Gone Away, Gone Ahead - 11. The Queens Wing

The rest of the day passed slowly, as time always does when there is nothing to distract your attention. D'gar tried looking at the records, but it wasn’t made any easier by having to spread the hides out across the bed and he found that leaning forward for too long made him feel oddly queasy. Ah well. They would just have to wait until he was allowed back to his weyr.

H’rek called in later for a brief visit, bringing his clothes. After that, he felt well enough to get out of bed and walk carefully outside to check on Herebeth. Spending some time with his dragon seemed to settle them both down. It was also good to be outdoors again rather than breathing the over-stuffy air of the infirmary. Plus, it got him away while they were tending to the rider with the scored arm. He’d got a brief glimpse of the injury and it had made him feel sick. He didn’t go back inside until he was sure they’d finished.

When the healers made their evening round, not too long after dinner, he was offered a small cup of wine. He sniffed it cautiously. Behind the scent of grapes and alcohol, something bitter lurked; the unmistakable aroma of fellis juice. ’Do I really need to drink this?’ he asked.

The healer gave him the sort of look that meant he had no choice in the matter. ‘You’ll rest more easily.’

He suspected they preferred it when the patients slept soundly and left them alone to get some rest as well, so he dutifully drank it. ‘Happy now?’

‘See you in the morning.’

Next thing he remembered was waking long after dawn, slightly fuzzy headed from the after effects. As predicted, he could feel all of the dragon-inflicted injuries; not just Herebeth’s talon scrapes, but the bruising from where Ryth had knocked him down. He sat up, trying not to groan.

Thankfully someone noticed his attempts and came over. ‘More numbweed?’

‘Please. How does it look now?’ He leaned forward for the healer to examine him.

‘Like you’ve been picked up and dropped by a dragon. Now hold still.’

‘That stuff’s cold.’

‘Don’t worry. You won’t feel it soon.’

He was right. By the time H’rek arrived with breakfast the pain had gone.

‘I got you some eggs, cold meat, fresh bread, cheese and a couple of sweet rolls. I wasn’t sure what you usually eat for breakfast when it isn’t Threadfall.’

‘I’m not fussy. But thanks.’ He put some of the meat between two slices of bread and took a bite. ‘Delicious. So, what’s been happening?’

H’rek picked up a sweet roll. ’Well, last night there was lots of speculation in the dining hall. They were saying dragon fights happen all the time at the other Weyrs. Along with duels to the death and staking Holders out for Thread if they don’t pay their tithes in time.’

‘I hope no one believed all that rubbish.’

‘Most didn’t, I think. But you know how people like to gossip. Anyway, Kylara looked really interested in all of it. She even got chatting to F’drun.’

‘I’m surprised he showed his face at all.’

‘Well, I suppose he had to eat. But no one else was talking to him. So she did. Probably just so people would look at her. She likes to be noticed.’

D’gar ate some more as he pondered this turn of events. ‘Wonder what he’s up to? I can’t believe he’s going to take this lying down.’

‘What can he do?’

‘I don’t know. But it worries me.’

H’rek was silent for a few moments. He opened his mouth as if he was about to speak, then said nothing.

‘What is it?’

‘I’m worried too.’ He paused before adding, ‘About you.’

‘I can look after myself.’

‘Can you? I heard some other stories last night. M’rell said it wasn’t exactly out of character for you to act recklessly. He told me some of the things you’d done.’

‘Oh.’ That wasn’t good. He tried to make light of it. ‘M’rell exaggerates.’

‘Oh yes? And J’rud? G’reden?’

Why were his wingmates such deadglows? He’d hoped that H’rek would never get to hear how he’d been after S’brin died. ‘They had no right to…’

‘I think they were trying to impress me, not tell tales on you.’

It made very little difference. ‘They’d not have said it if I’d been there, though, would they?’

H’rek sat on the edge of the bed, looking concerned. ‘You’ve told me enough times how you’re scared of anything happening to me. How do you think I’d feel about losing you?’

‘I know. I’m sorry. What I did yesterday was nothing to do with… any of that. I was probably a bit stupid, I’ll admit, but it wasn’t recklessness. I knew that F’drun would pick on me whatever happened and it was better me in that lake than some of the others. I thought I’d just end up splashing around for a bit, not getting half-drowned.’

‘It’s freezing in there.’

