DragonStorm Ch. 02

"These will do?" Terry asked cautiously.

The healer answered with a wide grin. "These are excellent! How many pair are there?"

"Four. That's all I've had time to make. How many more do you need?"

Darian laughed apologetically. "I'm afraid I may have created a problem for you, Master Terry. When the other surgeons see these, you're going to be swamped with orders. I'll want at least eight more for myself."

Fandarel's booming laugh rolled across the hall. "Highly efficient tools," he commented, giving his fellow smith an approving nod. "These will earn us a favor or two with the Healer Hall."

"And at least one Masterhealer," Darian added. He extended his hand in thanks to Terry, who shook it firmly.

"You have another project?"

"Can you do anything with refrigeration or pressurized flow of liquids and gasses?" He reached into a belt pouch, pulling out several drawings. The plans were laid on the table where all three could examine them.

"Interesting," Fandarel mused. "What would such a device do?"

"Exposing damaged tissues to pressurized oxygen speeds healing," the healer explained. "I don't think we can separate and store pure oxygen, but a pressurized flow of blood or even filtered air might have a similar effect. Wouldn't be as good, but it might be some help in serious burns."

"I'll ask Benelek to take a look. Masterhealer Kimmel might have some ideas as well. Fascinating."

Darian and Terry exchanged glances. That tone of voice meant the Mastersmith was lost in inventive contemplation. There would be no purpose in trying to speak with him until he had devised an approach to this latest project. Terry smiled, waving the avion away from the table.

They crossed to Wansor's work area, where the Starmaster was peering at a series of unfinished lenses. He started sharply at the sound of Terry's voice. "Master Wansor, you have a visitor."

Darian bowed formally, drawing a slight flush from the self-conscious smith. Wansor cleared his throat nervously. "An honor to see you, Masterhealer. How may I serve you?"

"With one of your ingenious devices, I hope," the avion informed him. He reached for the belt pouch. Another detailed sketch was opened. "I need a special magnifier," he explained to the rapt pair, "that uses two eyepieces, set to focus on parallel visual planes. It must also have the capability of displaying two images side by side and then superimposing one above the other for in-line comparison."

"This design is fairly compact," Terry observed. "I don't see the housing being any problem. Would such a device require special lenses?"

"Oh, no, I don't think so," Wansor replied. "This is very similar to the microscopes we're already making for the Healer Hall. The only possible problem is reflection and refraction from the dual focal planes, but we can overcome that. How powerful should this device be?"

"The stronger, the better," Darian answered. "We'll be doing some very delicate comparative work with this."

Both Terry and Wansor nodded. The Craftsecond frowned before explaining, "There's no doubt we can build it. It's just a matter of fine-tuning the design to available materials and ensuring the control mechanisms are responsive enough for your needs. Can you give us three or four seven-days to work with?"

Darian allowed himself a self-effacing chuckle. "If you can make this in that short a time, I'll be ecstatic. I thought it would take a lot longer."

"Oh, not at all, not at all," Wansor bubbled. "The lenses already exist, the design is sound. We only have to create the control surfaces and then assemble it. This is wonderful!"

Shaking his head at the smith's enthusiasm, Darian excused himself. "I'll leave it to you. I hope you don't mind, but I have several more stops to make."

"Not at all, not at all. Thank you for coming. This design is really remarkable. Quite an instrument. This will be such fun."

The Cygnan walked back to the entrance, discussing the project with Terry on the way.

T'marek was waiting for them. He exchanged greetings with the smith then followed Darian out the door. "Now what?"

"A short stop at the Minecraft Hall then the Harper Hall. Then back South to the Printer Hall."

The brownrider turned a quizzical gaze on his passenger. "What are you up to now?" he asked.

Darian chuckled. "Craft secret."

"Yeah, right," T'marek grumbled, adding an incoherent invective under his breath.

As the pair approached Kelth, the dragon's great head swung toward his rider.

'Why would the healer put a secret in his ear?'

'Don't worry about it!' the rider snapped.

'I'm not worried. I'm confused.'

'You're always confused.'

'Of course. You are my rider.'

T'marek gave his mount a withering glare. He was about to try another rejoinder when he saw the avion's amused grin. He had the distinct impression Darian knew exactly what he and Kelth were saying. "Enjoying yourself?"

"Uh huh."

The dragonman stared at his passenger. The question had nearly slipped out before he decided it was absurd. "Sheesh," he hissed, shaking his head. "Get on."

