Sky Dragons: Dragonriders of Pern

by Anne McCaffrey

  “They are four-footed, large, and furred, but not like dogs,” Xhinna explained. “We named them for the sound they make when they’re angry. If you ever hear that sound, you should get to safety.”

  “And where’s that?”

  “Up in the broom trees,” she told them, gesturing to the trees in the distance. “They can’t climb that high.” A moment later, to ease their fear, she added, “They’re afraid of fire and the dragons.”

  “So we’re safe?”

  Xhinna shrugged. “We can’t be sure; they attacked during the Hatching and—”

  “Will they attack again?” Mirressa asked.

  “We hope that with all the dragons watching, we’ll be safe,” Xhinna replied.

  Mirressa shivered. Cliova looked back to the distant broom trees with longing. “Shouldn’t we get back now?”

  “Of course,” Xhinna said. “You can get back on Tazith while I check with the guards.”

  “Guards?”

  “We keep a dragon and rider or weyrling and rider to guard the eggs,” Xhinna explained.

  “Will they hatch soon?”

  “Do you remember your Teaching Ballads?” Xhinna asked as she headed toward the bronze rider standing guard.

  Mirressa’s very sweet voice sang out:

  “Count three months and more,

  And five heated weeks,

  A day of glory, and

  In a month, who seeks?”

  She looked at Xhinna, adding, “Is that what you mean?”

  Xhinna chuckled. “You should sing for K’dan,” she called back to Mirressa. “He’ll have you as his apprentice.”

  “A harper?” Mirressa asked dubiously.

  “Indeed!” Xhinna said as she joined J’sarte, who stood beside his bronze Nineth. To him she said, “Anything to add?”

  J’sarte chuckled. “Just don’t tell Bekka if you’ve any knowledge of healing.”

  “My mother was a midwife,” Cliova called from her perch on Tazith’s neck.

  “Oh, you’re doomed,” J’sarte said, laughing harder. “Bekka’s mother was a midwife.”

  “And she rides a queen,” Mirressa said in awe.

  Xhinna told J’sarte, “I’ll send someone down to relieve you.”

  “Thanks,” J’sarte said. “I’d hate to miss out on the feast.” To the girls on the dragon’s back, he called, “Ladies, good evening!”

  “Good evening!” Alimma called back loudly.

  “It seems you picked well,” J’sarte told Xhinna in a voice pitched for her ears alone.

  “We’ll see,” she said, patting him on the shoulder. She turned and, with a departing wave, made her way back to Tazith.

  “Who was that?” Alimma asked as Xhinna set Tazith to climbing in the darkening sky.

  “J’sarte, rider of bronze Nineth,” Xhinna told her easily, glad of the question—it was first sign of interest Xhinna had seen in Alimma—and gladder that the holder girl was in front of her and couldn’t see her gleeful expression. “Remind me to send him relief.”

  “Okay,” Alimma said firmly.

  “ ‘Five heated weeks’ is the time from clutching to hatching,” K’dan told Cliova when she approached him that evening in the clearing below the broom trees. Xhinna and the others joined them around one of the three large fires that had been built on what they had started to call the Meeyu Plateau, as the cage was not far away. “Coranth clutched four weeks back, so the Hatching should come any time in the next sevenday.”

  “Any time?” Cliova gasped. “Even at night?”

  “It’s doubtful,” K’dan assured her. “The Records put Hatchings during the day, but I suppose a night Hatching is not impossible.”

  “Sometimes dawn, sometimes after noon,” J’keran added from the next fire over. He had an arm around Taria, who looked quite comfortable. Xhinna noted that, from time to time, he would look around surreptitiously before bringing a flask to his lips. Once she saw him offer it to Taria, who giggled happily.

  Xhinna rose, thinking to go over to them, but was stopped by a hand tugging on hers. She looked down to see Jirana. Noting the child’s pinched expression, she knelt and asked, “What is it?”

  “I’m worried,” Jirana said. “The eggs—they aren’t safe.”

  “Hannah’s watching them with Vanirth,” Xhinna assured her.

  “No, they’re not safe,” Jirana repeated pleadingly. She looked away from Xhinna and muttered to herself, “Maybe it’s too late.”

  “Too late for what?”

