Dragonsong (dragon riders of pern)

by Anne McCaffrey

  “Oh, do you really think So?” Mirrim dropped her pose of bustling efficiency and was briefly a young, bewildered girl in need of reassurance.

  “I most certainly do!” And Menolly was angry with Sanra’s unkind statements of the day before. “Why, when I thought I’d be scored to death, T’gran appeared. And when I thought they’d all be Threaded…” Menolly hastily shut her mouth, frantically trying to think of something to fill that gap. She’d almost told Mirrim about saving the fire lizards.

  “They must belong to somebody,” a man said in a loud, frustrated tone of voice.

  Two dragonriders entered the kitchen cavern, slapping dusty gloves against sandy boots and loosening their riding belts.

  “They could be attracted by the ones we have, T’gellan.”

  “Considering how badly we need the creatures…”

  “In the egg…”

  “It’s a raking nuisance to have a whole flaming fair that no one will claim!”

  The next thing Menolly knew, Beauty appeared over her head, gave a terrified squawk and landed on Menolly’s thinly clad shoulder. Beauty wrapped her tail, choking tight, about Menolly’s neck and buried her face into her hair. Rocky and Diver seized the cloth of her shirt in their claws, struggling to burrow into her arms. The air was full of frightened fire lizards, diving at her; and Mirrim, who made no attempt to defend herself, stared with utter amazement at Menolly.

  “Mirrim? Do they belong to you after all?” cried T’gellan as he strode towards their table. “No, they’re not mine.” Mirrim pointed to Menolly. “They’re hers.”

  Menolly was speechless, but she managed to contain Rocky and Diver. The others took refuge on ledges above her, broadcasting fear and uncertainty. She was just as confused as the fire lizards, because why were they in the Weyr? And the Weyr seemed to know about fire lizards, and…

  “We’ll soon know whose they are,” said a woman’s angry voice, carrying clearly in the pause. A small, slim woman in riding gear came striding purposefully into the main section of the kitchen cavern. “I asked Ramoth to speak to them…”

  She was followed by another rider. “Over here, Lessa,” T’gellan said, beckoning, but his gaze did not leave Menolly’s.

  At the sound of that name, she struggled out of the chair, with the fire lizards squawking and trying to retain their balance and hold on her. All Menolly could think of was to keep out of Lessa’s way, but she got tangled up in the chairs about the table and painfully stubbed her toes. Mirrim grabbed her arm, trying to make her sit down, and there seemed to be more fire lizards than Menolly could claim circling over her head and chittering wildly.

  “Will someone quiet this lot?” demanded the small, dark woman, confronting Menolly, her fists on her riding belts, her eyes snapping with anger. “Ramoth! if you would…”

  Abruptly, complete silence reigned in the huge kitchen cavern. Menolly felt Beauty trembling more violently than ever against her neck, and the talons of the two bronzes dug into her arms and sides.

  “That’s better,” said Lessa, her eyes brilliant. “And who are you? Are these all yours?”

  “My name is Menolly, please and,” Menolly glanced up nervously at all the fire lizards perched silently with whirling eyes on ledges and hanging from the ceiling, “not all of these are mine.”

  “Menolly?” Some of Lessa’s anger abated in her perplexity. “Menolly?” She was trying to place the name.

  “Manora told you about her, Lessa,” said Mirrim, which Menolly thought greatly daring and very much appreciated. “T’gran rescued her from Threadfall. She’d run her feet raw.”

  “Ah, yes. So, Menolly, how many fire lizards do look to you?”

  Menolly was trying to figure out whether Lessa was annoyed or pleased, and if she had too many fire lizards would she be sent back to Half-Circle. She felt Mirrim prod her in the ribs.

  “These,” Menolly indicated the three clinging to her and felt Mirrim dig her again, “and only six of those up there.”

  “Only six of those up there?”

  Menolly saw Lessa’s fingers drumming on her wide riding belt; she heard one of the dragonriders muffling a sound; and glancing up saw that he had his hand over his mouth. But his eyes were dancing with laughter. Then she dared look at Lessa’s face and saw the slight smile on the Weyrwoman’s face.

