DragonStorm Ch. 04

"At your service, masterhealer," the brownrider replied, bowing.

The avion nodded respectfully, waving his guest to the table in the inner chamber. "Welcome, wingsecond. Why does Benden honor me with its presence?"

The brownrider chuckled. "T'gellan said you observed all the formalities. It's kind of nice for a change. In fact, I am here for F'lar."

"Not all the formalities," Darian demurred. "How is Canth?"

"He's fine, thank you," F'nor grinned. "Astaroth?"

The Cygnan laughed. "Now, that's different. Nobody asks about Astaroth."

"Oh?"

"Where he's concerned, the less said is usually the better. He's out fishing with Mareka again."

"Fishing?"

"Yeah. Monarth taught him while we were at Eastern. I think Barnath has perfected his technique."

"Dragons do seem to like fish. Even Canth gets silly around salt water."

"Hmmm. So, what can I do for Benden?"

"Actually," the brownrider admitted, "we're hoping we can do something for you. F'lar and T'gellan asked me to talk to you about Scylenth."

Darian stiffened. Why should Benden care about Scylenth? She was an Istan queen. If his own Weyrleader didn't consider the situation worth a second thought, why should another Weyr be interested? Or did Benden have extra bronzeriders they wanted in the mating flight? "Why does Scylenth concern Benden?" he asked testily.

"Scylenth doesn't, really," F'nor admitted. "Your reaction to her does."

"That's my business, not yours. I'm fully aware of Selana's duty to Ista and Pern. I won't try to stop it. How I deal with it later is my concern."

"Not if it affects the rest of us, it isn't." The wingsecond met the withering glare from his host without flinching. He waited while the avion's momentary anger passed. "Give me a chance to talk with you, Darian," he continued. "I know how you feel. I've been there."

"You?" Darian questioned. "You're a brownrider. What would you know about it?"

"Brekke was a queenrider."

The Cygnan looked at him carefully. The image of the attractive healer came to his mind, from their first meeting at his and Selana's wedding, to yesterday's treatment of his nerve-induced adrenaline shock. He remembered being told about the woman's dragon. There was some special bond between her and the brownrider, although he didn't know the details. He sensed that the rider had a strong attachment to the healer, far stronger than most dragonmen to their mates. Maybe F'nor did have an idea of how he felt. He tried to recall the story he'd been told about Brekke and her queen. Was it Robinton who'd told him? "Prideth, wasn't it?"

F'nor's eyes closed, the color draining from his face. He shook his head. "No," the Bendenite corrected him. "Wirenth. Prideth was Kylara's queen." F'nor bit at his thumb, unfocussed eyes looking past the masterhealer to the weyr wall. "Both queens died in Wirenth's first mating flight. Brekke nearly died, too."

Darian felt a wave of pain and regret engulf him, emanating equally from the rider and the dragon on the ledge outside. The intensity of the emotion, induced by an incident nearly twenty turns removed, startled him. Most surprising was the realization that the surge of fear from the two was for the woman, not the dragon she had ridden. Whatever his purpose, the man had earned the right to be heard.

"I'm sorry, F'nor. For you and Brekke. I should've known better. Benden has always been straight with me. Would you like something to drink?"

F'nor nodded. "Klah, please."

Moving to the service shaft, the Cygnan called for klah, bread and meatrolls. He pulled two mugs from the shelf, returning to the table to wait. The delay was brief, and he quickly poured two cups of the thick brown tea.

Taking a quick swallow, the brownrider peered at his host. "That happened a long time ago. Had Wirenth actually mated, mated with a bronze, I could have handled it. I'm not sure Brekke would have."

Darian listened, sipping at his drink. They were kindred spirits. He could feel that. If F'nor had anything that could help...

"That was then. If it happened now, I'm not so sure I could take it. I've had Brekke to myself too long to share her, even in a mating flight. But that's not why I'm here."

"Why are you here?"

"To see if we can do something to help you or make it easier for you if we can't."

"The most help you could give me is eliminating a few bronzeriders."

F'nor's eyes narrowed. The angry, disgusted tone in the avion's voice told him there was more to his problem than Selana and Scylenth. "Is it the mating flight that bothers you, or that a bronzerider is going to do the mating?"

"A little of both," the Cygnan replied. "Maybe a lot of both. I'm not sure." He tried to think about the problem, to search his own feelings. The thought of Selana with any other man was repulsive but seeing her intimately involved with some of the bronzeriders he'd met, particularly some of the Istan bronzeriders, would be sickening. "Look, F'nor, she's my wife," he explained. "Dragon or no dragon, you people have no right to her. Since she impressed, these bloody bronzeriders have been treating her like community property."

The brownrider nodded. He'd experienced those same emotions, as recently as this morning. Considering how the vision of some of the more physical riders bedding the gentle, loving Brekke affected him, he understood his host's fears. Such a person mating with Selana would be nothing short of rape. "Not all bronzeriders are that insensitive, Darian. Is there someone you'd like to have available for the flight? Selana can request an open flight, you know."

