WeyrWatch Chapter 6 and 7

For the second time Charel was shaken awake, although this time it wasn't her father's voice urging her up.

"Keslo?" She asked, yawning. The drover put a finger to his lips, then motioned for her to follow him. Charel trotted after him, sleeping furs pulled over her shoulders. Keslo led her back to the entrance, where her father and two other drovers stood, staring eastward into the gloomy dawn.

"Pa what..." The words died in her throat as the horizon flickered with bursts of light.

"We thought you might like to see this." Keslo said, picking up a flamethrower. It was only then that Charel noticed that all four men were thusly armed. She swallowed apprehensively, then looked back out at the valiant dragons.

"This isn't a sight many non-riders get to see." Thallon, Old Larst's right hand man added in the otherwise dead silence.

"It's... amazing..." she could now make out the colors. The upper wings comprised mostly of greens, midlevel solidly of blues and browns. The flying significantly lower, sweeping up what little made it through the upper wings, four gold bright specks, their fire flaming down and to the side of the dragons, rather than directly ahead of the dragons.

"I only count four queens," she said suddenly, pulling the furs tighter around her shoulders.

"There are eggs on the sands of Telgar," Reelon reminded her, divining the source of her worry.

"And queens don't leave their eggs until they hatch," Charel supplied in return, falling into the pattern of the learning game her father had devised.

"And if one of the queens can't fly...?" Reelon added his eyes never leaving the sight of the dragons fighting Thread.

"Then there should only be four queens in the sky." Charel grinned, and they watched in awed silence as the Fall advanced onward, until Charel could make out the riders themselves.

"Bar the door, Keslo." Thallon said, breaking the long silence. Regretfully Charel helped Keslo close the heavy door, skybroom wood lined with copper, sealing out the cool air of the morning and the spellbinding sight of the dragons.

"Now, back to bed with you." Thallon added, when Charel cracked a massive yawn. She nodded and followed her father back to the kitchen area, and dreams of flaming dragons.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Wheel and turn or bleed and burn. Fly between, blue and green. Soar, dive down, bronze and brown. Dragonmen must fly when threads are in the sky!" The weyrlings chanted the rhyme as two girls skipped rope. Jurille smiled, hearing the chant, pausing in her set up to watch the children play. Koru had introduced the game, which Jurille heartily approved, as it gave the children something active to keep them both physically and mentally active. Weyrlings weren't immune to the unnerving mood that settled over the Weyr while the fighting wings were out, and physically demanding games provided a much needed channel for the youngsters' energy.

The wings fight well. Graesth informed her, rearranging her eggs in patterns only the queen could divine.

Is B'ton ready for the changeover wings? Jurille asked, glancing up at the four green wings waiting along the rim of the Weyr. Greens lacked the stamina to fly an entire Fall, so the Weyrleader had divided them into two separate flights, only flying slightly longer than half of each Fall.

No, this Fall still light. Graesth replied, then looked up from her eggs at the empty sky. Glorith comes. Jurille smiled at her queen's pleasure as the Fortian brown appeared overhead. Dr'v, the nearly seventy Turn old rider, had been Fort Hold's harper before his surprise Impression, at the age of thirty. He brings the Masterhealer, Graesth warned her as she bugled a greeting to the brown as he landed near the Hatching sands. He is very unhappy. She added, touching noses to the brown.

Anyone else might worry about the senior queen's affection for the brown, but Jurille knew it stemmed from the queen's dragonet days when she napped against the older brown's flank.

"Welcome and welmet!" She called as Dr'v helped Master Cici, a white headed woman in her sixties, off his dragon.

"Jurille, you look lovely as ever." Dr'v said easily, although something in his demeanor suggested a warning.

"May I interest you in a refreshment, Master Cici?" She asked cordially. The shorter woman shook her head.

"Nay, but my thanks all the same, Weyrlady. I know you've wings fighting." She explained with a perfunctory wave. "I've just come from Congress."

Jurille felt her spine stiffen. While the Lord Holders met annually for Conclave, a Congress of the Craftmasters was a much rarer event, and usually predicated by an immense need.

"My apologies, Jurille, but the Crafthalls are in agreement. You are no longer welcome to Search from our ranks." Cici said, her tone final and somewhat saddened.

Jurille blinked, and only the strong surge of love from Graesth sent her kept her from rocking back on her heels.

"M-may I ask why?" She finally managed in the awkward silence that followed.