  “That’s makes nine, I think,” Lessa said. “Just how did you contrive to impress nine fire lizards, Menolly?”

  “I didn’t contrive. I was in the cave when they hatched, and they were hungry, you see. I’d a sackful of spiderclaws so I fed them…”

  “Cave? Where?” Lessa’s words were crisp but not unkind.

  “On the coast. Above Nerat, by the Dragon Stones.”

  T’gellan uttered an exclamation. “You were living in that cave? I found jars and pots…no sign of fire lizard shells.”

  “I didn’t think fire lizards clutched in caves,” Lessa remarked.

  “It was only because the tide was high and the clutch would have been washed away. I helped the queen put them into the cave.”

  Lessa regarded Menolly steadily for a long moment. “You helped the fire lizard?”

  “Yes, you see I’d fallen over the cliff, and they—the queen and her bronzes, from the old clutch, not these here,” and Menolly jerked her chin at Beauty, Rocky and Diver, “they wouldn’t let me get off the beach until I helped them.”

  T’gellan was staring at her, but the other two riders were grinning broadly. Then Menolly saw that Mirrim, too, was smiling with delight. More unbelievable to Menolly in her confusion, was the fact that a little brown fire lizard was perched on Mirrim’s shoulder, intently staring at Beauty who wouldn’t take her head out of Menolly’s hair.

  “I’d like to hear the whole story, in sequence, one day,” Lessa said. “Right now, will you please keep your lot under control and with you? They’re upsetting Ramoth and all the others. Nine, eh?” And Lessa sighed, turning away. “When I think where I could use nine eggs to good purpose…”

  “Please…do you need more fire lizard eggs?” Lessa whirled so fast that Menolly took an involuntarily backward step.

  “Of course we need fire lizard eggs! Where have you been that you don’t know?” She turned on T’gellan. ‘You’re wingleader. Didn’t you inform all the sea holds?”

  “Yes, I did, Lessa,” and T’gellan looked straight at Menolly now, “just about the time Menolly first disappeared from her hold. Right, Menolly? The sweep riders have been on the lookout for her ever since, but she was holed up snug as you please in that cave, with nine fire lizards.”

  Menolly hung her head in despair. “Please, Weyrwoman, don’t send me back to Half-Circle Holdl”

  “A girl who can impress nine fire lizards,” said Lessa in a sharp rippling tone that made Menolly look up, “does not belong in a Sea Hold. T’gellan, find out from Menolly where that clutch is and secure it for us immediately. Let us fervently hope it hasn’t hatched.” To Menolly’s intense relief, Lessa actually smiled at her, obviously in a much improved temper. “Remember to keep those pesky creatures away from Ramoth. Mirrim can help you train them. Hers are quite useful now.”

  She swept away, leaving the entire cavern breathless. Activity suddenly picked up on all sides of the kitchen. Menolly felt Mirrim pressing her into a chair; she sank weakly down. She found a cup of klah in her hands and heard T’gellan urging her to take a few sips.

  “One’s first encounter with Lessa is apt to be unnerving.”

  “She’s…she’s so small,” Menolly said dazedly.

  “Size is irrelevant.”

  Menolly tumed anxiously to Mirrim. “Did she really mean it? I can stay, Mirrim?”

  “If you can impress nine fire lizards, you belong here. But why didn’t you tell me about them? Didn’t you see mine? I’ve only the three…”

  T’gellan clicked his tongue at Mirrim,who stuck hers out at him.

  “I told mine to stay in the cave…”

 
“And here we’ve been wracking our brains,” Minim went on, “accusing riders of hoarding eggs…”

  “I didn’t know you people needed fire lizards…”

  “Mirrim, stop teasing her; she’s unnerved. Menolly, drink your klah and relax,” T’gellan told her.

  Menolly obediently sipped her klah, but she felt obliged to explain about the boys in her Sea Hold who could think of nothing but snaring fire lizards; and she felt so strongly that that was wrong that she hadn’t even mentioned seeing them mating.

  “Under the circumstances, you did just as you should, Menolly,” said T’gellan. “But let’s get to that clutch and rescue it. Where did you see it? How close do you think it is to Hatching?”

  “The eggs were still pretty soft when I found them the day T’gran rescued me. And it’s about a half-morning’s walk from the Dragon Stones.”

