Prologue

JL f the reader is unfamiliar with the
series The Dragonriders of Pern, certain confusions
may occur. Nerilka's Story is an ancillary tale to
Moreta: Dragonlady of Pern, told from the point of
view of one of the minor characters in that novel.

To summarize the background:

Rukbat, in the Sagittarian Sector, was a golden
G-type star. It had five planets, two asteroid belts,
and a stray planet that it had attracted and held
in recent millennia. When men first settled on
Rukbat's third world and called it Pern, they had

Nerilka's Story

taken little notice of the strange planet swinging
around its adopted primary in a wildly erratic
orbit. For two generations, the colonists gave the
bright Red Star little thought--until the path of
the wanderer brought it close to its stepsister at
perihelion. When such aspects were harmonious
and not distorted by conjunctions with other
planets in the system, parasitic organisms indig-
enous to the wandering planet sought to bridge
the space gap between their home and the more
temperate and hospitable planet. At these times,
silver Threads dropped through Pern's skies, de-
stroying anything they touched. The initial losses
the colonists suffered were staggering. As a re-
sult, during the subsequent struggle to survive
and combat the menace. Pern's tenuous contact
with the mother planet was broken.

To control the incursions of the dreadful
Threads--for the Pemese had cannibalized their
transport ships early on and abandoned such
technological sophistication as was irrelevant to
the pastoral planet--the more resourceful men
embarked on a long-term plan. The first phase
involved breeding a highly specialized variety of
fire-lizard, a life form indigenous to their new
world. Men and women with high empathy rat-
ings and some innate telepathic ability were
trained to use and preserve the unusual animals.
The dragons--named for the mythical Terran

Anne McCaffrey

beast they resembled--had two valuable char-
acteristics: They could instantaneously travel
from one place to another, and after chewing a
phosphine-bearing rock, they could emit a flam-
ing gas. Because the dragons could fly, they
could intercept and char the Thread in midair
before it reached the surface.

It took generations to develop to the fullest the
potential of the dragons. The second phase of the
proposed defense against the deadly incursions
would take even longer. For Thread, a space-trav-
eling mycorrhizoid spore, devoured with mind-
less voracity all organic matter and, once
grounded, burrowed and proliferated with terri-
fying speed. So a symbiote of the same strain was
developed to counter this parasite, and the re-
sulting grub was introduced into the soil of the
Southern Continent. It was planned that the
dragons would be visible protection, charring
Thread while it was still skybome and protecting
the dwellings and the livestock of the colonists.
The grub-symbiote would protect vegetation by
devouring what Thread managed to evade the
dragons' fire.

The originators of the two-stage defense did
not allow for change or for hard geological fact.
The Southern Continent, though seemingly
more attractive than the harsher northern land,
proved unstable, and the entire colony was even-

XI

Nerilka's Story

tually forced to seek refuge from the Threads on
the continental shield rock of the north.

On the northern continent the original Fort,
Fort Hold, constructed on the eastern face of the
Great West Mountain Range, was soon outgrown
by the colonists, and its capacious beasthold
could not contain the growing numbers of drag-
ons. Another settlement was started slightly to
the north, where a great lake had formed near a
cave-filled cliff. But Ruatha Hold, too, became
overcrowded within a few generations.

Since the Red Star rose in the east, the people
of Pern decided to establish a holding in the east-
ern mountains, provided a suitable cavesite could
be found. Only solid rock and metal, which was
in distressingly short supply on Pern, were im-
pervious to the burning score of Thread.

The winged, tailed, fire-breathing dragons had
by then been bred to a size that required more
spacious accommodations than the cliffside holds
could provide. The cavepocked cones of extinct
volcanoes, one high above the first Fort, the other
in the Benden Mountains, proved to be adequate
and required only a few improvements to be made
habitable.

The dragons and their riders in their high
places and the people in their cave holds went
about their separate tasks, and each developed
habits that became custom, which solidified into

xii

Anm McCaffrey

tradition as Incontrovertible as law. And when a
Fall of Thread was imminent--when the Red
Star was visible at dawn through the Star Stones
erected on the rim of each Weyr--the dragons
and their riders mobilized to protect the people
of Pern.

Then came an interval of two hundred Turns
of the planet Pem around its primary--when the
Red Star was at the far end of its erratic orbit, a
frozen, lonely captive. No Thread fell on Pem.
The inhabitants erased the signs of Thread dep-
redation and grew crops, planted orchards, and
thought of reforestation for the slopes denuded
by Thread. They even managed to forget that
they had once been in great danger of extinction.
Then, when the wandering planet returned, the
Threads fell again, bringing another fifty years of
attack from the skies. Once again the Pemese
thanked their ancestors, now many generations
removed, for providing the dragons whose fiery
breath seared the falling Thread midair.

Dragonkind, too, had prospered during that In-
terval and had settled in four other locations, fol-
lowing the master plan of interim defense.

Recollections of Earth receded further from
Pemese memories with each generation until
knowledge of Mankind's origins degenerated into
a myth. The significance of the Southern Hem-
isphere--and the Instructions formulated by the

Nerilka's Story

colonial defenders of dragon and grub--became
garbled and lost in the more immediate struggle
to survive.

By the Sixth Pass of the Red Star, a compli-
cated sociopolitical-economic structure had been
developed to deal with the recurrent evil. The six
Weyrs, as the old volcanic habitations of the drag-
onfolk were called, pledged themselves to pro-
tect Pem, each Weyr having a geographical sec-
tion of the Northern Continent literally under its
wing. The rest of the population agreed to tithe
support to the Weyrs since the dragonmen did
not have arable land in their volcanic homes,
could not afford to take time away from nurturing
their dragons to learn other trades during peace-
time, and could not take time away from pro-
tecting the planet during Passes.

Settlements, called holds, developed wherever
natural caves were found--some, of course, more
extensive or strategically placed than others. It
took a strong man to exercise control over terri-
fied people during Thread attacks; it took wise
administration to conserve victuals when nothing
could be safely grown; and it took extraordinary
measures to control population and keep it pro-
ductive and healthy until such time as the men-
ace passed.

Men with special skills in metalworking, weav-
ing, animal husbandry, farming, fishing, and

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Anne McCaffrey

mining formed Crafthalls in each large Hold and
looked to one Mastercrafthall where the precepts
of the Craft were taught and Craft skills were
preserved and guarded from one generation to
another. One Lord Holder could not deny the
products of the Crafthall situated in his Hold to
others, since the Crafts were deemed indepen-
dent of a Hold affiliation. Each Craftmaster of a
Hall owed allegiance to the Master of his partic-
ular Craft--an elected office based on proficiency
in the Craft and on administrative ability. The
Mastercraftsman was responsible for the output
of his Halls and the distribution, fair and unprej-
udiced, of all Craft products on a planetary rather
than parochial basis.

Certain rights and privileges accrued to dif-
ferent Leaders of Holds and Masters of Crafts
and, naturally, to the dragonriders whom all Pern
looked to for protection during the Threadfalls.

It was within the Weyrs that the greatest social
revolution took place, for the needs of the dragons
took priority over all other considerations. Of the
dragons, the gold and green were female, the
bronze, brown, and blue male. Of the female
dragons, only the golden were fertile; the greens
were rendered sterile by the chewing offirestone,
which was as well since the sexual proclivities of
the small greens would soon have resulted in over-
population. They were the most agile, however,
and invaluable as fighters of Thread, fearless and

xv

Nerilka's Story

aggressive. But the price of fertility was incon-
venience, and riders of queen dragons carried
flamethrowers to char Thread. The blue males
were sturdier than their smaller sisters, while the
browns and bronzes had the staying power for
long, arduous battles against Thread. In theory,
the great golden fertile queens were mated with
whichever dragon could catch them in their
strenuous mating flights. Generally speaking, the
bronzes did the honor. Consequently, the rider of
the bronze dragon who flew the senior queen of
a Weyr became its Leader and had charge of the
fighting Wings during a Pass. The rider of the
senior queen dragon, however, held the most re-
sponsibility for the Weyr during and after a Pass,
when it was the Weyrwoman's job to nurture and
preserve the dragons, to sustain and improve the
Weyr and all its folk. A strong Weyrwoman was
as essential to the survival of the Weyr as dragons
were to the survival of Pern.

To her fell the task of supplying the Weyr, fos-
tering its children, and Searching for likely can-
didates from Hall and Hold to pair with the newly
hatched dragons. As life in the Weyrs was not
only prestigious but easier for women and men
alike, Hold and Hall were proud to have their chil-
dren taken on Search, and boasted of the illus-
trious members of the bloodline who had become
dragonriders.

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Anne McCaffrey

Now, in the year or Turn of their reckoning
1541, when the Sixth Pass of the Red Star is
nearly over, the inhabitants. Lord Holders, Craft-
masters, and the Weyrs face a new peril, which
threatens them as surely as does Thread.

XVII

Chapter I
3.1L1553 Interval

am not a harper, so do not expect
the polished tale. This is a personal history, though,
and as accurate as memory can make it: my mem-
ory, so the perceptions will be one-sided. No one
can challenge the fact that I have lived through a
momentous time in Pern's history, a tragic time. I
survived the Great Plague, though my heart still
grieves for those lost to its virulence, and ever will.

I have, I think, finally adjusted my thinking to
a positive attitude toward death. Not even the
most abject self-recriminations will breathe life

Nerilka's Story

back into the dead long enough to give absolution
to the living. Like many another, what I grieve
for is what I did not do or say to my sisters, now
beyond speech or sight or the receipt of my char-
itable farewell on that day which was the last I
saw them.

On that balmy morning, when my father. Lord
Tolocamp, my mother. Lady Pendra, and four of
my younger sisters set off on their journey to
Ruatha Hold and its Gather four days hence, I
did not bid them farewell and safe journey. Until
common sense reasserted itself, I did, I admit,
worry that my lack of charity on that occasion
caused their misadventure. But there were plenty
of well-wishers that morning, and surely my
brother Campen's exhortations would have been
a more powerful farewell than any grudgingly
given sentiment of mine. For he, at long last, had
been left in charge of Fort Hold during my fa-
ther's absence and he meant to make the most
of opportunity. Campen is a fine fellow, despite
a lack of any vestige of humor and little sensitiv-
ity. There is not a devious bone in his body. As
his entire plan was to amaze my father with his
Industry and efficiency in managing the Hold, it
also required my parent's safe return. I could
have told poor Campen that all the approval he
was likely to receive was a grunt from Father,
who would have expected industry and efficiency
from his son and heir. With the entire guard com-

Nerilka's Story

plement of Fort Hold, all the cottagers, and the
Harper Hall apprentices adding their exuberant
presences to the send-off, there were sufficient
good wishes to have pleased any wayfarer. No one
would have noticed my defection. Except, per-
haps, my sharp-eyed sister Amffla, who missed
nothing that she might use to her advantage at
a later date.

In truth, while I certainly wished them no
harm, since Threadfall had been endured the day
before with no infestations to ravage the winter
fields, I couldn't have wished them merry on their
way. For I had been left behind on purpose, and
it had been hard indeed to listen to my sisters'
prattling about their vain hopes for conquests at
the Ruatha Gather and know that the festivities
would not include me.

To be excluded in such a peremptory fashion,
a flick of my sire's hand to strike me from the
travel list, was another insensitive act of judg-
ment. Typical of him when human feelings are
concerned--at least typical of his attitudes and
judgments until he came back from Ruatha and
immured himself in his apartments all those long
weeks.

There was no real reason to have excluded me.
One more traveler would have made no differ-
ence to any of my father's arrangements or dis-
commoded the expedition. Even when I ap-
proached my mother and pleaded with her,

Anne McCaffrey

reminding her that I had undertaken all the dis-
agreeable tasks allotted us girls in the hope of
attending Alessan's first Gather, she had been
unresponsive. In the throes of that cruel disap-
pointment, I know I lost my case when I blurted
out that I had, after all, been fostered with Sur-
iana, Alessan's wife, dead of an unfortunate fall
from her wild runnerbeast.

"Then Lord Alessan will scarcely wish to see
your face and be reminded of his loss on such an
occasion."

"He has never seen my face," I had protested.
"But Suriana was my friend. You know that she
wrote me many letters from Ruatha. Had she
lived to become Lady Holder, I would have been
her guest. I know it."

"She is a full Turn in her grave, Nerilka," my
mother had reminded me in her coolest voice.
"Lord Alessan must choose a new bride."

"You cannot possibly think that my sisters
have the slightest chance of attracting Alessan's
attention .. ."I began.

"Have some pride, Nerilka. If not for yourself,
for your Bloodline," my mother had replied an-
grily. "Fort is the first Hold, and there isn't a fam-
ily on Pern that--"

"Wants any of the ugly Fort daughters of this
generation. Too bad you married Silma off so
quickly. She was the only pretty one of the lot of
us."

Nerilka's Story

"Nerilka! I'm shocked! If you were younger,
I'd . . ."

Even holding herself erect in anger. Mother
still had to look up at me, an attitude which did
not endear me further in her eyes.

"Since I'm not, I suppose I shall have to su-
pervise the drudges' bathing once again."

I took a savage satisfaction from the expression
on her face, for that had obviously been the very
thought in her head for discipline.

"At this time of the cold season, they always
benefit from warm water and soapsand. And
when you've done that, you will clear the snake
traps on the lowest level!" She had waggled her
finger under my nose. "I find that lately your at-
titude leaves much to be desired in a daughter,
Nerilka. You are to study a more congenial man-
ner for my return, or I warn you, you will find
your privileges curtailed and your duties in-
creased. If you will not abide my authority, I will
have no option but to apply to your father for dis-
ciplinary action." She dismissed me then, her
face still ruddy with controlled anger at my im-
pertinence.

I left her apartments with my head high, but
the threat of applying to my father's judgment
was not one I wished to challenge. His hand
weighed as heavy on the oldest and biggest of us
as it did on the youngest

When I had had a chance to review that in-

Anne McCaffrey

terview with my mother, as I ruthlessly sent the
drudges into the warm pools and sanded the
backs of those whose ablutions were not ener-
getic enough to suit my frame of mind, I regretted
my hasty words on several counts. I had probably
prejudiced my chance of getting to another
Gather for the entire Turn, and I had unneces-
sarily wounded my mother.

