The Skies of Pern

by Anne McCaffrey

  “Coming right at Zaranth. Shall I …” He hefted the spade and took a step forward to intercept the trundlers. One had to swat the wretched mother bug out of her line of march but, at the same time, be careful not to break off her largest offspring at the end of the reproductive line, lest she retaliate with some of the stink-spray to defend her offspring.

  “No, no! Wait.”

  “They’re heading right for her. I don’t know about Zaranth but Golanth hates ’em crawling on him. If he wakes, he’ll squash them.” F’lessan did not add that Golanth was showing more and more of a proprietary interest in the green’s well-being, one of the subtler reasons why he was glad Tai preferred to work away from projects with other dragonriders. He wasn’t ready for others to notice the growing relationship between Golanth and Zaranth.

  “Watch,” she said, her eyes sparkling green as she rose from her knees.

  F’lessan dropped to the ground, narrowing his eyes in the bright sun to check the angle of the trundlebug approach.

  Tai held up her hand, grinning. “Just a moment!”

  “They’re heading right for her nose. Doesn’t she sense them? Golanth usually does.”

  “Wait!” Putting up her hand to stay his attack, Tai grinned widely, her look almost mischievous.

  The trundlebug parade marched relentlessly in its unswerving path, oblivious to what was in its way. Zaranth’s nose twitched but she didn’t open so much as a slit of one eye. The parade was abruptly at right angles to its original path, heading back into the scrubland.

  “There!” Tai beamed at her dragon.

  “She blew them away?” F’lessan exclaimed.

  “No. She didn’t. They can only get so close to her and they go off in another direction, any direction so long as it is away from her.”

  She reclaimed her spade from him and began to dig another hole. “There’re two spades, you know.”

  “Yes, yes, of course, my dear green,” he said, making a play of diligence, going for the second one. Anything to keep her from noticing the brilliant green of the sleeping Zaranth, lounging so gracefully in the sun by the sleeping bronze. How long would Golanth continue to fake sleep? F’lessan wondered.

  “Tai, a question,” he began, digging busily. “I was watching and Zaranth didn’t move. She only twitched her nose. How could she make a trundlebug detour doing that?”

  Tai dabbed at a drop of sweat rolling down her nose and, picking up the next to last plant, removed the wrapping and dropped it in place.

  “I don’t know. But, if they get close to her, they are suddenly perpendicular to the original line of progress. You know trundlebugs: they never deviate from their chosen path.”

  “Amazing!” He blotted the sweat from his face, then unwrapped the last plant, placed it firmly in the ground, and tamped dirt around it. “That’s that. We’re supposed to water them now, aren’t we?”

  Probably the first thing Benini had done after the flooding receded was to sink a new well and provide a long watering trough from which they could easily fill buckets for that last garden chore.

  “Didn’t Benini say they’d rigged a shower over by the beast-hold?” he asked, when they had finished.

  “Yes, with a big enough cistern above to wash all of them,” she said, looking eagerly around to point to the freshly painted enclosure. “Or so his spouse said. We’ll get clean much quicker showering than having to wash in a bucket,” she added, dropping hers on the shadowed side of the well.

  “Leave enough warm water for me,” he said, waving her to go first. “I’ll return the tools.” He gathered them up and started for the shed, calling after her. “I plan to hunt Golanth this afternoon at Honshu. How’s Zaranth’s appetite?” Well, he thought privately, “appetite” was one word for it.

  Tai cast a look over her shoulder at her sleeping dragon. “She isn’t the least bit off-color.”

  F’lessan blinked and then, with an engaging grin that Mirrim would have identified as “devious,” added, “We could hunt felines. Saw some a little closer than they should be to the Honshu herds. Get us some good pelts.”

  Since the Flood, most green riders had been giving all their customary courier services free of charge. But there’d be a Gather in Telgar in two sevendays, when the Council met, and that was time enough to cure hides for sale and give her book-money.

  “Fine by me!” Tai called back. He caught just a glimpse of her back and long tanned legs as she entered the shower enclosure.

  He gathered their riding gear and packs and walked slowly up to the shower, giving her time for a good wash and rinse.