‘I knew that before I got in. But I’m used to swimming in cold water. I don’t much like it, but I know how to do it safely. And I’d warned Herebeth as well, just in case.’ H’rek still looked unconvinced so D’gar grabbed his hand. ‘Please, H’rek, try to believe me. I wouldn’t do anything risky. Not anymore.’ Because I love you, he wanted to say. Why was it so difficult? He looked H’rek in the eyes, wishing he could speak directly mind to mind, as he would to Herebeth, rather than having to be clumsy with words. Instead, there was an uneasy silence.

‘You should try and eat some more,’ H’rek said at last. ‘Are they going to let you out of here later?’

‘I hope so. I feel all right, apart from a bit of bruising and numbweed takes care of that.’ Thankfully, they were back onto easy subjects now. ‘I might need a bit of help getting up to my weyr, though. Could you?’

‘Of course I will.’ He gave a quick smile. ‘I’d better go now. We’ve got some extra training this morning. But I’ll be back later. Get Herebeth to tell Rioth when you need a hand.’

They weren’t altogether happy about letting him go; D’gar supposed that as the infirmary wasn’t very busy at present, having a few patients gave them something to do. However, by lunchtime he was dismissed with a pot of numbweed and strict instructions to get plenty of rest and not to lift anything heavy for a few days.

Getting to his weyr wasn’t as difficult as he’d anticipated. Herebeth crouched right down and H’rek gave him a boost to get on board. Try to take off gently, he asked his dragon. Herebeth obliged as well as he could. Although he was braced for it, the initial spring into the air jarred sore muscles. Flying across the Bowl was fine and he slid off easily enough on the ledge. It was only as he walked inside the weyr that he realised his legs were unsteady. He dumped R’feem’s stuff next to the bed and sat on it abruptly before he fell down.

H’rek had followed him inside. ’Are you all right? Any pain?’ he asked worriedly.

‘No, I just feel a bit odd. I’ll be fine once I’ve rested for a while.’ He took a couple of deep breaths. ‘It’s probably the after effects of all that fellis they gave me.’

He still looked concerned. ‘Are you sure they said you were all right to come back here?’

‘Of course. How did your training go?’ he asked, changing the subject.

‘Oh. It was fine. We…’ He seemed about to add something else, then glanced at the rolled-up hides poking out of the bag. ‘So, what’s all this?’

‘Well, as I’m grounded for a few days R’feem left me all his admin to do.’

He looked around. ’But where are you going to work? Your weyr’s a bit… empty. You need a table and chair at least.’

‘Suppose I do.’ It was true. He’d not put much effort into the place and compared with H’rek’s own weyr it was very basic.

H’rek patted his shoulder gently. ‘I’ll go and find some bits and pieces from the stores. You have a rest.’

D’gar lay down and shut his eyes, thankful that H’rek seemed to have dropped his earlier line of questioning. He must have fallen asleep for a while and was awakened by the sound of voices and something heavy being moved around.

‘There you go,’ H’rek said. He’d brought J’rud with him. Between them they were carrying a large and heavy-looking desk. ‘Nice, isn’t it?’

‘How did you get that up here?’ He sat up carefully.

J’rud smiled. ‘Zurinth’s good at carrying furniture. We used some rugs and things to wrap it so none of the sharp edges could hurt her.’

H’rek held up a vividly coloured tapestry against the wall. ‘Here’s one of them. How does it look up here?’

J’rud stepped back and considered for a moment. ‘Try it on the other wall. There’s more natural light there and it’ll show the colours better.’

‘I’m not sure as I want to see those colours.’ D’gar stood up. His legs felt fine now, although his eyes were under assault from the tapestry.

J’rud and H’rek just gave each other a look, then pointedly ignored him as they carried on re-designing the interior of his weyr.

By the time they’d finished, he had to admit it looked far more homely. Several rugs now covered the floor and the bleakness of the walls were softened by tapestries and wall hangings. The desk had been placed underneath one of the glow baskets and they’d brought a comfortably padded chair to match. D’gar sat in it and started to unpack his work.

‘So, will you be moving your stuff over here as well?’ J’rud asked H’rek.

‘Um, well…’ H’rek didn’t seem to know what to say to that. He glanced at D’gar.

‘No, I suppose you might as well wait until he moves,’ J’rud continued.

‘Moves?’ H’rek asked. ‘Why?’

‘Well, he’s a Wingsecond now, so he’ll be entitled to a lower level weyr.’ He perched on the edge of the desk next to D’gar. ‘Had a look at any yet?’

‘Seeing as I only got the job yesterday and I’ve been in the infirmary until now, I’ve not exactly had a chance.’

J’rud laughed. ‘Hey, you can chuck F’drun out of his. That’d be worth seeing.’

‘Probably best not to antagonise him any more than necessary. He’s still going to be in our Wing, after all.’

