Sky Dragons: Dragonriders of Pern

by Anne McCaffrey

  Tell Bekka, Xhinna said to Tazith.

  She knows, the blue replied a moment later. She’s ready. The blue had a fierce tone in his thoughts. Xhinna could feel a matching rage for revenge rising within her, but she fought it back down, sending him a calming thought.

  We should kill them all, Tazith thought, rumbling low in his chest. Around him, the other dragons rumbled their agreement.

  But not that one, Xhinna thought, referring to the one that lay wriggling in the net below brown Jorth. Have W’vin bring it to the cage. And have X’lerin get the cover.

  The cover was constructed just like the walls of the cage: tree-trunks spaced closely together. It was large and heavy enough that it took all of Kivith’s strength to lift it. As Xhinna watched, W’vin released the catch on the net just above the cage and the Mrreow slipped out of it onto the ground below. Xhinna was amazed at the big creature’s speed and agility; it had scarcely landed before it was back on its feet and leaping toward the top of the cage. X’lerin and Kivith were quick with the cover and had it down before the Mrreow could escape, but the creature had come much closer to freedom than Xhinna had expected.

  Take us in, Xhinna said to Tazith. They landed close by the cage and the Mrreow leapt toward them, growling angrily in its raspy voice. Tazith bellowed to quiet it, but instead, the Mrreow batted a claw through the gap in the cage and roared back.

  “Careful!” Taria cried, yanking Xhinna back. Xhinna had been so engrossed in watching the Mrreow that she hadn’t even noticed Coranth land.

  The Mrreow gave another low growl and turned away from them, pacing around the perimeter of the cage, looking for a way out.

  “She seems smart,” Taria noted, easing up on Xhinna’s arm and taking a step closer to the cage. She stepped back immediately as the Mrreow turned her tawny eyes in their direction.

  “Very smart,” Xhinna agreed. She turned as she felt the wind from dragon wings landing behind them. It was X’lerin’s Kivith, and behind him was W’vin on Jorth.

  “Keep back,” Xhinna warned them, as the Mrreow turned toward the new arrivals and leapt, growling.

  “What’s wrong with her belly?” W’vin asked, pointing.

  “She’s pregnant!” Taria exclaimed. To Xhinna she muttered, “Boys!”

  “She doesn’t look well,” X’lerin said thoughtfully as he studied her.

  Xhinna squinted for a better look. Yes, the Mrreow didn’t look well at all. There was blood dripping from her mouth.

  “The fall hurt her,” Taria said. She sounded sad. “Do you think she’ll die before she delivers?”

  “The other one was a male,” X’lerin said, gesturing behind them toward a tawny carcass that lay tangled in a net, an arrow protruding from its skull. “Perhaps they were a pair.”

  “Looking for a safe place for their den,” Taria said with a sympathetic catch in her voice. Xhinna understood: Coranth was due to clutch any day now, and they were no closer to finding a safe place for the eggs.

  “We should kill it,” X’lerin said, glancing toward the Mrreow as it made a pained sound—a high-pitched whine. “Shall I have P’nallo land?” he asked, referring to their best bowman.

  “Look, she’s birthing!” Taria said urgently, pointing. The Mrreow had flopped over onto the ground, sides heaving even as more blood spilled from her snout. “We can’t kill her.”

  “And what will we do with her get?” Xhinna asked. “They won’t survive without her.”

  Taria grimaced, torn between her wish to let them be born and the prospect of their early death. “We could feed them scraps,” she said.

  “They drink milk,” Xhinna said, pointing to one of the teats poking out of the Mrreow’s flank. “They won’t be able to eat.”

  “Well, we’ve got milchbeasts in our herd, maybe they’d drink that,” W’vin suggested. “Babies do, and like it.”

  He ignored Xhinna’s look of surprise. “If we raised them, maybe we could tame them. If we could train them, maybe we could use them to keep other Mrreows from attacking us.”

  “These are nothing like dogs,” Xhinna said distractedly. Already, the first baby Mrreow was emerging from its mother. Xhinna stood, transfixed, as the dying Mrreow, with a faint growl of pain, turned to lick the sack from the baby, cleaning it. The baby made a soft sound, nuzzled toward its mother’s belly, found a teat, and started suckling. A moment later, X’lerin asked, “What’s that noise?”

