When spring was fully warming the air and making the marshes brilliant with green and blossom color, spider-claws began to walk in from the sea to lay their eggs in the shallower cove waters. As these plump shellfish were a delicacy in themselves, besides adding flavor to every dish when dried or smoked, the young people of the Hold—Menolly with them—were sent off with traps, spades and nets. Within four days the nearby coves were picked clear of spiderclaws and the young harvesters had to go farther along the coast to find more. With Thread due to fall anytime, it was unwise to stray too far from the Hold, so they were told to be very careful.
There was another danger that concerned the Sea Holder considerably: tides had been running unusually high and full this Turn. Much higher water in the harbor and they’d not get the two big sloops in or out of the cavern unless they unstepped the masts. Due notice was taken of the high-tide lines, and there was much shaking of heads when it was observed that the line was two full hands higher than ever before recorded.
The lower caverns of the Hold were checked against possible seepage. Bags of sand were filled and placed along the lower portions of the seawalls around the harbor.
A good storm and the causeways would be awash. Yanus was concerned enough to have a long chat with Old Uncle to see if he remembered anything from his earlier and clearer days of Sea Holding. Old Uncle was delighted to talk and ranted on about the influence of the stars, but when Yanus, Elgion and two of the other older shipmasters had sifted through what he’d said, it was not to any great increase in knowledge. Everyone knew that the two moons affected the tides, not the three bright stars in the sky.
They did, however, send a message about these curious tides to Igen Hold to be forwarded with all possible speed to the main Seacraft Hold at Fort. Yanus didn’t want to have his biggest boats caught out in the open, so he kept careful check on the tides, determined to leave them within the Dock Cavern if the tide rose another hand higher.
When the youngsters went out to gather spiderclaws, they were told to keep their eyes open and report back anything unusual, especially new high-water marks on the coves. Only Thread deterred the more adventurous lads from using this as an excuse for ranging far down the coast. Menolly, who preferred to explore the more distant places alone, mentioned Thread to them as often as possible.
Then, after the next Threadfall, when everyone was sent out for spiderclaws, Menolly made certain that she got a headstart on the boys, making good use of her long legs.
It was fine to run like this, Menolly thought, putting yet another rise between her and her nearest pursuers. She altered her stride for uneven ground. It wouldn’t do to break an ankle now. Running was something even a girl with a crippled hand could do well.
Menolly closed her mind to that thought. She’d learned the trick of not thinking about anything: she counted. Right now she counted her strides. She ran on, her eyes sweeping ahead of her to save her feet. The boys would never catch her now, but she was running for the sheer joy of the physical effort, chanting a number to each stride. She ran until she got a stitch in her side and her thighs felt the strain.
She slowed, turning her face into the cool breeze blowing offshore, inhaling deeply of its freshness and sea odors. She was somewhat surprised to see how far she had come down the coast. The Dragon Stones were visible in the clear air, and it was only then that she recalled the little queen. Unfortunately, she also re membered the tune she’d made up that day: the last day, Menolly now realized, of her trusting childhood.
She walked on, following the line of the bluffs, peering down to see if she could spot new high-water marks on the stone escarpments. Tide was halfway in now, Menolly decided. And yes, she could see the lines of sea debris from the last tide, in some places right up against the cliff face. And this had been a cove with a deep beach.
A movement above, a sudden blotting of the sun, made her gaze upwards. A sweep rider. Knowing perfectly well that he couldn’t see her, she waved vigorously anyhow, watching the graceful glide as the pair dwindled into the distance.
Sella had told her one evening when they were preparing for bed that Elgion had flown on dragons several times. Sella had given a quiver of delighted terror, vowing that she wouldn’t have the courage to ride a dragon.
Privately Menolly thought that Sella wouldn’t likely have the opportunity. Most of Sella’s comments, and probably thoughts, were centered on the new Harper. Sella was not the only one, Menolly knew. If Menolly could think how silly all the Hold girls were being about Harper Elgion, it didn’t hurt so much to think about harpers in general.
