Chap. 264 Hazel's Tale

Chap. 264 Hazel’s Tale

After several minutes, K’ndar and the horses had come to an agreement and began work.

He’d half expected to either hear Hazel prattle, or merely direct him from station to station.

He was wrong.

Hazel sat alongside him. Teak, the cat, sat between them. Once in a while, the cat would make a comment. At every stop, she jumped down to inspect the actions of the humans loading the wagon.

He was tickled by the cat’s obvious intelligence. Siskin would launch, as well, but didn’t take long to fill up on crawlers. Eventually, he left to go sleep on Raventh.

Throughout the day, Hazel regaled him with tales of the past. He was fascinated. He’d learned history, of course, but Pern’s history created by historians-and there were very few-was dry, dull statistics. It was NOT the same history as that of an elderly woman who’d lived through it. Her mind was a library of the past. Her thoughts flitted from one to another, but always came back to the main topic.

Later, he hardly remembered taking on cargo and dropping it off at the Hold. His hands and eyes drove, his mind listened.

“I’ve lived so long, K’nmar, that I have memories of memories. I’ve forgotten sequences, names..so you’ll have to forgive me if I repeat myself. I’m told I do that often, now.”

“It’s alright, ma’am. I’m enjoying just listening.”

“I’m what you youngsters call an Old Timer,” she started out. “See that fork in the path to the left? Bear that way, that’s our next pickup. I came forward with my first husband, a blue rider. To think he’d spent twenty years fighting Thread without a scratch, only to be killed after we jumped here! Oh, it was heartbreaking, K’nmar. I so loved that man. He was much older than me, you know, he’d lost his first partner to firehead...have you ever heard of firehead? Oh, of course, all you youngsters are vaccinated for it now. Had I known I’d be left a widow with two children, I doubt I would have left my time.

But, where was I to go? The Weyrs emptied. The Holds were so inclusive by then, if you weren’t born there, you weren’t welcome. I wasn’t even welcome in my own natal Hold, but it was a just a cothold. And I didn’t want to be a Wanderer. Oh, some dragon riders stayed, but things had gotten bad.”

“Bad? Bad weather?”

“Bad treatment, from the Holds and Halls. Thread had stopped oh, five years before. The Holds quickly realized that they no longer had to fear losing everything to Thread, so they stopped tithing, or if they did, we got the dregs...the old cow that was about to drop dead, the horse-we called them runner beast back then, which is silly considering I’ve never seen a draft horse run-the horses would be all worn out from hard work.

The tithing grew thinner and thinner, later and later. It was little by little, K’nmar, they didn’t stop all at once. No, every tithe was just short of this or ‘didn’t make it to harvest’ that. Like this cargo of grapes? Turn here, please, grapes became, well, we were told the crop had failed, but in reality, the Holds just made them into wine for themselves.

And when you think of it, there were, oh,1800 riders, family and staff in the five Weyrs, without a job, they got bored. Restless. Fights began to break out. Indeed, dragonriders began to make raids on the holds, just to get something to eat. They were desperate times, K’nmar. It wasn’t the first time, either. Every time a Pass ended, within a generation, dragonriders became non-entities. Thought of as parasites. Moochers. And every time a Pass began, it was “oh my goodness, what IS this stuff, oh, save us, save us dragonrider! It was re-inventing the bucket, every time.

So..mind you, I was just a wife to a blue rider at Fort Weyr. When we were told we were going to leave, jump 400 years into the future, we were all confused. Time travel? Was she serious? What to take? What to leave? It was an all in one go, you know, no going back because you forgot something. We were scared. But things had deteriorated to the point where it was launch or starve.

I’m not like the old Old Timers, I was so young, just barely 20, and not a rider, so I had no say in our move here to Southern. I rwanted to stay at Fort Weyr. When we landed here on Southern, I remember staring at the trees, these trees! so tall, and everything so very green. It was so odd that we didn’t have to root out every bit of green, like we did during Thread. Oh, Thread was dreadful. I remember being a little girl and hearing the alarms, and running for cover. The men folk went out with agenothree sprayers to kill what Thread had escaped the dragons. It was impressive, K’ndar, to see a sky full of dragons, all belching flames, you could hear the riders calling out warnings-’Ware! ‘Ware! Inbound from the southwest!” and the sky turning black with what looked like rain but it was deadly. It would hiss and skitter around on the stone flagging, you didn’t dare go stomp on it, like it were a bug. It was nasty, oh, you know much better than I, being a rider! Then we get here and there’s grubs that eat it, and the greenery, it was so beautiful! The flowers! It was like Thread had never existed.

Some of the riders began to argue again, they had wanted something to do but now it wasn’t fighting Thread. They resented F’lar, so young, so inexperienced, telling them what to do! There, see over on that hill side? That’s where we’re going next.

It was so utterly strange, K’nmar, to leave Fort Weyr one day, a place we’d lived in for over two thousand years and so full of people and life, and the next day, return to a place that had been empty for 400 years. Dust up to your ankles, manylegs webs everywhere, birds and wherries nesting atop your dragon’s couch, guano, bones and feathers and hide from tunnel snake kills, just the smell of long emptiness. It took us women a week to just clean the place up.

I missed Fort Weyr, I missed the old times. There were times I wanted to go back, but that time jump was brutal. Let’s never mind that I didn’t have a dragon, after my man had been killed. It took me weeks to adapt. My kids? Didn’t faze them a bit, they were out and about immediately.