It could not be considered her fault that her
daughters were plain. She was a handsome
enough woman even now in her fiftieth Turn and
despite almost continuous pregnancies which
had resulted in nineteen living offspring. Lord
Tolocamp was considered a fine-looking man,
too, tall and vigorous, certainly virile, for the Fort
Hold Horde, as the harper apprentices had nick-
named us, were not his only issue. What galled
me excessively was that most of my half-blood
half sisters were far prettier than any of the full
blood, with the exception of Silma, my next-old-
est sister.

Half or full blood, we were all tall and sturdy,
an adjective more complimentary to boys than
girls, but there it was. I might be a trifle hasty,
for my youngest sister, Lilla, at ten Turns had
daintier features than we other girls and might
well improve. It was positively wasteful that Cam-
pen, Mostar, Doral, Thesldn, Gallen, and Jess
should have black, thick eyelashes where ours
were sparse; huge dark eyes while ours were

Nerilka's Story

lighter-colored, almost washy; straight fine noses
while no one could call mine anything but a beak.
They had masses of curly hair. We girls had thick
hair; mine reached below my waist when un-
braided and was remorselessly black, but it made
my skin look sallow. My nearest sisters were
cursed with midbrown hair that no herb could
brighten. The injustice of our heritage was cat-
astrophic, for plain males would still marry well
now that the Pass was ending and Fort's Holder
was extending his settlements. But there would
be no husbands for plain females.

I had long since discarded the romantic no-
tions of all young girls, or even the hope that my
father's position would acquire for me what ap-
pearance could not, but I did like to travel. I
adored the bustle and uninhibited atmosphere of
a Gather. I would so love to have gone to Alessan's
first Gather as Lord Holder of Ruatha. I wanted
to see, from whatever distance, the man who had
captured the love and adoration of Suriana of
Misty Hold--Suriana, whose parents had fos-
tered me; Suriana, my dearest friend, who had
been effortlessly all that I was not and who had
shared the wealth of her friendship unstintingly
with me. Alessan could not have grieved more
than I for her death, for that event had taken from
my life the one life I had valued above my own.
To say that part of me had died with Suriana was
no exaggeration. We had understood each other

Anne McCaffrey

as effortlessly as if we had been dragon and rider,
would often laugh as one, uttered the observa-
tion the other had been about to make, could in-
stantly fathom each other's mood, and shared the
same cycle to the minute no matter what distance

separated us.

In those happy Turns at Misty Hold, I had even
managed to appear prettier in a contentment re-
flecting Suriana's vivldness. Certainly I was
braver in her company, urging my runnerbeast
after hers on the most dangerous of trails. And I
was able to sail in the fiercest wind in the little
sloop we took upon the river and sea. Suriana had
other attainments, too. She had the sweetest light
soprano to which my alto was always in tune. In
Fort, my voice goes flat. She could sketch a scene
in bold sure strokes; her embroidery was so finely
stitched that her mother never feared to give her
the gossamer fabrics, and with her to advise me
quietly, my stitches improved to the point where
later my mother gave me grudging compliments.
In one talent only did I surpass Suriana, but not
even my healing arts could have mended her bro-
ken back. Nor could I, the daughter of Fort Hold,
enter the Healer Hall for training. Not when my
skills could be employed, free-marked, in the
murky stillrooms of Fort Hold.

Now I am appalled at the heedless, uncharit-
able girl I was that day, unable to swallow dis-
appointment and pride to bid her luckier sisters

Nerilka's Story

farewell. For it proved that their luck had run out
when they were chosen to attend Ruatha's
Gather. But who could have foreseen that, much
less the plague, on the bright cold-season day?

We had heard tell of the strange beast rescued
by seaholders, for my father had insisted that all
his children understand drummer codes. Living
so close to the Harper Hall, there was little we
did not know of major events occurring across
the Northern Continent. Oddly, we were not sup-
posed to talk about the drum messages we heard,
lest the information that we could not avoid un-
derstanding be indiscreetly repeated. So we all
knew about the discovery of the unusual feline
at Keroon. It is not surprising, then, that I failed
to connect the significance of that message with
the later one requiring Master Capiam to diag-
nose a strange disease afflicting those at Igen.
But I anticipate.

And so my parents and my four sisters--
Amilla, Mercia, Merin, and Kista--started on
their journey through the northern portion of our
Hold, where Father meant to check on several
holders, to the fateful Ruatha Gather. I who felt
she deserved to go remained at home.

Fortunately, I could also remain out of Cam-
pen's way, for I was certain he would have special
duties for me to perform that would ensure our
father's approbation of him. Campen adored del-
egating duty and thus managed to avoid its te-

Anne McCaffrey

dium, saving his energies to criticize results and
expound weighty advices. He is much like our
father. Indeed, when Father dies, there will be
no skip in the smooth operation of Fort Hold and
likely no change ever in the duty roster for me,

Nerflka.

The gathering of herbs, roots, and other me-
dicinal plants was a frequent occupation for my-
self and my sisters, and this duty took precedence
over any Campen might have had for me that day.
What Campen never twigged was that one did
not gather medicinal plants in the cold season,
but no one was likely to tell on me. I elected to
take Lilla, Nia, Mara, and Gaby with me on my
so-called expedition. We did return with early
cress and wild onion, and Gaby surprised himself
by bringing down a wild wherry with a well-
thrown lance. The obvious rewards of our after-
noon forced commendation from Campen, who
spent the evening meal complaining about the
fecldessness of drudges who worked well only
under supervision. This was such a frequent
complaint of our father's that I raised my eyes
from the leg bone I was gnawing to be sure that
it was Campen who had spoken.

I do not now recall with what occupation I
passed the next few days. Nothing memorable
occurred--excepting the summons for Master
Capiam, which I heard and so totally disregarded.
But knowing would have changed nothing. The

Nerilka's Story

fifth day dawned bright and clear, and I had re-
covered enough from my disappointment by then
to hope that the weather at Ruatha was as clem-
ent. I knew that my sisters stood no chance of
attracting Alessan, but with so many gathering,
perhaps some other family might meet my fa-
ther's requirements for his daughters, and they'd
make suitable matches. Particularly now that the
Pass was nearly over and Holders could plan ex-
pansions. Lord Tolocamp was not the only one to
wish to extend his holdings and increase his ar-
able land. If only my father would not be quite
so particular in his standard for alliances.

There had been one offer for me, I'm pleased
to say. I should not have minded starting a new
hold, even if it had meant chipping it out of the
cliffside, for I should have been my own mistress.
Garben came from the Tiliek Bloodline, respect-
able enough in its lateral descent. I even liked the
man, but he and his prospects had not met Fa-
ther's requirements. Although Garben had flat-
tered me by returning two Turns in a row to re-
peat his offer--each time with the report of yet
another chamber completed in his modest hold--
my father had turned him off. Had my opinion
been sought, I would have accepted. Amilla had
unkindly remarked that I would have accepted
anything at that point. She was quite correct, but
only because I liked Garben anyway. He was half

12

Anne McCaffrey

a head taller than I. That had been five Turns
ago.

Suriana had known my situation and my dis-
appointments and had repeatedly expressed the
hope that she could talk Lord Leefinto permitting
me to make an extended visit with her at Ruatha.
She was certain that once she was pregnant, he
would accede to her request. But Suriana had
died, and even that glimmer of hope had been
dashed, even as she had been dashed to the
ground by the untrained young runner she had
been riding. Racing, more likely, I often thought
in my bitterest moods. She had confided in me
that Alessan had managed to breed some star-
Uingly agile runners when his father had ordered
him to produce a sturdier, multipurpose strain. I
had only the details that were made public: Sur-
iana had broken her back while riding, and had
died without regaining consciousness despite all
that the hastily summoned Masterhealer could
do. Master Capiam, who was generally willing to
discuss medical matters with me, since he knew
me to be as competent as my rank allowed me to
be, had been markedly silent about the tragedy.

13

Chapter II
3.11.43-1541

'.eartbreakingly enough, the new
Ruathan tragedy began at precisely the same hour
in which I had learned of Suriana's death, as the
Harper Hall's drum tower vibrated with Capiam's
quarantine command. I was measuring spices for
the kitchen warder, and only the sternest control
kept my hand from trembling and spilling the ex-
pensive spice. Exerting the same control, for the
warder did not understand drum code and I wished
an edible dinner that night, I finished measuring
his requirements, carefully closed the jar, placed it

14

Anne McCaffrey

exactly in its habitual spot, and locked the cabinet.
The drum message was being repeated for empha-
sis by the time I had reached the upper level of the
Hold proper, but the second message differed in no
particular from the first. I could hear Campen bel-
lowing for explanations from his office as I left the
Hold.

Fortunately, so many other people were racing
toward the Harper Hall that my indecorous haste
went unnoticed. The courtyard of the Hall was
filled with anxious apprentices and journeymen,
harper and healer. There has always been ex-
cellent discipline in the two Crafts, so there was
no panic, though some anxiety was evident and
many questions circulated.

Yes, there had been calls for Master Capiam
from more than just Keroon Beasthold and Igen
Sea Hold. Telgar had asked for his presence and
counsel; it was rumored he had been taken drag-
onback to Ista Gather and from there to South
Boll at Lord Ratoshigan's express orders, con-
veyed by no less than Sh'gall, the Fort Weyr-
leader, on bronze Kadith.

The moment Master Fortine, accompanied by
Joumeywoman Desdra of the Healer Hall and
Masters Brace and Dunegrine of the Harper Hall,
appeared on the broad stairs, all fell silent.

"You are naturally anxious about the drum
message," Master Fortine began, clearing his
throat ostentatiously. He is a good theoretical

15

Nerilka's Story

healer, but has none of the ease that marks the
Masterhealer Capiam. Master Fortine raised his
voice to an unnecessarily loud, high pitch. "You
must realize that Master Capiam would not in-
voke such emergency procedures without due
cause. Would all harpers or healers who attended
either Gather present themselves immediately to
Joumeywoman Desdra in the Small HalL I will
address all healers immediately in the Main Hall,
if you would be so kind as to assemble there. Mas-
ter Brace..."

Master Brace stepped forward, adjusting his
belt and clearing his own throat. "Master Tirone
is from the Hall mediating that dispute in the
mines. In accordance with custom, as Senior
Master, I assume his authority in this crisis until
he has returned to the Hall."

"Hoping that Master Tirone is either caught
in the quarantine or dies of the disease ..." I
heard someone mutter nearby. He was immedi-
ately shushed by his neighbors, so there would
have been no point in my turning to catch out
the dissident even if the matter had concerned
me more acutely.

Before acceding to the rank of Masterharper,
Tirone had once been the tutor to Lord Tolo-
camp's children, so I knew the man well. He had
# his faults, but to listen to his rich mellow voice
had always been a pleasure no matter what mes-
sage his words were trying to implant in dull or

16

Anne McCaffrey

uninterested minds. A man was never voted to
be Master of his Crafthall unless he had more
than a glorious baritone voice to recommend him
to his fellow Masters. I have heard it said by the
disaffected that the only time Tirone has lost a
mediation was when he had laryngitis; otherwise,
he talked his opponents into surrendering to his
decisions.

Naturally the diplomatic Masterharper would
take great pains not to offend the Fort Lord
Holder despite Craft autonomy, so I had never
witnessed that sort of pertinacity in Master Ti-
rone.

What struck me as odd in this moment was
that Master Brace should make such an an-
nouncement at all--and that Desdra and Fortine
represented the healers. Where was Master Cap-
iam? It was totally unlike him to delegate an in-
vidious task. As harpers and healers began to file
into the two assembly points, I slipped away from
the Hall, not much wiser and with much to worry
about.

My lady mother, my four sisters, and my father
were now immured at Ruatha. Unworthily, I
thought that was another reason why they ought
to have taken me. My demise would have been
no loss. And I could have been of considerable
use as a nurse, really my only talent and mainly
unused outside the family. I remonstrated with
myself for such reflections and purposefully

17

Nerilka's Story

turned my steps to the lower level of the Hold,
where the storerooms were situated.

If this disease had required quarantine, I could
occupy myself profitably by checking over sup-
plies. While the Healer Hall had viable stocks of
most herbs and medicines, most Holds and Halls
were expected to supply their own needs accord-
ing to their individual requirements. But this sit-
uation might require uncommon herbal remedies
not normally laid by in sufficient quantity. Cam-
pen spotted me, however, and came charging
over, huffling as he did when agitated.

"Bill, what's abroad? Did I hear quarantine?
Does that mean Father is stuck at Ruatha? What
do we do now?" He recalled that if he was acting
Lord Holder, he ought not to be requesting advice
from any lesser entities, especially his sister. He
cleared his throat noisily and poked his chest for-
ward, assuming a stem expression that I found
ludicrous. "Have we sufficient fresh herbs for our
people?"

"Indeed we do."

"Don't be flippant. Rill. Not at a time like this."
He frowned ponderously at me.

"I'm on my way to assess the situation, brother,
but I can say without fear of contradiction that
our supplies will prove more than adequate for
the present emergency."

"Very good, but be sure to give me a written
report of supplies on hand." He patted my shoul-

Anne McCaffrey

der as he would his favorite canine and bustled
off, huffling as he went. To my jaundiced eye, he
appeared unsure as to what he should be doing
in this catastrophe.

Sometimes I am appalled at the waste in our
storerooms. In spring, summer, and autumn, we
gather, preserve, salt, dry, pickle, and store more
food than ever Fort Hold could need. Each Turn,
despite Mother's conscientious efforts, the oldest
is not used first, and gradually the backlog grows.
The tunnel snakes and insects take care of that
in the darker recesses of the supply caves. We
girls often make judicious withdrawals to be
smuggled out to needy families, as neither Father
nor Mother condone charity, even when the har-
vests have failed through no fault of the holder.
Father and Mother are always saying that it is
their ancient duty to supply the entire Hold in
time of crisis, but somehow they have never de-
nned "crisis." And we keep increasing the un-
used and unusable stores.

Of course herbs, properly dried and stored,
keep their efficacy for many Turns. The shelves
of neat bags and bound stalks, the jars of seeds
and salves bulged. Sweatroot, featherfem, all the
febrifuges that had been traditional remedies
since Records began. Comfrey, aconite, thymu^
hissop, ezob: I touched each in turn, knowing we
had it in such quantities that Fort Hold could
treat every one of the nearly ten thousand in-

Nerilka's Story

habitants if necessary. Fellis had been a bumper
crop this Turn. Had the land known its future
needs? Aconite, too, was in generous supply.