  “Hey, leave me some,” he said, speaking above the sound of vigorous splashings. He slipped off his muddy sandals. Well, cleaning them could wait till he got back to Honshu, but he smacked them against the side of the wall to remove as much mud as he could.

  “You’ll find it warm enough,” she assured him. “Can you hand me my towel?”

  He opened her pack and dragged it, and her fresh clothes, out. “Where is it?” she asked.

  He saw her bare arm extending from the shower wall and accurately lobbed the towel to her searching fingers. There were shiny new hooks screwed to the wall and he hung her fresh clothes on one, his own on another. Riders were not as bothered by nudity as holders or crafthall folk so he stripped down, glad to be out of the sweaty, dirty shorts. As she emerged, toweling her body dry, she gave him a fleeting glimpse. He stepped courteously past her, into the shower, and looked around for sweetsand.

  When he had had a good scrub, especially his feet, he rinsed off well and, vigorously drying himself, sauntered across the changing area to his clean clothes. Dressed in her leathers, with her jacket still open, she leaned against the wall, in what shade there was, looking out at the scene of their morning’s hard work, feeling pleased.

  Summoning their dragons, they took off before heat brought fresh sweat.

  As they came out of between above Honshu, F’lessan first noted that there were no dragons lounging on the summit or the main terrace.

  Will you hunt today, Golanth?

  I will hunt well today, Golanth replied, watching Zaranth as she glided past him to land on Honshu’s main terrace.

  Startled by the odd note in his dragon’s tone, for a moment F’lessan worried that he hadn’t been as sensitive to Golanth’s needs as he should be. When was the last time he’d hunted Golanth?

  I will hunt very well today!

  The bronze was coming in slowly—almost stealthily—to land so that Zaranth was directly in front of them, her rider stripping the safety harness, which was never used when dragons went after a meal. F’lessan could not miss Zaranth’s condition. She was gleaming with more than health. Why hadn’t Tai noticed that the green was coming into heat? He tried to think which dragons had been at Honshu early this morning. Most had gone well before dawn, as they had, to begin whatever work was slated for that day in the reconstruction of Monaco’s Weyr building. In a traditional Weyr, with dragons basking on their ledges, her readiness would have been noticed long before the green herself might be aware of her form. Honshu had been guesting dragons since the Flood. True, both riders and dragons arrived tired: riders eating quickly and seeking their beds, dragons finding a spot on sunwarmed terraces and rousing only when their riders called them the next morning. He and Tai had gone directly to Paradise River and from there to Benini Hold, their dragons sprawling in full sun; several hours in the sun. Heat was known to trigger a dragon’s mating instinct. He swore, wondering if any of the other dragons had been awake to the nearness of Zaranth’s cycle? Riders were known to remember when greens were likely to come into heat. Most of those staying at Honshu were Monaco Weyr riders. Would they come storming in from all over now Zaranth was active? Was this a delayed reaction in Zaranth? Overdue? But he was a Wingleader and he shouldn’t have missed the signs. Well, Tai had!

  I didn’t.

  For once, Golanth jolted gracelessly onto the terrace, throwing his rider forwa
rd in an unexpected assist in dismounting. F’lessan was lucky to keep on his feet, running a few steps to restore his balance. Did Golanth sense other male dragons near enough to challenge him? Certainly the bronze demonstrated his eagerness by arching his neck, tucking his head into his chest, proudly male. Sweeping the skies for the appearance of more dragons, F’lessan quickly stripped off safety straps, shucking the pile to the nearest bench, as he began to shed his flying gear. Golanth moved carefully toward Zaranth, his eyes beginning to whirl in anticipation.

  Tai was standing there, the harness folded over her arms, gazing fatuously at her dragon.

  “Good to see her looking so well. She’d gone quite dull there for a while after the Flood,” she remarked as F’lessan strode up to her. “How near are the felines?”

  “Looking so well?” F’lessan paused, astonished by her choice of words. Then he pointed dramatically at Zaranth. “By the Egg, look at her, Tai!”

  Her eyes gleaming orangey-red, Zaranth angled her head coquettishly back at Golanth who was displaying, moving cautiously nearer, his faceted eyes sparking more redly.