I was so lonely. But these were my people, by then. My milk family had stayed behind. It’s hard to grasp, even now, that one day I was in Fort Weyr, I was twenty, and the next day, I was four hundred and twenty years old, and all the people that had been left behind were long dead. And the people here were different. They had different ideas, different accents. I didn’t feel that old...I do now, though! My children kept me going, K’nmar, and being in an active, thread fighting weyr, well that made things easier to bear. I knew how to function.

It was beautiful, though. Here, I mean. I was so used to living in caves, stone walls, stone floors, stone benches, my back end was always aching, I had no meat on my butt. Sitting on my hip bones! Here, it was warm, and green.”

“What was it like, being part of the Move to Southern?”

“Oldtimers..funny, I don’t think of myself as one but I was, I am, aren’t I? Most of the folks who’d come forward were up north for a while, but they caused a lot of problems. They thought they’d been lied to by Lessa. They felt as if they’d earned their retirement from fighting Thread. So we were sent to Lord Toric. He wanted to enlarge his Hold but didn’t want to pay for it, so he convinced most of us to do that work for him. But even that didn’t pan out so well, most of them just couldn’t adapt to living here in this time. You heard it all the time, how wrong these youngsters were, how better it was back in the Old Time. Most especially they hated Lessa for ‘tricking them’ into jumping forward, and sneered at F’lar for being ‘too young and inexperienced to tell them what to do.” It was as if they’d completely forgotten the very reason we jumped in the first place.

Me..and others, about twelve of us, we could see the writing on the slate. We were all the youngest of the Old Timers, we hadn’t had our brains stratified yet. We decided to strike out on our own, cross over Toric’s boundaries into what was then still no man’s land. There was me, my kids, two dragonriders on a blue and a green, ten or eleven other ground folk and um..a few other kids, one a baby in arms, the blue rider’s wife had given birth just before we jumped. We were given a bunch of old, broken tools, a few old horses and an old cow, and what we’d brought with us. That’s all when we struck out on our own.

The dragon riders knew where Toric’s Hold boundaries were. Beyond them there was nothing but wilderness. It hadn’t been surveyed yet, so it didn’t belong to anyone. Oh, those dragons, they were our life savers. They’d bring in a fresh kill, or fish. The riders went out ahead of us, every day, flying, searching for a place to call home. We walked and walked, slowly, because we had to cut the vegetation. I had blisters on my blisters! But I learned how to use a machete, you can bet on it. The horses always had to be handled because they were afraid of the dragons. They carried what tools and baggage they could, we had to go slowly because they were so old. We camped out under the stars. We had to keep a fire going at night, one always keeping watch, otherwise the beasts would have been killed. We walked all day, and slept in the trees at night. There were whers and wherries everywhere. I was bug bit from top to toe. We got pretty hungry, but then we found fruit trees, oh, it was so good, I can still taste them.”

About a week..it seemed like years of walking, the green, no, maybe it was the blue, came back to say that there was the perfect place for us, kilometers ahead. He said it was near a waterfall. My son and his friend went on ahead of us, even though we told them to stick with us. My boy said he could hear water singing. He was so brave, the vegetation was so thick, only the paths made by the wherries were open, and he wasn’t afraid of getting lost. That boy had a compass in his head, he did. I heard him shouting at the top of his lungs, Mum, Mum hurry up! It’s big!! And when we finally found him, he was standing atop a rock in the middle of the river, just above the waterfall. Fool kid, I thought he’d go over. But no.

The dragons had landed in the only clear area, atop a series of caverns. It was so beautiful, though I’ve not been there in years. I’m getting too old. We tied a rope to a tree overhanging this deep pool at the base of the falls and went swinging out over the water, let go the rope and fell in, kerplunk! Oh, it was so fun! So that’s how it got its name, Singing Waters. The cavern where the horses are kept? We lived in that cavern for over a year, with the dragons sleeping atop it and the horses and the one cow in amongst us. That was our base of operations while we carved a home out of the wilderness. The blue rider took his wife and baby to Benden to formally appeal to the Conclave to establish our own Hold. They were gone two weeks, and when they got back, they all came down with firehead. The baby died, poor thing! We all caught it from her, I think. We were all alone out here, K’nmar. But we managed. Being free of Holder and Weyr, it was wonderful. See that loading dock over there? Ease up parallel to it, this is the vineyard, they’ll be wanting to load bins.”

So entranced had he been with her story that he hardly remembered the loading or even driving back to the Hold to unload the bins.

“What will they do with the grapes?”

“They smash them up, strain the juice, add some mumbojumbo over them and then cask them up for years. I don’t plan on smashing grapes, that was one task I somehow managed to evade all these years.”

“Begging your pardon, ma’am, I don’t think you should be expected to do anything save direct me from one station to the next.”

She laughed. It sounded like a soft wind in the webs of a manylegs.

“I stay busy, K’nmar. I don’t get around as quickly as I’d like. I loved riding horses, and dragons! but I don’t dare ride anymore. If I fall off, I might break! Ah, there we are. Pull up to that loading dock.”

“Good MORNING, Hazel, and driver? Who are you? Where is Ayden?” said a young woman, as K’ndar deftly steered the team to stop precisely parallel to a wooden dock. The woman stepped onto the cargo bed to check the bins filled with grapes.

“Oh, lovely” she breathed. The scent from the grapes in the warm sun was intoxicating.

“Good morning, Ashmead! This is K’nmar, he’s driving for Ayden. Morgan’s indisposed. Permanently. He bit off more than he could chew, you didn’t hear?” Hazel said.