Again she heard the fire lizards before she saw them. Their excited chirpings and squeals indicated something was upsetting them. She dropped to a crouch and crept to the edge of the bluff, overlooking the little beach. Only there wasn’t much beach left, and the fire lizards were hovering over a spot on the small margin of sand, almost directly below her.
She inched up to the edge, peering down. She could see the queen darting at the incoming waves as if she could stop them with her violently beating wings. Then she’d streak back, out of Menolly’s line of sight, while the rest of the creatures kept milling and swooping, rather like frightened herdbeasts running about aimlessly when wild wherries circled their herd. The queen was shrieking at the top of her shrill little voice, obviously trying to get them to do something. Unable to imagine what the emergency could be, Menolly leaned just a little further over the edge. The whole lip of the cliff gave way.
Clutching wildly at sea grasses, Menolly tried to prevent her fall. But the sea grass slipped cuttingly through her hand and she slid over the edge and down. She hit the beach with a force that sent a shock through her body. But the wet sand absorbed a good deal of the impact. She lay where she’d fallen for a few minutes, trying to get her breath into her lungs and out again. Then she scrambled to her feet and crawled away from an incoming wave.
She looked up the side of the bluff, rather daunted by the fact that she’d fallen a dragon length or more. And how was she going to climb back up? But, as she examined the cliff face, she could see that it was not so unscalable as she’d first thought. Almost straight up, yes, but pocked by ledges and holds, some fairly large. If she could find enough foot and hand holds, she’d be able to make it. She dusted the sand from her hands and started to walk towards one end of the little cove, to begin a systematic search for the easiest way up.
She’d gone only a few paces when something dove at her, screeching in fury. Her hands went up to protect her face as the little queen came diving down at her. Now Menolly recalled the curious behavior of the fire lizards. The little queen acted as if she were protecting something from Menolly as well as the encroaching sea, and she looked about her. She was within handspans of stepping into a fire lizard clutch.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I wasn’t looking! Don’t be mad at me,” Menolly cried as the little fire lizard came at her again. “Please! Stop! I won’t hurt them!”
To prove her sincerity, Menolly backtracked to the far end of the beach, There she had to duck under a small overhang. When she looked around, there wasn’t a sign of the little queen. Menolly’s relief was short-lived, for how was she to find a way up the cliff if the little fire-lizard kept attacking her every time she approached the eggs. Menolly hunched down, trying to get comfortable in her cramped refuge.
Maybe if she kept away from the eggs? Menolly peered up the cliff directly above her. There were some likely looking holds. She eased herself out the far side, keeping one eye on the clutch, basking in the hot sun, and reached for the first ledge.
Immediately the fire lizard came at her.
“Oh, leave me alone! Ow! Go away. I’m trying to.”
The fire lizard’s talons had raked her cheek.
“Please! I won’t hurt your eggs!”
The little queen’s next pass just missed Menolly, who ducked back under the ledge. Blood oozed from the long scratch, and Menolly dabbed at it with the edge of
her tunic.
“Haven’t you got any sense?” Menolly demanded of her now invisible attacker. “What would I want with your silly eggs? Keep ‘em. I just want to get home. Can’t you understand? I just want to go home?”
Maybe if I sit very still, she’ll forget about me, Menolly thought and pulled her knees up under the chin, but her toes and elbows protruded from under the overhang.
Suddenly a bronze fire lizard materialized above the clutch, squeaking worredly. Menolly saw the queen swooping to join him, so the queen must have been on the top of the ledge, waiting, just waiting for Menolly to break cover.
And to think I made up a pretty tune about you, Menolly thought as she watched the two lizards hovering over the eggs. The last tune I ever made up. You’re ungrateful, that’s what you are!
Despite her discomfort, Menolly had to laugh. What an impossible situation! Held under a cramped ledge by a creature no bigger than her forearm.