‘More’s the pity. Anyway, I’d best be off now. We’re flying out to Greystones. Threadfall’s over the Hold there tomorrow.’

‘Thanks for your help.’ D’gar waited until he’d left and they’d heard the scrape of talons on the ledge as Zurinth launched herself. ‘Do you want to?’ he asked H’rek.

‘What?’

‘Move in?’

H’rek scuffed his boot on the floor. ’Would you like that?’ he asked, a little hesitantly.

‘You’ve already redecorated the place for me.’ He tried to keep the tone light. ‘So, you might as well.’

‘That would make us weyrmates.’

‘Well, yes.’ Maybe it was too quick. Maybe he’d say no. D’gar felt suddenly uncertain. Nervous even, as he waited for H’rek’s answer. ‘I’ll try not to be too reckless in future.’

‘All right, then.’ H’rek put his arms around D’gar. ‘It was lonely last night without you.’

‘If I’d not been knocked out with fellis, I’d probably have felt the same.’

H’rek had his usual pre-Threadfall firestone duties later, so D’gar settled down to read through the records he’d been left. He started with the ones from Fort. Trying to decipher R’feem’s untidy writing was a job in itself. Each dragon and rider had a separate entry, providing information on transfers, injuries, disciplinary problems and routine assessments. As anyone would, he found and read his own records first. R’feem had made a few notes regarding his unofficial Wingsecond duties during the previous Pass. ‘Reliable, sensible and a useful member of the Wing’, he’d written. That was before S’brin’s death, of course. Thankfully he’d not made any comments about what happened after. It was possible that he kept more confidential notes for his own reference, not to be shared with Wingseconds. That was all to the good; F’drun - who would probably have had access to these same records - would not have been able to discover anything embarrassing about him.

He checked the other hides quickly, finding entries for each Threadfall, detailing weather conditions, locations, duration and the number of casualties and fatalities. Once again, he found himself drawn to a specific date: 9.25.50. Two Falls before the last. He forced himself to read the list of deceased riders and dragons. Six pairs, including S’brin and Zemianth. It didn’t hurt as much as he’d thought it might. The grief was still there, of course, but it no longer felt like a raw wound, even though it was less than a Turn since S’brin had died. Had they stayed put rather than coming forward, he knew he’d have been torturing himself with memories of where they had been and what doing on every day up until that fateful date. But he was here, now and his life had moved on. It felt almost - disrespectful - to have fallen in love again so soon, even though he’d not gone out looking for someone else. He and S’brin had never talked about the possibility one of them might not make it through. It had always felt like bad luck, or tempting fate. Yet S’brin wouldn’t have wanted D’gar to be miserable and lonely for the rest of his life, would he? Enough musing, he told himself. Get on with some work.

R’feem hadn’t made any entries since they’d come forward and transferred to Benden, so there was quite a lot of updating needed. As he read, he made notes on a slate; unwilling, as yet, to write on the hides. There were some questions he needed to ask R’feem, so he noted those down, too.

He moved on to the records from the other Weyrs. Igen’s were similar to Fort’s in layout and detail. Whoever had compiled them had much neater handwriting than R’feem’s scrawl, so it was easier to pick out the names of riders and dragons who were now part of the combined Wing. It would be best to start afresh on a new hide, he thought, keeping the Benden records separate from what came before. He could always cross reference to the old records for historical information. Yes, that would be the best way to go about it.

F’drun’s entries for the Wing he’d led at High Reaches were very different than either of the others he’d seen. That could be put down to organisational differences, of course. Each Weyr had its own way of doing things, after all. However, he noticed that there seemed to be a lot of requests to transfer out and more than the usual number of disciplinary issues reported than seemed normal. F’drun, unsurprisingly, had written quite a few disparaging personal comments about his riders, rather than sticking to plain facts and figures. No confidential notes for him. With such an unpleasant nature, how had he even got to be a Wingleader in the first place, D’gar wondered? Probably he had been in the right place at the right time, when there was a shortage of bronze or brown riders who had sufficient experience. It happened during a Pass. No wonder the Weyrleader had taken the opportunity to be rid of him.

The afternoon passed quickly. H’rek returned bringing klah. ‘Thought you’d appreciate a hot drink,’ he said.

‘Thanks. I do.’ Although there was a skin of drinking water in the weyr, nothing refreshed like a good mug of klah. He rolled up the hides and sat back in the chair, albeit carefully as the bruises were making themselves felt.

‘While we were bagging firestone, I’ve been thinking.’ H’rek perched on the edge of the desk. ‘About you and F’drun among other things. Why do you reckon he chose you specifically as opposed to anyone else in the Wing?’