Much relieved by such husbandry, I was about
to quit the storeroom when I saw the shelves on
which the Hold's medicinal Records were kept--
the recipes for compound mixtures and prepa-
rations as well as the notations of whichever per-
son dispensed herb, drug, and tonic.

I opened the glowbasket above the reading
table and wrestled with the stack to remove the
oldest of the Records from the bottom shelf. Per-
haps this illness had occurred before in the many
long Turns since the Crossing. It was dusty, and
pieces of the cover flaked away in my hand. If
Mother's assiduous housekeeping had not re-
quired it to be dusted off, it was unlikely she
would notice the damage. The tome stank with
antiquity as I opened it, carefully, not wishing to
desecrate it any more than absolutely necessary.
I ought to have saved myself the trouble--the ink
had faded, leaving only linear splotches on the
hide that looked like freckles. I wondered why we
bothered to store them anymore. But I could just
imagine Mother's reaction if I suggested dispos-
ing of these ancestral artifacts.

I compromised by going back to the tome still
legibly labeled Fifth Pass.

What boring diarists were my ancestors! I was
heartily relieved when Sim came to tell me that

20

Anne McCaffrey

the head cook earnestly desired my presence.
Well, with Mother away, he was likely to apply
to me. I held Sim, who was, in any case, not at
all eager to return to his labors in the scullery,
and quickly penned a note to Joumeywoman
Desdra, suggesting that Fort Hold's apothecary
supplies were at her disposal. I would follow that
up as soon as I could, for I doubted that I would
be permitted such generosity once Mother had
returned to take over the storeroom keys.

I think that was the first moment in which it
occurred to me that Lady Pendra would be as
vulnerable to this disease as anyone else. A pang
of fear or anxiety paralyzed my hand over the
script until Sim's throat-clearing roused me. I
smiled reassuringly at him. Sim didn't need to be
burdened with my silly fears.

"Take this to the Healer Hall. Give it into the
hand of Joumeywoman Desdra only! Under-
stand? Do not just hand it over to the nearest body
in healer colors."

Sim bobbed his head up and down, smiling his
vapid smile and murmuring reassurances.

I dealt with the cook, who had just been in-
formed by my brother to prepare for an unspec-
ified quantity of guests. He was at a loss to know
what to do, as the evening meal was already being
prepared.

"Soup, of course--one of your excellent hearty
meat soups, Felim, and a dozen or so of the wher-

21

Nerilka's Story

Ties from the last hunt. They will have hung long
enough to be used. Excellent as cold meat, the
way you have with seasoning them. More roots,
for they, too, can be reheated tastefully. And
cheese. We've plenty of cheese."

"For how many?" FeBm was too conscientious
far his own good. He had been so often chastised
by my mother for "wastefulness" that his only
defense was showing her the records of how
many ate at which meal and what was served
them.

"I'll discover that, Felim."

Campen, it appeared, was certain that every
nearby holder would be coming to ask his advice
about the present emergency, and thus Fort Hold
must be prepared to feast the multitude. But the
drum message had unequivocably specified a
quarantine situation, and I pointed out that the
holders, no matter how worried, would be un-
likely to disobey that stricture. Those in the home
farms might come, since, in effect, they consid-
ered themselves part of the main Hold. I forebore
to mention that most of these knew a good deal
more about managing themselves than did Cam-
pen. Still I did not wish to depress him.

I returned to Felim and advised him to increase
the portions only by a quarter but to make up
additional klah, get a new cheese and more bis-
cuits. Checking the wine stores, I saw there was
sufficient in the tuns already broached.

22

Anne McCaffrey

I then went up to the dayroom on the second
story, the aunts and other dependents were al-
ready aware of the drum reports and highly ag-
itated. I organized them to ready what empty
rooms remained into infirmaries. Stuffing clean
cases with straw for makeshift pallets would not
be too arduous, and they'd feel better for doing
something. I caught Uncle Munchaun's eye and
we managed to get out into the corridor without
being followed.

Munchaun was the oldest of my father's living
brothers and my favorite among the pensioners.
Until he had been injured in a climbing fall, he
had led all hunting parties. He had such great
understanding of human frailties, such humor,
such humility that I always wondered how my
father could have been chosen to Hold, when
Munchaun was so much the better human being.

"I saw you coming from the Hall. What's the
verdict?"

"Capiam is now a victim of the disease and
Desdra tells the healers to treat the symptoms."

He raised his finely curved eyebrows, a wry
grin on his face. "So they don't know what they're
dealing with, eh?" When I shook my head, he
nodded. "I'll start looking through the Records.
They must be good for something besides keep-
ing us elderly supernumeraries occupied."

I wanted to deny his self-deprecation, but he

23

Nerilka's Story

smiled knowingly at me and my protestation
would have fallen on deaf ears.

That evening, more of the minor holders came
than I had anticipated, as well as all the Crafthall
Masters, excepting the Harper and Healer Halls,
of course. We had ample for them, and they
talked well into the night, discussing contingen-
cies and how to shift supplies from hold to hold
without breaking the quarantine.

I poured a last round of klah, though I think
only Campen drank any, and retired to my room,
where I read the old Record as long as I could
keep my eyes open.

24

Chapter III
3.12.43

We

'hen I heard the drums, 1 jumped
out of my bed and ran into the corridor where I
could distinguish their pulse. The message was ter-
rifying. Before its echoes had died, another came
in from the south: Ratoshigan demanding assis-
tance from the Healer Hall. It was very early indeed
for the drums to be speaking. I left my door open
as I hastily donned a work tunic and trousers and
belted on the heavy ring of Hold keys. I put on boots,
too, for the soft house shoes were no protection

25

Nerilka's Story

against the cold stone floors of the lower level, or
the roads without.

The drums banged on with more casualties re-
ported at Telgar, Ista, Igen, and South Boll, and
more requests for reassurance from distant Holds
and Healer Halls. There were volunteers, which
was heartening, and offers of assistance from
Benden, Lemos, Bitra, Tiliek, and High Reaches,
places so far untouched by the catastrophe. I
found that encouraging, and worthy of the spirit
of Pern.

I was halfway across the Field when the first
of the coded reports came in from Telgar Weyr:

there were dead riders and, because of their
deaths, dragon suicides. Passing field workers on
their way to the beastholds, I carefully controlled
my agitation, nodding and smiling but hastening
so that no one would be brash enough to stop me.
Or perhaps they did not wish to leam more bad
news on top of yesterday's. Hard on the echoes
ofTelgar's grim news, Ista began citing its report.

Why I had thought that dragonriders would be
immune from this disease, I do not know, except
that they seemed so Invulnerable astride their
great beasts, seemingly untouched by the rav-
ages of Thread--though I knew well enough that
dragons and riders were often badly scored--and
impervious to other minor ailments and anxieties
that were visited on lesser folk. Then I recalled
that dragonriders often flitted from one Gather to

26

Anne McCaffrey

another, and there had been two Gathers on the
same day, Ista as well as Ruatha, to lure them
from their mountain homes. Two--and plague
well advanced in both! Yet Ista was halfway east
How could the disease spring up so quickly in
two so distant places?

I hurried on and entered the Harper Hall
Court. Everyone here was already up, half of
them holding runnerbeasts, saddled and bur-
dened for long trips, their tack in healer colors.
Above us the drums continued their grim heat-
ings. From Healer Hall to Hold and Weyr, the
messages were sent by Master Fortine. Where
then was Master Capiam?

Desdra swung down the shallow steps of the
Hall, saddlebags draped on each shoulder and
weighing down her hands. Behind her, two more
apprentices as laden as she hurried by. The
woman looked as if she had not slept, and her
face, usually so bland and composed, was etched
with strain and impatience, and heavy with anx-
iety. I edged around the court, hoping to converge
on her path as she began to distribute the sad-
dlebags to the mounted men and women.

"No, no change," I heard her say to a jour-
neyman. "The disease must run its course with
Capiam as with anyone else. Use these remedies
as symptoms warrant. That is the only advice I
have now. Listen to the drums. We'll use the

27

Nerilka's Story

emergency codes. Do not send open messages at
any time."

She stepped back as the healers urged their
runners out of the court, and I had a chance to
approach her.

"Joumeywoman Desdra."

She swung toward me, not identifying me even
as one of the Fort Horde.

"I am Nerilka. If the Hall's supplies are drained
by the demand, please come to me--" I empha-
sized that point by touching hand to chest"--for
we've enough to physic half the planet."

"Now, there is no need for concern, Lady Ner-
ilka," she began, mustering a reassuring expres-
sion.

"Nonsense." I spoke more sharply than I in-
tended, and then she did look at me and see me.
"I know every drum code but the Masterharper's,
and can guess at that. He's apparently on the
mountain road home." I had her full attention
now. "When you need more supplies, ask for me
at the Hold. Or if you need another nurse ..."

Someone called urgently to her, and with a
quick nod of apology to me, she walked off. Then
the eastern drums began a fresh dispatch of bad
news from Keroon. I walked back with the knowl-
edge that hundreds were dying in that tragic
Hold, and that four smaller mountain holds did
not answer their drumroll.

I was halfway across the Field when I heard

28

Anne McCaffrey

the unmistakable sound of a dragon trumpeting.
A chill hand clutched at my innards. What could
a dragon be doing at Fort Hold--now? I ran
back to the Hall. The massive Hold door was
wide open, and Campen stood on the top step,
his arms half-raised in astonished disbelief. A
small group of anxious Crafthall Masters and two
of the nearer minor holders were grouped below
him on the steps; all now turned away from
Campen and toward the blue dragon who domi-
nated the courtyard. I remember thinking that the
dragon was a trifle off-color. Then all else was
forgotten as, incredulous, I watched my father
striding up the steps, shoving holder and Craft-
master aside.

"There is a quarantine! There is death stalking
the land. Did you not hear the message? Are you
all deaf that you gather in such numbers? Out!
Out! To your homes! Do not quit them for any
reasons! Out! Out!"

He shoved the nearest holder down the steps,
toward the runnerbeasts which the drudges were
only just leading to the stablehold. Two Craft-
masters stumbled into each other in order to avoid
his flailing arms.

In moments, the courtyard was clear of its visi-
tors, the dust of the precipitous departures already
settling on the road.

The blue dragon trumpeted again, adding his
own impetus to the scrambling retreat of holder

29

Anne McCaffrey

and Master. Then he leapt skyward, going be-
tween before he had cleared the Harper Hall
tower.

Father turned on us all, for my brothers had
come to investigate the unexpected arrival of a
dragon.

"Have you run mad to assemble folk? Did none
of you pay heed to Capiam's warning? They're
dying like flies at Ruatha!"

"Then why are you here, sir?" my rather stupid
brother Campen had the gall to ask.

"What did you say?" Father drew himself up
like a dragon about to flame, and even Campen
drew back from the contained fury in his stance.
How Campen escaped a clout I did not then un-
derstand.

"But--but--but Capiam said quarantine ..."

Father tilted his handsome head up, and ex-
tended his arms, palms up and outward, to fend
off a proximity none of us was at all likely to make.

"I am in quarantine from any of you as of this
moment. I shall immure myself in my quarters,
and none of you," he said, shaking his heavy fore-
finger at us, "shall come near me until--" he
paused dramatically "--that period is over and I
know myself to be clean."

"Is the disease infectious? How contagious is
it?" I heard myself asking, because it was im-
portant for us tp establish that.

31

Nerilka's Story

"Either way I shall not jeopardize my family."
His expression was so noble I nearly laughed.

Nor did any of my siblings dare ask further
about our mother and sisters.

"All messages are to be slipped under my door.
Food will be left in the hall. That is all"

With that, he motioned us aside and stomped
into the Hold. We could follow his progress across
the Hall and to the stairs by the angry pounding
of his boots on the flagstones. Then a sort of muf-
fled sob broke the spell.

"What of Mother?" Mostar asked, his eyes
wide with anxiety.

"What of Mother indeed!" I said. "Well, let's
not stand here, making a spectacle of ourselves."
I cocked my head toward the roadway where
small groups of cotholders had gathered, at-
tracted first by the dragon's arrival and then our
tableau on the Hold steps.

Of one accord we retired into the Hall. I was
not the only one to glance up at the now closed
door to the first level.

"It isn't fair," Campen began, sitting down
heavily in the nearest chair. I knew that he meant
Father's early return.

"She'd know how to cure us," Gallon said, fear
in his eyes.

"So do I, for she trained me," I said curdy, for
I think I knew then that Mother would not return.
And it was also important for the family not to

32

Anne McCaffrey

panic or give any show of apprehension. "We're
a hardy lot. Gallon. You know that. You've never
been sick in your life."

"I had the spotted fever."

"We all had that," Mostar said derisively, but
the rest of them began to relax.

"He oughtn't to have broken quarantine,
though," Theskin said very thoughtfully. "It
doesn't set a good example. Alessan ought to have
kept him at Ruatha."

I wondered about that, too, although Father
can be so overbearing that even Lords older than
himself have given way to his wishes. I didn't like
to think that Alessan was ineffective, even if he
had courteously deferred to Father's wishes. A
quarantine was a quarantine!

That night I fell easily into an exhausted sleep
but, too restless to sleep well, I awoke very early
again. It was so early, in fact, that none of the
day staff was about his duties, and I picked up
the note tucked under my father's door. I nearly
tore it up when I'd read the message. Oh, the
stock of febrifuges he wanted, and the wine and
food staples were understandable, but he in-
structed Campen to bring Anella, and "her fam-
ily" as he put it, into the safety of the Hold. So
he would leave my mother and sisters in danger
at Ruatha yet ask his oldest son and heir to bring
his mistress to safety? And the two children he
had sired on her.

33

Nerilka's Story

Oh, it was no scandal really. Mother had al-
ways ignored the matter. She'd had practice over
the Turns, and indeed once I had overheard her
say to one of the aunts that relief now and then
from his attentions was welcome. But I didn't like
Anella. She simpered, she clung, and if Father
couldn't pretend interest in her, she was quite as
happy on Mostar's arm. Indeed, I think she hoped
to be wed to my brother. I longed to tell her that
Mostar had other ideas. Still, I wondered if her
last son was my father's issue or Mostar's.