“I’d heard he attacked a dragonrider. Fool!!! Was he drunk? I steer clear of him if I can at all help it. Didn’t take but six months for him to make a Hold full of enemies. Here, you two, and you? Let’s pull those bins off the wagon. My, this is a NICE year, look at these beauties!” She pulled a grape off a vine and popped it into her mouth. Three husky looking drudges jumped to the cargo bed and muscled the loaded bins onto the loading dock.

“Do you like wine, K’nmar? Come by here in three years for a taste of this year’s casking. Hey! Easy there, you, drop that bin and I’ll have you picking up every last grape.”

The drudge cringed, not out of fear, but from embarrassment at mishandling a bin.

“I’ve..um, I’ve not tried your wine, Ashmead, but Lord Dorn gave me a cask of last year’s vintage in barter. I took it to my cothold for my mother’s wedding. She was VERY appreciative of it.”

Ashmead smiled. “That was my first year’s casking. I’m glad to hear she liked it.”

The day flew by. At lunch break, Kitten and Ace had been unhitched immediately and turned out. When K’nmar returned to start the afternoon’s work, he found Hazel had already been helped up to her perch on the bench seat. Teak the cat, sitting beside her, kept a critical eye on the two journeymen harnessing a pair of roan geldings.

A small man approached him. He watched the journeymen critically, then, satisfied, turned to K’ndar.

“You’re K’ndar?”

“Yes, sir. Rider of brown Raventh, staff biologist at Landing,” he said. The man nodded.

“I hear your natal cothold was the one who bred Cat Face.”

Hazel looked down at the Herdmaster and cleared her throat.

“Herdmaster, her name is Kitten, now. Always was. K’nmar here named her when she was foaled.”

He nodded. “Yes’m. Kitten. Ayden told me. I’m fine with that. K’nmar?”

He looked the man in the eye and shook his head gently, and then made the slightest nod towards Hazel.

The man smiled, knowing. “Dragonrider, I must say that your cothold breeds the best horses I’ve ever had the pleasure of handling. And you trained her?”

“I learned to break and train from my uncle and my father. When I was ten, they gave me Kitten to train her by myself.”

“My compliments. Kitten is wonderfully trained, easily handled.”

“Thank you. I had good teachers.” His father had been a bastard in all other things, but when it came to breeding and training horses, he had no equal.

“I’m glad you’re here. I’ve always wondered about their breeding. Hitch these boys up, please,” he said to the journeyman nearest him.

“Aye, sir. Good morning, Hazel,” the teen said.

“This team, here, these roans? They’re both from your cothold, they’re twenty and twenty one, now but you’d never know it. Good bone, good minds.”

K’ndar nodded. “I can see they’re well cared for, Herdmaster. I didn’t know them, I was just a pup then, too young to even muck and groom. But I can see our herd sire in them.”

“He was a good un,’ but, Cat Fa...I mean, Kitten, she’s not by the same stallion, is she.”

“No, sir. Her dam and our herd sire, Drummer, were brother and sister. Kitten was by a Wanderer’s stallion, I have no idea who the man was or the name of his horse. He was walking his stallion from cothold to cothold. Forever after, my father used to kick himself, he was saying, I should have bartered for that stallion! But I doubt the Wanderer would have sold him.”

“K’nmar, we need to get rolling, if we want to get done in time for dinner,” Hazel said.

“Yes,m,” K’ndar said. He caught the Herdmaster’s eye. The man grinned.

____________________________________________________________

They were done. He helped Hazel down from the bench seat. The Headmaster's drudges came up to unharness the roans.

“Thank you, lad. Hear that cracking? Those are my bones, telling me I’ve sat too long. They sort of knit together after a long day,” she said. She reached for his hand with her free one. “You’ve been an excellent listener, K’nmar, and I thank you for your patience with my nattering.”

“It wasn’t nattering, my lady, and it was my pleasure. You made the day fly by.”

The cat jumped down from her lofty perch. She wrapped herself around the old woman’s ankles, mewing.

“Yes, Miss Teak, it’s dinner time.” She began to walk slowly away, then turned.

“K’nmar?”

“Ma’am?”

“K’nmar. Thread is gone, and Pern is the better for it. But now that it’s gone, you dragonriders are in the same peril that earlier generations were. Every time a Pass ended, dragons were forgotten. This last time, your time before we jumped, they almost were extinct. Do everything in your power, as a dragon rider, tell all the dragonriders, they must stay relevant. Relevant, K’nmar!” She rapped her cane on the ground for emphasis.

“Dragons must find a purpose and serve it. You, all dragonriders, must keep dragons a vital part of Pern. Don’t let the land walkers forget again what dragons do for Pern. Don’t let the land walkers forget you this time.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, awed. What a class act, he thought.

“Come along, poppet,” she said to the cat. She walked slowly away. Teak curled her tail around the woman’s leg.

He was harnessing Raventh to return to Landing when Raylan came up to him.

“Hello, K’ndar! How’s things?”

“Oh, sir, you know. Yesterday I was so tired after haying I couldn’t see straight. Today was MUCH easier, I drove a team. How about yourself?”

Raylan looked at his fingers ruefully. They were purple. “Today I picked berries. And berries and more berries! Francie said I should have been weighed before we picked them. I love berry pies, but I think I am berried out for the rest of the year. I saw you slogging away at haying yesterday. Not a job I would have wanted.”

K’ndar shrugged his shoulders, still sore from yesterday’s labor. Having done the hardest job of all somehow gave him a feeling of superiority.

“It’s okay. Luck of the draw.”

“You missed a nice get together last night, K’ndar. We’re not expected to return to Landing, you must know that. Where are you going?”

For a moment he wondered if Raylan was hazing him. He couldn’t possibly have forgotten the little episode of Jomoke? Had he forgotten his ‘suggestion’ that K’ndar had better get cracking on his data input before the meeting?