‘V’vil and T’burrad said there was no reason behind it when he was at High Reaches.’

‘They didn’t see a reason. But that doesn’t mean there wasn’t one.’ He frowned.

D’gar recognised the expression by now. It was how H’rek looked when he was mulling over something. He wondered if he had a similar expression, then realised he must have, as his wingmates always seemed to be able to tell when he was thinking hard, as opposed to, say, talking with Herebeth. ‘True,’ he commented.

‘What we need to do is find out about people he’s picked on before to see if they have anything in common with you. Age, looks, the colour of their dragons, potential threat to his position? You might find something among those records.’

‘You’re really taking this seriously, aren’t you?’

‘Well, yes. Haven’t you got it into your thick skull you could have died yesterday.’

D’gar shook his head. ‘F’drun wasn’t trying to kill me…’

‘Did I say that? All because someone’s not trying doesn’t mean it can’t happen. There’s a reason riders aren't allowed to fight outside of tightly controlled wrestling bouts, isn’t there?’

‘Well, yes. I know that.’

‘If Herebeth had got to you later. If you hadn’t been such a good swimmer. If the water had been even colder…’ H’rek counted out his points on his fingers.

‘He’d have had Ryth pull me out. The others said that’s what he used to do. I’d probably be a bit more chewed up, but I imagine he’d have liked that.’ Dragons wouldn’t hurt people of their own volition, but they’d go along with what their rider believed to be right. Herebeth had flamed those fisherfolk’s nets because he hadn’t seen anything wrong with it. Yet talking to Gr’lon had made him realise that Benden riders wouldn’t consider that a proper thing to do at all. Therefore, their dragons wouldn’t do it either.

H’rek sighed. ‘It was still stupid. Risky. Anything could have gone wrong.’

‘I’ll give you that. But I didn’t drown and he can’t do anything like that again now he’s been demoted.’

‘Don’t you think that will just give him even more of a reason to hate you?’

It was a fair point. ‘He might hate me, but at least he can’t order me to do anything dangerous.’

‘There are other ways he can get to you. Indirect ways. We still need to figure him out.’

Deep down, he knew H’rek was right. There was something about F’drun that bothered him. Even if he was just one of those people who acted without considering the consequences, that could still cause problems. ‘Does everyone have to have a reason for all the things they do?’ he mused.

‘Of course they do. Take me, for example. My father didn’t like me as well as my brothers and sisters. No matter how hard I worked he never gave me a word of approval.’

It was the first time H’rek had really talked about his life before Impressing Rioth. ‘That’s sad. So, did you figure out why?’

‘Eventually. As I got older it got worse. Of course, I thought he might suspect I was… the way I am. Not being attracted to girls.’

Not for the first time, D’gar gave thanks for having been Weyrbred, where sexual preferences weren’t an issue. ‘Good job you got Searched, then.’

‘Yes. Otherwise I’d have been expected to get married, like my brother.’ He smiled wryly. ‘But that still didn’t explain why he’d always treated me differently. I’d often wondered if maybe he thought I wasn’t really his son…’

‘That your mother might have slept with someone else, you mean?’ Weyrfolk had a different moral compass than the Holdbred, but people were people and it was still a possibility.

H’rek nodded. ’Except we lived in an isolated farm hold, so there wouldn’t have been much opportunity. Besides, I looked like all the others - blond hair, skinny build. I even had the same colour eyes as my father. Then, one time I got back early from the fields and overheard my parents arguing. That wasn’t uncommon, of course. They didn’t get on.’

D’gar made an encouraging noise for him to continue.

‘It was about his older brother. The one he’d never talk about. Turned out that before I was born, father had been away for a while and his brother had looked after the farm. He and mother had, well… you know. And when I was born, he must have worked out the timing was impossible. So, there was a reason, after all. Just not one that was immediately obvious to me.’

‘So that brings us back to F’drun how? I can’t be any sort of relative. And it’s different in the Weyr anyway. Things like that don’t matter.’

‘Well, maybe you - and all the others he’s picked on in the past - remind him of someone who bullied him as a child or a rival who stole away his first love. Could be anything. So, he takes a dislike to you at first sight without even getting to know you.’

‘Interesting theory.’

‘Like I said, you need to find out a bit more about who he’s picked on in the past. See if there’s a pattern to it.’

Talking of F’drun reminded him that they would probably meet later on. They’d not spoken since the lake incident and it was bound to be difficult. He pondered how best to deal with it but fortunately the problem never arose. F’drun didn’t join the Wing for dinner and it turned out no one had seen much of him during the day either.