I chided myself for such snide thoughts. At
least the child had a strong family resemblance.
With my belt knife, I separated the slip of hide
into its two messages and slid Campen's portion
under his door. I bore the discreet half down to
the kitchen where sleepy drudges were folding
up their pallets before starting their chores. My
presence provoked tentative smiles and some ap-
prehension, so I smiled reassurances and told the
brightest of the lot what to put on Lord Tolo-
camp's morning tray.

Campen met me in the Hall, distractedly waving
his portion of our father's orders. "What am I to
do about this. Rill? I can hardly ride out of the
Hold proper and bring her back in broad day-
light."

"Bring her in from the fire-heights. No one'U
be looking there today."

34

Anne McCaffrey

"I don't like it. Rill. I just don't like it."

"When have our likes or dislikes ever mattered,
Campen?"

Anxious to get out of range of his querulous
confusion, I went off to inspect the Nurseries on
the southern side of the level. Here, at least, was
an island of serenity--well, as serene as twenty-
nine babes and toddlers can be. The girls were
going about their routine tasks under the watch-
ful gaze of Aunt Lucil and her assistants. With
all the babble there, they would not have heard
the drums clearly enough to be worried yet. Since
the Nursery had its own small kitchen, I would
have to remember to have them close off their
section if Fort Hold did surrender to the disease.
And I must also remember to have additional sup-
plies sent up--just to be on the safe side.

I checked on the laundry and linen stores and
suggested to the Wash Aunt that today, being
sunny and not too chill, was an excellent day to
do a major wash. She was a good person, but
tended to procrastinate out of a mistaken notion
that her drudges were woefully overworked. I
knew Mother always had to give her a push to
get started. I didn't like to think that I was usurp-
ing any of my mother's duties, even on a tem-
porary basis, but we might be in need of every
length of clean linen ever woven in the Hold.

The weavers, when I arrived in the Loft cots,
were diligently applying themselves to their shut-

35

Nerilka's Story

ties. One great roll of the sturdy mixed yams, on
which my mother prided herself, was just being
clipped free of the woof. Aunt Sira greeted me
with her usual cool, contained manner. Although
she must have heard some of the drum messages
over the clack of heddle and shuttle, she made
no comment on the world outside.

I had a late breakfast in the little room on the
first sublevel, which Mother called her "office,"
as grateful as she must often have been for this
retreat. Still the drums rolled, acknowledging and
then passing on the dire tidings. One didn't hear
it only once, sad to say, but several times. I
winced the fourth time Keroon's code came
through, and hummed loudly to keep the latest
message from adding to the misery already in my
heart. Ruatha was close by. Why had we no mes-
sages from them, no reassurance from my mother
and my sisters?

A knock on the door interrupted these anxi-
eties, and I was almost glad to learn that Campen
awaited me on the first story. Halfway up the
stairs, I realized that he must have returned with
Anella and that, if he was on the first story, she
was expecting to have guest quarters. I myself
would have put her on the inner corridor of the
fifth story. But the apartment at the end of the
first story was more than appropriate for her.
There was no way that I would accommodate her
in my mother's suite, with its convenient access

36

Anne McCaffrey

to Father's sleeping room. My father was, after
all, in isolation, and my mother was alive in
Ruatha.

Anella had obeyed Tolocamp's instruction to
the letter. She had brought not only her two ba-
bies, but her mother, father, three younger broth-
ers, and six of the frailer of her family dependents.
How they managed to climb the fire-heights I did
not inquire, but two of them looked about to col-
lapse. They could go to the upper stories and be
attended by our own elderlies. Anella pouted a bit
at being assigned rooms so far from Tolocamp,
but neither Campen nor I paid any attention to
her remarks or to those of her shrewish mother.
I was just relieved that the entire hold had not
descended on us. I suspected the older two broth-
ers had more sense than to chance their arms on
their pert sister's prospects. Although I felt Anella
ought to be well able to care for her children, I
did assign her two servants, one from the Nursery
level and a general. I wished to have no com-
plaints from my father about her reception or
quarters. Any guest would have had as much
courtesy from me. But I didn't have to like it.

Then I sped down to the kitchens to discuss
the day with Felim. He needed only to be told he
was doing splendidly. The kitchens are always
the worst places for rumor and gossip. Fortu-
nately, no one there understood the coded mes-
sages, although they must have recognized that

37

Nerilka's Story

the drum tower was unusually busy. Sometimes
one knows the drums are relaying good news,
happy tidings. The beat seems brighter, higher-
pitched, as if the very skins are singing with plea-
sure at their work. So if I fancied that the drums
were weeping today, who could blame me?

Toward evening, mistakes were made in the
messages relayed as weary drummer arms fal-
tered in the beat. I was forced to endure repeti-
tions--despairing pleas from Keroon and Telgar
for healers to replace those who had died of the
disease they tried to cure. I put plugs in my ears
so that I could sleep. Even so, my eardrums
seemed to echo the pulse of the day's grievous
news.

38

Chapter IV
3.14.43

On

rne of the plugs fell out during my
restless sleep, so I heard the drums all too clearly
that morning when they beat out the news of my
mother's death, and then the deaths of my sisters.
I dressed and went to comfort Lffla, Nia, and Mara.
Gabin crept in, his face reddened with the effort not
to cry in public. He howled as he buried his head
in my shoulder. And I cried, too. For my sisters and
for myself who had not wished them a safe and
happy journey.

My brothers, all but Campen, sought us out

39

Nerilka's Story

during the morning and so we had the luxury of
private grief. I wonder if any of us hoped that
Tolocamp would fall ill of the disease he had left
our mother and sisters to die from.

When a messenger from Desdra found me, I
welcomed him as an excuse to leave the sorrow-
filled room. I could have gone down the back
stairs to the stores to fill Desdra's request for sup-
plies, but I led the man through the main cor-
ridor. Clearly I heard my father's vigorous voice
calling out the window, and I saw Anella lurking
just round the first bend in the corridor. Quick
as a snake, she scuttled away, but the gloating
smirk on her face provoked me past indifference
to active dislike and disgust of her.

The healer apprentice was hard-pressed to
keep up with me as I whipped down the spiral
stairs to the lower levels. When I piled sack upon
sack of the herbs and root medicines that Desdra
had listed, he protested that he wouldn't be able
to lug so much to the Healer Hall. I summoned
a drudge, my voice almost a shriek, and the
scared Sim rushed in answer, his eyes round with
fear that he had somehow forgotten something
important.

Controlling myself, I apologized to the healer
for overburdening him. I would have merely or-
dered a second drudge to assist Sim and the
healer, but as I entered the kitchen passage, I
caught sight of Anella sweeping down the steps,

40

Anne McCaffrey

beckoning imperiously to Felim. I knew that if I
entered the main kitchen and saw that smug little
lay-aback playing Lady Holder, I would rue the
outcome. Instead, I left by the side door with
healer and drudge. The chill afternoon air en-
veloped and cooled me, though I set a brisk pace
for my companions.

The Harper Hall was in an uproar when I got
there, alive with shouts and criesTofjoy. I couldn't
imagine, what occasioned such joy, but it was
contagious and I smiled without knowing why,
just relieved to hear some happiness. Then the
voices became separated and an unmistakable
baritone rang clearly.

"Fog caught me between holds, friends," Mas-
ter Tirone was saying in clarion tones. "And a
lame runner. I caught a fresh mount from a pas-
ture and was proceeding on when I heard the first
drum message. I came on apace, I can tell you,
and never stopped for sleep or food. I'll apologize
for borrowing the runners later, when the drums
are not so hot with important messages." The sly
hint of laughter in his voice was rewarded by
chuckles from the other harpers. "It was shorter
to take the back route by then, so how was I to
know Lord Tolocamp had set up guards to pre-
vent any of us entering or leaving?" That was the
first I'd heard of my father's precautions. Master
Tirone's voice dropped to a more confidential
tone. "Now, what's this about an internment

41

Nerflka's Story

camp for healer or harper trying to contact his
Hall? How are we supposed to work with such a
foolish restriction on movement?"

The healer eyed me with some consternation,
for this smacked of criticism of the Lord Holder.
I could not in conscience show any trace of my
growing disgust, disillusionment, and distrust of
my sire. And obviously I should not have over-
heard such sentiment.

Then Desdra herself appeared from the far side
of the Hall court, her face lighting with relief as
she saw how burdened we were. "Lady Nerilka,
I only asked for interim supplies."

"I recommend that you take as much as you
can get before I am no longer in a position to
help."

She did not question me, but I saw her eyes
accept my words and the implications of my tone.

"I renew my offer to nurse the sick, wherever
and whoever they might be," I said as firmly as
I could as she took the sacks from my arms.

"You must take your mother's place here dur-
ing this emergency, Lady Nerilka," she said, her
voice low and kind, her deep-set and expressive
eyes conveying her sympathy and condolences.
I had once thought the joumeywoman too pas-
sive a practitioner, her manner too detached, but
I had misjudged her. How could I tell her, now,
that she mistook my measure and circum-

42

Anne McCaffrey

stances? Or had such a trivial matter as Anella's
arrival not percolated through to the two Halls?

"How Is Master Capiam?" I asked, before she
could turn away.

"He has nearly completed the course of the
disease." Desdra's voice rippled with wry humor,
and I detected a twinkle in her eyes. "He's too
omery to die, and determined to find a cure for
this plague. Thank you. Lady Nerilka."

Our brief exchange had outlasted die audible
conversations from the Harper Hall, so there was
nothing for me to do but retrace my steps out of
the court, with Sim trotting behind me. Poor Sim.
I forget he has short legs and cannot match my
long stride.

"Sim, where is this internment camp of Lord
Tolocamp's?" I sought any excuse to avoid re-
turning to the Hold for a little while. My anger
was too sharp, my grief too fresh, my self-disci-
pline nonexistent.

Sim pointed to his right, where the great road
south dips down into a small valley through a
copse of trees. I walked far enough down the
broad roadway to have an uninterrupted view,
and saw guards pacing the arbitrary boundaries.

"Are there many wayfarers halted there?"

Sim nodded, his eyes frightened. "Harper and
healer, all only trying to get back to their Halls.
And a few of the holdless. We always have them
coming along. But there'll be sick ones, soon.

43

Nerilka's Story

Wanting help from the Healer Hall. What'U they
do? They got a right to healing."

So they did. Even my mother was--had
been--generous to the holdless.

"Do the guards allow anyone into the valley?"

Sim nodded. "But not back out again."

"Who's the guard leader?"

"Theng, far as I know."

Even Theng could be got round if it was done
the right way. He enjoyed a botde of wine, and
while he was drinking he could pretend not to
see past the end of the flask. Harper and healer
refused access to their Halls? My father was fool-
ish as well as frightened. And hypocritical when
he, himself, returning from a disease-ridden
Hold, placed his own people at jeopardy by his
very presence. Well, that didn't mean that I had
to be foolish, too. I knew my duty to the Halls--
hadn't my father drilled it into me? And I might
need their charity before the end of these terrible
days. I would speak to Felim, and to Theng.

As I walked back up to the Hold, I saw a figure
in a first story window. My father? Yes, that was
his window, and he was watching Sim and me.
Sim he wouldn't distinguish from any other
drudge wearing Hold livery, but just how keen
was his long sight? And what would it matter if
he identified me? It would probably be the first
time he had. I strode on, proud and careless. But

44

Anne McCaffrey

I did take the side entrance into the kitchens. I
had to speak to Felim, didn't I?

"What am I to do now. Lady Nerilka?" the cook
began before I could ask him to save the broken
meats for the interned men. "She came down
with orders for all kinds of foods that I know Lady
Pendra would not condone--" And then he burst
into tears again, blotting his eyes and face with
the rag he always had hanging out of his apron
waist. "She was stem. Lady Pendra, but she was
fair. A man knew he had only to keep to her stan-
dards and there'd be no complaint"

"What did AneUa want?"

"She said she was to order Hold matters now.
And I was to prepare broth for her children,
whose stomachs are delicate; and there are to be
confections with every meal, for her parents de-
sire sweets; and roasts midday and evening. Lady
Nerilka, you know that isn't possible." Tears
streamed down his cheeks again as he shrugged,
"Must I take orders from her now?"

"Ill find out, Felim. Proceed with the plans we
made this morning. Not even for Anella can we
alter an established routine in one day."

Then I asked him to save what he could from
the evening meal, for delivery to Theng.

"I took the liberty of sending the broken meats
last night. Lady Nerilka. As your lady mother
would have done. Oh, oh, she was fair, she was

45

Nerilka's Story

fair. ..." He buried his face once more in his
napkin.

Felim was fair, too, I thought, trying to keep
my mind off my mother. Thinking of Anella
helped. That little lay-aback, coming in here and
thinking she could just take over a Hold the size
of Fort and run it as if it were exactly like the
backhills midden from which she'd come! The
thought of the chaos that would shortly result at
such inexpert hands gave me a perverse delight.
Little did Anella know of real management, and
if she wished to keep my father content, she'd
better learn. Whatever had made her think that
just because Lady Pendra was dead, she was to
step into her shoes, just as she had taken her bed
partner? Unless . . .

Once again I encountered a distressed Cam-
pen in the front hall. My brother's face was suf-
fused with blood and his features contorted with
dismay. Doral, Mostar, and Theskin, who were
deep in low conversation with him, wore the same
expression.

"Isn't there anything we can do?" Theskin was
demanding, his fingers clenching and unclench-
ing on the hilt of his belt knife.

Doral was slamming one fist into the other
palm. "Nerilka, where have you been? Do you
know what has happened?"

"Anella's moving in."

"Father has had her transferred into Mother's

Anne McCaffrey

rooms. Already!" There was no doubt of the out-
rage that Campen and the others felt. "He's look-
ing for you. Rill, demanding to know where
you've been all day, what you were doing at the
internment camp--and whatever possessed you
to go there?"

"To find out if it existed at all," I replied, bitterly
ignoring the other questions. "When?"

"That was our early morning task," Theskin
replied, indicating that Doral had assisted. "Set-
ting the guard and drawing up the watch rosters.
Now this! Could he not wait a decent interval?"

"He may come down with the illness and have
lost a last chance to enjoy his few remaining
hours!"

"Nerilka!" Campen was appalled at my irrev-
erence, but Theskin and Doral guffawed.

