Empty, Open, Dusty, Dead - 4. The Question Song

Just over a Turn had gone by since the Disappearance. Many trips had been made to the empty Weyrs to recover anything portable the vanished weyrfolk hadn’t already taken. As N’rax had forecast, the truth had come out fairly quickly; a regular tithe train found Fort Weyr deserted and news had spread fast. He’d been called to several meetings with Craftmasters and Lord Holders, panicked at the loss of their protectors. Gradually, though, the fear had diminished. Thread no longer threatened Pern. Most of the Lords had realised that they were now free of the need to tithe to the extent they once had.

‘Of course, some of them tried to absolve their responsibilities totally,’ N’rax had told Zalna and Morna one evening, after a particularly long meeting. ‘It would have been totally unfair to expect just Benden, Bitra and Lemos to carry on supplying us, when the others gave nothing. As from next Turn, each of the Holds will send a smaller amount, so everyone bears equal responsibility for keeping us fed and clothed.’

Zalna had more on her mind than tithes. She and T’san had become weyrmates towards the end of the summer. They’d been spending so much time in her weyr she’d joked he might as well move in. ‘Then you can have that pool you’ve always dreamed of.’ They meshed together so well, Zalna could hardly remember a time she’d occupied the weyr on her own.

It was a balmy spring afternoon at Benden, although Zalna knew from experience how the weather could delude you, here in the north. She’d learned to take advantage of the sunshine, especially at this capricious time of the Turn. Gemalth sprawled on the sandy beach by the lake, drying out after a good scrub. Zalna, plus several weyrlings, stood by to oil her once she was fully dry. The Weyrlingmaster drilled them in this important part of dragon care as they waited.

They weren’t ‘her’ weyrlings, or more properly Gemalth’s. These were only seven months old and hatched from Terirth’s last mating. Gemalth hadn’t risen for two Turns now. Idly, Zalna wondered if she might this Turn and if she did, whether T’san’s Huylonth would be successful in flying her now that their riders were lovers. It didn’t always follow, of course, but she had hopes her own feelings might rub off on Gemalth. Huylonth had been very close the last time…

‘Er, weyrwoman?’ L’brec’s voice brought her from her reverie.

‘Sorry, what was that?’

‘The lads are ready, if Gemalth is.’

‘Of course.’ She smiled at the weyrlings. She always strove to be as pleasant and unthreatening as she could to the youngsters. Mardra had set an example she didn’t intend to follow. ‘Be careful around the tops of her forelegs,’ she told them. ‘That’s her ticklish spot.’

She grabbed her own pot of oil and started at the top of her dragon’s long neck. The weyrlings split into the teams L’brec had assigned them and began diligently oiling away. Gemalth made a contented sound somewhere between a chirrup and a purr. Life is good, she said. The sun is warm and I am being pampered.

Everyone looked up as a second golden dragon winged in, coming to a neat landing beside them. Benden’s senior queen lowered herself to let Morna climb down. The older Weyrwoman winced as her feet touched the sand. ‘Sharding knees,’ she muttered, as she walked stiffly over to Zalna.

If the weyrlings were surprised at their Weyrwoman’s language, they didn’t show it.

‘Thought I’d join you,’ she said. ‘Nonath saw you and said she fancied a bath too.’

L’brec looked over. ‘I’ll get the rest of the clutch. They’re making riding straps right now, but they can come over and help.’

‘Thank you,’ Morna said. She perched on a nearby rock. ‘Reckoned we’d all better spruce up before our guests arrive.’

A formal dinner had been planned for the evening. Several of the major Holders and their ladies would be present, along with the Masterharper and some of his best musicians. Zalna had been looking forward to it for days.

‘Apparently Creline’s composed a couple of new ballads,’ Morna went on. ‘At N’rax’s request, there’ll be one reminding the Lords of their obligations to the Weyr, even though we’re entering an Interval. A couple of new Teaching Ballads, too. Creline thought he’d try them out on us first.’

‘I’m sure they’ll be up to his usual standard.’

‘Plus, there’ll be dancing later. I’d better remind the riders not to dance too close with each other during the slow ones. Don’t need them to scandalise our guests.’

