragon's hide affectionately, but J'mat could see that the colour of her hide was faded, and that there were exhaustion lines creased across her rider's face. 'You can have what stone I've got left to tide you over until a weyrling can get here. Catch!' He lifted half a sack of firestone, the top carefully rolled over and secured and tossed it accurately into the younger man's arms. It thumped against J'mat's chest, and he grasped it gratefully.
'Thanks, F'san! I can't think how I came to…'
The experienced rider brushed aside his gratitude. 'Everyone does it once. Stick to it, lad – you're flying well, but don't let your guard down.' He raised a hand in salute to the young brownrider, and then all at once he and Marith disappeared, back to the safety of Benden Weyr.
Right, c'mon Hideth, J'mat said, with renewed determination. He could feel Hideth greeting Fineth, his new neighbour in the formation, as they flew into another patch of thread. Then, without warning, the brown flipped himself over on a wingtip. J'mat clung to his riding straps, pain scorching through the link he shared with the young brown. Hideth! Hideth, what's wrong? How badly are you hurt? He looked out over his dragon's wing, where he sensed the lancing pain and saw a couple of long strands of thread just burrowing into the sensitive membranes at Hideth's wingtip. It's not serious, Hideth. Into between for a second!
The dragon obeyed him, and J'mat was suddenly bereft of all his senses again. Now back.
Hideth exploded back out into the air, and J'mat looked back over his injured wing, relieved to see that the thread was grey and crumbling away. But before he'd had time to make more than a cursory inspection, Hideth was diving and rolling again, weaving an erratic course through a sky that had suddenly become treacherous. J'mat cursed as he ducked his head and hung on, trusting to his dragon's instinct and reactions to keep them out of trouble. They'd emerged from between practically inside a clump of thread! He hadn't looked around them to find and visualise a safe re-entry point, that was the trouble. Another stupid mistake! Any more and he'd be dead.
My fault, Hideth said, contritely, as they emerged from the thread patch. The brown had very sensibly not tried to flame any of the hissing grey serpents himself, leaving them for the queens' wing below to mop up. Now the rest of the wing swept up around J'mat and his brown, the wingleader D'lin bringing his bronze Fidranth alongside the young pair. Fidranth's rider wishes to know how badly we are hurt, Hideth informed his rider.
We're all right, aren't we? Tell him we can carry on. No problem.
J'mat twisted his head around to see D'lin raise an arm in acknowledgement of his message, and then Fidranth surged forwards, obviously in obedience to a mental command, back to his key position in the centre of the front row.
Better get back to our position, Hideth. J'mat glanced around him, but the sky was full of dragons, blocking his movement. We'll go between. He looked up at the gap in the wing's formation where Fineth and Kaith were drifting apart to make a space for him, and brought it firmly to the front of his mind. Ready?
As Hideth jumped out of between, J'mat grinned, patting the brown's hide. Perfect! And it was perfect, he thought, giving Hideth another lump of firestone to chew, and clinging on as the brown made a long, shallow dive towards another patch of thread, flaming it until the light flecks of grey ash were swept away by the breeze. This was perfect – being a rider, soaring far above Pern to combat this insidious menace. His heart rose with a sudden leap as Hideth ducked back to allow Kaith to flame another patch of thread, and then soared in above the blue dragon to clear a clump that was falling with deadly intent towards the older dragon's back. Kaith's rider B'rallin raised a hand in thanks, and J'mat smiled again, glancing downwards. They were passing almost directly over Lemos Hold now, and he could make out the vague shuttered shapes of windows in the cliff face. I bet they're glad we're here, he remarked to Hideth.
The dragon merely grunted acknowledgement, most of his attention taken up with maintaining his place in the formation and keeping in touch with his neighbouring dragons to ensure that as little as possible of the thread fell though their cover towards the queen's wing below. J'mat was infected by the dragon's sense of purpose and turned back to scanning the skies for possible dangers, but even as he did so he couldn't help a little happy excitement bubbling up inside of him. Despite the dangers, it was sharding good to ride free with a dragon like Hideth and wingmates like his, searing Pern's ancient enemy from the sky!
Katriel, trapped in the depths of a Hold shuttered and barred against threadfall, paced restlessly backwards and forwards across the cavernous room. She didn't know where Fani was, and she felt isolated and alone.
