Chap. 139 The Apology

Chap. 139  The Apology

K'ndar was relaxing by the fire in the center of the pavilion. D'nis had had it built after the hurricane. From his spot, he could see the night sky, the stars on the horizon clear and bright. Far out to sea, he could see torchlights on a fishing ship. The flames from the fire made shadows dance.

Siskin was curled up in his lap, asleep. 

Trees that had been thrown onto the beach from the storm surge had been used not only to support the roof, shingled in thin sheets of slate, but also to create large, comfortable benches and individual chairs. In the center was a large firepit. A chimney of cunningly fitted rock served to keep the smoke from bothering the weyrfolk. 

A chest high wall of volcanic rock served to keep the cool, onshore winds off one's neck, but otherwise, the pavilion was open to the elements.  The moment it had been finished it had been used almost nightly. 

The summer harvest season was done. K'ndar had spent the last two weeks harvesting klah bark.

He'd never spent much time in a forest, but now he understood why some people loved them. It was full of birds and small animals. The forest canopy had kept the hot summer sun from roasting him, and the work itself had been, if time consuming, far easier than baling hay. He had kept a mental catalog of all the things he wanted to go back and see-the birds, the wherries, the animals, the insects-the forest was a biologist's playground.

B'rost, he thought, you did me a favor by busting my nose, it kept me from busting my arse, he thought. 

Normally, he'd have a mug of klah in his hand right now, but for the moment, his nostrils were filled with the scent of the bark. It wasn't a bad smell, in fact, it was pleasing, but it killed any desire he had for some of the resulting drink. 

Children ran and played through the pavilion. Several of them had fire lizards. Some of their parents were with them, several with tiny babies. Two Oldtimers were there, teenagers were whispering amongst each other, or flirting, or just being teens. He remembered being that age, not so long ago, but growing up on a remote cothold meant he'd had very little socialization and no friends his age. Was that why he was a loner, still? But he wasn't these days, was he?

A blue fire lizard appeared in front of them. He whickered, and Siskin awoke immediately.

"Hello, Roany, where's your mum?" K'ndar asked, recognizing the fire lizard as Greta's.

"Right behind you, K'ndar, is this chair taken?" the geologist asked.

"No! Have a seat! Haven't seen you in a while," he said. The two fire lizards began to talk to each other. 

Greta sat down with a thump.

"I am so glad THAT's over," she said. She, unlike K'ndar, had a mug of klah. She threw her head back and ran a hand through her hair. He found himself liking that motion in her.

"What did they have you doing?" K'ndar asked.

"Bagging up wheat seeds. Thank the stars I didn't have to thresh them. That's a pain in the arse, let me tell you. Even so, it gave me an entirely new appreciation for bread," she said. She forcibly blew her nose. "I still have the dust in my nose, even though it was fairly clean, and I got a shower every night after work," she said. 

"I remember my mum having big sacks of flour brought in, it never occurred to me to ask how it got that way," K'ndar said.

"It's work, let me tell you, and that's even without the cutting, the threshing, the milling…"

"What's work?" a voice behind them said.

K'ndar knew without looking that it was B'rost.

Siskin, who'd been up in the rafters with Roany, flew down to K'ndar's shoulder and hissed softly.

Greta craned her head to look at the blue rider.

"Bagging up wheat, that's work," she said, wondering who this person was.

"Greta, this is B'rost, rider of blue Rath. B'rost, this is Greta, rider of green Earth."

"Earth? Like in…Terra?" 

Greta smiled. "I get asked that all the time. She told me her name, and I didn't question it," she said. There was an uncomfortable silence, broken only by snatches of conversation of others in the pavilion.

B'rost looked down at the two. Siskin watched him, eyes a whirling yellow. HE knew who B'rost was and what he'd done.

K'ndar stroked him gently. Roany flew down to Greta's shoulder, wondering at Siskin's reaction to B'rost. 

K'ndar looked expectantly at B'rost. 

"Um, um…" B'rost stuttered.

Greta flinched. Earth had transmitted the information that this was the man who'd punched K'ndar in the nose. She decided to keep quiet, to see how things worked out.