Zalna sighed. The gulf between what was acceptable to weyrfolk and Holders would never be bridged. Having seen it from both sides, she’d come to prefer the Weyr customs. Why shouldn’t people be allowed to love each other openly? It didn’t hurt anyone. Still, there were some things you couldn’t change easily and that was one of them.

Nonath waded into the lake, stirring up sand underfoot. She spread her wings across the surface of the water, then raised them, sending shining droplets into the air before setting off on a swim in the deeper water.

‘I’d best get on.’ Zalna excused herself.

‘Please do. I shall sit here and let the sun into my old bones. I think a trip to Ista is well overdue.’

Poor Morna. Her plans of a retirement in the sun had gone, along with the other Weyrs. She spent a few days each month seeking out warmth to alleviate her joint ache, but it wasn’t quite enough. Zalna mused on whether it would be possible to send some of the older riders and weyrfolk to the deserted Weyr at Ista to escape the coldest months of the Turn. Maybe some of them might enjoy a break in the sun, rather than huddling close to the hearths at the back of the dining hall all winter? They’d need support workers, of course, but some of those might enjoy the change, too. As she worked along Gemalth’s neck, she mulled over the idea, enjoying the planning of such a venture. It might be good for those convalescing from illness or injury as well.

The rest of the weyrlings arrived and stripped off to wade into the water. It made Zalna shiver just to watch them. The lake at Benden was only warm enough for her to contemplate swimming in it during the high summer months and even then only when the sun was strong. Still, they were used to it. Most of them had grown up here and had the northerners hardy indifference to cold.

Nonath returned from her swim and let them set to scrubbing her hide. She was a paler gold than Gemalth, who more closely resembled her mother, Suderoth. And just where was Suderoth now? Had she laid more clutches wherever they’d all gone?

Over the past Turn, theories about the Disappearance had continued to spring up, each seemingly more contrived and ludicrous than the last. The latest had it that they had all moved to the unknown southern continent of Pern, to reduce the drain on the Holds. It was preposterous, of course. Everyone knew the southern continent was Threadbared and barren. Plus, wasn’t that where the awful plague of Moreta’s time had originated? No one with any sense would choose to go there when they had a perfectly good Weyr here in the north.

She’d come to terms now with the fact she’d never see her old friends again. They’d been consigned to that part of her mind where she kept her memories of K’torl; a different, distant time. These new weyrlings were lucky. They would never fight Thread; never see their friends and loved ones die. Once those of her generation went between forever, there’d be no one alive who remembered its terrible toll. That was why the Teaching Ballads were so important. History had to be kept alive, so that when the Red Star returned to menace Pern once more, people would know what to do to prepare. Her distant descendants - and Gemalth’s - would take to the skies once more to sear Thread and protect the land and its people.

Thread is gone, Gemalth commented, picking up on her stray thoughts. We need not fear it any more.

No, dearest, but others will, one day. In the dim and distant future.

After Gemalth had been oiled, her golden hide shone brightly. They returned to their weyr, where Zalna found herself as indecisive as ever about what to wear. T’san had arrived back from patrol by then and lounged in the bathing pool as she held up first one dress, then another.

‘How should I know what’s in fashion this Turn?’ he protested. ‘Ask U’bron or one of the greens. I think you look lovely whatever you wear. And even lovelier in nothing at all.’ He smiled. ‘Come and have a bath.’

‘You’re trying to distract me.’ It was true, though. She did need a bath. Afterwards, she’d ask Miyelle to come up and help to style her hair. Maybe she’d have a better idea of what would be best to wear, too?

Bathing together took much longer than Zalna had bargained for. ‘Your fault,’ she said to T’san, hurling a damp drying sheet at him.

He caught it deftly. ‘Shouldn’t have let yourself get distracted.’

‘Ha!’ Still, she felt a lot more relaxed now, even if it was later than she’d wanted. She found a clean shift and pulled a comb through her hair. It had grown fairly long now; well past her shoulders. Another good thing about living in an Interval. Back in the old days, riders kept their hair short, partly for convenience in fitting it under a riding cap and partly for fear of Thread catching on to a loose strand. Morna, for all of her dislike of the cold, had never wrapped a scarf around her neck during Fall for the same reason. Being able to have long hair again felt slightly decadent. ‘Get some clothes on. Miyelle will be here soon and I don’t want her getting an eyeful of your assets.’