He decided no, he wasn’t being hazed, just confused at the sudden change in priorities. He was tired enough to allow himself sarcasm.

“I’m going back to Landing. I have a backlog of data to input. I neglected to do it as I was sent off on a wild wherry chase. So I need to leave, I’ll get something to eat at home and then get cracking.”

Raylan grimaced.

“K’ndar, I’m sorry. I came down hard on you. Can you forgive me, please? Is your backlog so big you must keep at it?”

“Um…” he thought. He’d been so taken up in Hazel’s reminiscing that he had trouble dragging himself back to thinking about data.

“Well, no……..”

“Stay here. There’s plenty of bunks available, either with us Landers, or with your weyrfolk. The food is outstanding, the wine and ale even better. “

K’ndar allowed his snit full bloom.

“Now I’m confused, sir. It was so important for me to get caught up on my data input that I worked til midnight last night, AFTER a long day of putting up hay, and now it’s not?”

Raylan sighed. “You’ve always been upfront with me, K’ndar, and I’ve tried so with you. It would seem that I’ve failed. Yes, it’s important. No, it’s not so important that you have work yourself to death to get it done.

Francie has threatened me with divorce if I “make you work late at Landing after working your arse off on harvest.” She wants to see your face, in her words, “scrubbed or not,” at the get together tonight. She wants to discuss dragons, lizards, and horses. She wants you to get a solid meal in you. And she wants you to meet some of the girls here. I may be Science Division Chief, but when my wife pulls rank on me, I’ve learned, life is far easier when I say “Yes, Dear.”

 

Chap. 263 A Much Better Name

Chap. 263 A Much Better Name

Ayden perused his slate. Most of the group had been assigned tasks. K’ndar began to get nervous. Had he not been selected because he would be doing something that even resembled haying?

Aydan slapped his head. “Numbskull!”

He scanned the diminished group.

“I’m such a dunce! I’m team leader now and so I’m needing a driver. Who here can drive a team?”

K’ndar raised his hand. He was surprised to be the only one.

“I can ride,” several said.

“Most of us can, yes, but I need someone who can drive. I see only K’ndar, so, K’ndar, if you would, please, drive today?”

“Of course! Anything has to be better than haying,” K’ndar said.

Secretly, he was delighted-and felt a twinge of guilt. Doing anything with horses...even mucking stalls...was much better than wrestling hay bales. The others might not be doing something so easy.

“Thank you. If you’ll stand fast, I’ll finish up doling out assignments, then I’ll take you to the barns.”

As the last of the group left on their assignments, Ayden beckoned to K’ndar.
“Ready? By the way, please don’t take offense, dragonrider, but...I’ve had people claim they can drive only to discover that they think it involves merely sitting on the bench with the reins. I had one person, a long time ago, who tried to put the horse into the traces backwards.”

“How in the world did he do that?”

“I don’t know, and scary to say, he almost succeeded! So...please, I’ll be watching how you harness the team.”

“I don’t mind. I’ve harnessed a horse or two in my life. Where will I be going?”

“Your task for the day is going from one station to the next, picking up cargo, like fruit bins, crates, barrels, and transporting them to various storage areas of the Hold.”

“Um...how will I know where to go and where to take it?”

Ayden smiled. “Worry not, dragonrider. Hazel will be your guide and navigator. What she doesn’t know about the Hold wouldn’t fill a nutshell.”

____________________________________________________________

The barn-half cavern and half wooden construction-was dim and cool after the bright heat outside.

The smell of hay and horses! I truly love it, he thought. Siskin, who’d spent the prior haying day on Raventh’s back, launched to hunt for crawlers.

“Don’t let ‘im hurt the cats,” Ayden warned.

“Yes, sir. He won’t, he ignores cats, dogs, and usually, birds. He mostly hunts tunnel snakes and crawlers.”

Ayden nodded. “We’ve not seen tunnel snakes here in a long while. We’ve got a resident night raptor who pretty much keeps the tunnel snakes under control. Crawlers, yes, they’re fairly harmless, although at times they’ll spook a horse by dropping onto his back.”

A horse whinnied. No matter how many times I’ve heard that, it still thrills me, he thought.

A woman of an incredibly advanced age came in, walking slowly, a cane in her hand. The cane, made of redtree, had at one time been ornately carved. But years and use had burnished the wood smooth. Her hair was snow white. She was, quite possibly, the oldest woman he’d ever met. Had she had come forward with the Old Timers?

Ayden bobbed his head. “Hazel, this is K’ndar, rider of brown Raventh. K’ndar is from Landing, here to help with harvest.”

Ayden’s tone was that of a subordinate to a noble. But he’d added no title indicating what that level might be. Nevertheless, instinct told K’ndar that treating Hazel as such was probably the wisest thing to do. Even if she was not nobility, just her age warranted respect.

He bobbed his head. She looked up at him and smiled. He was instantly reassured. There was a serenity, an inner peace in her rheumy eyes. Grandmothers looked at you like this. He half expected her to pat him on the cheek.

“My lady,” he said, “Pleased to meet you.”

“Thank you, laddie. It’s Hazel. Just plain old Hazel, like me, plain and old.” She tittered. “It is a pleasure, K’nmar. Are you my driver for today?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He took a risk. “And begging your pardon, ma’am, Hazel, it’s K’ndar.”

She laughed. “Thank you! So often people are afraid to correct me! I don’t know why, I’ve never bitten anyone. I’ve met so many people in my life, I begin to mix up names. I don’t want people to think I’m losing my mind, K’nmar!”