"Looks like..like your nose is better," B'rost said. He suddenly sat down in a heap in front of the two.

"It's getting there," K'ndar said, keeping a chill in his voice. It'd been two weeks since the assault, and this was the first time he'd seen B'rost.

"You know what I've been doing, once hay baling was done?" B'rost started.

"It's all done?" he thought, happy that he hadn't spent anymore than one day at it. 

"Yes. Aye. For a while, I never thought I'd be so hot, so tired, so itchy, so…they had me atop the wagon load. I was with two kids, catching the hay bales as they were tossed up to us.  Those kids, they're just kids, and they worked me to death. I fell off twice. It was go go go. The only rest was in between wagons. I'm sunburned, I keep coughing up chaff, I swear I'll never…I'll hope to the stars they find something else for me to do at harvest," he said, idly scratching at a spot on the back of his neck.

"Was that your punishment for punching me in the nose?" K'ndar said.

B'rost hung his head.

"No. No. Once I got back from the hayfields, M'rvin let me shower and get a meal, then I had to go to the smithy. You know, where they make tools and stuff from iron. They have these big ovens that they melt the ore in. Those things, they get hot and stay hot. Even though there was nothing being smelted this week, those ovens retain heat. I had to do what they call 'scaling'. It's chipping metal off the walls inside the oven. Even at high temperatures, a film builds up on the inside, and gets thicker and thicker, and that causes uneven temperatures. The mastersmith is a big lout named Harlan. He knows you, K'ndar, and his first question to me was quote, "What the bloody shaf was I thinking, punching you in the nose, was I a twit?" 

K'ndar had to laugh. Harlan wasn't the type of man you'd call a lout to his face-or if you did, you only did it once.

 Greta giggled. B'rost shook his head in dismay.

"I thought baling hay was hard work. Nay, it's a walk on the beach in comparison. At least you're standing up and moving around, not kneeling on a rocky floor with your head and shoulders and arms inside an oven that won't let you move more than a half an arm length. That bloody scale, it does NOT want to come off, not without a big fight. There's dust in that oven, no matter how much it's been swept out, and there are tiny bits of metal that stick you if you touch it. You're sweating like a pig. You have a hammer and a chisel that is utterly useless, well, almost, the scale comes off in tiny little bits no bigger than your thumb. And those ovens are big. It took me three days to get the first one done, all by myself. Harlan would come by once in a while to check up on me. That ba..that man, could find the smallest bit that I couldn't even see, and point it out for me. "Don't miss this spot. What are you, blind? Are you planning on actually WORKING at this?"  I hated that man. 

He turned his hands over. There were blisters on blisters. 

"It took me two weeks-two weeks, of working on them until I was too tired to lift the hammer, one night I didn't even go back to my weyr, I  just climbed up on one of the worktables and slept. Rath was upset, I had to care for him, and wasn't. 

I finally finished the ovens and was going to leave when Harlan started giving me another task, something probably even harder. So I just lost it. I threw the hammer at him and missed. He didn't move a muscle. He said, "Boy, I’m going to give you a second chance. You go get that hammer, you throw it at me and this time, make sure you hit me. Make sure you knock me out, because if you miss again, you'll be sorry you were even born." And he said it low, and quiet. Scared the piss out of me. 

I picked up the hammer and put it in the tool rack. Then he asked if I thought he was being too hard on me and I said yes. He said, he was being hard on me on purpose. And that "the one person who can release you from your punishment is you. I have lots more tasks for you, if you want to keep on with this, just keep up that pigheaded pride that's keeping you from apologizing for your assaulting K'ndar," he said.

You could have heard a pin drop. Everyone in the pavilion was listening without being obvious about it. The only sounds, now, were the crackling of the fire and the soft sound of the ocean in the background.

A tear rolled down B'rost's cheek. It cut through a dust they'd not noticed before.

K'ndar felt a strange mix of guilt, satisfaction,  and schadenfreude. He'd been waiting for B'rost's apology, and as time passed, began to wonder if it would happen. He'd been convinced that B'rost was the sort of person unwilling to admit wrongdoing, or find a way to get out of apologizing. 