"She may have the answer, you know, Campie
lad," Theskin said. "Our sire has ever liked his
little pleasures."

"Theskin, that is enough!" Campen remem-
bered to lower his voice, but the intensity of his
reprimand made up for the lack of volume.

Theskin shrugged. "I'm off. Checking the
guard! I'll be back for my dinner. Wouldn't miss
that for the world!" He winked at me, tugged
Doral by the arm, and they went off, leaving me
with Campen.

But I had no wish for a continued lecture on
my shortcomings. "Watch out, Campen. She has

Nerilka's Story

two sons, you know, and we could all be booted
to the upper stories!"

Patently this had not occurred to my eldest
brother. As he struggled with the possibility, I
made it safely to my snug little inside room.

That evening's meal was one I do not remem-
ber eating, certainly not enjoying. Our dead
mother had made courtesy in us such an instinc-
tive reaction that we could not, any of us, be im-
polite despite that night's provocation. I had de-
layed my descent to the Main Hall, so I was rather
surprised to find so many of our relations from
the second story. The great tables were set up;

even my father's chair sat in place on the dais.
Anella had been busy.

"Were you invited?" I asked Uncle Munchaun
when he sauntered over to me.

"No, but she'd not know our ways, would she?"

One could count on Uncle Munchaun, not to
mention the others, to sense a situation and make
sure to witness it firsthand.

"I fear I've found nothing of value in my read-
ing thus far," Uncle continued smoothly. "I've set
others to the task, as well. Any word from the
Halls? I understand you were there today."

I ignored the thrust. "Master Tirone has re-
turned from that mediation. By the mountain
trail."

"Then he missed the additions to our Hold?"

48

Anne McCaffrey

"He may have. Certainly he missed the
guards."

"I almost wish he hadn't," Uncle murmured,
a gleam in his eyes. Then he touched my arm
wamingly and I turned to see Anella, followed by
her parents, sweeping into the Great Hall.

Her grand entrance was spoiled by her flaming
cheeks and her father's stumbling pace. The man
had not been drunk, I was later informed, but
had a crippled foot. But I was in no mood to be
charitable or compassionate. He, at least, had the
grace to look embarrassed throughout the next
few minutes.

Anella, dressed in a heavily embroidered gown
totally unsuitable for the mourning of the Hold
or for a family dinner, mounted the three steps
to the dais and walked firmly to my mother's
chair. Uncle Munchaun's hand restrained me
now.

"Lord Tolocamp wishes me to read this mes-
sage to you." Her voice was strident in her effort
to be heard and to project her new authority. She
unrolled the message and held it up in front of
her eyes, which bulged unbecomingly as she
shouted at us.

"I, Lord Tolocamp, quarantined from active
participation in the conduct of Fort Hold in these
unsettled days, appoint and deputize Lady Anella
as Lady Holder to ensure the management of the
Hold until such time as our desired union can be

49

Anne McCaffrey

publicly celebrated. My son, Campen, will ac-
tively discharge under my direction any duties
required of the Lord Holder until such time as I
am no longer immured.

"I solemnly charge all of you, under pain of
disgrace and exile, to observe the quarantine of
this Hold, and to refrain from contact with any
others until such time as Master Capiam, or his
delegate Masterhealer, rescinds the quarantine
restrictions. I require obedience to all restrictions
made by me to ensure the safety and health of
Fort, Pern's first and largest Hold, Obey and we
prosper. Deny and we fall."

She turned the sheet toward us and pointed to
the end. "His signature and ring mark are here
to be verified." Then she insulted us again. "He
charges me to discover which of you ventured
perilously close to the internment camp today."
Her bulging eyes swept the lot of us.

Just as I stepped forward, so did Peth, Jess,
Nia, and Gabin.

"Do not anger me," Anella cried. "Lord Tolo-
camp only told me about one of you."

"We all must have had a look at one time or
another," said Jess, speaking out before I could
gather my wits. "I've never seen an internment
camp."

"Do you not understand? There are sick people
there!" Anella's face turned pale with fright. "If

57

Nerilka's Story

you catch the plague, you will infect the rest of
us before you die."

"Just like our Lord Holder," came a voice from
somewhere in her audience.

"Who said that? Who spoke so vilely?"

There was no answer, only a shifting of boots
on the flagstones. Even I could not identify the
speaker--to congratulate him, or her. My private
wager would fall on Theskin.

"I will know who spoke!" Anella ranted on a
bit more, but she would never learn the answer,
having shattered any chance she might have had
of gaining the trust and confidence of those in
the Hall that night. "Lord Tolocamp will hear of
the snake at his bosom!"

She glared about the Hall one last time, then
yanked at the heavily carved chair that my
mother had filled so adequately. She was not
strong enough to shift it, and a twitter greeted
her attempt. Her mother signaled peremptorily to
a drudge to assist her daughter. When Anella fi-
nally seated herself, her mother sat down beside
her, the husband on her left. Those of us who
ought to have taken our places on the dais de-
clined to do so, and with a bit of angling, all were
accommodated at the trestle tables.

"Where are Lord Tolocamp's children?" she
demanded when we were arranged. "Campen!"
She pointed at him, for him she knew by sight.
"Theskin, Doral, Gallen. Assume your places."

52

Anne McCaffrey

She paused briefly; I could see her eyes blinking
and an irritated twitch to her mouth. "Nalka? Is
she not the oldest living daughter?"

Uncle Munchaun nudged me. "You'd best go,
Rill, even misnamed, for your father will know if
you insult her so publicly."

I knew he was right. As I rose, I saw Anella's
mother murmur something to her.

"And there is a harper in this Hold, is there
not? We honor the harper."

Casmodian rose, bowed, and managed a smile.

"Why did you seat yourselves below?" she de-
manded as Campen and Theskin mounted the

dais steps.

"With all due respect. Lady Anella," Theskin
said with a wry smile, "we thought your family
would require the seating here."

Though courteously spoken, Theskin's words
were nonetheless a gibe, and she was not too
dense to know it, even if she had no adequate
retort. No one mentioned that she had not named
all of Tolocamp's surviving mature children, so
Peth, Jess, and Gabin made a merrier meal than

we others did.

Bravely, Casmodian sat next to the father. I
think they were the only two to converse that
evening at the head table. I know I tasted nothing
of even the little food I forced myself to eat. Un-
fortunately, now I had time to think of all I had
not done for my mother, of my uncharitable ab-

53

Nerilka's Story

sence from the last moments my sisters had had
at Fort Hold. I seethed, too, with fury at the usur-
per and vowed that I would not lift a hand to assist
her in her new role. How convenient that she
couldn't even remember my name properly. If I
judged the temper of the Hall correctly, she
would have no help from anyone, even in such a
small matter as the correct nomenclature of Lord
Tolocamp's children.

I drank more wine that evening than is my
custom--or perhaps it was because I also ate so
little. It was enough to finish the meal and slip
from the Hall to the kitchens, to be sure that this
new Lady Holder had not countermanded my
order about the broken meats. Then, by the back
stairs, I sought my own room and the solace of
sleep.

Chapter V
3.15.43

54

he drums woke me at dawn, for in
my giddiness I had forgotten to plug my ears. Then
the message woke me up completely--Twelve
Wings had flown Thread at Igen and all was well.

How could twelve Wings have flown out of
Igen Weyr when half the dragonriders were ill of
the plague and the Weyr had already suffered
deaths? They could not have mounted more than
nine Wings if their casualties had been accu-
rately reported, and there would be no advantage
to prevaricate at this terrible moment.

55

Nerilka's Story

I rose and dressed, then descended to the
kitchens to surprise the drudges brewing the first
of the many urns of klah. Its aromatic smell was
a restorative all by itself, and the first fragrant
cup was the best one of any day, heartening me
all the more in my grief and dismay. I was stirring
the porridge when Felim appeared, his face first
brightening, then falling into a suitably lugu-
brious expression as he advanced on me.

"I was obliged to send basketsful of untouched
food to the camps. Lady Nerilka. Wasn't the din-
ner well enough?"

"Few of us had the heart to eat, Felim. It is no
insult to you."

"She complained that I did not offer sufficient
choice of sweets," he told me, offended. "Has she
any idea of the handicaps under which I labor?
I cannot chop and change midday. There isn't a
single apprentice or journeyman able to provide
a choice of sweets on an hour's notice in such
quantities as are needed in the Hall these days."

I murmured phrases to soothe his damaged
self-esteem, more out of habit than a desire to
redeem Anella in his eyes. A disgruntled cook
could cause real problems in a Hold the size of
Fort. Let Anella leam by her mistakes, and dis-
cover just how much hard work it was to be Lady
Holder.

It was then that I realized the truth of her an-
nouncement: She was Lady Holder, and due all

56

Anne McCaffrey

the courtesies and honors that had been my
mother's. Well, there were certain private pos-
sessions of my mother's that would not fall into
her hands. I said a few pacifying words to Felim,
to ensure a decently cooked meal this evening,
and rushed to my mother's office on the sublevel.

There I quickly removed all her private jour-
nals, her notes about this personality and that
worker--we girls had long known her to jog her
memory by these entries, and had done our best
not to figure in them very often. They would be
invaluable reading to Anella and hideously em-
barrassing to us, not only to have our childhood
peccadilloes revealed, but also the problems of
the second-story occupants. Mother had some
gems and jewelry that were hers in her own right,
not Hold adornments, which should by rights be
divided among the surviving daughters. I
doubted Anella's probity in distributing them, so
I chose to undertake that task as well.

If Anella thought these things had been re-
moved, she might search for them, so I hurried
along the back passages to the stores and hid the
two sacks of journals and the small parcel of jew-
elry on the top of a dusty shelf. Anella was hands
shorter than I.

I was on my way back when Sim intercepted
me.

"Lady Nerilka, she is asking for a Lady Nalka."

57

Nerilka's Story

"Is she? Well, there isn't one in the Hold, is
there?"

Sim blinked, confused. "Doesn't she mean
you, lady?"

"She may indeed, but until she learns to call
me by my proper name, I am in no way obliged
to answer, am I, Sim?"

"Not if you say so, Lady Nerilka."

"So return to her, Sim, and say you cannot find
Lady Nalka in the Hold."

"Is that what I do?"

"That is what you do."

He lumbered off, muttering under his breath
about not finding Lady Nalka--any Lady
Nalka--in the Hold. That is what he was to say.
No Lady Nalka in the Hold.

I crossed the yard to the Harper Hall. Anella
might have many things on her mind more im-
portant than the pharmaceutical stores, but even-
tually someone would inform her that it was Lady
Nerilka whom she required. And she surely
would tell my father of my insolence. When he
emerged from his isolation, I had no doubt that
he would deliver a thorough and painful chas-
tisement. I might as well merit every blow. Mean-
while, it was my right to dispense those medicinal
supplies as required, and I was determined that
the healers would have full benefit of them.

I was directed to the Hall kitchens by a cheer-
ful young apprentice and made my way there,

58

Anne McCaffrey

reflecting that I seemed to be spending a lot more
time in kitchens these days.

"I'll need the glass bottles sterilized, and that
means fifteen minutes in water at the rolling boil
and no cheating on the sands," Desdra was say-
ing to the journeyman. "Now, I'll--Lady Ner-
ilka!" There was about Desdra a buoyancy that
had been absent the previous day.

"Master Capiam is better?"

"Himself again, I'm glad to say. Not everyone
who gets the plague needs to die of it. Anyone ill
in Fort Hold?"

"If you mean my sire, he keeps to his apart-
ments but is well enough to issue orders."

"So I heard." Desdra's wry smile informed me
that she found the change tasteless.

"While I am still in charge of the pharmacy,
what are your needs?"

Desdra had turned to watch the journeyman,
her mind clearly on more urgent matters. She
looked back at me with a smile, however. "Can
you decoct, infuse, and blend?"

"I supply all our medicinal needs."

"Then prepare a cough syrup, tussilago by
preference. Here, let me give you the recipe that
I have found efficacious." She had a scrap of hide
in her hand, a charcoal stick in the other; hastily,
but legibly, she scrawled measurements and in-
gredients. "Don't balk at adding numbweed--
that is the only thing that depresses the terrible

59

Nerilka's Story

racking cough." Then she consulted another list
in her hand. She was distracted by my presence.
"And has your mother--oh, I beg your pardon."
She touched my hand in apology, her eyes trou-
bled to have caused me pain. "Have you a re-
storative soup? We shall need kettles of restora-
tive soups."

I thought of Felim's reaction to yet another bi-
zarre request, but the small night hearth could
be used, and all kinds of scraps go into the soup
pot. The last place Anella would think to find me
would be in the hot, small, inner kitchen.

"Cook, cool it into jelly. It'll transport better
that way." She had one eye on the sands that were
only grains away from her fifteen-minutes-at-the-
rolling-boil.

I left her to her task, hoping it bode well. There
was a suppressed excitement about Desdra that
could not be due entirely to the Master Harper's
recovery. Was she brewing a cure?

Fortunately it took all day to concoct both the
restorative soup and Desdra's cough syrup. The
tussilago really did numb the lining of the throat.
I improved the taste with a harmless flavoring
and filled two demijohns with the mixture, re-
serving a large flask for Hold use, should it be
required. I made a note of the syrup in the
Record.

When Sim and I brought the products of my
day's labors over to the Hall, the air of suppressed

60

Anns McCaffrey

excitement that I had noted in Desdra was now
rampant, but I could find out nothing from the
journeyman who took syrup and soup from me.
He thanked me profusely enough, but plainly had
other tasks pending.

It was hard to wish to help, to be capable of
offering capable help, and not find a market for
it, I thought as I plodded back across the night-
dark yard. There were lights on in my father's
quarters and in what had been my mother's. But
no one was at the window, spying on unidenti-
fiable flaunters of stupid rules.

I looked over my shoulder at the despicable
internment camp and saw the guards on then-
rounds between the glowbasket standards. Was
that where my soup and syrup would go? If that
was its destination, my day had been profitable.
With my spirits lifted, I continued back to the
Hold.

61

Chapter VI
3.16.43

dampen found me the next morning
preparing to make more soup. "So this is where you
are! Anella is looking for you."

"She's been looking for a Lady Nalka, and
there is no one by that name in the Hold."

Campen snorted with disgust. "You know per-
fectly well she means you."

"Then she should summon me by name. I'll
not go otherwise."