‘I reckon he’s been in that Kylara’s weyr,’ V’chal said, always eager to gossip. ‘They were very thick with each other last night.’

‘So I heard.’

‘You heard some of the other things they’ve been saying about us too?’

‘Weyrfolk love to speculate. It’ll pass once something new and juicier comes by.’

When they’d finished eating R’feem presented him with his Wingsecond’s knots, much to the general approval of everyone in the Wing. Shortly after that, he noticed M’rell going up for a refill of klah. It provided the perfect opportunity to speak with him away from the others. D’gar joined the queue just behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. ‘Could I have a quick word?’

‘Sure. What’s it about?’

They got their refills, then D’gar took him aside to a quiet corner. ‘Look, I know you meant well, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go telling H’rek any more stories about me.’

‘What do you mean?’ M’rell seemed totally oblivious to what he might have done.

‘He’s a worrier. He doesn’t need to know about my past.’

‘Oh, that. It wasn’t just me, you know.’

D’gar suspected it had been M’rell who started it off, though. ‘No, I gathered that. But where you lead, others will follow. So please, don’t say any more.’

M’rell flicked the new shoulder knots. ‘Getting a bit officious now, are we?’ There was humour in his tone, but with an undercurrent of something else.

‘No. Just that I’d rather tell him myself. All right?’

M’rell nodded. ‘If that’s how you want it, I’ll leave him sitting on his own his looking miserable in future.’

Sometimes M’rell could be infuriating. ‘I didn’t mean that. Just… think a bit first.’

‘Like you did when you got in the lake, you mean…’ Anything further he might have been going to say was interrupted by someone banging on a pan. One of the Benden Wingleaders - D’gar thought it might be T’bor, but he wasn’t that familiar with them all yet - stood up at the top table.

‘Right, here’s the moment you youngsters have been waiting for all day. The draw for six places in the Queens Wing for tomorrow’s Fall.’

‘What’s all this about?’ he asked M’rell.

‘No idea. Some Benden thing, I suppose.’

D’gar glanced across the room to the table usually occupied by H’rek’s clutchmates. There was a fizz of excitement among the riders sitting there.

‘Now, just so everyone knows it’s fair, we’re going to draw the names right now. Kylara?’

A striking blond woman came forward. She wore a figure-hugging dress in shades of blue which rippled and shimmered like water with every sway of her hips.

‘Whoa,’ M’rell said, with a hint of awe in his voice. ‘She looks amazing.’

She certainly had a presence about her and it was also quite clear she knew it. But D’gar’s eyes were drawn to a figure behind her, leaning against a wall in the shadows between the glow baskets. F’drun. So maybe the gossip had some foundation. F’drun’s presence also made him feel distinctly uneasy.

Kylara reached a hand into the pan and brought out a small piece of slate. ‘M’shol and Kurmianth,’ she read.

Over on the youngsters table, cheers erupted. D’gar caught sight of H’rek. He must have known about this draw. Why hadn’t he mentioned it earlier? He left M’rell staring open mouthed at Kylara and made his way over.

Kylara announced a second pair just as he got there. ‘Is everyone’s name in there?’ he asked H’rek, leaning over. There were more cheers and the lucky winner was clapped on the back.

‘Only the ones J’cul thought were up to it,’ H’rek said quietly.

‘Is yours?’

‘Yes.’ He sounded just a little defensive.

‘B’dor and Farimith,’ Kylara announced.

The lad next to H’rek jumped to his feet and punched the air. ‘Yes!’

D’gar moved back slightly to give room for his clutchmates to congratulate him. He wanted H’rek to progress, of course, but he also dreaded the prospect. Yet it was inevitable that he and Rioth would join a Wing at some point and surely this would be a fairly safe way to begin. Injuries were rare in the Queens Wing and recuperating dragons and riders often did a turn there before rejoining their Wings. He missed the next couple of names, but couldn’t miss the sight of H’rek’s white knuckles as he gripped the edge of the table, waiting to find out if he’d get his chance.

‘And finally, the last pair.’ Kylara paused for dramatic effect then pulled out the final piece. She barely looked at it before speaking. ‘It’s H’rek and Rioth.’

H’rek sprang up, found D’gar and hugged him. ‘I got it! I got it!’

‘Well done,’ D’gar said, wishing he could feel the same degree of enthusiasm, yet not wanting to spoil the moment. Over his shoulder, he saw F’drun and Kylara together, smiling in conspiratorial fashion and the sense of unease he’d had earlier suddenly deepened.