  “A few minutes’ glide by dragonback; but south? north? Where?”

  ‘Well, south, where a stream feeds into the sea.”

  T’gellan raised his eyes in exasperation. “That describes too many places. You’d better come with me.”

  “T’gellan,” Mirrim sounded shocked. “Menolly’s feet are in shreds…”

  “So is Lessa’s temper. We’ll wrap her feet in hides, but we must get those eggs. And you’re not headwoman yet, my girl,” T’gellan said, waggling a finger at Mirrim.

  It didn’t take long to outfit Menolly. Mirrim, as if to make up for her officiousness, brought her own wherhide riding jacket and headgear and a pair of vastly oversized boots. They were eased over Menolly’s sore and bandaged feet and fastened tightly around her legs with leather strips.

  Rocky and Diver were reassured by tidbits of meat, but Beauty refused to unwrap her tail from Menolly’s neck. She chattered angrily at T’gellan when he half-carried Menolly to Monarth, waiting patiently just outside the kitchen cavern.

  T’gellan threw Menolly up the dragon’s shoulder. She hauled herself up to his neck ridges by the fighting straps, giving her feet one or two painful knocks.

  T’gellan started to settle himself in front of Menolly, but Beauty came alive, hissing menacingly and lashing out at the dragonrider with one foreleg, talons unsheathed.

  “She’s never been so bad mannered,” Menolly said apologetically.

  “Monarth, will you speak to her?”, asked T’gellan good-naturedly. The next instant, Beauty stopped mid-hiss, chirped experimentally, her eyes whirling less frantically, and her tail relaxed from its choke hold on Menolly’s throat.

  “That’s a sight better. She does have a baleful stare!”

  “Oh dear!”

  “I’m teasing you, Menolly. Now, look, I shall have Monarth tell your fair of fire lizards exactly what we’re going to do so they don’t go mad when we take off.”

  “Oh, would you?”

  “I would, and I…”T’gellan paused, “I have. We’re away!”

  This time Menolly could enjoy the sensations of flying. She couldn’t imagine why Petiron had found the experience so horrible. She didn’t even fear the lack of all sensation as they went between. She did feel the bitter, bitter cold in the soles of her half-healed feet, but the pain lasted such a fleeting second. Abruptly, they were low over the Dragon Stones, coming in from the sea. The sheer thrill of the flight took Menolly’s breath away.

  “There is a chance that the first queen might lay another clutch in that cave,” T’gellan said over his shoulder. “But it should be cleared of your things.”

  So they landed on the beach with Monarth peering rather disapprovingly at the little cove while the water lapped gently on his feet.

  Her group arrived, carolling in wild delight at corning home. A single firelizard appeared above and to one side of them.

  “Look, T’gellan, that’s the old queen!”

  But she’d gone when T’gellan looked up.

  “I’m sort of sorry she saw us here. I was hoping…Where was the clutch when you rescued it?”

  “We’re standing on the place.” Monarth moved to one side. “Does he hear what I’m telling you?” Menolly whispered anxiously in T’gellan’s ear.

  “Yes, so be careful how you speak of him. He’s very sensitive.”

  “I haven’t said anything, have I, that would hurt his feelings?”

  “Menolly!” T’gellan looked back at her, grinning, “I was teasing you.”

  “Oh!”

  “Hmmm. Yes. Well, so you managed to climb that cliff face?”

  “It wasn’t so hard. If you’ll look, you’ll see there’re plenty of hand and foot holds, even before I made a regular path.”

  “A regular path? Hmmm. Yes. Monarth, can you get us a bit closer, please?”

  Monarth obligingly angled against the cliff face and raised himself to his haunches; Menolly was amazed to see that they could step off his shoulders right into the cave.

  Her nine came arrowing into the opening, trumpeting and squealing, their bugles abruptly amplified by the vaulting height of the inner cavern. Just as she and T’gellan reached it, the light was suddenly blocked. Turning, she saw Monarth’s head in the opening, his great eyes whirling idly.

  “Monarth, get your great, bloody, big head out of the light, will you?”asked T’gellan. Monarth blinked, gave a little wistful rumble, but removed his great head.

