Dragon’s Time: Dragonriders of Pern

by Anne; Todd J. Mccaffrey Mccaffrey

  “It’s a Weyrwoman’s job,” Fiona said. She turned to give Terin a sour smile as she added, “You should try it, you might be Weyrwoman yourself one day.”

  “Weyrwoman!” Terin said, startled. “I’ve enough to do just keeping Kurinth fed.” And keeping an eye on you, Fiona heard the unspoken words.

  “You can’t fool me, Terin,” Fiona said, rising and stretching before pointing to the stacks in front of her. “There are numbers there and we know how you are about them.”

  “What are you looking for, anyway?” Terin asked, eyeing the stacks with more interest.

  “Oh, lots of things,” Fiona returned airily, realizing that she wasn’t sure she wanted to discuss her explorations with others, even Terin.

  “Like how to fight Thread when each Weyr has less than a full Flight?”

  “That, too,” Fiona agreed. Her stomach rumbled. “I’m hungry,” Fiona said in surprise, glancing over to Terin. “Were you sent to remind me to eat?”

  “Shaneese suggested you might be here,” Terin said, her eyes dancing in amusement as she made her indirect agreement.

  “Well, then, let’s get out of this dusty place and into the sunlight,” Fiona said, turning toward the exit and frowning at the darkness of the hallway.

  “Hmm,” Terin said, “Shaneese should have sent me sooner.”

  “It’s not lunchtime?”

  “Dinner,” Terin said.

  Fiona groaned.

  “I’m going to speak to Shaneese,” Terin said firmly. “Someone’s got to watch over you and force you to eat.”

  “I guess so,” Fiona agreed in a troubled voice. “I hadn’t realized how much time had passed.”

  “You’re worried,” Terin guessed as they crossed from Fiona’s quarters into Talenth’s weyr.

  “You’re not hungry, are you, Talenth?” Fiona called to her queen, rushing to her and showering her with affection that ended with a good solid scratching of both of Talenth’s eye ridges.

  Not hungry, only sleepy, Talenth replied, not at all disturbed by the attention of her rider.

  “Get some sleep, then, love,” Fiona said, failing to stifle a sympathetic yawn that was immediately picked up and repeated by Terin, who grinned at her with a cross look.

  “Are you muzzy-headed, too?” Fiona asked, eyeing the younger rider carefully. “You are, aren’t you?”

  Terin finished her yawn and shook her head. “I don’t know what you mean, Weyrwoman.”

  “How much klah did you have today?”

  “One pitcher?” Terin thought out loud. “Two?”

  “Is that what’s affecting F’jian, then?”

  “He’s worse,” Terin said, her lips turning down in a frown. Her eyes grew wary as she debated revealing her worries to Fiona.

  Fiona knew Terin too well and gave her an inviting gesture, saying, “Share the burden.”

  Terin’s frown deepened and she hesitated, but Fiona’s expression made it clear that, now that the Weyrwoman had tumbled to Terin’s mood, it would only be a matter of time before Fiona wormed it out of her.

  So, Terin told her about the night before.

  “He’s not seeing anyone else,” Fiona said firmly. “I would have heard if he was.”

  “Then what is he doing?”

  “I hate to say it, but could you be dreaming?”

  “Like you about Lorana?”

  “Perhaps,” Fiona said, waving a hand to ease the tension. “And for the same reasons, it would make sense for both to be dreams.” Terin’s eyebrows went up. “Me, for dreaming what I’d like, you for dreaming what you fear.”

  She gestured for Terin to precede her down the queens’ ledge and they walked in silence until they reached the Weyr Bowl.

  “It could be that he’s training, in secret,” Fiona suggested.

  “He’s so tired now that I don’t see how it could help,” Terin said, frowning once more. They spied a group of weyrlings drilling and another group cleaning outside the barracks. “How many of them are muzzy-headed?”

  “All of them,” Fiona said, her voice full of concern.

  “Well, they can’t go back to Igen,” Terin said.

  “I’d thought the same thing.”

  “Somewhere else?”

  “Where?” Fiona asked. “And when?”

  Terin shrugged. A moment later she said, in a quiet voice, “You’d take me, wouldn’t you?”

  Fiona glanced at her, her brows raised.