The stay at the Minecraft Hall was a short one. Darian asked for the finest powder that they could provide him, either metallic or chalk. He was assured they would find something suitable.

Fort's weather wasn't much better that Telgar's, but it wasn't snowing. A female Masterharper met them as Kelth settled into the courtyard. "Greetings, Masterhealer, T'marek. How is Kelth today?"

"He's fine," the brownrider grinned. "It's kind of you to remember him, Menolly."

"Nonsense. One doesn't forget so famous a dragon."

Kelth swung his head downward to nuzzle the woman, sending four firelizards screeching in displeasure. He looked after the dragonets wistfully.

'I didn't mean to frighten them.'

T'marek laughed. "He didn't mean to frighten them," he repeated.

"That's okay," Menolly reassured him, patting the soft muzzle. "They'll get over it. Now, what can we do for such distinguished visitors?"

Darian glanced at the brownrider, a mischievous smirk on his face. He carefully lifted one boot and then the other. "It's getting deep around here."

"You should know," T'marek shot back, grinning.

Darian looked from rider to dragon. "Well, at least he's a brown. It won't be as noticeable."

The harper clucked at them, stepping purposefully between the pair and linking her arm through the avion's. "It certainly didn't take them long to make a dragonman out of you, did it?" She shared their laughter, leading the procession toward the main hall. "Sebell will be delighted to see you again. By the way, how are Mareka and Seradan? And Talmir, of course."

Masterharper Sebell was in his study. He rose quickly to greet his visitors, flashing a warm smile to the dragonmen and his wife. "Welcome, masterhealer. Haven't seen you in quite a while."

Both Masterharper and masterhealer chuckled, Darian shaking his head.

Menolly laughed, suggesting, "Now that you've reached the top of one profession, do we finally get you into the Harper Hall?"

Darian released his escort to embrace her husband. The good-natured rivalry between the Healer and Harper halls was a source of enjoyment to everyone involved. But he'd never seriously considered being a harper. His talents lay in other areas. "I thought this would stop when I moved to Ista."

"Hardly," Menolly grinned. "We're going to make a harper of you yet. You've too good a voice to waste in the Healer hall."

"Now it is getting deep," T'marek groaned.

The woman's melodic laughter pealed across the room, prompting the appearance of several tiny dragons. One, a queen, swooped down to land on the Masterharper's shoulder. She gave a loud hiss as one last firelizard appeared, an outlandishly large bronze. The newcomer circled the room once to a chorus of squawks then settled on the avion's shoulder.

"I'd heard about your impressing a lizard," the female masterharper smiled. "What did you name him?"

"Lucifer." Darian scratched the bronze's head, drawing the usual high-pitched, self-satisfied croon. The other firelizard owners grinned indulgently. "The way he eats, though, I don't see how you can handle eleven of them."

"Could be worse," Menolly observed. "After all, we could be trying to feed Astaroth."

The Cygnan chuckled, a low-pitched, sinister sound. "He always has wondered if firelizards were edible." A flurry of wings answered the comment, followed by total silence. Only the four humanoids remained.

"Well, that's one way to get some peace." Sebell shook his head, restraining the desire to chuckle. Instead, he displayed the pensive smile he was known by. His eyes met Menolly's. A spark of humor and something far more private passed between them. "What service can we provide, masterhealer?"

"I need some supplies," the avion replied.

"Hmmm. What exactly do you need?"

"Indelible ink, some of that heavy card stock, and a couple of fine bristled brushes."

"Thinking of doing some painting?"

"In a manner of speaking, Menolly, yes."

"I think we can provide what you want," Sebell said, "but we'll have to go to Master Tagetarl's class to get it." The lanky harper indicated the door then led the way across the courtyard toward the choral chamber.

On the way, Menolly had questions of a different nature. "Is the hatching expected soon?"

"Any day now," T'marek answered. "Will you be there?"

She nodded emphatically. "Wouldn't miss it!"

Master Tagetarl was in his hall, leading a chorus of enthusiastic if not terribly talented youngsters. His relief at being interrupted was almost comical. "Ah, masterhealer," he smiled in greeting, "you have come on yet another mission of mercy, thank the egg."

Darian had no doubt he'd get what he wanted.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dream a dream of worlds unseen,

a Lord or Lady be.

Better still, I'll wait until

a dragon chooses me!

