Mighty dragon, rider proud,
Flying high above,
Clear the skies of falling death,
Protect the ones we love.
9th Pass -- Year 21 - March
(Eastern Weyr, March 16th)
Fluffy clouds dotted the blue autumn sky. Wildflowers, far removed from the Weyr, could be smelled in profusion on the warm breeze. Life seemed subtly more enjoyable now. The sun shone with a comfortable glow, rather than an irritating glare. With the tropical summer coming to an end, the cool of early fall was welcome. It was a wonderful time to be Weyrleader at Eastern. Unless, of course, you needed to find somebody. Anybody.
T'gellan looked around the nearly deserted Weyr bowl. There was a bit of activity in the cavern entrance, where Betrella was talking with Aramina about the special train Paradise River had sent for the evening. A few drudges were moving back and forth between the pack animals and the lower chambers. Jayge was still busily tending to the heavily laden beasts.
Monarth stretched out lazily on the weyrledge, basking in the late morning brilliance. His drifting thoughts indicated he would shortly be asleep. Far across the bowl, Trenth and Kelth sat side by side, leaving barely enough room should a third dragon need the infirmary ledge. On a day like this, that seemed an unlikely eventuality. Path was in her weyr and Regalth was still on the hatching grounds. It would be another seven-day or two before the eggs hatched, but she was spending more and more time grooming the hot sands to her liking. The rest of the Weyr was gone; fishing, swimming, hunting or just plain goofing off. Not that it mattered. They all knew to be in by mid-day. There were still a lot of preparations to be made.
The cavern folk had done quite a job of dressing the Weyr. Even the rocks around the bowl perimeter looked like they'd been scrubbed. The very sand seemed to have been cleaned. It was an interesting sight.
Betrella's call brought him back to reality. He walked reluctantly to the cavern entrance, wanting to join his bronze and sleep away the next few hours. That, however, was sheer fantasy. "The Weyr looks great," he said in greeting. "Your people did an excellent job."
The Headwoman nodded vigorously, handing him a slate with the inventory of the special tithing train. She had circled one group of entries, emphasizing the unusual number of fine roasting meats and delicate pastries. The shipment was generous.
"We have enough roast wherry and bubbly pies to feed an army," Betrella revealed amiably. "Considering the guest list you gave me that should be just about right."
The Weyrleader chuckled. She had a point. If everyone they had invited showed up, the rest of Pern was going to be uninhabited tonight. From what he'd heard so far, there had been no refusals or cancellations. Eastern was going to be crowded.
"Have you made arrangements to see that K'trin gets a full meal?" he inquired. "He's still not well enough to leave the infirmary and I don't want him to feel slighted."
"He'll be fed, alright," Betrella groused. "He'll get more food than he's seen in turns. But have you planned to place an armed guard on him? I don't want him disrupting things."
T'gellan gave her a sardonic grin, agreeing fully with her caution. They didn't need the feisty rider trying to interfere tonight. Although his recovery had slowed over the past weeks, he was regaining his strength. The Weyrleader was leaving nothing to chance. "Four, plus two extra watch dragons on Trenth. Besides," he grinned, "I suspect Akira, Loki and Astaroth are going to be somewhere in the area. He's not going to be a problem."
Betrella sounded a loud 'humph'. While she didn't share the dragonman's confidence, the situation was beyond her sphere of influence. The Cygnan snake had proven most adept at eliminating pests from the caverns, particularly the hated tunnelsnakes. In her opinion, the Fort brownrider was just a larger variety of pest. "Alright. I'll set up another table on the weyrledge so that K'trin and the sentries can eat together."
She led the bronzerider into the cavern, pointing out the intricate decorations that had been devised for the occasion. Traditional red and white adorned the tables, while the black and soft blue adopted by Eastern as the Weyr colors were conspicuous on the walls. Near the head table they could see Mirrim fussing at one of the drudges about some detail still incomplete. Standing to one side, Trelka wore an amused grin. The queenrider made no effort to conceal her good humor, encouraging her frantic companion to relax. Both women showed evidence of their current condition. The Headwoman turned an uplifted eyebrow to T'gellan.
Reading the obvious question in Betrella's eyes, the Weyrleader started to laugh. He pointed at the dark-haired girl. "Only one, Betrella, only one! You can blame N'rad for the other." Giving the Headwoman an openly suggestive smile, he asked, "How would you like to make it three?"
Betrella laughed at him. "I'll think about it," she chuckled.
He glanced back at the two pregnant riders, their position in the cavern reminding him of a question he needed to ask. "By the way, how many do you plan to seat at the headtable?"