"In the meantime, she's making life very dif-
ficult for our sisters, and they miss our mother

Anne McCaffrey

enough without having to put up with her carp-
ings."

I was instantly repentant. In my own misery
and guilt, I had forgotten that Lilla and Nia
needed my presence and support.

"She must have new gowns, suitable to her
position. Your needlework is the best."

"Kista was the best needlewoman among us,"
I told him angrily. "And Merin sewed the straight-
est seam. But I'll go."

It was not a pleasant interview, and I knew that
my behavior could be faulted on several counts.
To add insult to injury, Anella was younger than
I by several Turns, and keenly aware of that and
of my greater height. But, knowing that I had
deliberately disregarded her summonses, I took
the tongue-lashing in silence, and took some con-
solation in the fact that she had to crane her neck
at an awkward angle to berate me. She looked
like a wherry hen, strutting about in a heavy
dressing gown far too ornate to suit her thin body
and falling off her bottle-necked shoulders so that
she had to jerk it frequently back into place. She
lacked dignity, experience, sense, and humor.

"So how do you account for your absence these
past two days? Where have you been? For if
you've been sneaking off to meet some
holder--"

At that accusation I decided I had had enough
of her rantings. "I have been preparing restora-

Nerilka's Story

tive soups and cough syrups, and checking our
medicinal supplies in case they should be
needed." She flushed at my reminder of the
present crisis. "The pharmacy has been my re-
sponsibility in this Hold."

"Why wasn't I told that was where you were?
Your father--" She abruptly closed her lips.

"My father would not have known my especial
duties. It was my mother's place to order such
domestic affairs."

She gave me a searching glance, but I had kept
my voice bland and chosen my words carefully.

"No one around here tells me anything I need
to know," she complained. "If your name is not
Nalka, what is it?"

"Nerilka."

"Close enough. Why did you not come at my
bidding?" She grew angry again.

"I was not told."

"But they knew you were the one I wanted to
see!"

"The entire Hold is still distracted by grief and
anxiety."

She clamped her lips into a thin line, but what
she wished to say was sparking out of her eyes,
which were beginning once again to protrude
with her attempts to control her agitations. She
swished off to the window and stood looking out,
twitching the gown back up her shoulders several
times. Abruptly she whirled back.

Nerilka's Story

"Your mother had everything so well organized
in this Hold that I'm sure she had drapery stores
and patterns. You may come with me to choose
suitable lengths for my new wardrobe."

"Aunt Sira is in charge of Weaving."

"I don't need the Weaving Aunt. I need your
sewing skills. You have those as well, do you
not?" When I nodded, she went on. "Now where
are the keys?" I pointed to the small chest on top
of the press. With a cry of exasperation she leaped
toward it, wrenching the drawer out in her haste
to secure the keys to her new dignities. She had
to hold the massive ring in both hands. "But
which one? And which unlocks the jewelry safe?
And the spice closet?"

"The stories are color-coded. The housekeep-
ing keys are the smaller ones, room keys the
larger. Hall keys larger still, and gold. All kitchen
stores are green."

So I was forced to spend the rest of the morning
taking my stepmother from story to story and as
far down the sublevels as she insisted we go. I
answered every question willingly and fully, but
volunteered no information without seeming to
withhold any. Afterward, I don't know if I was
more disgusted with myself or with her general
ignorance of Hold management. Had her mother
not required her to do anything, and she the only
daughter in the hold? I only hoped that my father
would rue the day he let his infatuation over-

66

Anne McCaffrey

whelm common sense. And the inconsistency of
his complaint against my one suitor, Garben, who
came from, no more or less, the same sort of fam-
ily as Anella's. I also knew suddenly, and with
complete certainty, that I would not be in Fort
Hold to see his awakening to reality.

Anella required my presence to cut and start
seaming several gowns for herself. She had some
sense in her, for she said that Lilla and Nia could
have tunics from the remnants of the three
lengths. That ensured their cooperation and dil-
igence on her clothes. I excused myself as soon
as the work was well started, on the pretext that
I must discharge my duties as pharmacist.

And so, in the Harper Hall, I learned for the
first time of the blood serum injections that had
been administered just the day before, and I
heard, in a somewhat garbled fashion, of Master
Captain's recollection of this ancient method of
giving a small dose of a disease to prevent a more
disastrous illness. Healers had been given the
first injections, as they would most need protec-
tion against the plague. Master Fortine had suc-
cumbed to it, received the treatment, and was
suffering only minor discomfort. Soon, very soon,
there would be enough of this liquid miracle to
prevent any more healthy people from suffering
the rigors of the plague. Pern was saved!

I took leave to doubt that enthusiastic report,
but certainly the whole atmosphere of the Hall

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Nerilka's Story

was charged with hope and relief. I immediately
returned to the Hold, reprieved from the despair
of more deaths among my loved ones. I rushed
up to the sewing room to tell my sisters the good
news. Anella was there, of course, supervising
their stitches. She questioned me closely, making
me repeat my news several times before she
rushed off. Maybe she actually cared more for my
father's health than for his Hold.

How it came to be, I do not know, but by eve-
ning, three healers arrived at the Hold and were
shown immediately up to my father's quarters. I
assume they inoculated him first. I'm certain that
Anella was second, and then her babes. To my
complete surprise, the immediate family was also
injected, my younger sisters enduring the prick
of the needlethom without a whimper.

"There's enough left for fifteen more. Lady
Nerilka. Whom would you suggest?" the healer
journeyman asked me. "Desdra said you'd
know." He had spoken quietly to me as I received
the injection.

I told him to do all the Nursery adults, our three
harpers, Felim and his chief assistant, Uncle
Munchaun, and Sira, for she alone knew all the
brocade patterns that were our especial Hold
pride. And the chief bailiff, Bamdy, and his son.
With my father still immured in his rooms,
Bamdy was a key person and his son only slightly
less so. Munchaun would take their part if that

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Anne McCaffrey

became necessary, and he was the only one who
could shout Tolocamp down without reprisal.

3.17.43

I was required to spend most of the
morning sewing in Anella's presence while she
stood over my sisters and me, criticizing our
stitches, making us pick out and do over--as
often as not missing our poorer work--until I
could stand it no more. Lilla, Nia, and Mara were
more inclined to diligence, since they could an-
ticipate, I hoped, to have new tunics for their la-
bors.

Anella also had the poor taste to recount to us
Tolocamp's injunctions to his bailiff and my
brothers that there was to be no disposition of Fort
Hold's stores to the indigent. All must be reserved
for the needs of Fort Hold's dependents. This was
a critical time, and Fort must stand firm, as an
example to the rest of the continent. For instance,
Anella relished reporting, Tolocamp was certain
that the Healer and Harper would be applying to
the Hold for substantial aid of food and medicine.
He had received a formal request for an interview
with Master Capiam and Master Tirone the next
morning.

That, for me, was the final straw. I had now
come to the end of patience, courtesy, and filial

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Nerilka's Story

loyalty. I could no longer endure that woman's
presence or remain a dependent of a man whose
cowardice and parsimony made a disgrace of my
Bloodline. I would no longer remain in a dishon-
ored Hold.

On the grounds that I had a confectionary rec-
ipe that I wished to prepare for the evening meal,
I excused myself. I went down to the kitchens,
and on to the dispensary. There I distilled fellis
in the largest kettle and brewed an equally large
batch of the tussilago syrup. While these were
simmering, I rifled the overstuffed shelves, tak-
ing a generous portion of every herb, root, stalk,
leaf, blossom, and tuber that might possibly be of
use to the Healer Hall. These I packaged, tying
them securely and leaving them in a shadowy
comer of the inner storeroom against the unlikely
chance that Anella might inspect the facility. I
decanted the fellis and tussilago into padded
demijohns and added to these surreptitious stores
a pack containing clothing necessities for myself.
Then I made the sticky sweet for the evening
meal, enough to surfeit Anella and her parents.

That evening I sought out Uncle Munchaun
and gave him my mother's jewels to distribute to
my sisters.

"Like that, eh?" He hefted the hide-wrapped
packet of jewelry. "Did you not keep some by
you?"

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Anne McCaffrey

"A few pieces. I doubt jewelry will be required
where I intend to go from here."

"Send me word when you can. Rill. I shall miss
you."

"And I you, Uncle. You'll keep watch over my
sisters?"

"Have I not always done so?"

"Better than most." I could not say more or
weaken my resolution, so I fled down the steps
from the second story.

3.18.43

The next day, I had dutifully started
yet another kettle of restorative soup in the small
kitchen when I saw the Masterharper and the
Masterhealer making their way across the Great
Court for their interview with Tolocamp. I caught
Sim's attention and told him to take two others
and wait for me outside the dispensary. I had a
task to be done.

I changed from my dress into garb suitable for
what I hoped to be allowed to do, and stuffed a
few last personal things in my belt pouch. I
caught a glimpse of myself in the little mirror on
my wall. It took me a moment: my hair had been
my one vanity. I picked up the scissors and ruth-
lessly, before my resolution faltered, I cut off my
long braids and stuffed them into the darkest cor-

71

Nerilka's Story

ner of the press. No one would think to search
my room for some time to come. My shorn hair
suited my new role in life.

With a leather thong, I tied back what was left
of my thick black hair. Then I left the room that
had been my refuge since my eighteenth summer
and made my way down the spiral stairs to my
father's first-story apartment.

There was a convenient alcove on the inner
wall just beyond the main door to his quarters. I
had no sooner taken up my position when the
drums announced the happy tidings that Orlith
had laid a fine clutch of twenty-five eggs, in-
cluding a queen egg. I'll bet there was consid-
erable jubilation at Fort Weyr on that score. And
it was certainly heartening news, though sud-
denly I could hear my father's mournful tones.
Was he displeased with twenty-five and a queen?
In ordinary times he would have called for wine
to celebrate.

There was no one in the Hall, and at this hour
in the morning most would be about their duties
in or outside the Hold. I stepped close to the door
and. by putting my ear to the wood, was able to
hear most of what was said. Both Capiam and
Tirone had good strong voices, and as they be-
came more annoyed, their voices rose. It was my
father who mumbled.

"Twenty-five with a queen egg is a superb
clutch this late in a Pass," Capiam was saying.

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Anne McCaffrey

"Moreta . . . mumble . . . Kadith . . . Sh'gall
. . . so ill."

"That is not our business," I heard Master Ti-
rone remark. "Not that the illness of the rider has
any effect on the performance of the dragon. Any-
way, Sh'gall is flying Fall at Nerat, so he's evi-
dently fully recovered."

I had known that both Fort Weyrleaders had
been ill and had recovered, for Jallora had been
hastily dispatched from the Healer Hall when the
Weyr healer had died. Why Sh'gall was flying at
Nerat was beyond my source of information.

"I wish they would inform us of the status of
each Weyr," my father said. "I worry so."

"The Weyrs"-- Tirone spoke with emphasis --
"have been discharging their traditional duties to
their Holds!"

"Did I bring the illness to the Weyrs?" my fa-
ther demanded, more loudly and quite petulantly,
I thought. "Or the Holds? If the dragonriders
were not too quick to fly here and there--"

"And Lords Holder not so eager to fill every
nook and cranny of their--" Capiam was angry,
too.

"This is not the time for recriminations!" Ti-
rone interrupted them quickly. "You know as well
as, if not better than, most people, Tolocamp, that
seamen introduced that abomination onto the
continent!" The Masterharper's voice dripped
with disapproval. I hoped my father was fully

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Nerilka's Story

aware of it. "Let us resume the discussion inter-
rupted by such good news. I have men seriously
ill in that camp of yours. There is not enough
vaccine to mitigate the disease, but they could at
least have the benefit of decent quarters and prac-
tical nursing."

So I had been correct in my assumption that
my father's parsimonious attitude extended to the
two Halls that Fort had traditionally supplied gen-
erously whenever approached.

"Healers are among them," my father coun-
tered in a sullen tone. "Or so you tell me!"

"Healers are not immune to the viral influence
and they cannot work without medicines," Cap-
iam said urgently. "You have a great storehouse
of medicinal supplies--"

"Garnered and prepared by my lost Lady--"
How dare he speak in that maudlin fashion of my
mother!

"Lord Tolocamp," and I could hear the irrita-
tion in Master Capiam's voice, "we need those
supplies--"

"For Ruatha, eh?"

Surely my father didn't blame Ruatha for the
tragedy?

"Other holds besides Ruatha have needs!"
Capiam replied, as if Ruatha was indeed the very
last one on his list.

"Supplies are the responsibility of the individ-
ual holder. Not mine. I cannot further deplete

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Anne McCaffrey

resources that might be needed by my own peo-
ple."

"If the Weyrs," and Tirone's deep voice rang
with feeling as he took up the argument,
"stricken as they are, can extend their respon-
sibilities in the magnificent way they have, be-
yond the areas beholden to them, then how can
you refuse?"

I was stunned at my father's insensitive reply.
"Very easily. By saying no. No one may pass the
perimeter into the Hold from any outlying area.
If they don't have the plague, they have other,
equally infectious, diseases. I shall not risk more
of my people. I shall make no further contribu-
tions from my stores."

Had my father not heard a single one of the
messages, announcing the thousands of deaths
in Keroon, Ista, Igen, Telgar, and Ruatha? My
mother and four sisters were dead and quite likely
the guards and the servants who had accompa-
nied them, but they numbered only forty in all,
not four hundred or four thousand or forty thou-
sand.

"Then I withdraw my healers from your Hold."
I nearly cheered Capiam's statement.

"But--but--you can't do that!"

"Indeed he can. We can," Master Tirone re-
plied. I heard the scrape of his chair as he pushed
it back from the table. I clapped my hands over
my mouth lest I make any sound. "Craftsmen are

75

Nerilka's Story

under the jurisdiction of their Hall. You'd for-
gotten that, hadn't you?"

I had just enough time to get back into the
shadows as the door was pulled roughly open and
Capiam swung into the hall. The light from my
father's windows showed me the anger on the
Masterhealer's face. Master Tirone slammed the
door shut.

"I'll call them out! Then I'll join you in the
camp."

"I didn't think it would come to this!" Capiam
was grim.

I inhaled, afraid for one moment that they
might renege--this opposition was just what To-
locamp needed to bring him back to his lost
senses.

"Tolocamp has presumed once too often on the
generosity of the Halls! I hope this example re-
minds others of our prerogatives."