"He was right. I didn't want to admit I was wrong. I shouldn't have punched you, K'ndar, and I am so sorry. I was sorry the moment I did it, but …I couldn't admit it. I was mad at you, I was, because I thought you were ignoring me, I was jealous, because of all the things you've done, and no one was saying things about me," he said. 

He stood up.

"So, I'm sorry, K'ndar. You were right, I was being an arse, I was rude to that woman, who I am still looking for so I can apologize to her, and I will never do it again."

K'ndar felt something indescribable in his heart. He got out of the chair.

"I accept your apology, B'rost. Thank you," and stuck out his hand to shake. 

"Oh, shards, no, please…I can't even comb my own hair, my hands are so sore. Just-I'm sorry, K'ndar," B'rost said.

The crowd in the pavilion burst into cheers.

Chap. 138 The Klah Collectors

Chap. 138  The Klah Collectors

After a few  'betweens' and flying at a reasonable altitude, Billek the healer had given K'ndar permission to fly.

"Now don't be too bold, K'ndar…if your nose begins to bleed, it means you're not ready to fly yet," he'd said, "and I want you to avoid dusty work, if you can. That means no haying, or cutting papergrass, anything that might make you sneeze."

"I learned THAT the hard way, sir, I was dusting my shelves and sneezed," he said.

"Bet you don’t do that for a while," Billek laughed.

K'ndar had then reported for duty at the Weyrleader's office for his assignment, relaying Billek's caveats.

"No haying or dusty work, eh? Bet that breaks your heart, what?" said the dragonrider in charge of allotting work details. "No matter, I have a young blue rider just begging to do more hay baling," he said, winking at K'ndar. It hadn't taken but a moment, it seemed, for gossip about B'rost to cover the entire weyr.

He'd not seen B'rost yet, and he had no idea what his punishment would be, but K'ndar figured hay baling was a punishment all on its own.

The man looked at the slate board with open work assignments.

"Let's see, let's see….ah, here we go. Do you know C'val? Blue Rastabenth?"

"I DO! C'val was my mentor in Weyrling class. He and my wingleader, D'mitran, were my Searchers," K'ndar said, brightening. 

"C'val is working on the team that's harvesting klah bark. Think you could handle that, what with your nose all swole up still?"

K'ndar nodded, despite not knowing a thing about harvesting klah bark. He'd not seen C'val in a very long time.

"Fine. He's already out at Singing Waters Hold, waiting on a body. That body being yours. Stop at the dining hall for a pouch lunch and for Pern's sake, take some water. Masterhealer Billek has been beating me like a spit dog about making sure "everyone stays hydrated" (this last in his best imitation of Billek's Northern accent).

K'ndar laughed. "Don't be too hard on Billek, he's a good healer."

"Aye, I know, lad, you're right. He put my arm to rights several years ago, I have no complaint with him. But he can be like a broody hen at times. Off you go, K'ndar, see you tonight."

K'ndar stopped at the entrance to the dining hall. A sign had been erected earlier that day. It said "No Dogs or Fire Lizards in the Dining Hall".

Huh. Wonder how Lindea was going to deal with that…but her gold lizard, Zeta, seldom actually entered the dining hall itself. He'd have to train Siskin. He'd also have to learn what prompted the sign. Dogs he could understand, but fire lizards? But a hungry fire lizard would probably go for one's meal.

Lindea wasn't there. Drul, one of the hall's drudges, was handing out pouch lunches.

"What's in the lunch?" he asked her, as he took a pouch (wishing it were two, he was always hungry).

"A meat pie, a bubbly pie, some fruit, and cookies," she said, shyly. "I made the bubbly pies," she added.

"Lindea's bubbly pies?"

"Yes, sir, she taught me." 

"Then I know they'll be good. Just wish I could have two," he said.

"Oh, you can, sir, here," handing him a second pouch. "Please bring the pouches back, we can reuse them after cleaning them. And don't forget to take water," she said, by rote. 

Exiting the dining hall entrance, he noticed a large ginger cat sitting directly underneath the sign. The cat-a member of the dining hall staff specifically to keep crawlers and tunnel snakes out-looked extremely smug.