"That's been discussed. There's only two bronzeriders she has any interest in and they both refused. I understand browns used to fly queens in the ancient times. Sebell told me about that. But I guess that doesn't happen anymore."

"The first dragons were all about the same size, about like Ruth," F'nor told him. "There were a lot of brown-queen pairings then. But as dragons got larger, the difference in size between browns and bronzes became so pronounced that few if any browns stood a chance in a mating flight. I guess, after a while, everyone just assumed that only bronzes could fly queens."

The Cygnan cocked his head, his ears tuning in on the rider's inference. "Are you saying bronzes aren't the only dragons who can fly queens?"

"Maybe not," the Bendenite shrugged. "Blues are entirely too small. Most browns wouldn't have the speed or endurance to last in a mating flight. But there are a few... Still, why worry about browns? There's nothing on Pern that can stay with Astaroth. Are you sure you can't get him to fly Scylenth?"

Darian shook his head. "He's not interested," he said bitterly. "Not that I should worry about it. He couldn't impregnate a Pernese queen, so she'd rise again almost immediately. Eventually, we're going to have to face the problem. Regardless, this just isn't right. She's my wife."

F'nor released a long breath. "I don't know. Maybe it isn't right. Still, we're stuck with it. We can't stop a queen from mating, and she can't give her queen to someone else. If your two chosen bronzeriders won't help, there aren't many other options."

The avion sipped at his klah, absently adjusting his shoulder knot. His hand went to his chin, long fingers scratching the lightly furred cheek. He'd heard all this before, in discussions with the harpers and in casual conversations with other dragonmen. Now he listened with renewed interest. It was his life being contemplated.

"You said Canth would have flown Wirenth if he'd had the chance. How many browns do you know of who could outfly the Istan bronzes?"

"That depends," F'nor hesitated. "Are all of the bronzes going to chase or are a couple of them going to stay out? That happens, too."

"Why?"

"It's more the queen's choice than the bronze's. Most queens show a preference for one bronze over others. That doesn't mean they'll mate with that bronze every time, but most of the time. Usually, it's the bronze that catches them the first time they rise. If the riders don't like each other that sometimes changes things, but not always. Queens can be very strong willed. At any rate, if a bronze has a queen that shows a preference for him, he usually won't do anything to jeopardize that relationship. That can mean sitting out mating flights with other queens."

"I thought dragons didn't get jealous."

"They don't. It's not a matter of jealousy. Mating flights are strenuous. Injuries occur on occasion. Some bronzes won't risk getting hurt if their normal mate is due to rise soon. It's self-interest, not jealousy."

"Well," the avion considered, "Barnath and Caylith seem to be permanent weyrmates, so I doubt he'll rise. Binath and Pireth seem fairly satisfied with each other. Talonth has mated Valkryth the last two times, but I don't think that's more than coincidence. Elysina doesn't seem interested in a permanent weyrmate."

"Don't count on Binath sitting it out. B'dor's likely to succeed G'dened here. That means he'll want Binath in the air every time possible. Keeps him in practice and makes the queens familiar with him. The only bronze I see sitting out is Barnath. Maybe."

Darian refilled his mug, offering the pitcher to his guest. The brownrider accepted it, pouring a serving for himself.

"Istan bronzes tend to be small," F'nor continued, "but they're fast. Might be the fastest on Pern. Binath and Quarelth are the biggest. Talonth and Quarelth are the fastest. I guess that makes Quarelth the most likely candidate." The look of hatred on the Cygnan's face brought F'nor up short. "Quarelth is a problem?" he asked.

"Not Quarelth," Darian specified, "R'travil. He's been harassing Selana ever since she impressed. She's afraid of him. I can't stand him. For his own sake, it better not be Quarelth. If he keeps it up, he won't live long enough to mate with Selana."

F'nor sighed. Considering the Istan dragons, if Barnath sat out, they had a definite problem. Quarelth was young, strong, big and fast. He was the most likely choice to catch the new queen. Darian's attitude gave him a sense of foreboding.

"Darian, you can't blame a man for following his dragon's instincts. If it happens it won't be R'travil's fault."

"Don't lecture me on what I can and can't do, F'nor. I've had enough of that. I grant you the man can't control his dragon, but he is responsible for his own actions. I told you I wouldn't interfere in Scylenth's mating flight, and I won't. But if that thready little bastard flies Selana, all promises are off. Right there, right then. I'll kill him."

F'nor stared at him. The clear blue eyes looked subtly different; cold, calculating, as though hiding a lethal and irrevocable intent. That single fang was again hooked over the lower lip. The wingsecond found the visage profoundly disturbing. "You can't kill the man for doing what he considers normal."

Darian brought his eyes up to meet his guest's. His voice was as cold as the Benden winter the rider had left behind. "Don't count on it, F'nor. You people have spent the last six turns telling me what I can't do. Believe me, you have no idea of what I can do, and you don't want to find out."