"You know why." Cici replied bluntly, then her expression softened. "It's not personal, Jurille, I promise you that. But you are not the only Weyr with eggs on the sands." The Masterhealer looked back at Dr'v.

"It's time I return my Hall, Brownrider."

Dr'v nodded, shooting Jurille a quick glance before he helped the Healer up on Glorith.

"One moment please," he said to her, then turned back to Jurille. "Don't look so devastated, Juri," he murmured, calling her by her fosterling name, "the Halls have pulled all their people from Benden."

"But, the candidates!" Jurille all but despaired, wringing her hands.

"You were always a clever one, Juri. Find a way." He winked at her and ran up Glorith's leg.

Graesth, please bespeak Courath for me. Jurille asked her queen as the brown leapt skyward and vanished.

Yes, I-oh! Jurille's gasp matched Graesth's mental one as the sky above the Bowl filled with golden bodies. Nor was she alone, as the entire Weyr stopped what they were doing as first eleven, then nineteen, then twenty-three queens appear above the Bowl.

Everyone is here! Graesth stood at the edge of the Hatching Ground and touched muzzles with Courath, her mother. Everyone is here to see you. She added, her eyes whirling faster.

Brinda, Courath's rider and senior most queenrider in all of Pern, strode up to Jurille, pulling off her gloves.

"I suppose you just heard the news?"

"Just! How did you all get here so fast?" Jurille motioned to all the other queens. Brinda glanced over her shoulder with a satisfied look, as the other queenriders hurried to join them.

"I told them to time it," she said with a grim smile. "They need to hear this from the source, particularly since you and Benden are the only two with eggs at the moment."

"I know you have Fall, so I'll be quick. Ista stands ready to fly at your command." She added, modulating her voice so all the queenriders could hear.

"And High Reaches!" Called that Weyr's senior queenrider.

"And Fort!"

"And Igen!" Came the additional shouts.

"Thank you, but, we're not going to fly en mass and demand C'seld's resignation!" As repulsive as the Weyrleader's actions were to Jurille, she baulked at the idea of forcing a conflict between dragons.

"No one said you had to," Meredad, the Igen Weyrwoman said, having moved to the center of the crowd. "But we must do something."

Jurille took a deep breath, before plunging ahead.

"We must meet the father's obligation. I have the list, you'll receive a copy of it by tonight-"

"Both lists?" Gakate, Weyrwoman of Fort asked. Jurille grimaced internally.

"Both of them, even if I have to dangle Degal from the drumtower myself to get it." She vowed, causing a ripple of laughter through the crowd. The dangerous air eased a little as Jurille took another, looser breath.

"Sisters, this won't change overnight simply because we're meeting a need ten Turns in the making. May I beg the pleasure of your company at a Turn's End meeting?" Twenty-three heads nodded in accord. "Good, we can reconvene then."

Impulse and inspiration seized her at the same moment and she added, "Can I ask that you offer conveyance to the Hall lads we've already promised a candidacy to?"

"Are we going to have to smuggle them out?" A younger queenrider asked with a broad grin.

"Quite possibly. I'll get that list to you as well." Jurille fleetingly wondered if Degal's mania for lists was infectious.

"Any chance Jentlth will rise before then?" Another junior queenrider from Ista asked.

"Plenty of chances, but Kimi is utterly devoted to C'seld." Brinda replied, making all the queenriders grimace. Rider preference did affect mating flights regardless of what bronzeriders might tell themselves.

"I know a couple of bronzeriders that might change her mind." Someone called from the back.

"That I don't doubt." Brinda sniffed causing another ripple of laughter.

"I'd be rather surprised if we all didn't" Jurille interjected. "Hold onto those names, for if by Turn's End things haven't improved we may need to utilize that list."

Wubath says to send the second wave. Graesth announced. The four green wings looked up from the congregation of queens to their Wingleaders. With a precision usually reserved for the All Weyrs Games each Wing went aloft and vanished exactly three wing beats after leaping.

"Your Flight's looking good." Gakate remarked with a smile.

"They had an audience," Jurille retorted with a smile to her longtime friend.

"We'd better be going." Brinda announced with a sigh. "Come youngsters, before all of Pern learns of our Conclave." The queenriders dispersed in smaller groups returning to their dragons.

"Brinda, thank you." Jurille said sincerely, walking with the ninety-two turn old queenrider to her dragon.

"Nonesense. Thank you for agreeing to host the Queen's Meet." Brinda looked away listening to something beyond normal hearing. "You may not have to hang Degal from that drumtower, either. Dr'v's bringing Harper Algyr," she smiled impishly at Jurille as Courath kneeled down.