A calico cat trittrotted to her, mewing. She bent down carefully to pick it up. Cuddling it, she said, “Where have you been, Teak? Are you ready to go for a ride?”

Siskin had returned to his shoulder. The fire lizard looked at the cat and chipped, softly.

“Your little dragon, K’nmar? It won’t hurt my cat, will it? She likes to ride with me on the wagon.” Hazel said. The calico looked at the fire lizard. K’ndar felt no reaction from Siskin.

“He won’t hurt your cat, ma’am, I promise. He’s very well behaved. He might feel a bit of jealousy, though. Cats and fire lizards are alike in that they think we humans are here to serve them.”

She laughed. “Ah, K’nmar, you are correct. Teak here is convinced that my lap was created solely for her to sleep in.”

Ayden moved quickly behind her and locked his eyes on K’ndar’s. They clearly said, one correction is enough.

The cat wriggled and Hazel deposited the cat gently on the ground.

He met Ayden’s eyes and nodded. Message received.

A horse whinnied, this time with more urgency.

“Hazel, will you need a slate of the stations?” Ayden asked. He had just the slightest bit of anxiety in his tone.

Her eyes pierced his. “Ayden. No. I’ve done this a time or two.”

“Yes’m, you have. Quite possibly longer than I’ve been alive.”

He put the slate down and brushed his hands. “Right then. K’ndar, let’s get the team ready. Your wagon is that one on your right, next to the wall. That pen on the right with the bay mare? She’s your left horse, the liver chestnut gelding in the pen just beyond hers, he’s your right. If he thinks you’re a novice at harnessing, he’ll test you. But once he’s in the traces, he’s honest and solid. Do him up first, and unharness him first. He demands that.”

“Does he need tying?”

“Once he’s harnessed? Nay. He knows the harness means it’s work time. Put him in the traces and he’ll stand all day. Once you get the mare in, though, he’ll be snorting to go. That’s the hardest part of handling him, he’ll wear himself out if you don’t rate him. The mare is the steady one.”

He let himself into the gelding’s pen, a halter in his left hand. The horse raised its head high, the left eye rolling at this stranger.

“Whoa, son, there’s a good lad. My, but you’re a big ‘un.” He pressed gently on the point of the horse’s shoulder and the gelding dropped his head. K’ndar quickly haltered him.

He leaned to the left, keeping his body and head on the side of that of the gelding, and gently breathed into the left nostril. The horse responded by whuffing back. They spent several moments introducing themselves. His right hand reached for the withers and began to scratch. The gelding turned his head towards K’ndar. He instinctively put up his left elbow to keep from being bitten or shoved. But the gelding only wanted to reciprocate, as is done in all polite equine society.

“That’s okay, there’s a good boy. I don’t need grooming,” he said, pushing the horse’s head back.

Without looking back, he said, “Ayden? What’s his name?”

“Ace. He was won with a pair of aces in a dragon poker game, and the owner didn’t have the money to pay his gambling bet! Honestly, he’s worth more than any bit of money. He’s a good horse.”

“My compliments to your Herdmaster. All your horses are in beautiful condition.”

“I’ll pass that on,” Ayden said.

The bay mare whinnied and began to paw.

Ace, realizing K’ndar was a horseman, gave him no trouble being harnessed.

Once Ayden saw that K’ndar was every bit the horseman, he relaxed. He joined Hazel, who had magically produced bits of carrot. She fed a few to Ace.

“Now for the mare.”

The mare whinnied as he approached. She tossed her head and pawed.

“Don’t know what’s gotten into her,” Ayden said, troubled, “she’s usually very quiet”.

He let himself into the pen. “Oh, I do. She wants some carrot. And my undivided attention.”

“Here,” Hazel said, handing him a piece of carrot.

Oh, this was going to be good, he thought. If it works. He took the carrot with his left hand.

The mare nickered deep in her throat. He breathed into her nostrils and began to scratch her withers.

She stretched her head and curled her lip.

“Hello, Kitten, how are you? You’re looking wonderful!”

She snuffed at his pockets.

“Ah, you want carrot?” She tossed her head.

He moved in front of her, his hands behind his back.

He looked the mare in the eye.

“You want carrot, yes? Oh, I know you do. Yes. But you have to tell me which hand it’s in.”

The mare swished her tail, uncertain.

Would she remember?

Hazel and Ayden, behind him, were mystified.

“Where’s the carrot? Which hand?”

The mare was hesitant. She was thinking.

“Carrot? Where’s the carrot?”

The mare tossed her head and lifted her left foreleg. She shook it up and down.

“Well DONE, girl! What a smart horse!!” he cried, as he fed her the carrot. She munched, happily.

“How..I’ll be smoked. You know this mare?” Ayden said, astonished.

K’ndar laughed. He curled his right arm under her jaw and scratched the base of her ear on the opposite side. He used to call it an upside down hug. The mare pressed her head down onto his arm, just enough.

Oh, it was always so satisfying, to impress others with such a simple trick.

“Know her? I was in her dam’s pen the night she was foaled. I named her Kitten for the star on her forehead. She must be, oh, ten? Twelve now? We bred her. My cothold breeds draft horses for sale, and as tithes for Lord Dorn. She was tithed as a two year old. We broke and trained her to ride and drive, and I taught her some tricks. I taught ALL our horses tricks. So, yes, I’d say I know her.”

Huh huh huh, she nickered. He scrubbed the namesake star on her forehead.

“There’s a girl. I love you, too,” he said, softly. She whuffled the hair on the top of his head.