He pulled on his trousers. ‘My assets are yours entirely. Now, which shirt shall I wear?’

‘You’re as bad as I am.’ Zalna cast a glance over his rail. ‘How about that embroidered one you bought at the Nerat Gather last Turn? It’s fancy enough to impress any Lord or Lady Holder.’

‘That’ll be it, then.’ He pulled it over his head. ‘Ready. Now, what’s so difficult about that?’

‘Women are held to a higher standard, as well you know. Those noble ladies will be analysing every stitch I have on and judging me.’

‘Maybe,’ T’san put a hand on her waist. ‘But none of them are a patch on you. And none of them have Impressed gold, either.’

A knock came from just outside the curtain. ‘Come in,’ Zalna called and Miyelle entered, carrying a basket. She was a tiny woman, her own jet black hair piled up in an intricate weave and held together by decorative combs and pins. A seamstress by trade, she earned extra marks from styling and cutting hair.

Zalna sat down while she began to work, providing her with snippets of weyr gossip as she did so. Cherise had given birth to a fine pair of twins that morning. ‘She keeps insisting that A’bret is the father, but he says he isn’t so there’s a bit of an issue over names.’

‘They’ll have been conceived round about when Terirth last rose, I expect.’

Miyelle nodded. ‘That’s the problem. Could be any one of three riders who sired them. That was an amazing flight.’

‘Sure was.’ T’san was pulling his boots on. ‘Seemed to last all day.’

Zalna smiled at him in the mirror. ‘It was a good one,’ she agreed.

‘J’gad and P’gur had another fight. P’gur threw all J’gad’s belongings off their ledge into the Bowl. ‘I saw the tail end of that,’ T’san put in. ‘It was just before our Wing set off on patrol. Bet you they’ll make up again after Lianderth rises. P’gur always gets proddy.’

Zalna watched as Miyelle started to pin up the braids she’d been working on. ‘That looks good.’

‘There was a lady at the Benden Gather wearing hers in a similar way. Looked very elegant. I thought it might suit you, now that you’ve more hair to work with.’

By the time she’d finished, Zalna was more than satisfied with the result and gave Miyelle a little extra on top of the two marks she usually charged. She’d also helped, as hoped, with her choice of dress. As T’san put his hands on her shoulders, she looked at them both in the mirror. ‘We brush up well, don’t you think?’

‘Not bad at all.’

They made their way across to the dining hall. The riders in T’san’s Wing all whistled and banged on their table as they walked in. Everyone had dug out their finery and the place looked as colourful as a Gather. The support workers had hung some of the decorations usually only brought out at Turn’s End. A new tablecloth and arrangements of flowers and fruit adorned the top table.

Zalna forced a smile as she was introduced to everyone. Some, she already knew; Lord Vabruten and Lady Hayali of Fort Hold and Masterharper Creline, of course. She ended up seated to the right of Vabruten.

‘Bad business, this Disappearance,’ he said, unfolding a napkin. ‘Do you have any idea where they all went?’

‘No more than you have. We were as surprised to find the Weyrs abandoned as anyone else.’

‘Do you think they’ll come back?’

She shrugged. She’d been asked those questions many a time and the answers were always the same. She glanced down the table at N’rax, wondering, as ever, if he knew more than he’d let on. Ever since that day, he’d changed. It was as if he carried a great weight on his shoulders. He looked as if he’d aged five Turns in the space of just one.

The food began to come in; Benden’s kitchen staff had outdone themselves and Zalna was impressed at the sheer quantity as well as the variety of food.

‘At least we know what’s happened to our tithes,’ shrilled Lady Varelia of Benden, sharpening her knife in readiness. She looked as if she could eat a herdbeast on her own. Her husband was similarly large. Zalna pitied the poor runner beast who had to take his weight. Or, for that matter, the dragon who had conveyed the pair to the Weyr tonight.

She applied herself to eating, although she glanced along the tables every now and then. The weyrfolk were enjoying themselves, it was clear. Wine flowed abundantly. The Wingleaders and Wingseconds might have their work cut out later on to keep the men in check.

