Sky Dragons Dragonriders of Pern

by Anne McCaffrey

  Xhinna found herself shivering in the blanket and sank to her haunches, then sat cross-legged, twitching the blanket more tightly around her as she sipped the marvelously warm liquid.

  “The others?” she asked when her teeth stopped chattering. The sound of wings and riders landing half-answered her question, with Jirana saying, “You were the worst; they’re being taken care of.”

  Xhinna looked around. Aside from her wing they were alone. “Where’s Fiona?”

  Jirana paced back to Tazith and stood in front of Xhinna, considering her words.

  “Where is everyone?”

  “There were burrows,” Jirana told her simply. “They’ve lost a quarter of Eastern Isle. They’re building a fire-break.”

  “What?” Xhinna said, starting to rise only to be waved back down.

  “They’ll have it under control,” Jirana said. “It was worse than they’d thought. The burrows spread quicker than they normally do—the soil here is too rich.”

  “And Avarra? Jerilli? The others?”

  “They’re coming back now,” Jirana said as another figure joined them: Taria. Xhinna patted the ground beside her, and the weary green rider collapsed, leaning against her and murmuring gratefully when Xhinna spread the blanket inclusively over her shoulders.

  Xhinna recalled her duties and checked in with Tazith. Have R’ney and Danirry report in.

  Even as she thought that, she recalled the frantic moments that had just passed and—

  “Danirry?” Xhinna said.

  “We couldn’t catch her,” Jirana said, the tremble in her voice suddenly loud in Xhinna’s ears. Why hadn’t she heard it before? Why hadn’t she noticed that the girl was crying?

  “We tried,” Jirana said, lowering herself to her knees in front of Xhinna. “We tried. Laspanth and I almost caught her but—but we couldn’t—she slid off and we—”

  “We lost her,” another voice added from the darkness in stone-cold tones. It was Jepara. She came up through the passage from the High Kitchen and sat next to Jirana, looking at Xhinna, her eyes spangled with tears. “I’m sorry, Xhinna, we tried but—we weren’t enough, we weren’t fast enough and—”

  “Where is she?” Xhinna asked softly, trying to concentrate beyond the sound of Taria’s crying.

  “She fell into the sea,” Jirana said. “We couldn’t find her.” She turned to Jepara. “They dived into the water, but they couldn’t find her.” She was silent for a moment and then offered in solace, “I don’t think they felt any pain. They were out of air—they’d fainted and they didn’t even know what had happened.”

  Xhinna wrapped a hand around Taria’s and clasped it tight. The green rider clenched her hand in return.

  Xhinna looked at Jirana, saw the red-rimmed eyes in the dim evening light, saw the darker look in them, and realized—Jirana had known.

  Worse, in the young queen rider’s eyes she could plainly see the future. Without words, Jirana’s sad, miserable expression told her: You’re next.

  TWENTY

  Farewell to a Dreamer

  “Now we know the worst,” T’mar said as the Weyrleaders gathered in the Council Room of Sky Weyr’s stone hall early the next morning.

  “True,” K’dan agreed, “but we also can now plot our Falls, and there’s good news in that.”

  “Good news?” H’nez echoed skeptically. He gestured eastward. “One burrow and we nearly lost a whole island! What happens if a burrow strikes here?”

  “We’ll have to be certain that none does,” T’mar said with a wave of his hand. He nodded to K’dan. “Your Sky wings worked admirably. Why can’t we use them?”

  “We could,” K’dan agreed. “But the dangers of fighting Thread so high were amply demonstrated—”

  “One rider is not a great loss,” H’nez said.

  “One experienced rider,” K’dan countered. “In two Falls, we’ve lost one—”

  “That’s much better than we’ve seen in any Fall on the Northern Continent,” C’tov reminded him. He waved a hand at K’dan in sympathy. “Any loss is hard, and by all accounts, your Danirry was a marvelous and talented person but—”

  “I know,” K’dan said. He shook himself and continued, “But now that we know when the Falls will come here, perhaps we don’t need the Sky wings anymore.”

  “What?” C’tov said.

  “We were lucky,” K’dan said.

  “I’m not sure I could say that after fighting that burrow in Eastern,” H’nez replied.