Ayden gaped. “I’ve insulted you, then, K’ndar, I apologize. You probably know more about handling horses than I do. I’ve always been just a farmer who knows how to drive.”

“And I’m just a dragonrider who, now, knows how to put up hay. No apologies needed, Ayden.”

Hazel said, “We’ve been calling her Cat Face all this time. But I like Kitten better. It suits her personality.”

“I agree. It’s decided!” Ayden said, “I’ll advise the Herdmaster that from now on, her name is Kitten.”

 

Chap. 262 Never Run with a Dagger

Chap. 262 Never Run With a Dagger

It’s so typical of people, he thought, that we join the same group we worked with yesterday. I could just as easily walk over to the group Raylan’s in, they didn’t work hay. No one would be the wiser.

But I would know, he thought.

He’d risen early and eaten a big breakfast before flying to Singing Waters Hold. He was still sore from his exertions of yesterday, but not as much as he’d expected.

It was always a thrill to come out of between to see so many other dragons. There was always a bugled welcome.

I’m enjoying being with them. I like being at Landing, but I miss other dragons Raventh said.

Even with Motanith and the other dragons living right next door?

It’s not the same. Some of these dragons are my clutch mates, like Kenth.

He resigned himself to another day of backbreaking labor, putting up hay. The only benefit was that he was in amongst his own kind, dragonriders, and even the ones who were strangers to him accepted him not as a Landing staff member, but as just another dragonrider. I can’t let them down, he thought. They worked just as hard as I did, without complaint.

The worst part would be having to grit his teeth and listen to another day of Morgan verbally attacking F’mart. He, along with everyone else in the group, wanted to kill the man.

The man had badgered F’mart the entire day. K’ndar was astounded at the bronze rider’s acceptance of it. F’mart had never been one to take such verbal abuse. As a Weyrleader, he didn’t have to. Yet F’mart seemingly was deaf to the myriad of insults and slurs Morgan heaped upon him. Morgan assigned him the hardest, dirtiest of tasks, taunted him, questioned his manhood. F’mart merely grinned and did as he was told.

It was the rest of his dragonriders who grew more and more angry. Morgan’s slander merely made an already tight group even more so. They began to resist, turning Morgan’s abuse into a game. “Pimple” became their go to name for each other. “Hey, pimple! hand me that rake, please?”

At the lunch break, the team drank the water barrel dry, and and tried to fit everyone into the shade thrown by the hay wagon.

Two women drove up in a pony cart, set up an impromptu bench and piled their lunches on it. “Can we get a hand here, please? We’ve a full barrel of water for you.” K’ndar was nearest them, having been attracted by the lovely and refined pony. Another man came to help. The barrel was heavy, but the women had maneuvered the cart so that the full one slid easily onto it’s rack beside the driver’s bench. They loaded the empty onto the cart.

One of the women looked over her shoulder. She lowered her voice until it was audible only for them.

“I apologize for the way Morgan’s treating you weyrfolk,” she said, “it’s not right. He hates everyone, it’s not just you. It’s just, I’ve never heard such rot out of his mouth before. We here at Singing Waters Hold, we don’t usually do this sort of crap.”

The other man said, “You’re not to blame, ma’am, we are just wondering why he’s here at all. He’s not worth much more than pig shit.”

She held up a hand. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, sir. Pig shit DOES have a use, it grows beautiful flowers and nice, strong trees!”

They laughed. Then she shook her head. “I really don’t know why he’s here, where he came from, or why Lord Dorn hasn’t strung him up. He just showed up about six months ago. Rumor has it he’s some sort of shirt tail relative, and was sent here as a last attempt to redeem himself. It’s not working. You’re not the only ones complaining. I think Lord Dorn is just waiting for him to cross a line. He’s a fair man, is Lord Dorn, but there’s only so far he’s willing to allow a sod like Morgan to push him.”

K’ndar remembered his brother’s tale of being on his knees before Lord Dorn, begging for forgiveness and a chance to make amends when it was discovered their father had been cheating the Lord Holder on tithes. Yes, Lord Dorn was fair..up to a point. Push past that point to your peril.

“If you’ll forgive me, we have to go get another barrel for the other teams. And food. Eat up, folks, the handpies are to die for,” the woman said in her regular voice.

K’ndar felt a little better. At least Morgan’s abuse wasn’t his imagination.

Morgan and Aydan unharnessed the draft horses and led them away. They would be replaced by two fresh horses.

Somehow that didn’t seem right, he thought. But one took care of one’s horses. He certainly didn’t want to pull the heavily loaded wagons by hand.

When they were out of earshot, the dragon folk began to beg F’mart to let them kill him.

“Why, sir, are you putting up with this crap? Any one of us, even the non-dragonriders, we’re ready to kill him.”

F’mart levered himself up onto his elbows and grinned. “Thank you, but...have patience. There is a method to my madness. I’m here, right now, as working guest of Lord Dorn’s, just another pair of hands to bring in the harvest.”

“Let me at least clobber him, teach him some manners,” one said. K’ndar recognized him as an older rider, one who’d ridden in the wing opposite his when they were still fighting thread. It felt so odd to hear the deference in the man’s voice to F’mart, who was, after all, two years younger than K’ndar. “Please, sir, this is driving me mad. That arsehole needs a whipping.”

Other voices chimed in, agreeing.

The weyrling gold rider, the ‘tiny’ girl, jumped to her feet and stood in front of F’mart, hands on hips. She unconsciously displayed the body language that someday, would mark her as a Weyrleader.

K’ndar had watched her working just as hard as the men, without a bit of complaint. How can I bitch when this mite of a girl isn’t?