"Call our Craftspeople out, but don't come to
the camp with me, Tirone. You must stay in the
hall with your people, and guide mine!"

"My people"--Tirone gave a harsh laugh--
"with very few exceptions, are languishing in that
blighted camp of his. You are the one who must
bide at the halls."

I knew then where I would go when I left this
Hold, and I knew what I could do to expiate my
father's intransigence.

"Master Capiam--" I stepped forward. "I have

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Nerilka's Story

the storeroom keys." I held up the duplicates my
mother had given me on my sixteenth birthday.

"How did you?. . ." Tirone began, leaning for-
ward to peer at my face. He didn't know who I
was any more than Capiam did, but they knew I
was one of the Fort Horde.

"Lord Tolocamp made plain his position when
he received the request for medicines. I helped
harvest and preserve them."

"Lady? .. ."Capiam waited for me to speak my
name, but his voice was kind and his manner
gentle.

"Nerilka," I said quickly, for I didn't expect so
exalted a man to have known it. "I have the right
to offer you the products of my own labor." Tirone
was realizing that I had eavesdropped on their
conversation, but I hardly cared. "There is just
one condition." I let the keys swing from my fin-
gers.

"If it is within my giving," Capiam replied tact-
fully.

"That I may leave this Hold in your company
and work with the sick in that horrid camp. I've
been vaccinated. Lord Tolocamp was expansive
that day. Be that as it may, I will not stay in a
Hold to be abused by a girl younger than myself.
Tolocamp permitted her and her family to enter
this hallowed Hold from the fire-heights yet he
leaves healers and harpers to die out there!" I
nearly added, "as he left my mother and sisters

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Anne McCaffrey

to die at Ruatha." Instead I pulled at Capiam's
sleeve. "This way, quickly."

Tolocamp would recover from his shock at
their ultimatum and start roaring for Bamdy or
one of my brothers.

"I'll remove our Craftspeople from this Hold on
my way out," Tirone said. He turned and walked
the other way.

"Young woman, you do realize that once you
leave the Hold without your father's knowledge,
particularly in his present frame of mind--"

"Master Capiam, I doubt he'll notice I'm gone."
Maybe he was the one who had told Anella that
my name was Nalka. "These steps are very
steep," I warned, suddenly remembering that the
Masterhealer wasn't used to the back ways. I
flicked on a handglow.

Capiam stumbled once or twice as we spiraled
down, and I heard him draw a sigh of relief as
we turned into the larger corridor toward the
storerooms. Sim was lounging on the bench with
the other two.

"You are prompt, I see." I nodded reassurance
at Sim, who hadn't expected to see the Master-
healer down here. "Father appreciates prompt-
ness." I included Master Capiam in that remark
as I opened the door.

I went in first, flicking open the glowbaskets,
and heard Capiam exclaim now that he recog-
nized the room where he and my mother had

79

Nenlka's Story

often treated the Hold sick. I went into the main
storeroom.

"Behold, Master Capiam, the produce of my
labors since I was old enough to snip leaf and
blossom or dig root and bulb. I won't say I have
filled every shelf, but my sisters who have pre-
deceased me would not deny me their portions.
Would that all of these hoarded supplies were
usable, but even herbs and roots lose their po-
tency in time. Waste, that's the bulk of what you
see, fattening tunnel snakes." I had heard the
slither as the reptiles fled from the glowlights.
"Carry-yokes are in the comer there, Sim." I
raised my voice now, for my other remarks had
been for the Masterhealer's ears so that he knew
that what I gave him today did not seriously de-
plete those treasured stores Tolocamp must re-
serve for his own people. "You and the others,
take up the bales." When I saw them start to load
up, I turned to Master Capiam. "Master Capiam,
if you do not mind--that's the feUis juice. I'll take
this." I hefted the other demijohn by its girth
strap and slung the pack over my shoulder. "I
mixed fresh tussilago last night, Master Capiam.
That's right, Sim. On your way now. We'll use
the kitchen exit. Lord Tolocamp has been com-
plaining again about the wear on the main hall
carpets," I said quite mendaciously. "It's as well
to comply with his instructions even if it does
mean extra lengths for the rest of us."

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Anne McCaffrey

I covered the glowbaskets and set down the
demi-john to lock the storeroom, ignoring Cap-
iam's expression. It didn't matter what he
thought as long as I could leave the Hold without
being seen.

"I would hke to take more, but four drudges
added to the noon parade to the perimeter are not
going to be noticed by the guard." He spared a
look at my clothing then. "No one will care in the
least if one of the drudges continues on to the
camp. Nor will anyone at the kitchen exit think
it odd for the Masterhealer to leave with sup-
plies." I had accustomed them to such traffic to
the Hall. "Indeed, they would wonder if you left
empty-handed."

I had finished locking up and now I dangled
the keys before me. I couldn't just hang them on
the door. "One never knows, does one?" I com-
mented, stuffing them back into my belt pouch.
"My stepmother has another set. She thinks it is
the only one. But my mother thought the still-
room a very good occupation for me. This way,
Master Capiam."

He followed me and I kept expecting any mo-
ment to hear an exhortation or good advice.

"Lady Nerilka, if you leave now--"

"I am leaving--"

"--and in this fashion, Lord Tolocamp--"

I stopped in my tracks and faced the man. It
wouldn't do to be heard arguing with him as we

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Nerilka's Story

crossed the kitchen. "--will miss neither me nor
my dower." As I hefted the demijohn, I saw Sim
exiting by the side door, and thought I had best
be at his heels or he might falter. "I can be of real
use in the internment camp for I know about mix-
ing medicines and decocting and infusing herbs.
I shall be doing something constructive that is
needed rather than sitting comfortably in a comer
somewhere." I did not add sewing straight seams
to adorn my stepmother. "I know your craftsmen
are overworked. Every hand is needed.

"Besides"--I touched the keys in my pouch--
"I can slip back in whenever it's necessary. Don't
look surprised. The drudges do it all the time.
Why shouldn't I?" Especially when I am dressed
as a drudge, I noted wryly.

I had to catch up to Sim and the others to main-
tain our cover; I also had to remember to move
like a drudge. As I passed under the lintel of the
kitchen door, I slumped my shoulders, lowered
my head, canted my knees at each other for a
more awkward gait, and pretended to be weighed
down by my burdens, scuffing my feet in the
dust.

Master Capiam was looking to our left, to the
main forecourt and stairs where Master Tirone
was moving down the ramp along with the heal-
ers who tended our elderlles, and the three har-
pers.

"He'll be watching them! Not us," I told Master

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Anne McCaffrey

Capiam, for I, too, had caught sight of my father's
figure in the open window. Maybe he'd catch his
death of a cold. "Try to walk less proudly. Master
Capiam. You are, for die moment, merely a
drudge, burdened and reluctantly heading for the
perimeter, terrified of coming down sick to die
like everyone in the camp."

"Everyone in the camp is not dying."
"Of course not," I said hastily, hearing the
anger in his voice. "But Lord Tolocamp thinks so.
He has so informed us constantly. Ah, a belated
attempt on his part to prevent the exodus!" I
caught sight of the helmet tips over the balus-
trade. "Don't pause!" The Masterhealer had
stopped briefly, and I didn't want anything to call
attention to us. The departure of healers and har-
pers was a useful diversion. "You can walk as
slowly as you want, that's in character, but don't
stop."

I kept my head turned to the left, but then
drudges were always attempting to ignore what
they were supposed to be doing in favor of any
activity that appeared more interesting. Seeing
guards chasing after healers and harpers was
very interesting. Especially guards who did not
wish to follow their particular orders. I could just
imagine Bamdy's consternation. "Arrest the Mas-
terharper. Lord Tolocamp? Now how could I do
such a thing? The healers, too? Are they not

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Nerilka's Story

needed more in their own Hall right now than
here?"

There was a brief scuffle as Tirone barged
through the halfhearted attempt to thwart him.
I suppose words were exchanged between the
guards and the others, but no one truly interfered
with those departing, and Master Tirone led them
all down onto the road at a good pace.

Our path had already taken us across the road-
way, and their steps would cover our footprints
in the dust. I continued my awkward pace and
wondered if my father even noticed the passing
of the drudges. Sim and the other two had
reached the perimeter, and Theng was looking
with some disgust at their burdens. He had come
hastily out of his little hut, but then he identified
the basket holding the noon meal of the guard
.contingent and relaxed.

I began to worry about Master Capiam im-
mured in the camp when he really ought to re-
main in his Hall, no matter what he had said to
Master Tirone.

"If you go past the perimeter. Master Capiam,
you will not be permitted back."

"If there is more than one way into the Hold,
is there only one past the perimeter?" he asked
me flippantly. "I'll see you later, Lady Nerilka."

I was relieved to think he was right. I was close
enough to the dip in the roadway to see the en-
campment, and the men and women, well back

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Anne McCaffrey

of the guarded zone, waiting patiently for the
food.

"Here now. Master Capiam." Theng came up,
alarmed to see the resolution in the Masterheal-
er's stride. "You can't go in there without stay-
ing-"

"I don't want this medicine heaved about,
Theng. Make sure they understand it's fragile."

I turned to one side, pretending to ease the
weight of the demijohn. Theng knew me well
enough to raise a commotion if he recognized me.

"I can do that much for you," Theng replied.
He placed the demijohn to one side of the bales,
then yelled down to the waiting men and women.
"This is to be handled carefully, and preferably
by a healer. Master Capiam says it's medicine."

I wanted to tell Capiam that I would see that
the medicine was given to the appropriate people,
but I dared not get too close to Theng, who was
now making sure that Master Capiam went back
where he belonged. I took the opportunity and
walked quickly down the slope to the waiting peo-
ple.

"Nah, then. Master Capiam," Theng was say-
ing as I made good my escape, "you know I can't
allow you close contact with any of your crafts-
men."

I was immensely relieved that Theng inter-
vened at that point. It was presumptuous of me,
perhaps, but I felt that Master Capiam ought to

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Nerilka's Story

remain where he was accessible to drum mes-
sages and councils with other Masters, particu-
larly when he and the Masterharper had just
pulled their Craftsmen from Fort Hold. As de-
voted a Craftsman as he was, it was not right that
Master Capiam put himself at risk in this
wretched camp. Perhaps now that the vaccine
was being processed, the internment camp would
be dispersed in only a matter of days. It would be
along time, however, before Hold, Hall, and Weyr
could pick up the skein of routine and unravel
the tangle in which the plague had left us.

I had a very selfish reason for being glad that
Master Capiam had elected to stay above. I
wished to change my identity as well as my Hold.
One or two harpers or healers might recognize
me from their attendance at the Hold, but they
wouldn't be looking for Lady Nerilka here in the
internment camp, surrounded by infection and
vulnerable to discomfort as well as death.

Although she had not said so, Desdra un-
doubtedly had refused my oners of assistance be-
cause she knew that young ladies of Hold Blood
did not engage in such activities on a public basis.
She probably considered me a feckless, trivial
person and perhaps I was: Some of my recent
thoughts and decisions could have been consid-
ered petty. But I did not consider that I was sac-
rificing my high rank and position. I thought,
rather, that I was putting myself in the way of

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Anne McCaffrey

being useful, instead of immured in a Hold, pro-
tected and unproductive, wasting my energy on
trivia like sewing for my stepmother. Such a
"suitable occupation" for a girl of my rank could
so easily be undertaken by the least drudge from
the linen rooms.

These thoughts fleeted through my head as I
kept up the awkward gait I had assumed--ironic,
as Hold girls were taught to take such tiny steps
that they appeared to float across the floor. I had
never quite mastered that skill. I followed the
men and women who had brought the baskets to
the perimeter. Now I could see that most of them
wore harper knots. One man wore the colors of
the River Hold, and another of the Sea Hold.
Travelers trapped on their way to seek help from
Tolocamp? The path turned off into the copse,
where I could now see that rude shelters had
been erected. We had been indeed fortunate that
the weather had been so clement, for the third
month was generally blustery, often blizzardy,
and freezing cold. Each open fire in its ring of
stones wore either spit or kettle iron. Was this
where my restorative soups had gone? Then I
realized that those huddled in blankets or hides
about each fire had the gray complexions and
lackluster expressions of convalescents.

One larger shelter, its sides made of an odd
assortment of materials, was set to one edge of
the copse, and from it issued a chorus of rasping

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Nerilka's Story

coughs and groans that labeled it the main infir-
mary. It was toward this that the demijohn of
fellis was being taken. Those carrying the baskets
of food were beginning to distribute bread to
those at the fires. Three women began to sort the
vegetables and meat scraps into kettles. The si-
lence was the worst of the scene.

I hastened to the infirmary and was met at the
door by a tall, unshaven healer. "Fellis, herbs--
what have you?" he asked eagerly.

"Tussilago. Lady Nerilka made it fresh last
night."

He grimaced and took the demijohn from me.
"It's heartening to know not everyone there
agrees with the Lord Holder."

"He's a hypocritical coward."

The healer raised eyebrows in surprise.
"Young woman, it is unwise to speak of your Lord
Holder in that fashion, no matter what the prov-
ocation."

"He is not my Lord Holder," I replied, meeting
his stare unflinchingly. "I have come to help. I
have a firm grounding of the properties of herbs
and their preparation. I... helped Lady Nerilka
brew the tussilago. She taught me all I know, she
and her lady mother now dead at Ruatha. I can
nurse and I am not afraid of the plague. All I loved
is dead now anyway."

He put a comforting hand on my shoulder. No
one would dare such a familiarity toward the Lady

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Anne McCaffrey

Nerilka, yet I did not find it offensive to be han-
dled. It proved I was a human being.

"You are not alone in that." He paused for me
to fill in my name. "All right. Rill, I'll take any
volunteers right now. My best nurse just suc-
cumbed ..." He nodded to a woman, still
and white on a pallet of boughs. "There isn't all
that much we can do except relieve the symp-
toms--" he affectionately patted the container
of tussilago "--and hope there are no secondary
infections. It is that which causes death, not
the plague itself."

"There will soon be enough vaccine." I said it
to cheer him, for patently he did not like to be so
helpless in the face of this epidemic.

"Where did you hear that, Rill?" He had low-
ered his voice, and now held my upper arm in a
painful grip. All handling is not reassuring.

"It is known. Yesterday the Bloods were in-
oculated against the disease. More of the serum
is being made. You are nearby ..."