  The baby Mrreow was making a buzzing, rumbling sort of noise, but it didn’t sound like distress.

  “It’s happy,” Taria said, smiling. “It’s with its mother and it’s drinking.”

  “Just like the herdbeasts—they don’t make that sound but you can see how happy their calves are when nursing on their mothers,” W’vin agreed. He moved a step closer toward the cage. The Mrreow raised her head and gave a low growl. Then her flank rippled and she gave a piteous cry as her muscles pushed out another baby. Blood flowed freely from her nose and she laid her head back on the ground, making a smaller noise, like a dog’s whimper.

  Taria started forward, pulling her dirk.

  “What are you doing?” Xhinna asked, grabbing her free arm and tugging her back.

  “She can’t lick the sack—the baby will suffocate,” Taria declared. “I’ve got to help.”

  “She’ll kill you!” Xhinna cried.

  Taria turned back to her, her eyes spangled with tears. “We can’t just let it die like that!”

  The Mrreow gave another whimper of pain as her flanks heaved again and she pushed out a third baby.

  Tazith, Xhinna called, picturing what she wanted even as she told the others, “Get back!”

  She pushed Taria behind her and pulled her own knife even as Tazith leapt into the air and spun quickly, slamming his tail smack into the middle of one of the trunks that formed the cage. Then she forced her way through the gap and crouched, knife poised in front of her.

  The Mrreow lifted its head and growled low, but it couldn’t move to defend itself as yet another contraction started the delivery of a fourth baby. The contractions pushed the baby Mrreow halfway out before the mother gave one last moan, her eyes closed.

  “I think she’s dead,” W’vin said, coming through the gap just behind Xhinna. “Look, she’s not breathing.”

  “Cut the babies out of their sacks,” Taria pleaded. W’vin glanced at Xhinna. With a sigh, she moved forward and knelt by the nearest Mrreow, knife still at the ready. She cut its sack and then turned to the next even as the first started a gentle mewing sound.

  “I’ll get the last,” W’vin said, kneeling and gently pulling the last baby from its mother. Deftly, he split the sack and freed the baby within. It, too, made a small whimpering mew and began thrusting its head fitfully against the brown rider’s hands, as though searching for a teat.

  “We’ve put a double door on the cage, kept the lid off, and someone’s with them most every day,” Xhinna told K’dan and X’lerin at the end of a sevenday. She frowned as she added, “Taria’s named hers Razz.”

  “And what do you think?”

  Xhinna shrugged, looking off into the distance to gather her thoughts. “I think that it’s too early to tell,” she admitted. Her voice hardened as she added, “Part of me just wants to kill them now or, maybe, let them go back into the wild but—if they attack the hatchlings!”

  “The hatchlings are safe up here, aren’t they?”

  “They are,” Xhinna agreed reluctantly. “And Taria is convinced that the scent of our Mrreows might keep other Mrreows away from us.”

  “I suppose that’s possible,” X’lerin said. K’dan nodded in agreement.

  “Looking after them is going to take away from other work,” Xhinna said.

  “As long as no one shirks their duties, I won’t complain,” X’lerin said.

  “J’keran hates them,” Xhinna said.

  “That’s almost reason enough alone to keep them,” K’dan said sardonically. X’lerin gave the harper a
surprised look and K’dan added, “Your brown rider has been making noises about how poorly the weyrlings are being trained.”

  “I assume you put him in his place,” X’lerin replied crisply.

  “Actually, I couldn’t think of a single word to say.”

  “A speechless harper!”

  K’dan leaned closer to the bronze rider. “I’m starting to get worried about how the younger riders are reacting to him.”

  “And you?” X’lerin said, glancing at Xhinna.

  “I’m just a blue rider,” Xhinna protested.

  “Oh, stop that!” K’dan snapped at her. “There’s no rider on Pern who is ‘just’ anything, least of all you.”

  Xhinna’s eyes widened.

  “Do you think Fiona chooses her friends lightly?” K’dan continued. “Or that she’d leave her children—our children—with just anyone?”