__________________________________________________________________________

"Hello, K'ndar! Long time no see! Wow, I guess he did punch your nose, didn't he!" C'val greeted him. 

K'ndar rolled his eyes. "Guess it's pretty hard to hide, what?"

"Aye, it will take a few days for the swelling to go down. How'd between go?"

"Between was fine. It was altitude that makes it hurt, don't tell Billek or he'll keep me grounded. Thought I'd go crazy doing nothing at the weyr, and it was just one day."

C'val nodded in agreement. "Been there. You're right, if you're not bedridden, being grounded is  pretty boring. C'mon, the team's waiting. Ever harvested klah before?"

"Never. I don't think I've even seen a klah tree. They don't grow on the steppe."

"Well, you're in for a treat. It's a lot cooler in the forest and it's beautiful. The work isn't hard but it's technical. The journeyman forester will brief you before we enter the forest. 

 Essentially, we strip SMALL pieces of bark off trees that she has approved. Small, like about the size of your flattened hand.  Make 'em rectangular,  they're not so apt to roll up then. She's murder on you if you let it roll up or cut it just any old way. She's marked the trees we can cut bark from with a blue chalk mark.  She will give you a bark knife and show you how to cut it. Not too much, not too deep. You don't want to strip the tree completely, you don't want to 'girdle' it,  it will die that way, and a dead klah tree isn't even good for firewood. You just take a small piece from one tree, move on to another. If the tree looks as if it's had bark harvested in the past year or so, don't touch it."

"How will I know?"

"She'll teach you, and I'll monitor you till you get it. It's not hard. And honestly, it's pleasant work. You can hear the birds, see animals, and it's way easier than some of the other harvests. 

All of the trees we'll be cutting are wild, and some are hundreds of years old.  Lord Dorn has had 100 or so hectares planted in klah trees, but it takes ten years for the tree to grow tall enough to be able to harvest quality bark, and his orchard isn't old enough yet. So we'll be bushwhacking.

 The team chief knows where every tree is, it's incredible. No map, it's all in her head. She says she learned it from her grandmother. I've been here all week, and I can tell you, she knows her stuff. I have to warn you, though..she can be a real pain in the arse, but once we get into the forest, once she's assured you're not going to hurt her trees, she stops being so obnoxious. She can teach you a lot if you can handle her attitude," C'val said.

A group of people were waiting on them. 

"Ah, she's got the team altogether," C'val said. 

One walked up to them and stood there with her hands on her hips.

"You are?" she said, in an imperious tone of voice.

"K'ndar," he said.

Kaila looked K'ndar up and down.

"What happened…" she began.

"I got punched in the nose," he finished for her. 

She laughed. "Looks like you're wearing a big red apple!"

"I know," he said. 

"Know how to read a compass?"

"Yessssssssssssss, of course."

"Got one?"

"No, didn't bring one." He didn't say he didn't need one, not only did he have a compass in his head, he also had a fire lizard…and a dragon, both of whom knew where they were all the time.

She rummaged in a sack.

"Here. I want this back at the end of the day. Don't get lost. It's easy in the forest. That way is north," she said, pointing, "and here's a bark knife. Ever cut klah bark before?"

"No," he said, annoyed at her condescension.

"I'll keep a sharp eye on you, then, don't want you buggering up my trees," she said.

"I can train him," C'val said, sensing that K'ndar was getting piqued.

"I don't trust anyone til I've trained 'em myself, C'val," she snapped. 

Behind her, the team smirked, but it was because they'd all gone through the same grilling. 

"Is that your fire lizard?"

Duh, the one sitting on my shoulder?  "Yes."

"He's not to attack the animals or birds. Or anything but tunnel snakes but we don't have 'em here. Bugs, we got. Not snakes."

"May he eat a bug that happens to bite me?" K'ndar said, sarcastically. It went right over her head.

"Of course, what a stupid thing to ask," she said, now looking at a slate in her hand.