  “It took nearly three full Weyrs to even start to control that mess,” X’lerin said, shaking his head in awe.

  “If we’d caught it sooner, it wouldn’t have been so much trouble,” K’dan said.

  “I don’t know,” T’mar replied. “That burrow was faster and rooted in deeper than we’ve ever seen them—we were lucky to lose only as much as we did.”

  “And that was nearly a quarter of the whole island,” H’nez said. He was still amazed. “It was so fast!”

  “We were hampered by nightfall, by not knowing what was happening,” K’dan countered. “But now that we know, we’ll be better prepared—”

  “Better yet, if we can use the Skies,” C’tov observed.

  “K’dan, you said we were lucky?” T’mar said, redirecting the conversation.

  “Yes,” K’dan said, tapping a parchment in front of him. The tanners of the Weyrs weren’t quite as good at the craft of making skins usable for writing as others back on the Northern Continent, but it sufficed for simple drawings. “From what we recall, with these two Falls we can predict that we’ll have another Fall—this time over the southern end of both islands, twenty-six days from now.”

  “That long?”

  “That accurate?”

  “Actually, the Fall should come at about three in the morning, our time,” K’dan said. “It will match the Falls over Benden Weyr, Bitra, and Igen Weyr—the first Fall that was flown by Benden and Telgar.”

  “So we have time to plan and prepare,” T’mar said, nodding thoughtfully. The others looked relieved.

  “And then?” H’nez prompted. “When’s our next Fall?”

  “Nine days and nine hours later, we’ll have a Fall that brushes the southern end of our Eastern Isle,” K’dan said. “That’s the same time as the Fall over Igen and Ista’s tip.”

  “How long?”

  “It starts, if we’re right, just about halfway over the Southern bay and peters out over the sea far to the west.”

  “Thread falls from northeast to southwest,” T’mar reminded them. He glanced at K’dan. “So, not a full Fall, then?”

  K’dan nodded. “Probably two or three hours at most.”

  “Better than six,” H’nez muttered approvingly. He cocked an eye at K’dan. “And then?”

  “We’ve a break for fifteen days and fifteen hours, and then we’ll have the same Fall we just fought all over again,” K’dan said, pursing his lips tightly.

  “Nine and nine, fifteen and fifteen?” C’tov asked.

  “Each Fall comes three days and three hours after the last one,” K’dan said. “These islands are so small that more Falls miss than hit.”

  “But back home?” T’mar asked. No matter that they’d been on the Western Isle nearly three Turns, the Northern Continent was still home to all.

  K’dan frowned, trying to think. “After Benden and Keroon, it would be Nerat and Upper Crom—but it didn’t happen.”

  H’nez gave him a questioning look and the Sky Weyrleader explained, “The first signs of Thread were the dustfalls over Fort, High Reaches Tip, and Southern Tillek—there was no mention of dustfall over Nerat or Crom.” He shrugged. “Probably the dustfall was dispersed by high winds, so no one noticed it. It’s winter; the weather is usually too cold for Thread—colder up on high, as we now know.”

  “So, the Sky wings—you think we should disband them?” H’nez asked K’dan.

  “Two queens couldn’t catch one blue,” K’dan said. “Si
x wings are now completely demoralized, their riders shaken.” He pursed his lips and shook his head. “They’ve learned a lot about flying high and the dangers of thin air. Let them go back to their Weyrs, split them up so that they can spread the knowledge and forget the pain.”

  H’nez shook his head doubtfully. “Dragons and riders will die, K’dan, no matter how much we wish otherwise.”

  “I know,” K’dan said. “But to have them freeze to death or die by asphyxiation?” He shook his head. “That’s not honorable.”

  Fiona says you’re to sleep, Tazith said as soon as Xhinna’s eyelids fluttered open. You’re to rest until you’re cranky, she said.

  Xhinna’s lips twitched: It sounded like her blue was quoting the Weyrwoman directly.

  She was surrounded by warmth. Taria was there and smaller bodies and—

  Xhinna jumped out of the bed with an angry bellow. She threw on robes and cinched them tight against the cold morning air before racing out of their quarters, leaving a bewildered Taria behind.