Over in the corner, a group of harpers played to accompany the meal. It was too noisy to hear much, although Zalna occasionally caught a note. The singer had a fine voice. It was a pity her efforts went mostly unheard.

At last, the feast was over, although Lady Varelia continued to pop pieces of fruit into her mouth. The Masterharper stood to announce the first performance of a newly written ballad. Zalna enjoyed music and this composition was particularly stirring; reminding everyone of the dangers braved by dragons and their riders, the losses and tragedies suffered during a Pass and how it was now time for Pern to recover and recuperate. The final verse urged the listeners to remember Thread would come again and they should not forget the lessons learned, or the services rendered by the Weyr.

Interesting that Creline had chosen to name a singular ‘Weyr’ rather than ‘Weyrs’ but Zalna supposed that was appropriate now. It would also serve to date this song in the minds of listeners to after the Disappearance.

After the applause died away, Creline addressed the dining hall once more. ’And now, as we’re on the subject of the Weyrs, here’s another song that will be added to the compulsory Teaching Ballad list from next Turn. I’ve called it the “Question Song” for reasons that will become obvious.’

The singer stood again. Creline picked up his own gitar and struck a dissonant chord. For a moment, Zalna wondered if he’d made a mistake, but this was the Masterharper, so she didn’t think that would be the case. He played it again, so evidently it was meant to be that way, then carried on picking out an uneasy tune that evoked - to her mind - sadness and loneliness.

The woman’s voice joined his melody.

Gone away, gone ahead,

Echoes roll unansweréd.

Empty, open, dusty, dead,

Why have all the Weyrfolk fled?

Where have dragons gone together?

Leaving Weyrs to wind and weather?

Setting herdbeasts free of tether?

Gone, our safeguards, gone, but whither?

Have they flown to some new Weyr

Where cruel Threads some others fear?

Are they worlds away from here?

Why, oh, why, the empty Weyr?

The last notes died away, leaving an awkward silence. A smattering of polite and uncertain applause faded rapidly.

‘Well, I don’t think I liked that,’ Vabruten said pensively.

‘I don’t think we’re meant to.’ Zalna could still hear it in her head. It was memorable, but not in a pleasant way. It had reminded her all too much of her visit to Fort Weyr with T’san; the awful stillness of a place once so full of life.

‘Your requests, please!’ one of the harpers called out. Soon the dining hall was filled with happier music. Many of the weyrfolk sang along and once food had settled in people’s bellies, they began to get up to dance. It wasn’t until much later in the evening Zalna had a chance to speak with Creline.

‘Your “Question Song” was… interesting.’ It was the only way she could think to describe the unsettling ballad.

He gave a little smile. ‘That’s one way of putting it. Most folk - harpers included - don’t really know what to make of it.’

‘I’d like to hear it again, if I may. It struck a chord, if you’ll pardon my expression.’

He looked around. ‘Perhaps it would be too soon to sing it again in company, but I can let you have a copy of the words, if that would suffice.’

‘Yes, please.’ She waited for him to ask her the usual; her own opinions on what she thought might have happened, but he didn’t. That struck her as slightly strange. But then T’san found her and she ended up on the dance floor, so any further thoughts on the matter skipped her mind for some time.

It was late before the guests climbed on board their dragons to be ferried back home. One or two decided to stay the night in the visitors quarters, Creline and the other harpers included. Zalna caught up with him the following morning when she dropped in to visit Morna and N’rax.

‘I hope you don’t have a sore head as well,’ Morna greeted her.

‘I think I danced away all the wine I’d drunk. Splendid evening, by the way. T’san sends his thanks, too.’ Zalna went over to the table, helped herself to klah and a sweet roll, then took a seat next to Creline. ‘Did you enjoy yourself?’

‘Very much. The Weyr always provides good hospitality.’

He’d been to Fort a few times while she’d been there. It was close enough to the Harper Hall that they’d often had visiting harpers. ‘Slightly more inconvenient for you to travel to Benden, though.’

‘Well, yes, although at least with a dragon to convey me, it’s only a short hop. Don’t think I’ll ever get used to travelling between though.’

‘It’s not the most pleasant experience, even when you’re as used to it as we are.’ She took a bite from her sweet roll and chewed it thoughtfully. ‘Tell me, what made you write that song?’