  “If you found a way, you’d let me and Kurinth come, wouldn’t you?” Terin said. A half-smile crossed her looks. “If we went, then I’d be old enough …”

  “If it comes to that, I couldn’t imagine leaving you behind,” Fiona agreed. She shrugged. “But I have no idea where we could go.”

  “Southern?”

  Fiona shook her head. “Too dangerous. We might get infected with the dragon sickness or worse.”

  Terin grimaced at the thought.

  They continued in silence into the Kitchen Cavern and made their way to the Weyrleader’s table. T’mar and the other wingleaders were already there, as well as a grizzled old rider wearing the shoulder knots of a Benden wingleader. Kindan was talking animatedly with the Benden rider.

  When they approached, Kindan paused and gestured to the other rider, who spotted Fiona and Terin and rose, giving them a gracious half-bow.

  “L’tor, Nimith’s rider, Weyrwoman,” he said to Fiona, with another bow to Terin, “Weyrwoman.”

  “I’m pleased to meet you,” Fiona said, extending her hand into the grasp of the older man’s rough, dry one. Terin followed her and they took chairs near T’mar and the others.

  “I’ve sent F’jian to bed,” T’mar murmured to Fiona, clearly expecting her to relay the news to Terin. He grinned, looking behind the Weyrwoman to the redhead as he added in a quieter voice, “I don’t know what they’re doing, but she should stop before he fades between.”

  “They’re not doing anything,” Fiona replied, her eyes worried. “Terin says that they just sleep, but she’s been afraid that he gets up in the middle of the night.”

  “Another woman?”

  “Not that we know.”

  T’mar frowned.

  “Terin thinks perhaps he was practicing.”

  T’mar shook his head. “If so, it’s on his own. Not even the reserve riders know of it.”

  Fiona raised a hand to forestall him while she turned to Terin to explain F’jian’s absence.

  Shaneese approached with fresh settings and a look that made it clear to Fiona that her absence at lunch had been noted.

  “I think we need to assign me a guard,” Fiona confessed.

  “Well, it can’t be me. I’m keeping an eye on him, which is taking all my time,” Shaneese said, pointing a finger at T’mar. The two women exchanged conspiratorial grins.

  “And Bekka and Birentir are too busy with the wounded,” Fiona declared.

  Shaneese accepted that with a nod and then her look transformed into a grin as her eyes took in Terin. But it was still to Fiona that she said, “I’ve heard that you’ve a knack for taking ‘difficult’ characters and managing them. If you’re up to handling another, I think I’ve got just the person for you.”

  “Hey, I wasn’t difficult!” Terin said.

  “No, silly, she means you were the source of her information,” Fiona said consolingly, thinking back to a particular time when some of the young riders had fought at Igen Weyr.

  “Remember, please, that I’m pregnant,” Fiona pleaded. She doubted that anyone this headwoman classified as “difficult” would be an easy acquaintance.

  “Well, then you’ll deserve each other,” Shaneese said. She saw Fiona’s alarmed look and waved a hand. “Oh, nothing too drastic, well within your talents, I’m thinking.”

  Fiona gave her an encouraging gesture.

  “And you might like him, he being a reminder as it were of your time in the past,” Shaneese allowed. “It might be fitting; after all, he
was sent here by Mother Karina.”

  “He?” Fiona said.

  “A trader’s son, someone you might recall,” Shaneese said, her eyes clouded.

  Fiona cocked her head challengingly.

  “The lad’s name is Jeriz,” Shaneese said finally. “He’s been here less than a Turn.” She bent down to Fiona’s ear as she added, “I kept him away from the old riders; D’gan would have sent him packing.”

  “Where are his parents?”

  “His mother’s got her hands full with the daughter,” Shaneese said. “The boy’s got a strangeness to him, but not the Sight.”

  “He’s Tenniz’s son?” Fiona guessed, eyes going wide. “Why didn’t you introduce him to me sooner?”

  “I wasn’t sure …” Shaneese’s voice faded out and she shook her head. “I’m still not sure,” she corrected herself. She met Fiona’s eyes firmly. “I’ll need your word.”

  “My word?”

  “If he turns out to be too much, you’ll tell me,” Shaneese declared firmly. “You’ve enough on your plate.”

  “But you want to send him to me anyway?”