  “No,” Xhinna said in a small voice.

  “K’dan, please don’t break her,” X’lerin spoke up.

  K’dan’s fierce expression crumpled and he reached a hand toward the blue rider. “Sorry,” he said. “It’s just that I will not have you tearing yourself down.”

  “He’s right,” X’lerin said, looking at her. “There will be plenty who look at your Impression as a mistake and will question your right to ride a blue. So it’s up to you, blue rider, to show them how wrong they are. This”—he spread his hands out to encompass all the Weyr—“is a great start.”

  “But if I hadn’t come here—”

  “If you hadn’t come here, back in time, where would you have gone?” X’lerin interjected. “You knew you couldn’t jump back to Telgar or our time, and you saw Thread falling. Where would you go?”

  Xhinna shrugged, but said nothing.

  “Xhinna, you will be wrong many times in your life,” K’dan told her patiently. “But when you make a decision, stick to it. So far all your decisions have been good ones.”

  “And understand this, Xhinna,” X’lerin added, “it’s a foolish wingleader who doesn’t listen to all his—” He winked at her. “—or her riders.”

  “A blue could never lead a wing!” Xhinna exclaimed.

  “Why?” K’dan glanced at X’lerin. “Just because it’s never been done, blue rider, doesn’t mean that it can’t be done.” He shook his head ruefully. “After all our Turns with Fiona, we should both know that by now!”

  Despite all their efforts, one of the Meeyus—as Jirana had insisted upon calling the baby Mrreows—sickened over the next sevenday. It died in the young girl’s arms and she was beside herself with grief. She had become something of a prime advocate for the baby Mrreows and somehow had homed in on Xhinna’s antipathy; the blue rider often found herself at loggerheads with the younger girl, who had only ten Turns but seemed to treat Xhinna more like an uppity older sister than the person in charge of their safety.

  And then there was Taria. Not only did she seem more intent on the Meeyus and their survival than on finding a suitable place for Coranth’s imminent clutch, but it also seemed that watching the baby Mrreows as they grew and made their—admittedly, cute—baby noises was arousing a desire for something else in the green rider. Something that Xhinna could never give her: children.

  That Taria was passionate for and delighted by children was something that Xhinna had known and acknowledged since they’d first met. Indeed, Xhinna shared that love—she enjoyed snuggling with the small twins, cheering on the efforts of toddlers, the looks of awe she’d get from the older children. She wanted a child of her own someday—maybe more than one—and when the time was right, she’d have one.

  But the time wasn’t right. No more than the time was right for Taria.

  And yet—

  Xhinna frowned as she recalled the number of times she’d heard Taria’s delightful laugh punctuating the speech of some deep-voiced male. Sometimes it was R’ney, other times W’vin, and even J’keran.

  Well, she thought, mentally rubbing her hands to shake off her line of thinking, this isn’t getting anything done.

  Tazith veered eastward, leaving the burnt plateau and the Meeyus’ cage behind as they continued their search for a safe Hatching Ground for Coranth. They reached the coastline and she waved as she passed over Colfet’s ship. It was nothing more than a wide dugout with a small sail, but the seaman had a crew in training and was working with a small group to build another hull. They’d gotten much better at fishing and had been returning decent catches of brightfish and the prized redfish.

  Xhinna considered for a moment whether it would make sense to establish trade once more with the Northern Continent, but shelved the idea for later as she had Tazith turn due south to follow the shoreline.

  Here and there were sandy patches, but none that looked large enough to accommodate Coranth and an entire clutch of eggs—or defensible.

  Perhaps a small island? Something not too far away but nice and sandy, lying in the warm sun? She decided to try that later, if nothing turned up in her current search.

  They flew on for several hours, until Tazith grew tired and Xhinna’s eyes were dry and irritated from squinting too long. With a headache pounding behind her eyes, she had Tazith take them back to the Weyr.

  “What have you got for a headache?” she asked Bekka, whom she’d found, as usual, with J’riz and Qinth.

  “Him,” Bekka said, nodding toward J’riz.

  “What?”

  “Kneel down,” Bekka ordered her. Then she said to J’riz, “Can you reach?”

