Nerilka's Story

by Anne McCaffrey

  "She knew Oklina would Impress," he said in a broken voice, staring down at Oklina's glowing face. I knew he was speaking of Moreta. "She knew!" He clung to me then, his grip so fierce I could not breathe. I felt the anguish in his body, the pounding of his heart. Then his chest heaved in one massive sob, and he buried his face in my shoulder, sagging against me for the support I gladly gave him. Was this the reason I had been made so tall? We stood like that only a few moments, then parted, Alessan sinking to the seat and looking out across the Sands. I know he saw nothing, for he made no sign when B'lerion and Oklina looked at us. I signaled them that we would follow. Then everyone else left.

  The silence in the Hatching Ground was profound, the excitement outside in the Bowl muted by the great stone walls. Finally Alessan raised his head, gazing across the sands to the tiers on the other side. His manner had altered in a subtle way I could not then explain. It was as if he had let go, as perhaps he had at that moment of Impression for Oklina. Had he ended grief as she began a new life? Could he find a new life, too?

  "I gave her back her Gather gown there." His voice was a whisper I had to strain to hear. "She gave me hope and help. I can never forget her, Rill."

  "None of us should, Alessan."

  He had not wept, though his eyes were red and his face blotchy. He wiped my cheeks dry, as Uncle Munchaun often had. He didn't smile, but he didn't look so stonily hard of eye and mouth. He rose then and stepped to the next level down, holding up his hand to me.

  "Today is Oklina's joy day. Nothing, not even old sorrow, should mar it. Nor, honorable Rill, will I require that cup of you." We had started down the tiers and he was watching his steps, so he did not see how near I came to tears again with this new pressure of joy in my heart. "There is too much to be done at Ruatha, now we have lost Oklina to the Weyr. I could not have stood in her way as my father did in mine. Now I am relieved that I did not, I had to come to Fort Weyr to understand that lives end, and lives begin."

  "Oh, Alessan."

  We were on the hot sands again, and since I didn't have to be on my dignity in front of a critical audience, I grabbed his hand and began to run. I had to do something active with relief boiling about inside me. "My feet are burning, and we mustn't be too tardy in our congratulations."

  With a noise that was almost a laugh, Alessan followed me out of the Hatching Ground and toward the festivities already begun in Fort Weyr's bowl. Above us, outlined against the brilliant sky, dragons crowded every available perching space on the Rim. And the sun made a gold of every one of them.

  3.11.1553 Interval

  As I conclude this narrative, there has been no Thread to blot our skies for five marvelous Turns. Few signs remain of what Ruatha endured, for the burial mounds have been leveled and their sites are all but invisible in the luxurious grass.

  And change, the change from unrelenting Thread, has benefited all. Kamiana is Weyrwoman at Fort, and G'drel, a genial, heavyset man originally of Telgar, is Weyrleader. His Dorianth flew Pelianth on her next mating flight.

  No one hears much of Wingleader Sh'gall these days, but G'drel and Kamiana are often visitors here, and G'drel constantly teases Alessan about his runner. Squealer. He's about the only one, save Fergal, who dares, even though Alessan is generally easier to approach on most matters.

  B'lerion's Nabeth outmaneuvered every bronze on Pern to fly Oklina's Hannath, not that anyone doubted the outcome of that flight. Her two sons now play with ours, for I have fulfilled the first half of my original bargain with Alessan five times. Four strong sons and a daughter whom we have named Moreta. Alessan will not have me overbear, though I keep telling him that I am happiest pregnant and never suffer as others have from being in that condition.

  He is even permitting himself to show affection to his children. At first he pretended total indifference, as if any tenderness would mark them as victims for disaster. To my delight, they have been incredibly healthy, less prone to catch the usual childhood maladies than any other children of the Hold, sturdily immune to cuts, bruises, and breaks that often occur in childhood. Our daughter, Moreta, and Desdra has told me quite sincerely that she is the most beautiful child she ever saw, so it is not only this doting mother who so describes her, has provided the sun to thaw the coldness in her father. He could not help but adore her, for she seems to blossom with joy whenever she sees him, and her delight is contagious. Alessan will never be as carefree, blithe, or gay as Suriana described him, but his smile is readier now, and he will laugh at Tuero's outrageous humor and smile at his sons' antics and boasts. He will cheer when Squealer wins yet another race and be a genial host when visitors are in the Hall.

  We plan our first Gather, a very modest affair, when the spring has dressed the land with blossom and new growth. If occasionally when we make our plans, a shadow crosses Alessan's face, it is to be expected, and I ignore it.

  If he does not love me as he did Suriana or Moreta, still he loves me in ways he would not have known with his first wild and tempestuous wife and different from his deep devotion to Moreta. We understand each other well, often starting the same sentence simultaneously. Certainly we are of similar mind in every matter concerning Ruatha Hold and our children. He is public in his appreciation of my efforts, though he cannot know that his ready acknowledgment of my efforts is the greatest of compliments he could pay me, the girl who was never praised or thanked by her own Blood.

  And gradually, as his fear of losing yet again that which is precious to him abates, his regard has extended to all areas of our life together. At night it is not the shadow of Suriana or the dream of Moreta that he holds in his arms and loves, it is Nerilka, his wife, the mother of his children, and the Lady of his Hold.

  It is time to end a story that began in sorrow and ordeal and has ended in a deep and lasting happiness. May it be so for others.