9th Pass -- Year 25 -December

(Ista Weyr, December 25th)

Tryliri looked a bit startled. For such a little fellow, that burp had been loud. Of course, he had a healthy appetite. What did one expect immediately after feeding. She gave her friend an understanding smile. "Sounds like a volcano, doesn't he?"

The boy's mother flushed an embarrassed red. The toddler was a bit noisy. She wondered if his avion heritage had anything to do with that. He didn't eat like any wherry she'd ever seen. If he had the appetite of a flying animal, it was a dragon. She looked at him critically for a moment. A fifteen-pound sack of tubers outweighed him, and he wasn't much longer than two hand-spans. Still, he seemed strong for his age. His father's doing, again? The woman shrugged, smiling at her host. "It was a bit like an eruption, wasn't it?"

A flash of gold and a soprano chirp distracted them. Tiny wings glistening, a queen firelizard glided to a perch on the mother's shoulder. "Hello, Ti," she greeted the gold.

"Has she risen yet?" the blonde inquired.

"Once."

"Who flew her?"

"Lucifer, of course!" the woman exclaimed. She couldn't be truly irritated though, remembering the experience. Being mind-linked with her queen had proven rewarding.

"Is it as wonderful as everyone always says?"

A wistful smile crossed the brunette's lips, answering the question without words. "I thought so," she explained, "although Darian's link with Lucy doesn't have as much effect on him as it would on us. Not that he minded, of course."

Tryliri turned a grin of exaggerated envy on her visitor. Using her most seductive tone of voice, she warned, "One of these days, Selana, I'm going to find out. You'd better be careful!"

The healer laughed. "Looks like you're spending enough time with T'marek," she teased, indicating the younger girl's belly, now well advanced into her second pregnancy. "Assuming, of course, that it is T'marek's?"

The blonde's smile vanished. "That's not funny, Sel. You know very well it's T'marek's. So does he, though he won't admit it. Keeps telling me he thinks this one is R'travil's." The shadow on her face deepened, revealing how deeply her mate's taunts burned. She sat down on the sturdy bench.

Selana regarded her sympathetically. "Strange, isn't it? I'm craftbred, you're holdbred. Darian isn't even Pernese, but he thinks like he was born and raised in a Weyr."

"What do you mean?"

The journeyman rocked her son, watching the pale blue eyes close. "It's like they don't give us any credit for being able to think. Just because we've chosen to be their mates, they think we're going to behave like cavern women." Selana's voice dropped. The subject was painful to her, but one she needed to share. Over the past three turns, Tryliri had become her closest friend. "T'marek is always teasing you about R'travil. At Eastern, Darian was convinced I was T'marek's weyrmate. Now, he acts like I'm sleeping with G'dened. Don't they understand we have as much to say about our sex lives as they do?"

Tryliri gazed past the healer. She knew the gulf that separated dragonfolk from the rest of Pern, knew how empty that void could make her feel. "They understand, but I don't think they want to."

"Um, okay?"

"T'marek knows I've never slept with anyone else. I haven't wanted to. Sometimes I get the feeling he thinks that I expect the same from him. I know it's not his lifestyle. But he acts like I don't trust him. Really, I don't think he trusts himself. So, if he tells himself I'm doing the same things he is, it's easier for him."

"Is he still bed-hopping?"

"He's a brownrider." Tryliri gazed at her guest. A gentle smile crossed her face, a mixture of deep affection and resignation. She sighed. "I wouldn't want him to change. I just wish he'd stop teasing me." She looked at Selana, cradling a sleeping infant. "Darian?"

"No, it's not his way. Just the opposite. He's so protective, so jealous, it can be frightening. But he thinks I've got a bedmate in every hold, hall and Weyr. Tryl, that's why I married him, to avoid just that. Why can't he see it?"

Silence descended on the weyr, both women retreating into their own thoughts. Selana eased one arm from under the baby, reaching down to scratch the soft head lying on her knee. A quiet purr filled the room. The sound brought a smile to her. "Listen to us. We sound like a couple of wherry hens. We should be happy we have mates who love us."

Tryliri smiled back. "Let's keep telling ourselves that." From the sleeping chamber, a demanding wail interrupted them. "Uh oh," she smiled, "Tal just woke up."

"Go get him. I'll wait."

The curtain was still swaying when the younger woman called back. "Sel, would you bring one of the diapers from the linen bin. I'm out in here." A minute later, the laughing two-turn-old was again in dry clothing.