"Okay. We are ready to move off. All of you, pick up where you left off yesterday. K'ndar, here's a collection box. When you cut the bark, you have 'bout five minutes before it starts to dry out and roll up. You don't want it to roll up, got it? Just lay it nice and flat in the box, stack it like it was dried hides.  See how this side works?  You put a piece of bark in the box, bark side up, slide the lid down on these dowels in the corners, it's a press. You press down on it to keep the bark from rolling up. You let it roll up, the bark won't dry right, some spots it will be damp and get moldy.  I'll be right on your side when we start cutting. Only cut on trees what's been marked in blue chalk.  If there's a cut mark on it, a fresh one, DON'T YOU DARE cut more bark. Once I think you've got it, you can go with C'val.  When I whistle that means it's lunch time. You come back here to this site, drop your barks in this crate here, when it's full up we put this piece of slate to keep everything flat. Only then do we eat. Go it?"

He looked at her, wondering if he could get away with retorting.

C'val says, take it easy, everyone went through the same noise from her, she does this to all the newbies but once she's satisfied she backs off.

One of the older men behind her caught his eye and winked. It said, "yeah, don't worry, we know you still have your balls."

He nodded. He worked the press lid to show her he could understand something as complicated as a wooden box.  

"Got it. Lead on, MacDuff," he said, knowing instinctively she wouldn't get it.

"My name is KAILA. Don't forget it."

She was twelve years old.

Chap. 137 Confined to boring quarters

Chap. 137 Confined to boring quarters

I never realized how boring it can be when no one is here, he thought. 

He was amazed at how empty the weyr seemed. Not that it was totally unpeopled. The operations of everyday life remained: the cooks were still at work, livestock still needed feeding and mucking out, small children were still being cared for, those who were ill or injured were, like him, in their weyrs and their caregivers with them. The few remaining Oldtimers were sitting in the warm sun on the beach, swapping stories. 

But the vast majority of the weyrfolk were at Singing Waters Hold, harvesting. 

K'ndar, though, was "confined to quarters". It was far more tedious than he would have expected. 

Maybe if I were really sick, he thought, I can understand, but all I've got is a hurt nose. 

Once he'd awakened from the fellis juice, Billek had told him he would not be working today.

"I let M'rvin know that I've grounded you, at least for today," the healer said.

"If I flew, would something bad happen to me?" K'ndar asked, as he got up from the bunk in the clinic.

"I've never heard of it something bad happening," he'd said, "but then, before today, the only broken noses I've treated have been on us groundpounders. I have no idea how the blood vessels in your nose-you bled pretty copiously-would respond to going between or reaching altitude on your dragon. So, erring on the side of caution, I'd like for you to stay home, no riding  today. Do you need some more fellis? Your nose will probably start to hurt once it wears off," Billek said.

"No, please, I don't know what is in fellis, but it made me feel so strange, almost sick to my stomach," K'ndar said.

"Aye, it's powerful stuff, it is, and you seem to be overly sensitive to it. I wish I'd known, I'd not have given you as big a dose, but I had no idea you'd never had it before. Now I do. But here, take some numbweed, it might do the trick if it starts to hurt too badly," Billek said.

 He handed K'ndar a small jar. "Remember, I want to see you tomorrow morning. I will judge, then, if it's safe for you to ride," he said. 

"Yes, sir. Thank you for fixing my nose," K'ndar said.

Billek grinned. "You're welcome. That was an easy fix. I'm betting my boots I'll have at least one knife injury come in and I'm SURE to have heat injuries, just like yesterday," he said, ruefully. "For a weyr that experiences hot weather in the summer, most people still don't understand they need to drink water. A LOT. Klah doesn't do the job of keeping people hydrated, never mind anything alcoholic!" he said, shaking his head. 

But, he realized, it kept him busy and at a weyr he had learned to love. I'd rather be here fixing broken noses than back at Healer Hall, with a doctor hovering over my shoulder picking at my every action with criticism rather than advice.

So K'ndar had returned to his weyr, his unexpected exemption from having to throw 40+kilogram hay bales up over his head most welcome, if leaving him feeling a bit guilty. It would give him time to catch up on transcribing his field notebooks. 

Siskin was overjoyed to have him home. He burbled and wheeped for several minutes, fussing over K'ndar like a mother cat who'd located a lost kitten.

He was very upset. He cried  when you were sleeping. He didn't want to stay here with me. 