The brownrider grimaced. Bringing the mug to his lips, he watched the Cygnan. T'gellan was right. This wasn't a Pernese dragonrider he was talking to. This wasn't even a human being. Currently, the potential for destruction in his companion seemed limitless. It looked to the wingsecond as though they'd better find something to placate the avion. "Look, even if R'travil does take her, the mating frenzy only lasts eighteen to thirty-six hours, less if the riders don't like each other. From what you tell me, I can't see Selana staying with him more than twelve. After that, she's still yours."

Darian snorted derisively. A vicious sneer crossed his face, fully exposing the ends of both fangs. "That's twelve hours too long. And after that, how long is she mine? Until the next time Scylenth rises? That isn't good enough. She's my wife, not a toy for your bronze-riding friends to pass around like a mark. I've seen mating flights. I remember being told how enjoyable they were, a time to celebrate. I remember how much N'rad and Mirrim enjoyed themselves every time T'gellan and Trelka celebrated. You people need your flaming dragons? Fine. Scylenth is all yours. But keep your riders away from my wife. You keep talking about a mating frenzy. Well, you're right, I've never experienced one. I'm not Pernese. I never will. But you're not Cygnan. You've never seen a killing frenzy. I have. You don't want to."

F'nor waited. Darian gulped down his mug of klah, refilled it and drained it again. There was a noticeable trembling in his fingers, a twitch at the corner of his mouth. The brownrider wondered if this discussion was too intense for the moment. Maybe it was better put off. "Would you prefer if I came back later?" he asked.

Darian shook his head. He drained yet another mug, reaching for the pitcher to refill it.

F'nor's hand restrained him. "Take it easy, Darian. That much klah that fast isn't good for your stomach."

Their eyes met. The Cygnan displayed a passing irritation, then laughed. He pulled his hand away from the pitcher. "Okay. I should probably stick to the fruit juice Brekke's been force-feeding me."

"Do you want me to leave?"

"No. That wouldn't serve any purpose. Besides, I'm learning more from you today than I've learned since I got here. Might as well take advantage of it."

F'nor eased the klah to the far side of the table. His mug followed. He turned back to his host. "If you don't mind my asking, who are the bronzeriders who turned you down?"

"T'gellan and V'line. Either would be acceptable to Selana, and I guess I could live with it. They didn't want to cross Weyr lines, though."

"Why haven't you asked G'dened? If you explained your feelings, he could put Barnath into the flight. I don't think Cosira would mind."

"I suppose that's a possibility. What about brownriders? You said some browns might be able to outfly the bronzes here. Could Kelth do it?"

"I don't think so. He's too small. There are three, no, only two, that are large enough to be really competitive." The rider paused, uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. He already knew that neither brown would be a viable solution.

"Well," Darian prompted, watching him expectantly, "who are they?"

"Trenth and Canth," F'nor frowned.

The Cygnan chuckled sardonically. His lips formed a disgusted frown. He shook his head. "K'trin. Wonderful. What an option." The frown softened, replaced by a contemplative expression. He examined the Bendenite closely. "What about Canth? Would he fly Scylenth?"

F'nor shuddered. He swallowed hard, averting his eyes from the avion's intense gaze. "Maybe," he admitted, "but I doubt it. I wouldn't want him to."

"Why not?" Darian inquired. "After all, he'd be doing a service to all of dragonkind and all of Pern." The sarcastic edge to his voice was a bit sharper than he intended.

"I can't do that to Brekke," F'nor said quietly.

"Oh. But you can do it to Selana."

The rider turned white. The pain and revulsion swept back over him, more acutely than it had minutes earlier.

The avion realized he'd struck a raw nerve. A strange regret colored that realization. This man had come to help. He didn't deserve such treatment. "I'm sorry, F'nor. That wasn't fair. I'm just feeling bitter about this whole mess. G'dened and the others keep saying they're trying but I don't see any real effort or even any real concern. I get the impression they think that as soon as the mating flight happens, we'll see the light and the problem will just go away. It's all lip service."

"None of this is fair," came the restrained answer, "least of all to you. I just don't know what we can do to help you. I understand what you're going through, Darian, but I'm a brownrider. Bronzeriders tend to feel invulnerable. Only a handful of them understand what an effect they have on people's lives."

Darian nodded. He pursed his lips thoughtfully as a new possibility formed in his mind. "Then maybe it's time we enlightened them."

F'nor glanced up, curious about the cryptic comment. Who was he planning to enlighten, about what and how?

"Any dragon already within the Weyr can attempt any mating flight, right?"

"Of course."

"Hmmm." Darian placed his chin in his fingers, rubbing his lip. When the hand dropped, his fang tip was again exposed in that peculiar expression. "When the senior queen rises, whoever's dragon catches her becomes Weyrleader, right?"

"Right."

"So, if Astaroth were to fly Caylith?"

"You'd be Weyrleader. Why?"

Darian peered at the Bendenite. A devilish smile crept across his face.

F'nor's eyes widened. "Ah, Darian, you can't be serious!"

The avion chuckled. "Like you said, nothing on Pern can outfly Astaroth. Like I said, stop telling me what I can and can't do."