  Shaneese snorted. “Let’s just say that you might be what he needs.”

  “My word,” Fiona affirmed.

  “Good,” Shaneese said with a nod. “I’ll have a cot put in your quarters.”

  “A cot?”

  “Unless you want him sharing with Kindan,” Shaneese said blandly. Fiona gave her such a look that Shaneese grinned. “I thought not.”

  “But he won’t be freezing if it gets too cold, either,” Fiona warned, wagging a finger at the headwoman.

  “That’s one of the reasons I thought of you,” Shaneese said. Fiona raised an eyebrow questioningly. “Traders have the same sensibilities with cold.”

  “He must be freezing,” Fiona said.

  “He hasn’t said so.”

  “Stubborn,” Fiona guessed.

  Shaneese, diplomatically, said nothing. After the headwoman left, Terin said to her, “Are you sure this is wise?”

  “Well, it’s certain that you can’t be looking after me all the time,” Fiona assured her.

  “But from what Shaneese said, I’m not sure who will be looking after whom.”

  “Everything all right?” T’mar asked as he saw the two break their head-to-head conversation.

  “Just making some arrangements,” Fiona assured him. She nodded toward L’tor. “And you?”

  “We’ll be drilling tomorrow,” L’tor said, cutting across T’mar’s answer. “I think it’s wise, as we’ve not flown together before.”

  “Eat, Fiona!” Terin spoke harshly before Fiona could respond. To L’tor she said, “She’s pregnant and forgets.”

  “I quite understand,” the bronze rider replied. “I sometimes forget myself with hardly half as decent a reason.”

  Dutifully, Fiona ate.

  After dinner, Shaneese brought over a young lad, who looked to have no more than seven Turns. His expression was grim, just less than a glower, and he kept his eyes downcast.

  “Weyrwoman, this is Jeriz,” Shaneese said, with one hand firmly on the lad’s shoulder.

  “Jeriz,” Fiona said, holding out a hand, “I’m pleased to meet you.”

  The boy continued to glower at the floor. Shaneese shook him. “Answer the Weyrwoman.”

  The boy looked up and Fiona was pierced by his brilliant green eyes, eyes that were set in a swarthy trader face and looked out from under unruly, long black hair. Fiona was shocked at the beauty of the boy just as she caught his hidden fury, anger, rage, and—beneath all them—his great fear and loneliness.

  Fiona rose out of her chair and moved it aside, squatting down to meet the boy’s eyes. He flicked them up to her, surprised. She held out her hand again. After a moment he lowered his eyes again, letting them settle on her hand before glancing once more to the floor.

  “The Weyrwoman hasn’t got time for this, boy,” Shaneese hissed angrily.

  “Your father was a friend of mine,” Fiona said. The boy’s eyes jerked up slightly, then fell. Fiona glanced up to Shaneese, deciding on a different tack. “I’m going to need some oil, Talenth has another spot of patchy skin.”

  “Of course, Weyrwoman.”

  Jeriz’s eyes flickered and lowered again.

  “Have you ever seen a dragon, Jeriz?” Fiona asked the boy.

  His shoulders twitched.

  “Have you ever seen a queen?”

  He nodded.

  “Up close?”

  Jeriz shook his head, but his eyes darted upward once more, his expression changed for just an instant before he schooled it once more into solemn blankness.

  “Have you ever wanted to Impress?”

  “I’m a trader,” Jeriz said proudly.

  “And traders are never Searched?”

  “Sure, loads of them,” Jeriz said, his pride pricked. “Some have Impressed bronzes.”

  “Would you like to Impress a dragon?”

  “I’m too young,” Jeriz said.

  “You’ll get older,” Fiona said. “And, if you know more about dragons, you’re more likely to Impress.” That information was news to Jeriz. “I’m too small,” Jeriz said. “They said I’d get crushed.”

  “Have you seen Jeila?”

  “She’s trader-bred,” Jeriz said again, his voice full of pride.

  “And not all that big,” Fiona agreed. “And yet her queen is the biggest queen on Pern.”

  “She’s trader-bred,” Jeriz said again, as if that explained everything.

  “I need someone trader-bred to help me,” Fiona told him. He glanced up at her, his eyes widening just slightly. She held out her hand again. “Are you willing to make a trade?”

