Chap. 322 Courier Duty

Chap. 322 Courier duty

His first ‘tasking’ was a return to Kahrain Weyr. He was carrying a load of books, a datalink, medical supplies, and a pouch of ‘some importance’ to give to the Weyrleader. He’d been told to wait for a response, which could take anywhere from fifteen minutes to several hours.

In the past, he’d done such things and didn’t give it a second thought. It didn’t concern him, he was merely the courier. But this time, the recipient was F’mart.

Younger than me! Why does it suddenly bother me? This is silly, he thought. But when he’d heard F’mart skillfully deflect a very dangerous Vika’s attack with a scoffing “do I look old enough to be a weyrleader?” it had struck a chord in his mind, because yes, he did look too young to be weyrleader.

Only by name. It is Mirth’s rider, it is Siena who leads the weyr. Even Kenth will say it Raventh said.

Yes. I am being silly. I would never want to be weyrleader. It is impossible.

Why?

Because you’re a brown dragon. Only bronzes mate the golds.

It has happened in the past that a brown has flown a gold.

How do you know that?

I just know. But I don’t want to take Kenth’s place. I am happy being who I am.

And I, too.

They came out of between a kilometer or so from the edge of the Weyr’s ridge line. It took him a moment to get his bearings, having expected to come out just above the Weyr’s dragonstones. Below him, the dragon lake was empty of dragons but covered with wherrys and birds. On the shore, horses and cattle rested or drank.

Why did you come out here?

I wanted to see the lake, I am deciding whether to swim or fish. Now the watch dragon touches me.

Raventh caught an uprising thermal that carried him high into the azure sky. Ahead of them, the sea sparkled in the sun. Far, far out on the horizon, he could see the masts of a ship, every sail billowing as it headed east.

I will never not be thrilled by this, K’ndar thought. It as close to being a bird as I will ever get.

After several uncharacteristically silent moments, Raventh pivoted on one wingtip to let the west wind carry him to the Weyr’s dragonbowl.

They soared over the drum heights. The blue watch dragonet roared out a welcome. His well fed weyrling jumped to his feet, frantically rubbing his eyes and looking everywhere but up. Only when Raventh began his descent and passed in front of the boy did K’ndar hear him shout “incoming!”

The dragon bowl was empty. Raventh backwinged and landed with his typical grace. Siskin chittered. A group of fire lizards appeared as if from nowhere and circled, all chipping a welcome.

“Go play with them, Siskin,” he said. The little blue chuckled and joined the circus.

What was that all about?

The watch dragon said his rider was asleep. He is a Weyrling. He said he did not want his rider to get into trouble again. So I flew high enough for the watch dragon to see me. When he roared the boy woke up.

That is very kind of you, but the rider is not supposed to be sleeping. He will have to be disciplined. He is lucky, it is just you and I, but in the past, he could have missed thread fall, or raiders.

There is no thread anymore.

True, but there are still raiders.

Raventh responded with unspoken agreement. Then, After you dismount and untack me, I will go fishing. The queen is out there, too. Maybe I can mate her?

K’ndar laughed. Be careful what you wish for!

————————————————————————————————-

F’mart looked up from a table strewn with maps.

“K’ndar!!”

He strode in and came to attention.

“Weyrleader F’mart, I bring you a pouch from the Council of Six, ” he said, formally. “I am instructed to wait for your response to Landing. I also have a pack full of books for the library, and medications for the Weyr’s healer.”

“Thank you, K’ndar of Landing. I will attend to the pouch immediately.” F’mart gravely took the pouch. “Now for Pern’s sake, dispense with the honorifics. There’s no one here save us and Siena, I’m still bloody minded F’mart,” said the bronze rider.

K’ndar grinned and relaxed. “Okay, bloody minded F’mart. That you always have been. But quick witted-I will never forget how you played Vika like she were a pawn in chess,” K’ndar said, relaxing.

F’mart’s brow furrowed. “I’ll admit, K’ndar, she scared me. I felt as if every fight I’d ever been in before had been with children. She was different. I managed to knock her off the scent twice, but I could see, she was putting two and two together-and it was just a matter of seconds when she’d figure out that I was lying, that she’d been set up. I knew she was going to throw that knife but when she did, it still shocked me. She was so quick!”

“But not as fast as Kenth,” K’ndar said.

“Yes,” F’mart, his eyes softening at the thought of his bronze, “He saved my life. Again.” Then he laughed. “The look on Vika’s face when she opened the pack! That was utter genius, K’ndar, genius.” He laughed again at the memory.

“It was Jansen’s idea. She’s sharp as a razor and told me she laughed the entire time she was collecting junk. I had no idea, either, by the way. Maybe that was a good thing.”

“It was. Vika didn’t get to who she was by being stupid. Look how quickly she realized I didn’t have a coin to my name. Had I known the pack was junk, she would have seen it in my eyes. I felt as if she could see right through me.”

“Even so, you certainly played her well. You’re the genius there, F’mart, I would never have been able to pull it off. I enjoyed seeing you toy with her.”