She was always confined to the ladies' quarters during threadfall. This was to 'keep her out of the way' according to her father, but Katriel thought that excuse was so much dragon dung. It wasn't as if roaming the main Hold would bring her into contact with the ground crews, who were already out following behind the threadfall's leading edge. She thought that her father's real fear was that she might meet a dragonrider. Although Faranth alone knew how she was supposed to manage that from behind Lemos Hold's mighty bronze shutters and barred door! It was as if he thought that even a distant glance of a flight of dragons might cause her to vanish away to a Weyr.
Which it might, she acknowledged to herself. So it looks like locking me up in here might be a smart move on his part. But scorch him! What gives him the right? Aside from being my father. I'm almost of age. And if I do want to leave, whose fault is that?
Forget it, she scolded herself. The Weyr wouldn't want me anyway. They don't just take in girls running away from home. And I'm not sure if I want to go there anyway! If they'd never Searched my mother then none of this mess would ever have happened!
She kicked a cushion viciously across the room, then swore and grabbed it back out as it landed in the fireplace. She dropped it burning side down onto the flagstones of the floor and pressed it against the cold stone until the flames went out, then picked it up, scowling and wrinkling her nose against the smell of burnt material.
She looked at the blackened material glumly. It had been a very fine weave from Ruatha in Fani's favourite deep red, and she knew her stepmother wouldn't be happy that Kat had destroyed it. Most of the stuffing had survived, and the cushion could be recovered, but they would likely never be able to find the material to match it to the rest of the set.
What am I going to tell her? Kat thought, guiltily, and then abruptly, Oh, scorch it, who cares! It's only a sharding cushion! She dropped it onto the floor, leaving a smear of black ash across her hands and marched out of the room, tearing the hide curtain out of her way. Fani was out in the Hold somewhere. Why shouldn't she be?
She hadn't even made it down one corridor before her nerves began to overwhelm her anger.
I'm going to get caught, she thought anxiously. Maybe I should go back.
She glanced back at the doorway to the ladies' quarters. She had pulled the hide hanging away from its fixings, she saw. The corner was flapping loose.
I could probably fix that in about half an hour, she thought. And get cleared up inside. That way Fani won't be – well, she won't be too upset – and Father won't be angry…
No! She recaptured some of her anger. They weren't lacking in marks and servants, so why should she have to repair things? And she had a perfect right to be out of the ladies' quarters – yes, and even to destroy things if she wanted to!
The Hold seemed empty. Of course, this deep inside the rock face it often was, so Kat wasn't too worried until she started to reach the Holder's areas. Despite Galen's distance from his people, he was always deeply influenced by tradition, so nearly all the people of Lemos who didn't farm outlying Holds lived within the main Hold itself. Of course, the men were all out on duty as ground crews – but where had the women gone? Even the Holder children seemed to have vanished.
Something's going on that I don't know about, she realised. Fani must be there too – wherever everyone is. How could she do that to me? Unless… no, there's nothing she could want to surprise me with. She scowled at the wall. Even Fani is part of this whole sharding secretive, hidden place now. Scorch it, even I am!
'Er… Lady Katriel?'
The quiet, diffident voice behind her startled Kat, but she managed not to jump, and wiped the scowl off her face as she turned to face the speaker with a carefully blank expression. 'Yes, Journeyman Tercel?'
The young Harper managed to look as though he felt hurt by her distant tone. His engaging smile faltered, and he ran a hand through already tousled blond hair.
'I was just wondering whether you're all right, my lady?' His voice was boyish and hesitant, and Kat suddenly realised that he couldn't be much older than she was.
Poor boy, she thought, thrust into this as his first posting! She began to smile at him, and then met his eyes, and saw with a shock her own thoughts reflected there. Poor girl, Tercel was thinking, stuck in this!
Pride stiffened Kat's spine instantly. 'Thank you,' she said, grandly. 'I am quite well, I assure you. Perhaps you yourself need some directions, being new to the Hold?'
'No, I thank you, my lady,' Tercel said. He knew a dismissal when he heard one, although Kat thought he sounded a little sad. The Harper Journeyman bowed elegantly and walked on down the corridor, leaving Kat alone.
She listened to the slight echo of his footsteps as they receded down the corridor. I wonder where he's going? she thought. Could I have handled that differently? No, Father would never let me make friends with a Harper. And I won't have him pity me! I am the only daughter of the Lord Holder of Lemos, after all!