  “I can reach,” the boy said, moving up behind Xhinna. As the blue rider started to turn her head to see what he was up to, Bekka snapped, “Stay still!” Adding, “Unless you want to keep that headache.”

  Xhinna felt J’riz’s fingers on her head, moving gently, probing, moving and then—“Aaah!”

  “Don’t stop,” Bekka urged J’riz, saying the words that Xhinna couldn’t because suddenly she was sighing in relief from the easing of the pain behind her eyes.

  J’riz’s small hands, with their thin fingers, found knots in her neck and eased them, found tension behind her ears and eased that, rubbed her temples gloriously, and Xhinna found herself sighing once more, eyes closed in bliss.

  “She’s really tight,” J’riz said to Bekka. To Xhinna he added, “You’re like one giant knot.”

  “Sorry,” Xhinna apologized.

  Bekka snorted. “Lie down,” she ordered. “J’riz, do that thing with your feet.”

  “She’s pretty big,” J’riz said consideringly. He moved around in front of Xhinna. “If you’d lie over there,” he said, pointing, “I think it’ll work.” A moment later he added, “Otherwise, we’ll have to go to solid ground before it’d be safe to walk on her back.”

  “Walk on my back?” Xhinna asked Bekka.

  “Just be quiet and do what I say for once,” Bekka told her with the same tone of exasperation that Xhinna herself often used when her orders were questioned by the younger riders.

  “Okay,” she said, throwing her hands up in surrender and moving to the indicated location. She lay down, aware of but barely feeling the broom tree leaves underneath the thick canvas they’d spread over them.

  A moment later, she felt J’riz sit on her butt. The boy was light. He started running his hands down her back, on either side of her spine, and then under the shoulder blades, finding knots and easing them, soothing bunched muscles. A while later, she felt him rise and suppressed a sigh of disappointment.

  “Don’t move,” Bekka growled. This time her tone held a clear reminder that this girl was not just a healer but a queen rider—and Xhinna obeyed.

  Lying as still as she could, she felt J’riz stand carefully on her back, one foot on either side of the base of her spine. Gently he walked up, careful to keep his feet close to her spine. She heard a crack! and then felt an odd sensation, as though someone had suddenly stopped making an irritating noise or the world was suddenly clearer, cleaner—less painful.

  “Oh,” Xh
inna breathed in contentment.

  “Shh,” Bekka said. “Breathe normally.”

  As J’riz continued his work, Xhinna found it easier to relax, slipping almost into sleep. Bekka spoke.

  “I’ve been looking for someone like him for ages now,” she said. “He’s small enough that he can massage babies without us having to worry, but compact enough that he can move your spine when needs be.”

  “Move my spine?”

  “A body gets out of kilter, some muscles work harder than others, and soon enough, your spine’s out of whack,” Bekka said. “I didn’t know all about this until I was at the Healer Hall.” She paused. “But my mother knew enough about massage to help the babies get to sleep—you know they’re all out of sorts when they’re born, squished as they are—so the massage helps them relax enough to get their spines, and their skulls, back in alignment.”

  “Skulls?”

  “Only in babies,” Bekka said. Xhinna could hear her shrug echoed in the tone of her voice.

  J’riz got another crack out of her and then Xhinna realized what Bekka had been saying. “You’re training him to be a healer?”

  “Can never have too many,” Bekka said, agreeing. “And a journeyman’s allowed an apprentice.”

  “A helper,” J’riz corrected, stepping off Xhinna’s back. “A master’s allowed an apprentice.”

  “Means nothing to a midwife,” Bekka said dismissively. To Xhinna she said, “You can get up now.”

  “That was wonderful, green rider,” Xhinna said, glancing down at the boy’s brilliant green eyes. He truly was beautiful, and he was growing quickly into an incredibly handsome young man.

  In many respects, he reminded her of Fiona: They both thrived on attention. That was probably just as well, Xhinna thought, for a boy—nearly man—as pretty as he was would garner lots of attention whether he wanted it or not.

  And, Xhinna realized, with Bekka to watch out for him, he’d be safe. She realized that he needed to be safe, that he needed someone who was like Bekka: not just big sister, but something more.