“I had fun, yes, at first. Then I got a good look in her eyes and saw there wasn’t a lick of humanity in them. They were like two wet stones in an icy stream. That’s when I realized she wasn’t, wasn’t human, you know? Of course, she was but the mind behind those eyes was as malevolent as thread. She was like something from another world, mate. Kenth saw it before I did. He told me to back up between his legs and I’m glad I did. Although I’ll admit, Lief’s men probably didn’t need as much room as I gave them. What shots!”

“K’ndar, it is good to see you!” a voice behind him said. He turned to see Siena, Kahrain’s Weyrwoman. A few years older than him, she’d joined his weyrling class after transferring into the weyr with her young gold dragon. They’d been friends, then, she’d just been another dragon riding girl, until M’rvin’s Arcturuth had flown her gold dragon. M’rvin had at first been a capable weyrleader, but his mental health had deteriorated. His bizarre mood swings and his insistence Siena be confined to the weyr, ostensibly to protect the queen, had resulted in her sullen rebellion. It was telling that Mirth had somehow refused to come into heat after the first mating flight. Had it been resentment on the queen’s part?

But after M’rvin resigned, and F’mart had become Weyrleader, she’d changed. Now she projected an air of dignity that wasn’t arrogance so much as regal benevolence. There was kindness in her mannerisms, but, like a queen dragon, there was steel in Siena’s spine. He didn’t feel as if he could be so familiar now as to call her by her name.

“Good morning, ma’am. It is good to see you, too,” he said. She did not correct his use of the honorific ‘ma’am’.

“Mirth says Raventh wasted no time joining her in the sea. She’s fishing.”

“Raventh loves the sea, ma’am. And he’s a flirt, always ready to chat up the girls, even though he knows he’ll never get anywhere with a gold. Where’s Kenth?”

“Out with the Weyrling’s dragonets, he and most of the dragons not on duty are teaching the hatchlings to hunt,” F’mart said. He felt something with corners in the pouch.

Duty. Should he mention the sleeping watch rider? No, K’ndar decided. That was Weyrlingmaster business. B’rant runs his School, the Weyrleaders run the Weyr.

Siena glanced at F’mart. He handed her the pouch. She peeked inside, then looked expectantly at K’ndar. Ah. So whatever is in the pouch is Weyrleader business, not mine. No matter.

“I’m sorry, K’ndar, but,” she said, tilting her head.

“It’s okay. I don’t mind just being the messenger dragon. While I’m waiting, I think I’ll go see my sister.”

“Thank you, K’ndar. I’ll have Mirth call Raventh when we’re done. I think it will take a while. Maybe you can stay for lunch? I ‘d love to sit and talk,” she said.

“I will, thank you,” he said, and left, heading for the Weyrlingmaster’s office.

Odd, that F’mart had handed the pouch to Siena. And that she wanted to talk with me?

He defers to Siena, like Kenth defers to Mirth, the queen Raventh said.

Yes. I’m just surprised he let me see that. He would never have admitted something like that when we were Weyrlings.

Kenth has taught him a lot.

As has Siena.

Yes. F’mart, for all his rank, is still at least six years younger than Siena. He’s deferring to the real brains-those between Siena’s ears. He has definitely changed, and for the better. How important is the gender of the leader to the running of a weyr? Especially now, when Thread is gone? What would life have been like had Raventh been a bronze?

He shuddered. I am so happy that I will never be considered for such a role. I ride a brown dragon. I don’t have to deal with all the complications of society and the responsibilities of leadership. I found that out just leading a survey.

He stopped at a viewing ledge, too small for a dragon but lending a human a panoramic view of the ocean side of the weyr. There was Mirth, and where is Raventh? Oh, there, he just surfaced. How he loves the sea. I miss it, too, Landing is okay but you have to be atop Mt. Garben to see the ocean almost seventy kilometers away.

How many times had he seen the weyr from his high viewpoint? There were obvious changes-the stone ramparts had quickly been softened by summers’ lush greenery. It was dried and dead at the moment, but when the spring rains came they’d recover. Such plant life would never have been allowed during the days of Thread. His mind told him there were changes, right before his eyes, that were too subtle to see, and had never been engraved in memory.

I feel like a stranger, I used to belong here, when I was just another Weyrling. I was part of this! Was I so focused that I didn’t see anything? The weyrfolk are still here, people I knew and know. But still, I feel as if I were an intruder.

He mounted the steps to the Weyrlingmaster’s office. A poignant feeling of deja-vu overwhelmed him. His mind had been a whirlpool of emotions as a Weyrling: relief at being freed from his tyrannical father; the incredible feeling of oneness with a baby dragon named Raventh, lingering homesickness, the bewildering steps he needed to fit into a society he’d never experienced, his shyness at talking with girls his age, and the amazing status as Weyrling rather than Cotholder Hanliss’s kid.