He scratched the blue fire lizard's head. "It's okay, now, Siskin, I know you were trying to protect me. Good lad, you are such a good boy."

I was worried too. Rath told me B'rost was in M'rvin's office. 

Hmmm. He felt a bit of schadenfreude. Standing around 'fanning a worker'? My arse, he thought.  Guess B'rost will get a taste of some bitter medicine. But WHY was he so angry?

He had a meeting with the Weyrleader?

That is what I know. I didn’t hear the conversation and I was listening to you.

Good. Called on his actions by the Weyrleader. That wouldn't go easy…M'rvin was a fair man,  but he wasn't one to let a miscreant get away with things like punching someone in the nose for no reason. 

Do you know why he hit me?

Raventh pinged Corvuth.

He is…jealous? I don't know what jealous means.

It means, when you see..um, when ..well, for instance, if a dragon you know has killed a bigger beast than you, and you are angry because it wasn't you who got it. 

But you still have a beast, right? If you're still hungry, you get another

It's very complicated. In humans, it can be um..let's say a woman loves me, and some other man is angry because he wants her to love him, so he gets mad at ME. That's jealousy.

That's confusing. This is what confuses dragons more than anything, you humans and all your feelings, so many all at once. How can you feel so many feelings at the same time? So many of them are opposite from the other. Sometimes we just want to stop your mind talk when you're feeling feelings. 

The word for feelings is 'emotions'. 

Emotions. So many of your emotions are like wherries fighting each other. You love and hate another human at the same time. Doesn't that hurt your brain?

Sometimes it does. Most of the time it does. It confuses us, too. But we can't stop it. 

I am glad I am a dragon with one emotion at a time. Sometimes humans have so many emotions in their minds we don't know what to say or do. Your emotions are like prey when we go hunting…they run in every direction and sometimes into each other. Which one do we listen to?

I'm sorry. I don't know how to advise you. Do I do that, confuse you?

Sometimes. Today. When you were asleep in that office, your mind was shouting. I've never heard it do that before. You had pictures, you call it dreaming? but it wasn't like your normal sleep. I don't know how you do that, either. How do you sleep with your brain not listening, like you are dead?  Dragons always have one half of their brain awake.

You don't dream?

We dream. But it's not like yours. It's…hunting. Eating. Mating. Flying, going between, being scratched. I need a scratch between my wings.

Siskin yeeped and immediately flew to a spot between Raventh's wings, where he began to scratch.

Yes, that's the spot. I am so glad we have Siskin

I am, too.

Once he'd finished transcribing his notes, he gave his weyr a good cleaning, airing out his bedding and knocking down insect webs. How did it get so messy when no one had been in it? 

His bookshelf was thick with dust.  He made the mistake of dusting it.

The resulting cloud made him sneeze. Disastrously.

Once the agony lessened, he tried to put a bandana around his nose, but it was too sore to bear any pressure. He wondered if his flight goggles would hurt it. He tried them on.

Oh, shards, yes. 

He was very careful in the rest of his cleaning. Now that he saw the dust, it annoyed him that he couldn't sweep it out without possibly inciting another sneeze.

Shards. Fine. I'll go get something to eat. Didn't get much breakfast this morning. Surely being grounded doesn't mean I can't eat in the dining hall, he thought.

Just as he was leaving his weyr, the sunlight came streaming in past Raventh's couch and lit up the bookshelf…and the rough opals serving as bookends.

Something told him to hide them.

He had no fear of them being stolen. People didn't routinely enter other people's weyrs without being invited. Even children knew better.

But there were people, like Jenmay, the rogue Oldtimer who'd managed to kill off their Weyrwoman in order to take her place. Once in that position, she'd rampaged throughout the weyr, rooting out anything 'modern' or inspired by Aivas. 

She'd barged into his quarters, uninvited, convinced he was hiding 'contraband', although she hadn't known it was books.

 He'd had just four, then, and had stuffed them into his shirt. She hadn't dared to search him bodily. Had she found them…the least thing she would have done would be to destroy them. 