“My lord, you are my WEYRLEADER. This is disgraceful. You shouldn’t even have to to do this,” she said.

Yes. Definitely a gold rider.

He laughed. “Aye, I am, and aye, you’re right. But I have to eat, too, just like everyone else, and this is how I show all of you that we are not better than anyone else. We’re just luckier, because we have dragons.”

“I’m no dragonrider, Weyrleader F’mart. I’m just one of Lord Dorn’s cotholders. I beg of you. Let me hammer him. Just one punch, one solid punch. He doesn’t have a right to say things like this. I’m sick of it.”

F’mart spit and spit until he dislodged a piece of chaff that had stuck to his tongue.

“Have any of you ever hunted tunnel snakes?”

Many of them said yes.

K’ndar could not get over how mature the bronze rider had become. He was no longer the punk and bully he’d been when they were classmates.

F’mart said, “There was an old wise man named Sunsoo who said “he wins who knows when to fight and when not to fight.”

“And that has what to do with tunnel snakes?”

“The easiest way to kill one is to stay just out of its striking range. You make it strike and strike and strike until it gets tired. A tired tunnel snake makes the mistake of extending itself too far. That’s when you cut off its head.

Watch and see what I am doing. Do you see how he’s worked himself into a lather? He’s upped his abuse to no effect. Like the tunnel snake, he’s tired himself out. What’s worse is that he’s furious, having realized that I’m obviously toying with him. He sees me..and all of you! turning it into a game. He’s shot every arrow in his quiver and not hit the mark once-at least with me. I can see it’s bothering all of you. Thank you for that, but stop worrying. I have a very thick skin.”

He scratched at his neck. “But not so thick that this shaffing chaff can’t itch me.” The crowd laughed...but still was unhappy.

The man who’d helped with the barrel related what the woman had said about Morgan being new there as a sort of last chance. He added, “Sir, no one should have to take this sort of abuse. Not a weyrleader, not a drudge.”

“You are correct, but people like Morgan don’t see things that way. He’s the type that thinks that EVERYONE is like him, we just haven’t been caught yet.

Listen. I...you all...have helped tire him out. He’s the tired tunnel snake. He’s made mistakes that I will take advantage of. He knows that I WILL speak with Lord Dorn about his outrageous treatment. Once Dorn gathers as much information as he needs-I’m hoping you all are willing to testify to Morgan’s abuse?”

The crowd roared in unison, along with a forest of raised hands.

“Thank you. I doubt it will be necessary, but keep it in your mind. Now, think. Morgan’s already figured out that he’s already crossed the line that will force Lord Dorn’s hand. So he’s desperate. His only saving will be if he can provoke me into attacking first, especially if it’s in front of Dorn’s staff.

Then he can claim self defense. But I only LOOK stupid. “

“Weyrleader F’mart, I can’t stand waiting an entire month for you to hand him his head.”

F’mart laughed again and stood up. He brushed at his sodden shirt to remove clinging hay. It was fruitless.

“Ah, you’re not going to have to. That “next month” noise was nothing but gas and ash. It’s meant to throw me off guard. No, he’s going to come at me tonight. He’ll probably jump me after nightfall, when I’m coming out of the festivities tent.

He’ll expect me to be drunk. He’ll be alone, hiding in some dark little corner where no one can see the fight, and armed with a dagger. The only way cowards like him can fight is dirty. I can do both.”

Almost to a man or woman, the crowd said “We have your back. We won’t let that happen.”

“Let’s jump HIS arse before he gets to you.”

“No, no, no, I WANT him to ambush me. I want him to think I’m complacent. Let him come to me. He has a plan. I don’t intend to go by it. That’s one way to gain an advantage. That’s how fights are won. There are people here...K’ndar, for instance, my classmate, who know how I fight.”

K’ndar nodded, as did several of the other older dragonriders. He remembered one time being so pissed at F’mart’s taunts that he was about to hit him.

He shivered. I am so glad I held my temper, he thought. That was BEFORE he’d ever seen F’mart in a fight. Now?

“K’ndar? You’ve fought him?” someone asked.

“Fought F’mart? No way. I’d sooner fight a mother wher than F’mart when he’s truly inspired. I can at least outrun a wher,” he said.

F’mart caught his eye. It held something new...respect. He nodded.

“Will Lord Dorn behead him?”

“I don’t know. Verbally assaulting the guest of a Lord Holder is very serious, but not enough of a crime to warrant beheading. Attacking that guest with a weapon is, especially if the guest is wounded, never mind murdered.

Lord Dorn may give me the pleasure of deciding the punishment. Let me think of this this afternoon. It will take my mind off of how bad my hands and back hurt, especially considering this is only day one of a long, long week.”

He snuffed, trying to clear his nose of hay dust. “Now lets get something to eat. We still have half a day’s work ahead of us.”

K’ndar was awed. F’mart had allowed himself to be Morgan’s target in order to draw the man’s abuse from everyone else.

This is all a game to F’mart, he thought. He might have matured but he’s still itching for a good fight.

He’d had enough time for a short, if itchy nap. He got up, feeling refreshed...a little.

“Here he comes with the fresh horses,” someone hissed. Morgan was riding a black gelding, Ayden was riding a bay mare.

K’ndar recognized the mare as one of the draft horses his family had bred. They’d named her Kitten after the cat’s head shaped blaze on her head.

The mare stopped, looked at him, and nickered. Well, of course you’d say hello, he thought, I was there when your mum dripped you. I trained you. You always were a sweetheart.

He made to go up to say hello, but Morgan shouted, “Hey, you lout! It’s back to work, wastrel.”

