Harper Hall - Dragonsong

by Anne McCaffrey

  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.”

  “T
hat’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. Even 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.

  “I’ve fifteen, please,” answered Menolly, dazed and trying very hard not to cry. Her throat ached and her chest was tight and she couldn’t believe what was happening to her: people fussing over how she looked and what she wore. Above all, Lessa had smiled at her be cause she was so pleased about the clutch. And it seemed as if she didn’t have to worry about being sent back to Half-Circle. Not if the weyrfolk were ordering her shoes and giving her clothes….

  “Fifteen? Well, you wouldn’t need much more fostering, would you?” Felena sounded disappointed. “We’ll see what Manora has in mind for you. I’d like you as mine.”

  Menolly burst into tears. That provoked more confusion because her fire lizards began swooping dangerously close to people’s faces. Beauty pecked at Felena, who was only trying to offer comfort.

  “Let us have some order here,” said a fresh, authoritative voice. Everyone, except the fire lizards, obediently subsided, and room was made for Manora. “And you be quiet, too,” she said to squealing Beauty. “Go on,” and she waved at the others, “go sit quietly somewhere. Now, why is Menolly crying?”

  “She just burst into tears, Manora,” said Felena, as perplexed as everyone else.

  “I’m happy, I’m happy, I’m happy,” Menolly managed to blurt out, each repetition punctuated by a heaving sob.

  “Of course you are,” said Manora understandingly, and made gestures to one of the women. “It’s been a very exciting and tiring day. Now you just drink this.” The woman had returned with a mug. “Now, everyone will go about their duties and let you catch your breath. There, that’s better.”

  Menolly obediently sipped the drink. It wasn’t fellis juice, but there was a slightly bitter taste. Manora urged her to drink deeply, and gradually Menolly felt her chest loosen, her throat stop aching and she began to relax.

  She looked up to see that Manora was the only one at the little table, sitting with her hands folded serenely in her lap, her aura of calm patience very soothing.

  “Feel more like yourself? Now, you just sit quietly and eat. We don’t take in many new people, so there’s bound to be a fuss about you. Soon enough to do everything else. How many fire lizard eggs did you find in that clutch?”

  Menolly found it easy to talk to Manora, and soon she was showing the headwoman the oil and explaining how she’d made it.

  “I think you did wonderfully well all on your own, Menolly, not but what I’d expect it of someone Mavi has trained.”

  Menolly’s ease disappeared at the sound of her mother’s name. Involuntarily she clenched her left hand, feeling the scar tissue pull painfully from the intensity of her grip.

  “You wouldn’t like me to send a message to Half-Circle?” asked Manora. “To say that you’re safely here?”

  “I don’t want you to, please! I’m no use to them there.” She held up her scarred hand. “And…” she halted, she’d been about to add “a disgrace.” “I seem to be useful here,” she said quickly, pointing to the basket of fire lizard eggs.

  “So you are, Menolly, so you are.” Manora rose. “Now eat your meat, and we’ll talk again later.”

  When she had finished her food, Menolly felt much better. She was content to sit in her hearth corner, watching the industry of others. And in a little while, Felena came over with her shears and trimmed Menolly’s hair. Then someone watched the fire lizard eggs while Menolly changed into the first brand new garments she’d ever had, being the youngest in a large family. The tanner came and not only measured her feet for proper boots but by evening he’d also made up some soft hide slippers that fit loosely over her bandaged feet.

  She was so changed in appearance that Mirrim, passing her table just before the evening meal, almost failed to recognize her. Menolly had been worrying that Mirrim was deliberately avoiding her because Menolly had Impressed nine fire lizards, but there was no restraint in Mirrim’s manner. Flopping into a chair across the table, she heartily approved the hair trim, the clothing and the slippers.