  “Why didn’t anyone find you on Search, young lady?” T’gellan asked, and she saw that he’d been watching her intently.

  “No one’s ever been Searched at Half-Circle Sea Hold.”

  “That shouldn’t surprise me. Now, where did the old queen have her clutch?”

  “Right where you’re standing.”

  T’gellan jumped sideways, giving her a second admonitory look, which she couldn’t interpret. He knelt, running his fingers through the sand, making pleased noises in his throat.

  “You tossed out the old shells?”

  “Yes. Was that wrong?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Would she come back here again?”

  “She might. If the cove waters remain high the next time she mates. D’you happen to remember when you saw her mating flight?”

  “Yes, I do. Because we had Threadfall just after. The one when the leading edge hit the marshes halfway to Nerat.”

  “Good girl!” T’gellan tipped his head back, pressing his lips together, and Menolly thought he was doing some rapid mental calculations. Alemi had a similar habit when he was charting a course. “Yes. And when did these hatch?”

  “I lost track of my sevendays, but they hatched five Falls ago.”

  “That’s great. She may mate before high summer, if fire lizards follow the same sort of cycle the dragons do during a Pass.” He glanced around him at the bits and pieces with which she had made the cave livable. “D’you want any of these things?”

  “Not many,” Menolly said and dove for her sleeping rug. Her pipes were still there, so he hadn’t seen them in his first visit to the cave. She bundled the rug round the pipes again. “My oil…” she said, grabbing up the pot. “I’ll need that.”

  “Not really,” said T’gellan with a grin, “but bring it along. Manora’s always interested in such things.”

  She took her dried herbs, too, and made a neat package, which she could tie on her back. Ruthlessly then she began to chuck her homemade crockery out of the cave entrance.

  “Oh!” Aghast, she rushed to the mouth, looking about for Monarth.

  “You missed him! He’s got more sense than to stay around when there’s a cleaning.” With that T’gellan launched her boiling pot into the air.

  “That’s everything, I think,” she said.

  “Let’s go!”

  At the entrance, Menolly turned for one last look at the cave and smiled to herself. She'd never thought to leave it, certainly not to step to the shoulders of a dragon. But then, she'd never thought she'd live in a cave like this at all, much less ride a dragon. Nothing now marked that anyone had ever sheltered in this cave. Ev
en the dry sand was falling back into the depressions their feet had made. T'gellan held out his hand to help her to Monarth's back, and then they were away to find the fire lizard's clutch.

  Chapter 11

  The little queen, all golden

  Flew hissing at the sea.

  To keep it back,

  To turn it back

  She flew forth bravely.

  Menolly and Tgellan brought the thirty-one eggs of the clutch safely to Benden Weyr without so much as cracking a shell in the double, furred sack that had been provided for the journey between. Their return caused a flurry of excitement, the weyrfolk crowding around to examine the eggs. Duly informed, Lessa arrived, imperiously ordering a basket of warm sand from the Hatching Ground; directing it to be placed by the small sauce hearth and scrupulously turned at intervals to distribute the heat evenly. She judged that the eggs were a good sevenday from hatching hardness.

  “As well,” she said in her dry fashion. “One hatching at a time is enough. Better still, we can present the worthies with their eggs at the Impression.” She seemed inordinately pleased with that solution and smiled on Menolly. “Manora says that your feet aren’t healed yet, so you’re in charge of the clutch. And, Felena, get this child out of those ridiculous boots and into some decent clothes. Surely we have something in stores that’ll make her look less disreputable.”

  Lessa departed, leaving Menolly the object of intense scrutiny. Felena, a tall, willowy woman with very beautiful, curved black eyebrows and green eyes, gave her a long appraisal, sent one helper off for clothing from a special press, another to get the tanner to take Menolly’s measure for footwear, a child for her shears because Menolly’s hair must be trimmed. Who had hacked it off? They must have used a knife. And such pretty hair, too. Was Menolly hungry? T’gellan had snatched her out of the cavern without a nay—yea or maybe. Bring that chair here and push that small table over! Don’t stand there gawking, get the girl something to eat.

  “How many Turns do you have?” Felena asked on the end of that long series of orders.