"Still keeping tabs on us?" Jurille asked, returning the smile.

"Always, lass." Brinda pat her shoulder before climbing up onto Courath. "Someone must keep a weather eye on the horizon when you choose to fight Thread in a windstorm."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The weyrlings' jumprope chant is copyright of Anne McCaffery, 1967.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Charel yawned and stretched, bored. The drovers had been dithering with the Holder of Southbank for over an hour. If they didn't settle the conditions of the trade soon, the tithe herd would be traveling well past the twilight hour. Idly Charel wondered if the dragonriders would come looking for them if the tithe herd was overly late. She giggled to herself at the thought of a hungry dragon sneaking a peek at his lunch while his rider inquired of the drovers' schedule.

Something green streaked by her head and she ducked, then looked up in wonder as a miniature dragon landed on the fence post she had been leaning on. The little green peered down at her curiously.

"Sorry, is Flit bothering you?" Charel turned as a lanky man with a harper's knot joined her.

"She just surprised me- isshereallyafirelizard?" She asked in a rush as the little green preened.

"Yep," grinning, the harper handed her a bit of a meatroll. "Go on, give it to her."

The little fire lizard hopped from her fence post to Charel's shoulder eager for her treat. Charel laughed delightedly, feeding the little green the morsel.

"She's so soft and warm," Charel noted, "do dragons feel the same?"

"Yep," the harper replied, "I rode a blue once, to my first posting, his rider and I compared notes." He explained as Charel pet the green, who crooned with delight.

"Are they very similar? What about watchwhers? Does she flame like fighting dragons? What does she like to eat? What does-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" The harper laughed as she peppered him with questions. "I'll answer all your questions, just- one at a time."

Charel paused, prioritizing her questions.

"How much are they alike? Physiologically, I mean." She asked as Flit head butted her hand impatiently.

"Physiologically?" A smile tugged at the harper's lips.

"Well, the Teaching Ballads say that the dragons speak to their riders, but I've never heard about fire lizards talking the same way," Charel explained patiently, "so there must be some mental differences, maybe due to size, but physical difference? Is there any difference to their wings, or legs, or how their lungs work?"

"SHELT!" Reelon's bellow startled both of them and set the little green to flight. The harper turned and broke into a massive grin as Reelon strode towards them. The two men clasps hands, then pulled each other into a hug pounding each other on the back.

"How are you?" Reelon asked, pulling away to grasp the harper by the elbows as Flit lazily circled them. "Keeping out of trouble?"

"Never." Shelt disavowed, causing Reelon to laugh heartily. Reelon turned to his daughter.

"Charrie, this is Harper Shelt, we used to study together at Healer Hall."

"This is your daughter? Heh, I should have known." Shelt said with a shake of his head. "Charrie was it? Well, your father is being too kind. He's the only reason I passed our emergency aid course." He explained, grinning, then looked back at Reelon. "How is Gwedli?"

"Quite well, and quite the happy cotmistress." Reelon said, and rubbed Flit behind the eyeridge when the little green landed on his shoulder, her eyes whirling brilliant blue.

"You know my Ma?" Charel asked, mildly bemused by the green's capriciousness.

"Oh yes, I introduced you father to her." Shelt ribbed Reelon. "Biggest mistake in my life. She took one look at his brawny arms and fell head over heels in love with him. How's a poor harper supposed to compete with that?" He asked wistfully.

"It didn't hurt any that I was good looking to boot." Reelon ribbed the harper right back, causing him to laugh.

"There was that," he conceded. "Any chance you're staying for the night?" He added hopefully.

"Yes, actually I was coming to get Charrie here. The Hold's letting us use their washroom before we push on to Telgar." Charel looked up hopefully herself. While she didn't much mind the conditions on the road, the prospect of a bath was too enticing to pass up.

"Now?" She asked tentatively.

"Yes, now. So go get your kit and we'll wash out all your clothes while we're at it." Delighted, Charel dashed off to collect her things.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Brinda's windstorm analogy was eerily accurate, Jurille decided, suppressing a sigh. The Council Room was crowded, standing room only as the last few Wingleaders straggled in. The queenriders all arrived early enough to find seats, as did the Weyrhealer and Master Valtree, although the harper's two assistants had offered up their seats to Reema and Koru. Niko, the herdsman for the Weyr had been invited, but demurred, as his mate had gone into labor shortly after the Wings returned from Fall. If the faint humming of the dragons outside was any indication, labor was well advanced. Word of the other queens' visit had gotten around, but judging from the faces of the others, the whole story was rather confused.