He bit back a retort. After a moment, he turned and skipped gracelessly back to the crowd, waving his arms and singing in a high pitched tone of voice, “I’m a happy wastrel, as happy as can be!”

_______________________________________________________________

The last bale was tossed into the air by two men. Everyone was exhausted but elated. K’ndar looked around, hoping that there wasn’t one more bale, hiding itself.

Lord Dorn rode up.

“Thank you, all of you, you’ve done a tremendous job! It’s quitting time, and so I’d like to invite you all to the cook tents to get some cold liquids in you, and some of the best cooking you’ve ever eaten. We’ve had a steer roasting all day, I can smell it, I believe he’s done! And my bakers will impress you. The field showers are all set up, I know you’ll want to clean off the chaff! I believe many of you are staying here tonight, so after the dinner, we’re having dancing and music. I would like to have you taste test my wine, Kahrain. Or, if you prefer, some ale from my new alemaster, D’mitran. I can’t drink it myself, so please...help me out!”

The crowd cheered.

“Don’t know if I can dance, not the way I’m feeling right now,” said one, groaning. Another said, “not to worry, mate, I’m right there with you.”

K’ndar saw F’mart walk up to Lord Dorn’s horse and put a hand on the rein. He couldn’t hear the conversation, but he did see the result. Dorn’s head shot up and looked at Morgan.

The man had his back turned to them. He was sitting on the bench seat next to Ayden. Ayden clucked to his team and the horses took up the load one last time. K’ndar wished a knife would suddenly appear in Morgan’s back.

The crowd began to make its tired way to the campground.

F’mart nodded, and Lord Dorn rode away.

He saw K’ndar and came over. He stuck out a hand and K’ndar gripped it in a loose handshake. It still hurt.

F’mart worked his shoulders in a circle. “I’ve hardly had a chance to say much more than hello, K’ndar. Are you bunking here tonight? You’re welcome to join us, there’s plenty of room in our weyr’s tents. And the weyrlings need minding. Some of them might just drink while still on probation. Imagine that!”

K’ndar smirked, remembering a certain F’mart who’d done just that. A new weyrling on probation, F’mart had gotten drunk, and mouthed off to a group of seasoned dragonriders who’d just returned from fighting Thread. They taken matters into their own hands. Later on, F’mart had been punished with a month long stint cleaning latrines.

“Thanks, F’mart, but no, I have work to do at Landing. You’re staying?”

“Aye. I have to, my people are all here. Siena’s got everything in hand at the weyr, most of the weyrfolk are doing our own harvest, such as it is.”

F’mart looked at his hands mournfully, then at K’ndar.

“Ordinarily, I’d say you’re looking good for living at Landing, but I’d be lying. You look like shit warmed over.”

K’ndar laughed.

_______________________________________________________________

The second morning was cool, but it held the promise of another hot day.

The haying team was already at the gathering point. He looked around for the hay wagon, Morgan’s throne.

“You missed a fine dance, there, mate,” said one of the cotholders.

He felt as if he belonged. Yesterday he’d been a stranger, someone from Landing. Today he was just another member of a team.

“You don’t want to see me dance. Or sing. It’s probably why I’m still single,” he said. The man laughed.

“I heard you singing yesterday. You’re right.”

They both laughed.

There was no hay wagon, this time. For that matter, there was no Morgan.

Instead, there was Ayden, with a slate in his hand and the air of someone ‘in charge’.

Dare I hope? he wondered, maybe some other group will do haying?

“Good morning!” he called. The group looked around, wondering. Such a different greeting than yesterday!

K’ndar cast a glance at F’mart. The weyrleader was grinning.

“Are you all rested and fed? Because we still have work to do.”

The crowd groaned. Every one of them was still aching from yesterday’s work, and were not relishing another day of throwing hay bales over their heads.

“Today, I’ll be assigning you in smaller groups of two or three. There’s grapes that need harvesting, and carrots needing pulling. So if there’s a task you’d prefer to do, or have sustained an injury that might prevent you from using your arms, for instance, just sound off and I’ll rearrange as needed.”

“Wait...we’re not haying?” said one voice, not daring to hope.

“Well, I have bad news for those of you who enjoyed yesterday.”

Dread filled them. ‘Enjoyment’ was definitely not a word they would have used to to describe haying.

“You all worked your arses off, so well that 95% of the hay is done. What’s left is stuff that was a little late in maturing, so we’re going to let it grow for another week. Us Holders can do that.”

“You mean...no more haying?”

“Aye, no more haying. It’s done for the year.”

“Where’s that arsehole Morgan?”

Ayden shrugged, his eyes rolling as he smirked.

“Ah….he’s..excuse me, he’s indisposed. I doubt we’ll be seeing him again.”

“EVER?”

Another shrug. “I don’t know. Lord Dorn has...um, reassigned him.”

“Come on, man, spit it out. We all know what a shit he was, talking to my Weyrleader like he was nothing more than a dog.”

He grinned, obviously relishing his knowledge. “Well, folks, I wasn’t in the camp last night, so I’m not too sure of what happened. Maybe…maybe you should be talking to one of the dragonriders. One of them probably knows better than I.”

Heads turned as one to look at F’mart. He shrugged, then shook his sleeve up his left arm. It had been bandaged. K’ndar recognized the unmistakable scent of numbweed.

F’mart grinned.

“Weyrleader?”

“Well, from what I heard-this is just rumor, mind you. Maybe he was drunk? He fell down on his dagger, somehow managing to sever his own hamstring! And he’s got a few broken ribs. I think I heard the only room for him was in a cell,” F’mart said.