  Tai gasped, eyes widening with an expression of such fear and intense loathing that F’lessan wondered just what had happened during Zaranth’s other mating flights.

  “But there’s just us!” she cried defensively, the harness slipping off her arms as she spread them wide in a gesture of panic and confusion.

  How had she thought there was safety in that? Of course there had been other dragons and riders around, in and out of Honshu. Until right now! But, with a green in heat, there was no safety in numbers. Her hands turned, palms toward him in flat rejection. And, of course, he thought in fury, when Zaranth had gone proddy before, every blue, brown, and needy bronze had appeared: their riders had corralled her rider, waiting to see which dragon would win the green. He closed his eyes; he knew very well how intense the mood would be. But the green rider would choose!

  “Tai, did you never choose?” he cried, outraged for her as he started to close the distance between her. And halted. He mustn’t crowd her. The others had. How much time could he give her? How could he soothe her?

  She was trembling violently, her eyes wide—not in an answer to her dragon’s sensuality, but in sheer terror. She seemed to draw into herself, denying what was about to happen. Crossing her arms in a defensive position! Shards! Had previous riders raped her as their dragons twined? He tried to remember which blues and browns weyred at Monaco.

  Tai continued backing away from him, looking about wildly for some refuge.

  “They were all the same,” she muttered. “There’s no escape from them. From their …” She swallowed, trying to lick dry lips, white-faced with revulsion: her green eyes stark.

  “Tai, were you forced?” With those words Tai shot F’lessan a look of such fear laced with guilt that he felt his belly fall flat. “You didn’t choose?” He spoke very gently, appalled. This should be the most wonderful experience: a doubled ecstasy as both dragon and rider exalted in the union. He’d thought he’d made it so for those he’d partnered. The queen riders had always known: they had chosen him. With the state she was in, there was no way Tai had ever chosen. “It shouldn’t be a violation. It should be a celebration for you and your dragon. The most glorious union!”

  “Union?” She snarled the word, the panic in her eyes telling him that mating had been far from that.

  How many times had Zaranth mated? How many times had she been … he struggled to find the appropriate word … violated? He knew hold and hall girls often were; it was one reason so many sought sanctuary in a Weyr. Dragonriders, except at this one time in their dragon’s cycle, were known to be considerate, and ardent, lovers. Without conceit, he knew that he enjoyed a certain reputation. Is that why Tai had been so chary of his company? He’d thought she was just naturally reticent. Now he realized she had been motivated more by fear than reserve. He’d have a few well-chosen words for Mirrim after this—if he could only reach the girl now, when it was vital to soothe her.

  With the stunning warble of a lustful green, Zaranth issued her challenge to Golanth and launched herself, straight up. Unlike the queens who needed to blood a kill to give them extra strength for longer mating flights, greens required little preparation beyond the onset of their cycle. Golanth did not hesitate for a moment, the bugle of his acceptance echoing back to their riders.

  Tai screamed in anguish, reaching out futilely as if she could have stopped her green.

  “Tai, listen to me,” he said, keeping his voice light. “Let me explain how it should be.” Carefully, slowly, he held out one hand but she backed away along the terrace.

  Eyeing his hand as if even his touch would sully her, she cowered away, her green eyes frantic.

  “Oh, Tai, my friend, if I could, I’d stop Golanth,” and he would have given anything to have been able to prepare her more. If he hadn’t been so callous as to ignore what he’d thought was a natural reserve rather than sexual fear. “I can’t, not now when Zaranth wants him so badly.”

  “How can she want him? I don’t want you! Not that way!”

  That admission was at least something in his favor, F’lessan thought, struggling to find a way through companionship to solving the intensely immediate problem of their situation. All too soon the rider would be consumed by the dragon in a bonding neither could escape. He had to reach Tai, the human being, before her mind was locked into her mating dragon.

  “But you see, she does. She just challenged him,” he said softly, infusing as much gentle persuasion into his voice as he could. “He answered. He has been admiring her in so many ways. Just as I admire you, Tai.”

  She blinked, confused.