  Where’s R’ney? Xhinna demanded of her blue. Tazith replied equitably with an image, and Xhinna stalked off. She found the brown rider sleeping in an alcove of the walled dormitory. When she moved slowly over to him, she noticed small eyes looking up at her and heard a thin gasp, almost a mew of despair.

  Xhinna slipped under the covers, slid up tight next to R’ney, and pulled little Davinna between them, cuddling and shushing the distraught baby.

  “She wanted her mother,” R’ney murmured, awakened by the shifting of bodies. “I think she wants milk.” In a very small voice he added, “I can’t give her any.”

  Xhinna shushed him softly and pulled the baby to her. She’d been ready to wean Xelinan, but she’d held off and was grateful now that she could ease the baby’s discomfort.

  Davinna was fussy, but soon enough she fell back asleep, content at the warmth of Xhinna’s body and the sound of R’ney’s gentle breathing.

  R’ney surfaced again long enough to ask, “What are you doing here?”

  “I promised,” Xhinna said. “I promised her I’d look after hers and her heart’s.”

  “You’re a good one, the best,” R’ney said, reaching a hand to brush her cheek.

  “Sleep,” she ordered, moving his hand back to his chest. R’ney, exhausted by grief and the hard fight the day before, needed no more urging.

  Hours later, Xhinna was surprised by a muffled noise of surprise and woke to see Mirressa looking down at her.

  “I came for the baby,” the green rider said. “I figured—”

  “I only had a little,” Xhinna said, grabbing little Davinna and passing her out from under the covers to Mirressa’s waiting hands. “She’ll probably want more.”

  “She’s got a whole wing,” Mirressa said, biting her lips to keep back her tears. And then, forcefully, she said, “You know it: She’s got a whole wing!”

  “ ‘Always and forever,’ ” Xhinna said, quoting the vow she’d given Danirry on the birth of Davinna.

  Mirressa gulped in agreement and rushed off before her grief erupted over the fussy child in her arms.

  “Where’s the baby?” R’ney asked a few moments later.

  “Mirressa has her,” Xhinna replied. She was surprised when R’ney kept moving, trying to force himself past her. “She’s okay, don’t worry.”

  “I’m not worried, I need to get up, there’s work to be done,” R’ney said. He gave her a quizzical look. “Why aren’t you up?”

  “Fiona told us to rest,” Xhinna said.

  “ ‘Rest when you’re dead,’ ” R’ney said, quoting the old dragonriders jest. “If you’re not going to get up, let me pass so I can get up.”

  Xhinna thought for a moment and then got up. She cocked an eyebrow at her remaining wingsecond and said, “Are you going to be all right?”

  “As soon as I get some breakfast,” R’ney allowed. “What about you?”

  “I’m going to check on Taria and the babies,” Xhinna said. She nodded back toward his bunk. “I want you sleeping in our quarters from now on.” She caught the mulish look on his face and corrected herself. “I at least want you to consider it home and leave Davinna with us. We’ve got enough little ones that one more won’t matter.”

  “She matters to me,” R’ney said feelingly.

  “Of course,” Xhinna told him. “And you know I didn’t mean it that way.” She met his eyes. “But if you could, I think it’d be best if you stayed with me and Taria.”

  R’ney squinted. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “I’d take it as a personal favor,” Xhinna told him honestly.

  R’ney held her gaze for a moment longer before reluctantly yielding in the contest of wills. “I’ll think about it.”

  Xhinna’s wing gathered slowly at one table in the High Kitchen, late for breakfast. Mirressa and Taria came together, Mirressa giving R’ney a brief smile before assuring him, “Javissa’s watching the babies. Fiona’s with her.”

  “And the baby?”

  Mirressa smiled. “She’s asleep.” Mirressa cast a wistful eye on the food spread on the table and R’ney busied himself making sure that the nursing mother had her fill. Xhinna was also hungrier than usual, filling her plate three times before settling back, content.

  R’ney picked at his food until J’valin and Mirressa chided him, and then, to stop their nagging, the brown rider emptied his plate twice before announcing loudly that he was full.

  A silence descended on the group and Xhinna tried to think what to say to relieve it. Finally, in irritation, she rose from the table and strode out of the hall.