  “To save them,” Jirana said.

  Tazith, Xhinna called, see how Vanirth and Hannah are doing.

  The little queen is dozing, Tazith replied. She was annoyed that I woke her. She says she bored and sleepy.

  And Hannah?

  The same.

  Xhinna’s eyes narrowed and she rose. Let’s go there, she told her blue, moving toward his distant bulk.

  “I’m coming,” Jirana said, trudging along after her.

  “It’s probably nothing,” Xhinna reassured her. “It’s late and you should get to sleep.”

  “I’m coming with you,” Jirana repeated adamantly. Xhinna stopped, spotted Jirana’s mother in the distance next to Aressil, and waved, pointing down to Jirana and then over to Tazith. Javissa caught her motion and nodded, waving back in approval.

  “Don’t fall off,” Xhinna told the girl tersely as she picked up her pace.

  Jirana snorted. “That’s not how I’ll—”

  Xhinna stopped, turning abruptly back to the girl. “Not how what?”

  “Nothing,” Jirana said a little too quickly. Xhinna frowned at her, but decided not to press the issue at the moment, returning to her march toward Tazith.

  In a few quick wingbeats they were airborne. Tazith swooped down again briefly to snatch a few timbers from the woodpile, and when they arrived at the beach, he dropped the logs on the ground at the far side of the warming fire. Hannah and her queen both roused at the noise and looked up suddenly.

  Tazith landed nearby, and Hannah strode over to greet them.

  “Is everything all right?”

  “You’re not my relief?” Hannah asked with disappointment. Xhinna leapt down and shook her head. “I’ll bring D’valor down when we get back.”

  “Oh, good, because I’m half asleep,” the young woman confessed. She gestured toward the sea. “That steady sound, it just lulls my eyes closed.”

  “We should have more guards,” Jirana said. Privately, Xhinna agreed, but it was always a trade-off between guards and hunters.

  “What about the Candidates?” Hannah suggested. “They could get to know the eggs.”

  “They wouldn’t know if the tunnel snakes or Mrreows came by,” Xhinna said.

  “So? Pair them with one of us oldsters,” Hannah said. Xhinna raised her eyebrows in acknowledgment and then, with a wave to Hannah, took a quick stroll around the eggs. Jirana accompanied her.

  “See?” Xhinna said to her when they’d returned to the fire. “Nothing to worry about.”

  Jirana shook her head. “Maybe not tonight.”

  Xhinna sighed and tousled the girl’s head. “Come on, you! I’ll get you back to your mother and bring D’valor down here before Hannah freezes.”

  “Oh, please!” Hannah called feelingly from the fireside.

  Jirana’s words were not forgotten by Xhinna. With X’lerin’s approval, she doubled the guards on the Hatching sands. As the days crawled toward the end of the sevenday when the eggs should hatch, she grew less worried about Mrreows or tunnel snakes and more concerned about the low number of Candidates.

  “Why don’t you go back and get more?” Taria asked, looking at Xhinna with annoyance when the blue rider mentioned it again. They were sitting on the beach, watching the weyrlings, her Tazith and a detachment of other mature dragons frolicking in the sea. How they managed the colder water was beyond her; it took no more than an instant in it to turn Xhinna nearly as blue as her dragon, teeth chattering u
ncontrollably. Taria claimed she liked it, but Xhinna hadn’t seen her in the water more than twice in the past sevenday and never for very long.

  “K’dan and X’lerin are worried about us taking more risks timing it.” Xhinna hesitated before adding, “Especially because of what Jirana said.”

  “So they believe a little girl instead of their own eyes?” Taria snapped, gesturing at the eighteen eggs that lay spread around them. Xhinna sighed. She knew that Taria liked Jirana well enough and trusted the girl, but Taria was feeling the same strain that had tugged on Xhinna: If the trader girl were right, then more than twelve of these eggs wouldn’t hatch. And if that were so, if only one in every three eggs survived, what would it mean for Pern?

  “Well, we’ve got Jirana, Aressil, and Jasser if it comes to that,” Xhinna said, temporizing. “And there’s Colfet, too.”

  “You can’t be serious!”

  “I’ll bring it up with X’lerin,” Xhinna said, relenting. “If he approves it, I’ll go.”