The surroundings hadn’t changed. Here was the same airy ledge, bordered with immense boulders to keep boisterous dragonets and their weyrlings from going over the edge. The same office, the same Master, the pile of sheepskins in the very same spot inside the cavern classroom, used to cushion the butts of Weyrlings sitting on stone benches. Now he was an independent and experienced dragon rider, but he still was plagued by the timorous feeling of being a child amongst adults.

“K’ndar here, sir?” he called out at the entrance to the cavern, out of long, long habit.

“K’ndar! Come in, come in, so good to see you! What brings you here?” B’rant, the Weyrlingmaster said. His wingleaders were arranged in a semicircle around him.

“I’m today’s courier from Landing with a pouch for the Weyrleaders, among other things,” he said, suddenly realizing he needn’t explain at all. “I’m sorry to have to report your watch dragon’s rider was asleep as we came out of between. Raventh told his dragon to wake the boy up. The dragon didn’t want the boy getting in trouble, ‘again’. I told him I still need to report it.”

“Blast that boy,” shouted one of the wingleaders, getting to his feet. “This isn’t the first time he’s been found sleeping on duty. He eats like a starved wher and sleeps like the dead! He is constantly shirking on cleaning his quarters. He’d be better off living with the pigs! Extra duty can’t get through to him. Herdmaster Nyala found him sleeping instead of shoveling muck, sleeping standing up! I swear, things have gotten sloppy around here with no more thread to fight.”

“Ahem,” B’rant growled.

“Begging your pardon, Weyrlingmaster, but this boy is proving to be a real nuisance. It’s never ending, with him. His mentor has tried to get through to him, he won’t listen to her. It’s nothing but whinging from him. Why do we have to drill. Why do I have to have a curfew. Why do I have to oil my dragon. He’s sixteen but still acting like Mummy’s best baby. His mentor comes to me almost daily with yet another of his immaturity issues. Maturity? He has none!” He threw his hands in the air. “This is what we get when we get a coddled baby from a Crafthall,” the man protested.

“Aye,” said another wingleader. “But we’re lucky to get the youngsters anymore. The kids just aren’t interested.”

“That’s true. Until Siena and F’mart relaxed the regulations and accepted three Candidates in their mid twenties, I wouldn’t have believed the difference,” said a third wingleader. “They listen. They obey. They excel. I’ve not had to issue more than one or two demerits to them, and those are one offs. Not like the kids, if I had a mark for every demerit I hand out, I could buy my own Hold.”

They laughed. “Thank the stars for Oscoral,” the second wingleader said. “He catches more curfew breakers than a manylegs catches stingerwings. The kids, they think they’ll just nip in the hall and snag a pie. Then they forget to leave before he sees them. Which isn’t easy, he has eyes all round his head.”

“And he knows how many pies he’s made.”

K’ndar felt a warm feeling in his mind-these wingleaders were discussing weyrlings in his presence as if he had never been one-or had earned his status as a graduate, a veteran of Thread flights, a grown man. It felt nice. It felt inclusive.

“You’ve got it easy, you who got the grownups. I’ve got Sleepy. I spend more time on him than all the rest of Lower Right wing’s weyrlings put together,” the first wingleader said. “Who’s idea was it, anyway, to put an Impression age limit at twenty three?”

“You know. “We’ve always done it this way,” said the second, rolling his eyes.

“The grownup Weyrlings laugh, you know, when one of the kids gets extra duty. They make a point of asking what it means? Because they’ve not had to do a bit of it yet. They get even for the times when the kids refer to them as ‘old man’ or ‘old woman.’”

“I had just turned eighteen when I impressed, so I was a bit older than most of my class,” K’ndar offered, “and yet I did some extra duty.”

B’rant nodded in agreement, even though he couldn’t remember K’ndar being anything but an attentive, obedient boy.

“It wasn’t for sleeping on duty, was it?”

“Nope. It was just like you said, breaking curfew. I think it was about two weeks after Impression. With all the rules that had been pushed into my mutton head, I probably didn’t remember the word curfew. If I did, I didn’t know what a curfew was, and didn’t want to look stupid by asking. I’m steppe bred, I’d never had a curfew. There was no need. There is nothing around my home cothold to make a kid wander. It’s so remote you have to bring in light by oxcart. Being up all night was nothing new to me, I’d been doing a man’s work by the age of ten. And horses have a habit of colicking or foaling at two in the morning.”

Everyone nodded.

“So you broke curfew, and got caught?”

He smiled. “Yes, just as you said. I couldn’t sleep, and I wanted to see the ocean in the starlight. I’d never seen the ocean until I go here! So I sat on the beach for a while, looking at the stars, then I went into the dining hall for a midnight snack. I’d just sat down to enjoy a fresh, hot pie when this, this mountain comes over and says,” he pitched his voice as deep as he was able, “Long night, young man?”

The men roared in recognition. “Mountain! That’s Oscoral, sure as sunrise!”

K’ndar nodded, the feeling of being a stranger having vanished, “He was gentle with me, though. Probably because I just owned up to my mistake.”

“That’s unusual. Usually they bolt. What do you mean, ‘gentle’?”

“He let me finish my pie before turning me in.”