At the sound of her laughter, the two fire lizards disappeared.
Frightened, were they? Of laughter?
“A smile wins more than a frown,” Mavi was fond of saying.
Maybe if I keep laughing, they’ll know I’m friendly? Or get scared away long enough for me to climb up? Saved by a laugh?
Menolly began to chuckle in earnest, for she had also seen that the tide was coming in rather quickly. She eased out of her shelter, flung the carry-sack over her shoulder, and started to climb. But it proved impossible to chuckle and climb. She needed breath for both.
Abruptly both the little queen and the bronze were back to harry her, flying at her head and face. The fragile looking wings were dangerous when used as a weapon.
No longer laughing, Menolly ducked back under her ledge, wondering what to do next. If laughter had startled them, what about a song? Maybe if she gave that pair a chorus of her tune, they’d let her go. It was the first time she’d sung since she’d seen the lizards, so her voice sounded rough and uncertain. Well, the lizards would know what she meant, she hoped, so she sang the saucy little song. To no one.
“Well, so much for that notion,” Menolly muttered under her breath. “Which makes the lack of interest in your singing absolutely unanimous.”
No audience? Not a fire lizard’s whisker in sight?
As fast as she could, Menolly slipped from her shelter and came face to face, for a split second, with two fire lizard faces. She ducked down, and they evidently disappeared because when she cautiously peered again, the ledge where they’d been perched was empty.
She had the distinct impression that their expressions had registered curiosity and interest.
“Look, if wherever you are, you can hear me…will you stay there and let me go? Once I’m on the top of the cliff, I’ll serenade you ’til the sun goes down. Just let me get up there!”
She started to sing, a dutiful dragon song as she once again emerged from her refuge. She was about five steps upward when the queen fire lizard emerged, with help. With squeaks and squeals she was driven back down. She could even hear claws scraping on the rock above her. She must have quite an audience by now. When she didn’t need one!
Cautiously she looked up, met the fascinated whirling of ten pairs of eyes. “Look, a bargain! One long song and then let me up the cliff? Is that agreed?”
Fire lizard eyes whirled.
Menolly took it that the bargain was made and sang. Her voice started a flutter of surprised and excited chirpings, and she wondered if by any possible freak they actually understood that she was singing about grateful holds honoring dragonriders. By the last verse she eased out into the open, awed by the sight of a queen fire lizard and nine bronzes entranced by her performance.
“Can I go now?” she asked and put one hand on the ledge. The queen dived for her hand, and Menolly snatched it back.
“I thought we’d struck a bargain.”
The queen chirped piteously, and Menolly realized that there had been no menace in the queen’s action. She simply wasn’t allowed to climb.
“You don’t want me to go?” Menolly asked.
The queen’s eyes seemed to glow more brightly.
“But I have to go. If I stay, the water will come up and drown me.” And Menolly accompanied her words with explanatory gestures.
Suddenly the queen let out a shrill cry, seemed to hold herself midair for a moment and then, her bronzes in close pursuit, she glided down the sandy beach to her clutch. She hovered over the eggs, making the most urgent and excited sounds.
If the tide was coming in fast enough to endanger Menolly, it was also frighteningly close to swamping the nest. The little bronzes began to take up the queen’s plaint and several, greatly daring, flew about Menolly’s head and then circled back to the clutch.
“I can come there now? You won’t attack me?” Menolly took a few steps forward.
The tone of the cries changed, and Menolly quickened her step. As she reached the nest, the little queen secured one egg from the clutch. With a great laboring of her wings, she bore it upward. That the effort was great was obvious. The bronzes hovered anxiously, squeaking their concern but, being much smaller, they were unable to assist the queen.