  “And bring back another five?” Taria asked scornfully. “What do the Records say—five Candidates for each egg?”

  “I don’t know where we can find ninety Candidates on short notice,” Xhinna said.

  “It shouldn’t be short notice—you should have got more!”

  “And feed them with what?” Xhinna asked, throwing an arm in the direction of the burnt plateau. “Clothe them with what?” She shook her head. “And we’ve no place to put them.”

  “Well, why didn’t you do something about it? You’re the great wingleader!”

  “R’ney thinks—”

  “R’ney, R’ney, R’ney!” Taria interrupted with another scathing tirade. “It’s R’ney do this, R’ney do that—it’s no wonder I don’t see him anymore, you’re besotted with the man!”

  “He does good work,” Xhinna said. “He doesn’t like to stop until he’s got the job done right.”

  “Well, maybe you should assign me as one of his jobs. He hasn’t bothered to be around much lately!”

  No, Xhinna realized, he hadn’t. It had been J’keran who’d spent the most time with Taria. It had been J’keran who had figured out what could be brewed for alcohol, and it had been J’keran who had been keeping Taria up all hours—the green rider had staggered back to her bed in the middle of the night nearly every night since Xhinna had returned with the Candidates.

  “He needs to relax,” Taria had said when Xhinna brought it up. “You said so.”

  “But the baby—”

  “I don’t drink that much,” Taria had said. “Don’t you think I would be careful with R’ney’s child?”

  Xhinna had turned away at the question, the first of many digs and reminders that the child was Taria’s and R’ney’s, not hers.

  Day by day she felt herself becoming more distant from Taria, as though each day the eggs lay on the Hatching sands, something died in her friend, as though each day Taria grew more pregnant, she lost some spark of life, some sense of control or hope.

  “She’s moody,” Bekka had said when Xhinna first mentioned it. Later, when Xhinna mentioned it again, Bekka said, “You should talk to her.”

  But now, talking to Taria, she found herself fighting with the person she loved more than any other.

  “I don’t think you care about the baby, I don’t think you care about Coranth’s eggs,” Taria said, flinging the words at Xhinna. “You certainly don’t care for Razz, it’s a wonder any of the Mrreows are still alive.”

  Ah! Xhinna thought, back to the Mrreows. She had rejected Taria’s suggestion from the first and wouldn’t budge on it—she could not imagine for a moment that having a Mrreow, however tame, around the dragon’s eggs would be anything other than a threat to dragon and human alike. X’lerin and K’dan agreed with her, although she wondered: If she thought otherwise, would they be persuaded by her arguments?

  “But if we teach them to live with the dragons and respect the humans, they could guard the eggs from the tunnel snakes!” Taria had protested.

  “And eat the hatchlings and maul the humans,” Xhinna had replied, shaking her head vehemently. “It’s just too dangerous, Taria, we can’t risk it.” She had paused for a moment before adding, “You know more than most—think of what one did to Coranth!”

  “Weyrlings will claw and bite when they’re newborn. The Mrreows just need to be trained,” Taria had said. She’d pursed her lips and glowered at Xhinna. “You just don’t like them.”

  “We can’t risk it,” Xhinna had repeated with finality. That had been a mistake. Taria’s eyes had widened in hurt, and she had turned away from Xhinna, refusing to talk further.

  And now she looked ready to do it again. Moody! Like a baby! Xhinna fumed, not knowing how to handle this woman who was so different from the calm, poised person she’d met at Telgar.

  Taria must have felt the strain, too, for she lifted her eyes to Xhinna and began reasonably, “Look, if you say we’re going to lose a dozen hatchlings, why not risk having Razz’s help?”

  “And what about the others?” Xhinna asked. “You can’t say that Razz can do it all on her own. She’s got to eat, she’s got to rest.” She paused. “You didn’t name the others nice names—they’re Bite, Claw, and Scratch, remember?”

  “We didn’t spend as much time with them,” Taria complained. “If we’d had one person with each of them, all the time taking care of them—”

  “But we didn’t, and we don’t know if they’d be different,” Xhinna said. She offered some praise. “Maybe it’s just your way with Razz that makes her easier to deal with.”

  “Maybe it’s your way of running things that makes the others nasty,” Taria snapped back.