Now Betrella chuckled. Biting her lip with devious glee, she responded, "Fifteen. You and Mirrim, Benden, the Master Harpers, N'rad and Trelka, Darian and Selana, Ruatha, T'marek..." she paused momentarily, looking at the dragonman. "...and F'nor and Brekke."
T'gellan closed his eyes, groaning in mock despair. "Mirrim, Selana, Trelka and Brekke, all at the same table! What did I do to you?"
The Headwoman laughed back at him. "If I were you," she warned, "I'd be a lot more concerned about Darian, N'rad, F'nor and T'marek all at the same table."
The Weyrleader's response was unintelligible.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Over the next hours, riders began to trickle back, doing what tasks remained to be accomplished before changing into formal clothing. The first non-Easterners to arrive were N'ton and four brownriders from Fort. Although the Weyrleader was in ceremonial garb, his wingriders wore fighting gear and were armed with full-sized belt knives and crossbows. The quartet was quickly posted, along with their dragons, at the entrances to the infirmary.
Benden arrived in force, with Mnementh, Ramoth, Dragoth and Piyanth carrying single riders. Canth bore two. The Ruathan dragon and his two passengers arrived shortly thereafter. Jaxom and Sharra headed for the cavern, while Ruth accepted an invitation to perch on the Northern rim. He settled lightly beside Astaroth, who greeted him with an oddly amiable roar. It didn't escape the little white's notice that they shared an excellent view of the infirmary ledge.
The lower cavern filled quickly as twilight fell. Many of the guests were standing in groups of various sizes, enjoying friendly conversation and plentiful drink. Others had taken their seats, preferring to wait in a more comfortable pose. The colorful decor of the chamber both relaxed and interested the assembled riders, lords and craftmasters, as did the noticeable gap in the tables directly in front of the headtable. The tempting aroma of roasting herd beast and wherry filled the air, piquing the appetites of the guests.
Trelka, F'nor, F'lar and Lessa arrived from the inner tunnel. Immediately, the din of conversation lessened, and the invitees headed for their seats. Silence fell when the Masterharper entered.
Sebell walked in measured steps to the front of the gathering, placing himself between the headtable and the rest of the assembly. He bowed formally to the Benden Weyrleader and the ladies. His ceremonial request to address the guests was granted instantly. With great dignity, the Masterharper pivoted.
"Lords and Ladies, Masters, Journeymen, Apprentices, Dragonriders and friends, I have the great honor of speaking to you on a most unusual occasion. In fact, I have no reservations about calling this night unique in the history of Pern."
A wave of laughter greeted his statement. Delighted onlookers turned to each other to echo the observation. There could be no doubt that tonight's ceremony had never before been performed on Pern.
"The young man who will stand before you tonight is not bound by Pernese law," the Harper explained. "He was given the opportunity to have this ceremony conducted in accordance with his own traditions, but he declined. Therefore, we will proceed in the manner which all Pern has come to honor."
Sebell turned, nodding to Betrella at the opening of the inner tunnel. There was a moment's delay. Curious whispers sounded across the cavern, followed by a collective murmur of approval as the first of the ceremonial party appeared.
Darian led the way. His specially made tunic gleamed like spun gold. It still sported the crest he'd worn on Cygnus, but the right breast boasted the emblem of Eastern Weyr. At the head table, F'lar smiled approvingly at the sight. The avion was followed by T'gellan, N'rad, and a grinning T'marek. The quartet moved slowly around the headtable, coming to a halt in front of and to the Masterharper's left. As they stopped, four women appeared from the tunnel.
Selana came shyly forward, clothed in a flowing red gown and floral head garland. Just behind her, Sharra stepped into view, wearing the traditional white with red trim. Dressed in solid white, Brekke and Mirrim completed the short train. They traced a route opposite that of the men, coming to rest at the Harper's right.
At the sight of his weyrmate, F'nor caught his breath, drawing an alarmed glance from Trelka. She chuckled softly when he exclaimed, "I think I'm in love!"
The Masterharper nodded, at which time Selana stepped forward and in. She turned her head questioningly when Darian didn't mirror the move. Sebell smiled sympathetically. He indicated a spot on the floor to the healer's right, quietly saying, "We need you up here."
The Cygnan didn't move immediately, regarding the Master with a dazed expression. A grinning T'gellan finally gripped him by the elbow and pushed him into position. Sebell glanced knowingly at the Weyrleader, restraining his chuckle but not his smile. He was about to continue when a final member of the ceremonial party appeared, padding quietly from the tunnel to place himself between Darian and Selana. T'gellan rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. The bride reached down to stroke her stalker.
"Darian and Selana," the now booming voice declared, "you stand before all Pern, Lord and Commoner, Master and Apprentice, human and dragon, to take upon you a solemn covenant. Do you do this of your own free will?"