"Are you ever going to present for impression?" Selana asked. It seemed to her that the woman would make an excellent queenrider.

Tryliri shot her an annoyed glance. "I have enough problems with T'marek now. If I impressed a queen, do you think he'd ever believe I wasn't sleeping with every bronzerider on Pern? Especially R'travil?"

"He's only teasing you, Tryl."

The blonde sighed unhappily. Picking up the boy, she turned to face her friend. "When," she asked, "does it stop being teasing and start being accusations?"

"Never," a third voice asserted. "I have no intention of sharing you with any bronzerider, including R'travil. Stay away from that fardling queen egg!"

Tryliri stared at the curtain. Her mouth fell open at the sight of T'marek leaning against the stone portal. She shrank from the fury in his eyes, the aggressiveness with which his arms were locked across his chest. His frown was sharply disapproving. "How long have you been there?" she gasped.

"Long enough," he answered coldly. The brownrider crossed the room, taking his son and returning him to the crib. He turned back to Tryliri, pulling her against him. The kiss that followed was hard, almost savage. Their eyes locked as his head pulled back slightly. "You are mine, girl," he whispered vehemently, "only mine. Don't you ever forget that."

Selana's nervous cough distracted him. He turned the same stern expression on the healer, surprising his weyrmate with his continued intensity.

"As for you," he resumed, "if you ever say or do anything that hurts Darian, you'll wish you'd never met me." The statement came out with such force that the stalker appeared at Selana's side, ears back and growling. T'marek looked down at him. "Shut up, Loki." His command was punctuated by a violent roar from the weyrledge. The feline's head snapped around toward the sound. He sank to his haunches, still alert but quiet.

"I'd never hurt Darian," the healer said defensively. "I love him."

"You should. Do you have any idea of what you have?"

Selana blinked at him. She caught Tryliri's wide-eyed confusion. Neither of them had ever seen T'marek so aroused. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"I don't think any woman in the history of Pern has had a man as devoted to her as Darian is to you. I've seen what happens when someone makes insinuations about you around him. When we were at Landing, one of Eastern's riders made a comment about you that Darian overheard. If Masterharper Sebell hadn't been there, he'd have killed that kid. For a minute, I thought he was going to draw on me."

"Why?" she asked in a hushed voice.

"Because I got between him and his target. I'm warning you, Selana. There's nothing that man won't do for you. Take care of him, if only to protect the rest of us."

"I'd love to," she protested, "but he's never around. He's always out, doing research, seeing a patient or fighting Thread. I never see him. He's at Ista Hold now, doing surgery!"

"That's funny," T'marek grimaced. "He says exactly the same thing about you."

The journeyman stared at him. It hadn't occurred to her that she had been unavailable to her husband. But she wasn't traveling all over Pern. She was here in the Weyr, day after day, night after night. It was Darian who left her behind. Not that it was necessarily his idea. His schedule had been demanding of late. "We have been busy. It keeps us apart."

"Scorch that garbage," the brownrider barked. "We're in the middle of a Pass. Everyone is busy. All the time. Not just the healer hall. You and Darian aren't the only two with tough schedules. Try G'dened's for a while. But he and Cosira find time for each other. Pern's been here for thousands of turns. It isn't going to disappear because two healers steal a couple of hours a week for each other. You have the same amount of time as the rest of us. Stop trying to find time, make it!"

Selana hesitated. Seradan stirred uneasily in her arms. "Well," she stammered, "I don't know if we..."

"Shards, girl! Do you love him or not?"

"Yes, of course."

"Then do something about it!"

The healer looked for any sign of what to say or do. She sought Tryliri's regard, silently imploring her friend for assistance. The pregnant blonde stood open-mouthed, staring at her mate. The entire scene was beyond their comprehension. "But what?" Selana begged, utterly confused.

"How should I know? Seduce him, kidnap him, shells, rape him if you have to! But do something. Or else!"

Both women gulped. In a nervous whisper, the brunette asked, "Or else?"

"Or else," he yelled, "I'm going to turn you over my knee and give you the flaming spanking you need, you dimglow!"

At the word spanking and the tone of his father's voice, Talmir gave a frightened bawl. Seradan started from sleep, adding his wail to the din. Two mothers peered back and forth between their screaming infants and the adamant dragonman.

Tryliri noticed the slight twitch at the edge of his mouth. It took a moment for her to realize he was trying hard to suppress a smile. She started to giggle.