But still… I could at least ask him if he knows where everyone is, can't I? No harm in that.
Kat hitched up her skirts and followed Tercel down the corridor, trotting a little to catch up.
Because she was hurrying, she didn't hear the low voices ahead of her until she hurried around a corner and stopped sharply. Her father was standing in the hallway with Olman, who was his chief agent, the man who carried out Galen's instructions and helped to manage Lemos' extensive lands. They had obviously stopped because they had encountered the young Harper in the corridor; and now all three men were turning to look at her.
Kat barely saw Olman's blank look and Tercel's half-surprised, half-hopeful gaze. She was concentrating on her father's face as he lifted his heavy, dark eyebrows.
'Katriel, what are you doing here?'
Galen's voice was quiet but steely, and Kat could feel it draining away all of her angry resolve. Why shouldn't I be here? she wanted to answer, but found herself instead mumbling, 'Nothing, father.'
'Then return immediately to where you ought to be. Now, Olman, about the storage of the late harvest –' Galen turned away, forcing his agent to follow him down the corridor. Tercel hesitated for a second, glancing at Kat, but the girl glared at him so he turned away and followed the other two men.
He didn't even bother to see whether I did what he said, Kat thought bitterly. That's what I hate about him. He doesn't even see that I might disobey him. And curse him, he's right!
She turned around and began walking back towards the ladies' inner rooms, her steps small and neat beneath the rustle of her skirt and her back ramrod straight.
When Fani returned Kat was asleep on her bed, cheeks flushed with crying. Her stepmother shook her shoulder gently and Kat woke, disoriented.
'Kat, where have you been? I expected you all afternoon!'
Kat blinked. 'What? Expected me where?'
'In the kitchens.' Fani shook her head at Kat's blank look. 'You must remember. We're clear of thread now for two sevendays, so it's time for the autumn gather.'
Kat sat bolt upright, narrowly missing knocking her skull against her pretty stepmother's. 'The autumn gather! I forgot! When does it start, Fani?'
'Four days. I had to see Halina today about organising food for the event and lodgings for traders and those coming in from the outlying Holds. I expected you to come and help.'
'Oh, I am sorry, Fani,' said Kat, contritely. She hugged her stepmother. 'I would rather have been with you than shut up in here, honestly.'
Fani smiled. 'Yes, I know you would. Still, at least in here you can't have got into any trouble.'
Kat winced. 'Er… Fani, I need to tell you something about one of your cushions…'
J'mat stepped out into the silver moonlit night, and felt the shock of cold air hitting him do something to counteract his post-Fall exhaustion and the effect of the rather good wine they'd had with dinner.
Come and pick me up, Hideth? he asked.
The young brown, slumbering contentedly, grumbled deep in his belly, but heaved himself up. J'mat grinned and looked up at the sky, revelling in the crystalline perfection of the clear, cold stars. It was the wrong time of night to see the Red Star, and without it the sky looked both beautiful and benign.
The young rider's head snapped round as he saw a movement in the darkness, and his hand went to his belt knife, then relaxed as the newcomer chuckled. 'Not that drunk, then, lad?'
'No, sir.' J'mat recognised his wingleader's voice.
'How's Hideth's wing doing?'
'The Healer's put a dressing on it, but he says it's nothing to worry about. We're still fit to fly, sir.'
'Good,' said D'lin, crisply. 'Then I want the pair of you ready to go out again in a few days. We're flying Search, and I'm taking you out to find whether Hideth's got the nose for it.'
'Yes, sir!' J'mat grinned. While he didn't especially want to be tied down into Searching for the rest of his life, it would be fun to get away from the Weyr and partake of the hospitality of the Holders. 'Where are we going?'
'I've taken Lemos.' D'lin told him. 'That means the main Hold, but also the smaller Holds of that Lordship. We're looking for both boys and girls.' He paused and then added. 'You've an interest in this clutch anyway, I hear?'
'Well – sort of, sir. My brother's standing. Jasor.'
'He's younger than you?'
'Yes, sir, three years.'
J'mat couldn't see the bronzerider's face in the darkness, but he could hear the smile in the man's voice. 'Well, I can see I'll have to watch him, if he Impresses. If he flies anything like his brother then I'll be wanting him in my wing.'