  “I’ve got to bring the weyrlings back,” Xhinna said, rising. Brushing off some sand, she started toward Tazith.

  “That’s your best excuse? The weyrlings can’t wait?” Taria asked, gesturing to them as they cavorted in the sea, playing amongst the waves. “Why don’t we work this out? Don’t you want eighteen eggs in this clutch?” She paused and threw in another dig. “After all, it’s the only one you’ll have.”

  Xhinna frowned, shaking her head. “Tazith can mate again; there’ll be more clutches.”

  “Not with my Coranth,” Taria declared, her eyes flashing. “Not if you won’t take the least precaution to save her eggs.”

  “We’ve got a guard,” Xhinna reminded her. “I doubled it.”

  “Ever watch the queens when they come here?” Taria asked, glancing toward the gold forms in the sea beyond them. “Ever notice how they behave?”

  “They’re just giving Coranth space,” Xhinna said, using her old answer to this old argument one more time.

  “Maybe,” Taria said. “Or maybe they don’t like the ground here. Maybe they know something we don’t.”

  “Bekka’s Pinorth would have told us,” Xhinna said. She didn’t tell Taria that she’d had Bekka ask Pinorth to make a careful tour of the grounds and that the little queen had found nothing amiss. She made a placating gesture toward Taria. “Look, this is new for us, for all of us. I’m worried, you’re worried, we’re all worried.”

  “Then why don’t you do something?” Taria demanded. Xhinna started to respond, decided it was futile, and closed her mouth, shaking her head sadly.

  “I’m doing the best I can, Taria,” she said after a moment, when she had managed to find her voice once more. “We all are.”

  “But what if it’s not good enough?” Taria asked her with feeling. “What then? How does Pern survive if you’re wrong?”

  “There’ll be other Hatchings,” Xhinna said. “We can try something new—”

  “But the weyrlings will be dead, Xhinna!” Taria wailed, waving her arms in the air. “They’ll be dead. We can’t get them back; we can’t make new ones.”

  Xhinna took a deep breath, startled by Taria’s renewed outburst, and tried again, slowly. “K’dan said—”

  “Shards to K’dan!” Taria shouted. “Shards to X�
��lerin and all the others—they aren’t here! They put you in charge and you’re killing our hatchlings!” Tears streamed down her face. “You’re killing them, and you’ll do nothing to stop it.” Her lower lip trembled as she added, “I don’t think you want them. Maybe you don’t want to remember it, Xhinna, but you’re a woman. Not a wingleader, not a blue rider, a woman! And we’re supposed to protect the young.”

  Xhinna’s eyes boggled at Taria’s words and so many things bubbled through her mind that she couldn’t say any of them.

  “Go on, Xhinna,” Taria said, waving her away. “Go bring the queens back to the Weyr. Pretend you’re a wingleader with them—maybe they’ll believe you.”

  Xhinna started to say something, to rage at her, but she didn’t have the energy. She’d done so much for this Weyr, worked so hard. She had no energy left for this lunatic bickering. With a sigh, she turned toward the beach and Tazith.

  That evening, Xhinna resolved to go find more Candidates on her own. If Jirana was right, and the eggs didn’t all hatch, it would do no harm; and if she was wrong, then there should be enough humans for all the hatchlings—even if she had to make two trips.

  She decided that if she went only with Tazith and the lightest of straps, she could easily bring back eight more in the first trip, and she might manage another eight in the second, providing Candidates to spare.

  She was climbing onto Tazith when she heard someone approach. It was Jirana.

  “Where are you going?” the girl asked.

  “I’m going to get more Candidates,” Xhinna said.

  “But it’s too late, the eggs are rocking already.”

  “Eggs don’t hatch at night,” Xhinna said.

  “But they’re rocking right now,” Jirana insisted.

  “Come on, I’ll show you,” Xhinna said, lowering a hand to the girl, who clambered up. The child was wrong, just guessing, Xhinna told herself as they rose and glided toward the hatching sands. Taria was there, and so was J’keran, on guard—

  Xhinna’s blood pounded when she heard the sounds coming up from the sands below. She heard Taria and J’keran plainly enough and let out an angry sigh. What they were doing clearly wasn’t guarding.