“Oh, I remember now,” Irene said. “M’shall only mentioned he was glad he hadn’t had to do the transport.”
“Maybe we should send Chalkin’s men there when they can travel,” Zulaya suggested.
“No, let him see that we won’t tolerate his methods of Holding,” Irene said, her tone implacable. “Maybe he’ll come to his senses.”
“That’ll be the day!” Zulaya said facetiously.
When snow had melted sufficiently to allow any travel out of Bitra, Chalkin did send another blistering note of protest to Paulin, making it plain that he intended to demand compensation at the Turn’s End Conclave for the ritual disfigurement of men “only doing their duty”. This time, however, an elderly green rider collected the message when the urgent banner was seen flying from the panel heights of Bitra Hold. F’tol endured a long harangue from Chalkin that letter had better be delivered, that dragon riders were parasites on the face of Pern, that there’d be some changes made or… F’tol was neither intimidated nor impressed.
Stoically he took the letter and responsibly delivered it.
Whether Chalkin knew, or cared, that the refugees had been returned to their holdings was not known. F’tol was reasonably sure that would have been included in the tirade, since Chalkin seemed to have included every other shortcoming, mistake and venial sin ever committed by a dragon rider
Both Telgar and Benden Weyrs made daily checks on the returned, to reassure them as well as those concerned with their welfare. Of course the conditions in Bitra, with dragon-high drifts blocking major roads and tracks, made it improbable that any of Chalkin’s men would have been able to move, much less go the distance to the far-flung properties.
Benden Hold and Weyr became the latest winter victims as the blizzards which had hovered over Bitra made their way eastward, coating the eastern seaboard, even down into the northern section of Nerat which hadn’t seen any snow since the settlement of the Bendens in the early decades of the First Pass.
The dragons were the only living creatures who didn’t mind snow, since their tough hide was impervious to its cold as well as between.
They muchly enjoyed the snow battles that the weyrfolk indulged in, and then the warmth of sun intensified by the white landscape so they lounged in reflected be spite the more northerly position, Telgar Weyr got only a hand span of snow and made do with that. The young were fascinated by the stuff and by having to crack ice of the lake to bathe. Bathing a dragon had become a hazard, but T’dam allowed the weyrlings to suds up a *ago net and allow it to rinse itself off in the frigid water. But y washings resulted in some distress for the rider.
“I’ve chilblains again,” Debera complained to Iantine, showing him her swollen fingers when he came out to watch her tend Morath.
The little green was a favorite subject of his because, he told Debera, “she has a tremendous range of expression on her face and gets in the most incredible positions.” Debera was far too besotted with her dragon to disagree with such an impartial opinion. If she herself figured in every sketch Jantine did, she did not wonder about it. But the other green riders did.
“You should get some of Tisha’s cream. It stopped my fingers from itching,” he snapped his fingers, like that!”
“Oh, I have some of that,” she told him.
“Well, it doesn’t do you any good in the jar, you know.”
“Yes, I know,” she said, ducking her head, her tone low and apologetic.
“”Hey, I’m not scolding, he said gently, putting one finger under her chin and lifting her head. “What’d I do wrong?”
“Oh, nothing,” she replied and pushed his finger away, giving him a too-bright smile. “I get silly notions sometimes. Don’t pay me any mind.”
“Oh, I don’t,” he replied so blithely that she gave him a startled look. “Just go on with lathering up that beast of yours He turned to a new page and removed the pencil from behind his ear. Go on.”
“Iantine’s gone on you, Debera,” Grasella said, eyeing her barrack mate shrewdly.
“Iantine? He’s sketch-mad. He’d do his big toe if he had nothing else to pose for him,” Debera replied. “Besides, he’ll leave soon for Benden.”
“Will you miss him?” Jule asked, a sly look on her face.
“Miss him?” Debera echoed, surprised at the question.
I will miss him, Morath said in such a mournful tone that the other dragonets turned towards her, their eyes whirling in minor distress.
“What did she say that’s got them all upset?” Jule demanded.
“That she’d miss him. But, love, he’s not Weyrbred,” Debera told her dragon, stroking her cheek and then her head-knob. ”He can’t stay here indefinitely.”
“If anyone asked me, I’d say Iantine would like to,” Sarra put in.
“”No-one’s asked you,” Angie replied tartly.
Has he ever done anything, I mean, beyond sketching you, Deb?” Jule asked with an avid glint in her eyes.
“No, of course not. Why would he?” responded Debera, and flustered. That was the trouble with having to sleep with the others. They could be terribly nosy, even if they weren’t as mean as her stepmother and sisters had been. She t pry into where they were when they were late in at
“I give up on her,” said Jule, raising her hands skyward in asperahon. “The handsomest unattached man in the Weyr and she’s blind.”
“She’s Morath-besotted,” Sarra put in. “Not that any of us is much better.”
“Most of us…” and Jule paused significantly, “know that, dragons may now be a significant factor in our lives, are not everything, you know. Even old T’dam-damn has a weyrmate, after all.”
“We don’t have weyrs yet,” said Mesla, speaking for the first. She took everything literally. “Couldn’t have anyone in here with you gawking.”
Debera knew she was blushing: her cheeks felt hot.
“That hasn’t held you back, I noticed,” Sarra said to Jule, ducking her head knowingly.
Jule smiled mysteriously. “From the only Weyrbred resident this barracks, let me assure you that our wishes can influence our dragons’ choices.”
“They won’t rise for another eight or ten months,” said though she had obviously taken heed of Jule’s remark.
“Jule, suppose your dragon fancies a dragon whose rider can’t stand?”
“You mean, O’ney?” and she grinned at Angie’s discomfort.
The girl overcame her embarrassment and snapped back y enough.
“He’s impossible, even for a bronze rider. you ever heard him go on about how his wing is always in competitions! As if that was all that mattered!”
“To him it probably is,” Grasella said, but, “Jule, I’m more worried about the blue riders. I mean, some of them are very nice guys and I wouldn’t want to hurt their feelings, but they don’t like girls.”
“Oh,” and Jule shrugged indolently, “that’s easier still. You make an arrangement with another rider to be on hand when your green gets proddy. Then the blue rider gets his mate, if he’s got one, or anyone else who’s willing - and you’d better believe that anyone’s willing when dragons are going to participate. So you bed the one you like, and the blue rider his choice, and you ALL enjoy!” The girls absorbed this information with varying degrees of enthusiasm or distaste.
“Well, it’s up to yourselves what you do, you know,” Jule went on. “And we’re not limited to this Weyr, either.
“Oh!” and she let out a gusty sigh. “I’ll be so glad when we can fly out of here anytime we want.”
“But I thought you were arranging matters with T’red?” Mesla said, her eyes wide with consternation.
“Well, so I am, but that doesn’t mean I might not find someone I like better at another Weyr. Greens like it, you know”.