  That was good, F’lessan thought, somewhat frantic himself. If he couldn’t reach her, she’d never realize that it needn’t be rape. He knew he could control his human self, no matter how he might wish to revel in orgasm with his Golanth.

  “Haven’t you learned anything of me?” he cried in soft desperation. “Have I offended you? Slighted you as friend, Tai?” She blinked again, shaking her head, more confused than ever as the hold of her dragon increased. “In this let me be your friend—and lover, too. Challenge me, Tai, as your dragon challenged mine. Challenge me to make love to you, to you, Tai, not to Tai-rider. Choose me!” He spread his hands across his chest. “Choose me, Tai!”

  “I have no choice,” she said, whimpering. She collapsed inwardly.

  “Oh, Tai, love,” he pleaded, holding out his hands but careful not to crowd her. She was so near the edge of the terrace. She was suddenly so dear to him, he was surprised to realize. This was not all Golanth’s yearning: F’lessan the man was yearning, too. “Please, Tai, please choose me!”

  Whether it was Tai who reached slowly out to her friend for support, or the dazed rider, he wasn’t then sure but she did reach. Was there enough of the human there to have made a choice?

  “Please, Tai, come with me now,” he said, taking her hand in a light grasp and gently turning her back, toward the nearest door. “My friend, we must go in.”

  He tried not to startle her, slowly guiding her steps—she couldn’t see the arm he held behind her, just in case she might still bolt. Her eyes were glazing: she wouldn’t know how close the edge of the terrace was if she should suddenly feel trapped and try to escape.

  Murmuring encouragement, he got her inside the weyrhold. With equal care, he closed the door behind them, grateful that the hinges were oiled and hoping she didn’t hear the slight noise as it shut. Her fingers were slack on his, her gaze distant: she was half in rider trance. He wanted to settle her before she was completely submerged by Zaranth’s sensuality. That would have been frightening enough the first time it happened if no one had explained it in full detail. Tai’s reserve should have warned him; he cursed himself for insensitivity. How long had he been a rider?

  Abruptly Tai tensed. He glanced at her eyes, pupils enlarged against the dark in the hallway. He kept his hand rela
xed while hers tightened convulsively. He put his other hand on the small of her back, lightly, offering no threat, just guidance.

  “I’m honored you chose me, Tai,” he said. She must believe that. “I didn’t believe you would, you know. I admired you for how calmly you got the children out at Monaco.” He’d better be careful what he said now. “Be calm now, Tai. Be calm and let me help you now.”

  As deftly as he could, he turned her into the nearest sleeping room. He could feel Golanth’s desire mounting. He had to control his. He had to remain human as long as he could. And that was becoming an effort. He couldn’t just push her on the bed—that would frighten her—but he also didn’t want to turn dragon and have her endure rougher handling.

  Gently, he put his arms around her. “You have chosen me, F’lessan, and I will love you well!”

  He kissed her forehead and slowly tightened his arms about her. If she weren’t completely thralled by Zaranth … but had she ever been lovingly kissed? He bent his head, his mouth tender on hers. Let her still be human enough to feel this! He had not expected the flare of passion that passed between them in a kiss he had intended to be delicate. She trembled violently. Instinctively he tightened his embrace.

  “You chose me, Tai. You chose me,” he cried but her body went stiff in his arms. Rocking her, he kissed her face, her cheeks, her mouth, her neck. “Choose me, Tai!” he begged as he felt the rigidity that was dragon-frenzy, not human.

  And he was abruptly Golanth.

  She had launched herself well, and then ducked sideways, streaming away from him with unusually strong sweeps of her wings. She was big for a green and he liked that in her. He did prefer greens to golds. The golds always felt as if they were conferring great honor on a bronze by permitting them to mate. But greens could be grateful. They were certainly lustier than queens. Perhaps because they mated more often. She dodged to the right and he followed lazily. Let her wear herself out a while. He could wait. He would wait. This one was worth it. He had been so careful, not being too possessive of her company but he had let the others know that he intended this green to be his. He had been marshaling his strength whenever possible, knowing how tired other dragons were. But he was Golanth! Of Benden Weyr! Sired by Mnementh! Hatched of Ramoth. Worthy of that noble pairing!