  She and Tazith flew out far beyond the usual bounds of the Weyr and landed in a field and she searched it, looking for something to mark the blue rider’s passing but found nothing and, in disgust, flew back to the Meeyu Plateau. When she saw R’ney’s Rowerth down in the slight valley below, she told Tazith to land beside him.

  She found R’ney near the sluiceway that he and Danirry had built. She stood there for several moments, mute, trying to think of something to say. Finally, “She saved Pern, you know.”

  R’ney turned to her, silent.

  “You did, too,” Xhinna said. She gestured to the sluiceway. “The gold helped save us. We used it to rebuild where nothing else would work.”

  R’ney nodded silently. It was a discovery Turns old now, the realization that the gold dust could be used to finance the rebuilding that would be needed to support the return of the Western dragons to the Northern Continent. It wasn’t enough to have two thousand dragons—they had to be fed, too. Without the gold to encourage the growth of herds, there would be too few herdbeasts for the dragons’ needs. And the gold had already helped those desperate to rebuild and recover from the Plague that had killed so many. That it had gone more to Crom, Igen, Keroon, and Telgar had as much to do with who had been sending it as with where it was needed.

  “And she saved us again last night,” Xhinna continued. It had been Danirry who had warned about the Thread falling over the Eastern Isle—her warning had been her last words.

  “I know,” R’ney said, the words coming raw out of his throat.

  “More people will die to save Pern,” Xhinna told him.

  Again, R’ney nodded. At last he turned to her. “Your little one, the trader girl, she told you, didn’t she?”

  “No,” Xhinna said. “But I think she knew.”

  “And she thinks you’re next, doesn’t she?”

  Xhinna said nothing, but prodded by the look in his eyes, she nodded once, curtly.

  “Must be hard.”

  “No, not really.”

  “Not you,” R’ney said. “Jirana. Bearing all that weight on her own.”

  They stood together, silent, their eyes darting around the clearing until finally, R’ney said, “You know, she doesn’t need anything.”

  Xhinna looked over at him, surprised.

  “Danirry,” R’ney said to clarify. He nodded at the slu
ice and the mud and then pointed to the Meeyu Plateau. “We can’t forget her, not even if we try.”

  “I’ll miss her,” Xhinna confessed. She remembered the young, painfully thin girl she had first met at Crom Hold, and recalled how strong that girl had grown in the Turns since. She had saved Pern—twice. Surely that was worth more than any memorial.

  “I’ll miss you,” R’ney said, meeting her eyes and then looking away into the distance.

  “As I told Jirana,” Xhinna replied testily, “I’m not gone yet.”

  Xhinna’s hope to make Danirry’s remembrance a simple affair for her wing only didn’t survive its first encounter with Jepara and, judging by the raised eyebrows from Fiona later, wouldn’t have lasted any longer if the obstreperous queen rider hadn’t been the first to find Xhinna.

  “No, no, no—you can’t!” Jepara insisted, her voice rising with each word.

  “It’s the wing’s affair,” Xhinna said, taken aback.

  “Did she not belong to the Weyr, too?” Jepara demanded, pressing on before Xhinna could reply to ask, “And wasn’t she one of the first new riders to Impress? And didn’t she suggest sluicing for gold?” Xhinna was given just enough time to nod before Jepara stormed on, “And shouldn’t we all have the chance to thank and honor her for all she’s done for us?”

  “She wouldn’t want a big fuss,” Xhinna protested.

  “She’s not here!” Jepara said. “Her wishes don’t count!”

  Xhinna stared at her in surprise, and Jepara moved closer, holding her hands out entreatingly. “It’s our chance to say good-bye to her.” Jepara closed her eyes tightly and when she opened them again, the corners were wet with the tears that she’d only half-suppressed. “We’re going to lose more before this Pass is over, Xhinna. Do you really want to start this way?”

  “What do you suggest?” Xhinna asked, coming as close as she could to admitting how little energy she had after the strain of the past several days.

  Jepara leaned down to look deep into Xhinna’s eyes and then, reaching a hand to touch her wrist, said quietly, “How about you let me organize this? As one of her Weyrwomen?”