But her intent had been to find something to justify exiling him, sent to some remote spot wherever she sent her other 'enemies'. Oh, wonderful hurricane, how such a destructive storm can still bring relief from a greater evil.  True, it had destroyed some things, but things that could be repaired or rebuilt. It had also destroyed her. No. She had allowed it to destroy her.

 He shivered at her memory.

She was a very bad human. She made her Jianath sad, all the time. I never knew a dragon could feel so much heart pain.

I know.

He didn't have to worry about that, not now, and hopefully, never again. His books were safe. But there were the opals. Despite being set in stony matrix, they still shone bright and beautifully. 

He took them off the shelf and holding them for a moment, wondered where to put them. Ah.

 Like most quarters, the walls of his weyr had cubbys carved into the rock, serving as storage space. He shoved the four rocks behind his clothing in the highest one. Out of sight meant out of mind.

The sunshine lit up his entire weyr. He missed his beach weyr but had to admit that he loved this one, too, especially on lovely days such as this. He had a view of the ocean, which, when the sun was rising, woke him with its light. Wairiki Rock, an island just off shore, served as home for hundreds of seabirds and wherries.

At night, he would sit out on the second level ledge between Raventh's forelegs and stargaze without bugs bothering him. Stargazing in the winter, Raventh's chest served as a warm backrest, allowing him to feel the dragon's slow, strong heartbeat.

Yes, I love this place. 

He was hungry, but he still had to stop and admire his two pets. The sunshine lit them both up, Raventh's chocolate brown hide gleaming with hints of bronze. And Siskin! He was a blue fire lizard, but in the sun, the little lizard seemed to glow, the sun picking up the blue green tint of his hide. Like the sea, he thought, Siskin's blaze, usually invisible, glowing like malachite green. 

You two are the most beautiful creatures on all of Pern.

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Without the normal beehive of activity in the weyr's bowl, he felt dwarfed by the basalt walls that formed it. Even the dragon ledges outside each weyr were empty. 

Had it not been for the sound of the ocean as a susurrating background, he would have heard his bootsteps echoing against the cliff side.   It accentuated how much noise there was when everyone was home, going about their daily lives. The weyr felt empty, abandoned, lonely.  Even the dining hall seemed cavernous with only a few people in it.

 Singing Waters Hold was feeding-and in the case of non dragon riders, housing, the crews working their fields, leaving the Weyr with only a relative handful of occupants. 

Lindea saw him as his was choosing his lunch.

"K'ndar! You look terrible! Do you hurt? Do you need something for your nose? I heard what B'rost did to you, what in the world got into him?"

"One at a time! I have no idea, but Raventh thinks he's jealous. Of me."  

"Hmm. Oscoral told us about it, I wasn't on shift yet. He said your nose was broken."

"It was, until Billek straightened it back out. That hurt worse than the punch, honestly. But he said it would be okay afterwards. Do I really look bad?"

She cocked her head, looking solely at his nose. My goodness, I'd never noticed before, but  you're a good looking man, she thought.

"Well, your nose is swollen, if nothing else, but looks straight. Didn't he give you something for the pain? I don't know a thing about broken noses." 

"What did he do, just grab it and pull?"

He laughed.

"It sure felt like it!  He did give me fellis but it was right before he straightened my nose. Only afterwards did it hit me after and boy, I've never felt so…..silly in my life. I thought I could fly, then I fell asleep."

Lindea laughed. "I've had it once. I know the feeling, on fellis, someone could hack your leg off with a wooden spoon and you'd laugh about it."

"That's it, you're right. But it made me feel sick at the same time. Not now, though, I'm starving. Can you sit and eat with me? I've not seen you in a while."

"There's hardly anyone here, I think I have the time. Let me get a tray and I'll join you."

They'd just finished eating when Siena, their Weyrwoman, entered the dining hall. She smiled at them and came over. "Good afternoon, Lindea, and I must compliment you on last night's shellfish stew…it was incredible."

Lindea blushed. "Thank you ma'am, but I had a good teacher when I lived on a ship. Our cookie was the best," she said, "That, and our cooks here at the weyr are outstanding," she added.

"They are, aren't they! I remember you saying you're ship folk. What ship was that? Did you say the Nocket?"