Now Menolly saw that the base of the cliff at this point was littered with broken shells and the pitiful bodies of tiny fire-lizards, their wings half-extended and glistening with egg fluid. The little queen now had raised the egg to a ledge, which Menolly had not previously noticed, about a half-dragon length up the cliff-face. Menolly could see the little queen deposit the egg on the ledge and roll it with her forelegs towards what must be a hole in the cliff. It was a long moment before the queen reappeared again. Then she dove towards the sea, hovering over the foamy crest of a wave that rolled in precariously close to the endangered clutch. With a blurred movement, the queen was hovering in front of Menolly and scolding like an old aunt.
Although Menolly couldn’t help grinning at the thought, she was filled with a sense of pity and admiration for the courage of the little queen, single-handedly trying to rescue her clutch. If the dead fire lizards were that fully formed, the clutch was near to hatching. No wonder the queen could barely move the eggs.
“You want me to help you move the eggs, right? Well, we’ll see what I can do!”
Ready to jump back if she had mistaken the little queen’s imperious command, Menolly very carefully picked up an egg. It was warm to the touch and hard. Dragon eggs, she knew, were soft when first laid but hardened slowly on the hot sands of the Hatching Grounds in the Weyrs. These definitely must be close to hatching.
Closing the fingers of her damaged hand carefully around the egg, Menolly searched for and found foot and hand holds, and reached the queen’s ledge. She carefully deposited the egg. The little queen appeared, one front talon resting proprietarily on the egg, and then she leaned forward, towards Menolly’s face, so close that the fantastic motion of the many-faceted eyes were clearly visible. The queen gave a sort of sweet chirp and then, in a very businesslike manner, began to scold Menolly as she rolled her egg to safety.
Menolly managed three eggs in her hand the next time. But it was obvious that between the onrushing tide and the startling number of eggs in the clutch, there’d be quite a race.
“If the hole were bigger,” she told the little queen as she deposited three eggs, “some of the bronzes could help you roll.”
The queen paid her no attention, busy pushing the three eggs, one at a time, to safety.
Menolly peered into the opening, but the fire lizard’s body obscured any view. If the hole was bigger and the ledge consequently broader, Menolly could bring the rest of the eggs up in her carry-sack.
Hoping that she wouldn’t pull down the cliffside and bury the queen, clutch and all, Menolly prodded cautiously at the mouth of the opening. Loose sand came showering down.
The queen took to scolding frantically as Menolly brushed the rubble from the ledge. Then she felt around the opening. There seemed to be solid stone just beyond. Menolly
yanked away at the looser rock, until she had a nice tunnel exposed with a slightly wider opening.
Ignoring the little queen’s furious complaints, Menolly climbed down, unslinging her sack when she reached the ground. When the little queen saw Menolly putting the eggs in the sack, she began to have hysterics, beating at Menolly’s head and hands.
“Now, look here,” Menolly said sternly, “I am not stealing your eggs. I am trying to get them all to safety in jig time. I can do it with the sack but not by the handful.”
Menolly waited a moment, glaring at the little queen who hovered at eye level.
“Did you understand me?” Menolly pointed to the waves, more vigorously dashing up the small beach. “The tide is coming in. Dragons couldn’t stop it now.” Menolly put another egg carefully in the sack. As it was she’d have to make two, maybe three trips or risk breaking the eggs. “I take this,” and she gestured up the ledge, “up there. Do you understand, you silly beast?”
Evidently, the little creature did because, crooning anxiously, she took her position on the ledge, her wings half-extended and twitching as she watched Menolly’s progress up to her.
Menolly could climb faster with two hands. And she could, carefully, roll the eggs from the mouth of the sack well down the tunnelway.
“You’d better get the bronzes to help you now, or we’ll have the ledge stacked too high.”
It took Menolly three trips in all, and as she made the last climb, the water was a foot’s width from the clutch. The little queen had organized her bronzes to help, and Menolly could hear her scolding tones echoing in what must be a fair-sized cave beyond the tunnel. Not surprising since these bluffs were supposed to be riddled with caverns and passages.
Dragonsong (dragon riders of pern) Page 6