He smiled ruefully. ‘It had to be done. An event so out of the ordinary must be commemorated.’

‘Even if it just reiterates the questions everyone is asking?’

‘Well, yes. Those questions are relevant now and in the future, too.’

She couldn’t argue with that. ‘I’ve another question. One I’ve mulled over for a while.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘And what’s that?’

‘Why were we the ones left behind? Fort would have been a more logical choice; the first Weyr, close to a major Hold, more central.’

‘That, my dear, I can’t answer.’

She didn’t press him. Something about the way he looked at her reminded her of N’rax, though. They both seemed as if they were holding something back.

Later, in her weyr, she stretched out on the couch, her head pillowed on T’san’s chest. ‘I feel as if I’m missing the obvious.’ She held the piece of hide Creline had given her before he left. Without the unsettling music, the Question Song was less memorable, but it still bothered her.

She read the lines yet again. ‘“Gone away, gone ahead.” It has to mean something.’

‘It might just be a catchy opening line,’ T’san commented, stroking her hair softly.

‘No. When a ballad’s so short, every part has to be important. So, “gone away.” We know they’ve gone away. “Gone ahead.” Sent on ahead? If you wanted to go somewhere you or your dragon had never been before, you’d get the co-ordinates from someone who already knew the place. They’d have gone on ahead of you, wouldn’t they?’

‘I see that, yes.’

‘This whole thing reminds me of one of those infuriating riddles some folk enjoy. Once you’ve been given the answer it all seems perfectly clear.’ She read it over again. ‘After that line, the rest of the verse tells us what we already know. When I first heard it, it reminded me of our trip to Fort, when you shouted, “hello” and it echoed all around the empty Weyr Bowl. Second verse, much the same. It’s expressing regret and dismay they’ve all gone. Then you get the speculation we’ve heard so many times. “Have they flown to some new Weyr?" Remember all those rumours about them chasing the Red Star, wherever it goes after it leaves Pern behind.’

T’san leaned in. ‘“Are they worlds away from here?”’ he read. ‘So, maybe someone travelled here from this other world and gave them the visuals so they could follow? But if that’s the case, why leave us behind? Why not take all of the Weyrs?’

‘Because what if they don’t ever get back? It’s not important right now, but in two hundred Turns, when the Red Star looms and Thread returns again, someone will have to fight it.’

‘That’ll be a tough task. One Weyr taking on an area that used to be covered by six.’

‘Exactly. So they must be intending to return. Maybe that’s what will happen. Just before the next Pass begins suddenly all the Weyrs will be full again.’

‘That would be a big surprise. You think this ballad has been written to keep us in mind of the possibility?’

‘That’s right. I reckon Creline - and N’rax - know more than either are prepared to say. You remember all that talk about a mystery illness, just before the Disappearance? That was to make sure no one went to the other Weyrs while they were preparing to leave. N’rax was summoned to a few meetings at the time. I’m fairly sure the Masterharper would have been included too.’

T’san sat up. ‘So they might also know where all the weyrfolk went. N’rax told us he didn’t.’

Zalna shook her head. ‘If it has to be kept secret, then the fewer who know, the better chance of keeping it that way. I reckon they knew about the journey, but possibly not the destination.’

‘Or maybe they did and were sworn to secrecy? Interesting. Perhaps if I got N’rax drunk he might let something slip.’

‘He’s never been a big drinker and I’ve noticed he drinks even less now that he used to. You could try, though.’

‘I might just do that. Although…’ he paused.

‘What?’

‘If we’re not meant to know, there has to be good reason. You’ve seen the grief some of the riders went through. It would have been easier on everyone just to say, “Yes, they’ve gone, but they’re on planet x and they’ll all be back in ten Turns.” Or twenty, or whatever.’

‘I see what you mean. So why the Question Song? Why keep the mystery alive?’

T’san shrugged. ‘That’s what we can’t be sure about. But maybe it’s meant to be solved at a later date. Maybe there’s some other vital piece of information that provides the key. Only it’s not for us.’

‘Or not for us right now.’ Zalna leaned back again. ‘I just wish I knew, for certain all my old friends were safe somewhere. As we are.’ She sighed. ‘Safe and happy.’