  “What for? I’ve got nothing.”

  Ah! Fiona thought to herself. Another who cannot see their own worth.

  “I could trade you nothing for nothing, but it seems a poor choice,” Fiona said. She frowned for a moment. “How about this: I help you and you help me.”

  “You’re a Weyrwoman, you don’t need my help.”

  “Then you’ll come out best in the bargain, won’t you?”

  Jeriz’s eyes widened, once again surprised.

  “In fact, however, I do need help,” Fiona told him. He gave her a dubious look. “I’m pregnant and I’ve gotten forgetful. I don’t want anything to happen to our baby and I need reminding.”

  “Of what?”

  “I need reminding of the time,” Fiona told him. “Of when to eat.” Jeriz twitched a foot and rubbed it on the ground, clearly impatient to be away.

  “Anyone can do that,” Jeriz decided. A moment later, he added boldly, “And if I do that, what will you do for me?”

  “What’s the most important thing for a trader?”

  “Trade,” Jeriz said simply.

  “Knowledge,” Fiona corrected him. He gave her a thoughtful look. “Trade is easy, knowing when to trade and what to trade, that’s hard.”

  “She’s right,” Shaneese put in, giving Fiona a surprised look.

  “What I offer you is knowledge, Jeriz,” Fiona said. “I’m going to be spending a lot of time with the Records.”

  “The Records?” Jeriz asked with more interest than he’d ever shown before.

  “I’ll let you read what you want and keep that knowledge for yourself,” Fiona said. “You can learn all about the Weyrs, the dragons, and our trade.”

  Jeriz’s breath caught and then he exhaled, his shoulders slumping, his eyes going back to the ground. He seemed to completely fold in on himself even as he shook his head once, silently.

  Suddenly, Fiona had a thought. “I can teach you to read, too.”

  Jeriz’s eyes suddenly locked on hers and he took a step forward so that he could whisper into her ear, “And you won’t tell anyone?”

  “No one,” Fiona swore solemnly, hiding her exaltation at having guessed correctly. She lowered her voice so that only he could hear her, “Not even Shaneese.”

/>   Jeriz stuck his hand into hers and shook it firmly. “Deal.”

  “It’d help if I could tell Kindan,” Fiona said later, as she walked up the queens’ ledge with the boy by her side.

  “I told him I could read,” Jeriz said doubtfully.

  “It means a lot to you, doesn’t it?”

  “A trader who can’t read is worthless,” Jeriz told her, frowning.

  “Then I think you’d want to do everything to fix that,” Fiona said.

  Jeriz fidgeted but said nothing.

  “Are you afraid to tell Kindan that you lied?” Fiona asked.

  “My honor.”

  “A stain on your honor, is it?”

  Jeriz nodded.

  “Which stains more, the lie or not being able to read?”

  “Reading,” Jeriz said as if it were obvious.

  “Not everyone on Pern reads, you know,” Fiona said as they reached Talenth’s weyr.

  “Traders do!” Jeriz stopped, looking at the huge queen who lay in front of him, her head raised, staring at him intently.

  “Here, you’re weyrfolk,” Fiona told him.

  “They said you knew how to trade,” Jeriz said, unable to tear his eyes from Talenth.

  “I’m flattered,” Fiona said. “But I’m a Lord Holder’s daughter, I was taught since I was very young.” She paused. “And I read a lot.”

  Jeriz tore his eyes from Talenth just long enough to give her a questioning look.

  “As I said, reading helps,” Fiona told him. She gestured for him to cross to her quarters.

  Jeriz hesitated. “Shouldn’t I say something to her?”

  “What would you say?”

  “I don’t know,” Jeriz confessed, looking to her for suggestions.

  “She’s as smart as most, so why don’t you just say hello?”

  “Hello?” Jeriz’s brows narrowed. “That doesn’t seem respectful.”

  “What would you say, then?”

  “Talenth, senior queen of Telgar Weyr, I, Jeriz of the traders, give you greetings on bended knee,” Jeriz said, sinking to one knee and bowing his head as he said the words. “I greet you and honor you for all that you and yours do for Pern.”

  “Well said!” Kindan’s voice called out from behind him, causing Jeriz to startle and nearly tumble. “I doubt I’ve heard half as courteous from Lord Holders.”