"Everyone here?" B'ton asked, closing the door behind him. "Speak now or forever hold your tongue." He added lightly, and a nervous laugh went through the room, easing some of the tension.

"I believe our Weyrwoman has something to say to us." He turned his attention to Jurille, who stood.

"We received several... unexpected visitors today." Someone in the back of the room let out a derisive snort. Jurille chose to ignore it, as Tress distributed mugs of klah and sweet loaves. "First, Master Cici came by to inform us of the Halls decision to refuse Search."

"What?!" Reema gasped in startled silence. "What about the lads already promised a spot on the sands?" She demanded as an angry murmur broke out.

"Easy, sister, I'm getting to that." Jurille said cutting off further protestation. "After the Masterhealer left, the queens arrived."

"Which queens?" Asked one of the Wingleaders in the back. Jurille identified L'stur, the previous Weyrleader, and realized his Wing would have still been fighting during the queens' visit.

"All of them," some wit said, causing a new stir.

"Yes, as Z'dis has very concisely put it, the queens of Fort High Reaches, Ista, and Igen all came to offer their support," she looked back at Reema. "I rather imagine that all of our candidates, and perhaps even a few extras, will show up for the Hatching. But that's not why you have been called here." As succinctly as she could Jurille explained Benden's refusal to meet the father's obligation. Valtree, who had assisted Algyr and her apprentices copy out both lists nodded as Jurille spoke. When she finally finished and reached for her klah, the bronzeriders looked ready to do murder. This is not good. She sighed mentally to Graesth. Would you gently remind the bronzes that they are not to fly off in a righteous rage? Jurille added as several Wingleaders demanded action, only to fall into sudden silence as their dragons talked to them. I didn't need to. Saegth beat me to it. There was something of maternal pride in that comment. Jurille covered her smile with another sip of her drink.

"Our queens are already dealing with that." B'ton interjected, offering Jurille a moment's respite.

"You knew about this?" D'ael, one of the younger bronzeriders demanded. He had not, Jurille remembered, taken the surprised change in Weyrleadership with good grace.

"As of yesterday, yes. And even then our Weyrwomen were quick to point me in the right direction." B'ton replied evenly.

Graesth, who is coaching B'ton? Jurille asked, surprised by the unusually politic answer. There was a long pause then, Urlyra.

Jurille glanced over at the junior queenrider and flashed her a quick smile. Urlyra acknowledged with the shallowest dips of her head.

"Friends." Jurille interrupted the staring match between the two bronzeriders. "We are dealing with this, but this is a problem ten Turns in the making. It will take time. Telgar will meet the obligation of all the children under our protectorate, and a fifth of those in Benden's lands. What I'd like is for you to choose two or three riders from your Wings, preferably blues and greens, to act as liaisons for the Weyr."

"Why not browns or bronzes?" D'ael demanded.

"Because right now there are a number of heartbroken women with grudges against bronzeriders." Pilana retorted waspishly, glaring at D'ael hard enough that he physically recoiled.

"Also, greens and blues can better tell if any of the youngsters will make good candidates." Koru added in barely above a whisper. All four queenriders asked their dragon to forward their gratitude to the youngest Weyrwoman, who turned even redder as the dragons did just that.

"Lastly, the Crafthalls have pulled their people from Benden." Jurille said setting her mug down. "Master Valtree has reassured me that we are in no danger of losing her services, nor those of Healer Zandur." The healer nodded.

"And Herdsman Niko?" L'stur asked, expression taut. Jurille cocked her head to one side, listening.

"I think... he is busy welcoming his firstborn into the world." All of the riders could hear the faint humming had stopped. "But he too plans on staying."

L'stur asked after a few more Hall-affiliated individual, questions B'ton took keen note of, least he miss some important information L'stur's long experience would have him privy to.

"So far as I know, we are not losing anyone. If anything, we can expect an influx of fosterlings." Jurille did not mention the four women from Benden's Lower Caverns that arrived courtesy of their weyrmates, requesting a place to stay for an indefinite period of time. Graesth had reported that other Weyrs had similar visits and that Benden was bereft of a full third of its non-riding population.

"Are there any other questions?" She asked, pushing that unpleasant thought aside.

"What are you going to do about C'seld?" D'ael asked belligerently, and from the expressions on many of the bronzerider's faces, he wasn't alone.