"Yes, ma'am, Nocket, was my dad's ship. Cookie was the best, once Dad retired, she went to work on my brother's ship, Arrow," Lindea said, a bit nervous in the presence of their Weyrwoman. 

"I grew up on Bright Star, and we thought our cook was the best. He's gone now, I wish I'd pinged him for some of his recipes before he died," she said, sighing. "I've experimented with some of his meals just from memory but it never seems to work out right," she said.

"Probably because he cooked for fifty, not just two," Lindea said, laughing.

Siena laughed, nodding her head. "That's so true!" 

She sobered. "If you don't mind, Lindea, I should like to speak with K'ndar alone, please?" she asked.

A request from one's Weyrwoman was seldom disobeyed. "I need to get back to work anyway, ma'am," Lindea said.

__________________________________________________________________________

Siena had questioned him closely before she told him of the meeting with B'rost.

"He knows I prefer to live alone, ma'am," he'd protested.  "If I'd wanted a weyrmate, she'd be here with me by now." 

"Yes. That is understood by all. I just wanted to get your side of the story before M'rvin decides on punishment for B'rost assaulting you," the Weyrwoman said. "It's only fair to have testimony from both sides. Do you want to be present when he hands down punishment?"

"Oh, shards, no. Ma'am, I'd be happy with just an apology. I'm satisfied that you sent him to do the work I was doing. I thought I was in good shape, but this morning I felt like I'd been trampled by a herd of steers. That sort of work, it's a killer for someone who's done nothing but ride a dragon for two years.  I don't know how the farmers do it all their lives! And men, well, we do stupid stuff like fight for no reason.  I don't want him punished, I just want him to say he's sorry and won't do it again," he said. 

"I understand your feelings, K'ndar, and an apology will be forthcoming. I want you to let me know when he does provide it. It had better be soon, too. 

But, K'ndar, still, he has to receive SOME sort of punitive action, to serve as a warning to others AND to keep the peace. Justice must be served, otherwise, people who are willing to commit crimes will do so with impunity. Look at the men who Lord Dorn had executed. They got away with murder for years. 

Believe me, people watch. The weyrlings, for instance, know all about the 'fight' this morning, and they are watching. Closely.   

One of the hardest part of being a leader is that sometimes you must punish people even when you know it was done, like B'rost's punch, out of immaturity and emotions rather than hatred or meanness. People won't trust you as a leader, if they know that the leader doesn't have the will to punish the wrong doer."

 K'ndar nodded, remembering how he'd marooned one of those men in the steppe, leaving him to certain death.

He'd fully agreed with the sentence, but felt bad solely because he'd been chosen to do the  marooning.

And since that time, there had been no crimes of that sort committed, as far as he knew, anywhere on their side of the continent. Word got around.

"Yes, ma'am, I agree. Especially with the Weyrlings. I know I watched when my classmates screwed up, and I learned not to repeat their actions. You're sure I won't have to be present for sentencing?"

"I'm sure, and I fully understand.  We intend on handing down punishment tonight, after his return from the hay fields. You don't want to let a man wait on a decision for days. If he's like me, if I had an arsewhipping coming-which I did, once, as a Weyrling-I want it right now so that I can suffer while the crime is still fresh in my mind, and then put it behind me," she said, smiling.

K'ndar laughed despite himself. "Ma'am, I cannot imagine you being anything but a Very Well Behaved Young Lady," he said.

She laughed, thinking of her beloved Mirth. "You have no idea, K'ndar. Girls don't get to be gold riders by being "well behaved". Golds, are, well, I don't know much about horses, but the horsefolk I know say golds are like mares, so I've taken one of their sayings and changed it to suit dragonriders:  "You order a brown or a blue, you ask a green or a bronze, you negotiate with a gold." 

Mirth laughed.

So did K'ndar. He'd heard it before,  repeated about geldings, stallions and mares, respectively, all his life. 

"Ma'am, I was riding before I could walk, and you are absolutely right about mares."

She got up to leave. "Billek will want to see you tomorrow. Afterwards, report to our office, if you can work, we need you."

"Yes , ma'am," he said, standing up in respect for her, "Honestly, I hope he does release me to work. I'm bored out of my mind doing nothing."