"Currently, we've our hands full with damage control. But make no mistake, we, as in all the queenriders, are working on this. We will do something, and we will do something soon. In the meantime you are to fly clear of Benden's leadership." Jurille asked Graesth to reinforce that order among the dragons. "And see to it that your liaisons get whatever they need to meet the obligation." There was no room for argument in her tone.

"Yes, Jurille." D'ael dropped his eyes.

"Are there any other questions?" Jurille asked again and this time was met with silence. There would be more questions, she knew, in the days to follow, but for now it looked like the meeting was at an end.

"Very well then. Please have those names to me by the end of breakfast tomorrow." There was a murmur of accord, then the Wingleaders filed out of the room.

"They are going to have questions that they wouldn't ask me, B'ton. " Jurille said softly, and the Weyrleader nodded, dipping his head to the other queenriders, and following them out.

Valtree glanced at the queenriders on either side of her.

"Do you want to tell them or should I?" She asked Jurille.

"Benden's hemorrhaging people." Zandur said flatly, causing both women to look at him, surprised. He smiled mirthlessly. "You asked me to check over our new arrivals, a wise precaution. I may have done a little judicious questioning in the process."

Zandur was not a likeable person. He had the bedside manner of an uncooked tuber and his rough voice reminded patients of someone perpetually on the edge of losing their voice. But the dragons sensed intent over outward demeanor and the riders needed a no-nonsense healer to cut through the negative reinforcement the bond with their dragons created. That the dragons adored the curmudgeonly healer where the riders only marginally tolerated his presence was largely why he still remained at the Weyr, practicing his Craft.

"Graesth tells me that Benden has lost a full third of its non-riding population since the start of the Turn." Jurille explained, causing the other queenriders and Tress to wince.

"And we can expect more?" Pilana asked.

"Probably." Reema said dejectedly. "If too many more leave, C'seld's going to notice that meals aren't being cooked in time."

"What are the other colors doing?" Urlyra asked.

"Those in committed relationships have mostly gotten their weyrmates out, on the pretense of visiting extended family," Jurille grimaced. "Of those left, they stay out of loyalty to the dragons. After all, Thread continues to fall."

"We need to get another bronze to fly Jentlth." Koru said with a sad sort of finality.

"We do." Jurille agreed. "The Halls know that Telgar is spearheading the movement to meet the father's obligation, Harper Algyr was kind enough to reassure me, but Koru's right, a change of leadership is badly needed."

"Kimi's not a bad Weyrwoman" Reema said with a frustrated sigh. "She just can't see past C'seld's pretty brown eyes."

"Would any Benden rider be willing to inform us of the next time Jentlth rises?" Pilana asked. "Not as they love their dragons," Reema said, shaking her head. "And realistically, it's not fair for us to ask one of them. No, I have an inside source C'seld will never think of." She grinned predatorily. "Wilth is listening for Reelu's 'shout'. In fact, she's how I came across this." Reaching under the table Reema pulled out a rolled up hide. Unrolling it the riders and Hall folk leaned forward and recognized the outline of Pern.

"That's Pern, but these aren't the names of the Holds." Pilana said, studying the map.

"Noooo," Reema drawled out the word. "Those are the names of all the conquests of one rider." She glanced at Jurille, who arched her eyebrows, "I already checked, they are all on the list."

"How did you get this?" Jurille asked.

"Part of her job as Archivist is to help clean out the weyrs of those who've died. This was found in D'kan's weyr.

Jurille looked down at her hands and suffered a moment of real regret. D'kan- Durkan, as she had met him when he had been searched by Telgar, had been an affable young man who exhibited excellent leadership qualities. She had rather hoped he would impress a bronze, and when he failed at Telgar, she had recommended him to Benden.

"Reelu says most bronzeriders have one of these somewhere in their weyrs." Reema continued.

"That's disturbing," Zandur said dryly.

"Worst, C'seld is the one that commissioned these maps." Reema made a face. "He knows what's going on, he's encouraging it."

"I've changed my mind." Valtree announced, standing. "I'm in favor of letting your bronzes challenge C'seld at the first opportunity."

"I'd agree with you, if we were in an Interval." Jurille muttered over the rim of her mug. "But that is an encounter no Weyr can afford during a Pass. No, harper, while I sympathize, I cannot condone a duel."

Valtree huffed slightly, then grudgingly agreed. "I defer to you in this Jurille, now, if you'll excuse us, my apprentices and I have some new students to meet."

"I think if I was C'seld," Zandur noted dourly as the harpers left. "I would be very nervous about any to come from her quill any time soon."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
tuber - potato