The man shrugged in bitter acceptance of his
situation. "Nearby, but scarcely a priority."

The woman struggled in the grip of the fever
and flung herself out of her coverings. I went
immediately to her side. And that began my first
twenty-hour day as a nurse. There were three of
us and Macabir, the journeyman healer, to tend
the sixty stricken people in that rude infirmary.
I never did know how many more the camp held,

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for the population shifted. Some had arrived on
foot as well as by runner, hoping to claim Hold
at Fort or assistance from the Halls or the Hold,
and left when they realized that they were not
permitted to reach their objective. I often won-
dered how many people actually had obeyed the
full quarantine. But we are more populous here
in the west than the eastern half of the continent.
And the territory under Fort's jurisdiction suf-
fered nowhere near the casualties that Ruatha
did. We heard that only Master Capiam's early
attendance at South Boll kept the disease from
ravaging that province as well There were those
who said that Ratoshigan would have deserved
the fate that was dropped on Ruatha and young
Lord Alessan.

He was still alive, I learned. But he and his
youngest sister were the only survivors of that
Bloodline. His losses were more grievous than
mine, then. Would his gains be as great?

Though harried, anxious, overworked, un-
derfed, and certainly sleep-deprived, I had never
been so happy. Happy? That is a very odd word
to use in conjunction with my occupation in the
camp, for that day and the next, we lost twelve
of the sixty lying in the tent, and acquired fifteen
in their places. But I was being useful for the first
time in my life, and needed, and I was the amazed
recipient of the mute gratitude of those I tended.
For someone raised as I had been, the experience

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was a revelation in some rather personal and un-
pleasant ways as well, for I had never coped with
the intimate bodily functions of either man or
woman, and now had to attend both. I suppressed
my initial revulsion and nausea, cropped my hair
even shorter, rolled up my sleeves, and got on
with the job. If this was part of it, then it would
not be shirked.

I had the added assurance of knowing I was
buffered against catching the disease that I
nursed, so sometimes Macabir's praise of my
courage on this count embarrassed me. Then a
journeyman healer walked boldly into the camp
bearing sufficient serum to inoculate everyone,
and announced that the camp was being struck.
The sick would be transported to the Harper Hall,
where the apprentice barracks were being
cleared to accommodate them. The transients
also would find overnight shelter before being
sped on their way in the morning. And if they'd
be good enough to take along some supplies . . .

I volunteered, although Macabir repeated his
wish for me to take formal training at the Hall.
"You've a natural gift for the profession, Rill."

"I'm far too old to be an apprentice, Macabir."

"How old is old when you've a right knack with
the sick? A Turn and you've done the initial train-
ing. Three, and there wouldn't be a healer who'd
not be pleased to have you assist him."

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"I'm free now to see more of this continent
than one Hold, Macabir."

He sighed, scrubbing at his lined and weary
face. "Well, keep it in mind if you find travel
palls."

92

Chapter VII
3.19.43-3.20.43

1 let

'eft in the early evening light, -with
a rough map to show me the way to three northern
holds, quite close to the Ruathan border, where
serum and other urgent medicinal supplies were
needed. Macabir tried to persuade me to wait until
the morning, but I reminded him that there was
light enough with the full moon to travel those open
roads, and the need was immediate. I wanted to
take no chance that Desdra or someone from the
Hold might recognize Lady Nerilka, disheveled and
worn though she was.

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Nerilka's Story

I rode past Fort Hold, without so much as a
glance to see ifTolocamp was at his window, past
the cot ranks and the beastholds, and wondered
if any one of the many people with whom I had
spent my life up until two days ago saw me pass.
Had anyone, indeed, with the exception ofAnella
and my sisters, missed me?

My folly was that I was more fatigued than I
had suspected before the routine of nursing was
stripped from me. I dozed half a dozen times in
the saddle. Fortunately the runner was an honest
beast, and once set on the track, continued for
lack of other instruction. Reaching the first hold
by midnight, I managed to inject the household
before I collapsed. They let me sleep myself out,
for which I berated the good lady when she fed
me a huge breakfast at dawn, but she merely re-
plied that the other holds knew I was coming and
that was certainly better than wondering if they'd
been totally forgotten.

So I rode on, arriving at the second hold by
midmoming. They insisted that I stay for a meal,
for I looked so tired and worn. They knew that
there was no sickness at my final stop, and they
were anxious for all the news I could give them.
Until my arrival, they had been kept informed
only by drum messages from my next stop. High
Hill Hold, right on the border of Ruatha.

I finally admitted to myself that I was on my
way to Ruatha. I had been unconsciously drawn

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Anne McCaffrey

toward that destination for many Turns, but had
been thwarted so often by circumstance. Now, I
reasoned to myself as I continued on the next leg
of my journey, I had a skill to bring to that most
tragic of Holds. Only dragonriders had been in to
Ruatha Main Hold and rumors of the devastation
were horrific. Well, I could nurse the sick, man-
age any area of Hold activity, and do what I could
to expiate the guilt I still carried for the untimely
deaths of my mother and sisters.

I was also beginning to realize that the plague
had struck with a fine disregard for rank, health,
age, and usefulness. It is true that the very young
and the very old were more vulnerable, but the
epidemic had claimed so many in the prime of
life with so much living left to be done. If it suited
me to clothe my action in the fine garb of sacrifice
or expedience, as long as I performed the services
required what matter the motives, hidden or

open?

Arriving at High Hill Hold in the early after-
noon, I was set immediately to work to stitch a
long gash sustained by one of the holder's sons,
despite my protestations that I was only a mes-
senger. Their healer had gone down to Fort Hold
when the news had been drummed out of
Ruatha. Since I could tell them nothing of a man
named Trelbin, they sadly realized that he, too,
must be dead. Lady Gana said she was capable
of dealing with minor cuts, but treating this

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wound was beyond her ability. Well, I had as-
sisted at sufficient surgeries of this nature, so that
I felt more confident in this instance than she
obviously was.

Stitching a seam on fabric, which does not
complain and cannot squirm, is quite a different
matter from repairing ragged and uneven flesh.
I had sufficient fellis and numbweed among the
supphes I carried to ease the boy's discomfort and
I sincerely hoped that my stitches held. Lady
Gana announced herself impressed when I had
finished.

Later I explained about the serum, then in-
jected everyone except their high hold shep-
herds, who never came near enough to populated
areas to catch an infection. Lady Gana was still
not quite sure that the wind did not carry the
disease, so she insisted that I tell her exactly how
to cope with it. I know she did not believe me
when I told her that death was not caused by the
disease itself, but by secondary infections occur-
ring in a patient already weakened. That is why
I couldn't really admit that I was not a trained
healer. I would undo all the good I had done.
Whether I was trained or not, my information was
accurate.

Bestrum and Gana then sadly related that a
son and daughter accompanied by a servant had
gone to the Ruathan Gather and they had had no

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word from them. They obviously hoped that I was
bound for Ruatha.

Bestrum was laboriously sketching a map for
me to follow when we were interrupted by excited
shouts and cheers. Leaning out the windows we
saw a blue dragon, curiously laden, settle to the
ground. All of us rushed out to greet him.

"My name is M'barak, Arith's rider, of Fort
Weyr. I come in search of more apprentice-blown
glass bottles." The lad grinned engagingly as he
pointed to the dragon's burdens. "Have you any
you can spare Ruatha?"

However young, he had to be given the cour-
tesies due a dragonrider, so over klah and some
of Lady Gana's excellent wine cake, he told us
that runnerbeasts also were dying of the plague,
and needed to be inoculated. Bestrum and Gana
took some pride in remarking that they had re-
ceived their injections only that morning, and in-
dicated me. I almost laughed as M'barak blinked,
for I know he had assumed I was of this hold.
Although I still wore coarse trousers and felt
boots, Macabir had given me healer tunic and
surcoat against the rigors of travel. I didn't look
like a proper healer and I at least knew it, if the
land holders did not.

"Were you just going back to the Healer Hall
now?" M'barak began. "Because if you happened
to be handy with runnerbeasts, you'd be of tre-
mendous use right now at Ruatha. I can take

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Nerilka's Story

you--" his eyes twinkled with mischievous de-
light "--and save you a long and tedious journey.
Tuero could drum the Hall to tell 'em where you
are. It's just getting people up to Ruatha right
now, people who've been injected and aren't
afraid of the plague. You're not afraid, are you?"

I only shook my head, a bit shocked at the way
my pulses had leaped and my heart skipped at
this unexpected invitation to go where I desper-
ately wanted to be. During Suriana's lifetime,
Ruatha had been the lodestone for my only
chance of some happiness and freedom. I had
freed myself of Fort Hold's Blood yoke and was
now equally free to go to Ruatha, especially now
that I had been given what was tantamount to
an invitation. It would be a Ruatha sadly changed
from the Hold Suriana had described, but I would
be of more use there now, especially going as Rill,
not as Lady Nerilka. It was employment and pur-
pose I sought, wasn't it?

"If it's someone good with runners you need,
I've two men here spending their waking hours
carving scrimshaw for lack of something to do till
spring comes in earnest," Bestrum said expan-
sively. "Rill jabbed 'em with the rest of us this
morning, so they've no call to fear going to
Ruatha."

So it was arranged. As the two beasthandlers,
brothers sharing the same phlegmatic tempera-
ment and solid builds, collected their necessar-

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ies, Gana kindly fetched out a heavy cloak against
the biting cold of between. She busded about with
her drudges, organizing provisions for three more
mouths as well as collecting three great appren-
tice-blown glass jars, which M'barak and I had
to arrange so as not to crack together on Arith.

This was by no means my first contact with a
dragon, but certainly it was the most extended
and personal. Dragons have a warm, very smooth
soft hide, which leaves a spicy smell on your
hands. Arith rumbled a lot, though M'barak as-
sured me that it didn't mean he was annoyed with
his unusual burden. We padded the great glass
bottles; Fort had more than its share of these ap-
prentice efforts, although I cannot remember
what Mother did with them.

I made a final check on the boy's wound, but
it looked unchanged and he was fast asleep, a
smile on his face from the fellis. Then I took my
farewell of Bestrum and Gana, who, though I had
known them only a few hours, were profuse in
their good wishes. I told them that I would ask
about their children and the servant, and send
back word. Gana knew there was slight hope, but
the offer gave her comfort.

When Bestrum gave me a heave to the drag-
on's back, I thumped into place behind M'barak's
slight but straight body and hoped I didn't hurt
Arith. The two brothers got aboard with less fuss,
and it was comforting to know that there were

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two behind me to fall off before I ^'ould be in
danger.                                                    ^

Arith executed a little run before he jumped
skyward, then his fragile-looking, transparent
wings took the first mighty sweep downward. It
was the most exhilarating experience I had ever
had, and I envied dragonriders anew as Arith's
strong wings carried us further aloft. I needed
the cloak as well as the buffer of warm bodies in
front and behind me.

M'barak must have known how I was feeling,
for he turned his head and gave me a wide
pleased grin. "Hold on now. Rill, we're going be-
tween," he yelled. At least, that's what I thought
he must have said as the wind tore his voice away.

If flying dragonback is exhilarating, going be-
tween is the essence of terror. Blackness, noth-
ingness, a cold so intense my extremities ached,
and only the knowledge that riders and dragons
experienced the same thing daily with no ill effect
kept me from screaming in fear. Just as I was
sure I would suffocate, we were sunstruck again
as Arith brought us by that unique draconic in-
stinct to our destination. Then I had far more to
concern me than that fleeting passage through
black between.

I had never been to Ruatha Hold, but Suriana
had sent me innumerable sketches of the estab-
lishment and had described its amenities time
and again. The great Hold, carved from the living

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Nerilka's Story

rock of the cliff face, could not be altered phys-
ically, but somehow it was completely unlike Sur-
iana's drawings. She had told me of the pleasant
air about the Hold, of the hospitality and warmth
and friendliness so different from the cool, de-
tached formality of Fort. She had explained how
many people, family and otherwise, were con-
stantly in and out of the Hold. She had described
the meadows, the racing flats, the lovely fields
down to the river. She had not lived to describe
the huge burial mounds or the chamel circle of
blackened earth, the litter of broken travel wag-
ons and personal effects that were scattered up
the roadstead that had once been graced by
Gather stalls, bright with banners and people and
barter.

I was stunned, and only peripherally aware
that the phlegmatic brothers were also shocked
by the view. Mercifully, M'barak was a tactful
young man and said nothing as Arith glided past
the desolate Hold. I did see one encouraging
sight: five people seated in the court, obviously
soaking up the afternoon sun.

"Two dragons now. Brother," the man directly
behind me said with great satisfaction.

Looking ahead, I could see that a great bronze
dragon was depositing passengers at the wide en-
trance to the beasthold. The bronze took off as
Arith hurtled across the plowed fields. We could
see sun gleaming on his hide and wings, and then

Anne McCaffrey

he just disappeared. Arith settled down in exactly
the same spot the bronze had occupied.

"Moreta," M'barak called, gesturing eagerly.
The tall woman with short, curly blond hair
turned back to him. The Fort Weyrwoman was
the last person I expected to encounter at Ruatha.

I shall always remember that I had that op-
portunity to see Moreta again and at that partic-
ular moment in her life, when her face was tinged
with sun and an inner serenity that I was not to
understand until much later. She had, of course,
been at Fort Hold in her capacity of Weyrwom-
an since she had assumed that responsibility on
Leri's retirement. But these were infrequent visits
--on state occasions--so although I had been
in the same Hall with her, we had never actually
spoken together. I had had the impression that
she was shy or reticent, but then Tolocamp did
so much talking in that ponderous way of his that
I doubt she'd have had a chance to speak.

"Hurry up!" M'barak's voice hauled me away
from my impressions of that moment. "I need
help with these silly bottles and I've people here
who say they can handle runners. And we've got
to hurry because I have to prepare for the Fall.
F'neldril will skin me if I'm late!"

Two other men and a slim, dark-haired girl
moved out of the shadows to help. I knew Alessan
on the instant and supposed the girl must be his
surviving sister, Oklina. The other man wore

Nerilka's Story

Harper blue. The brothers dismounted quickly,
and M'barak and I handed down first the provi-
sions and then the great bottles, none of which
had suffered any travel damage.

"If you'll slip down, Moreta can mount,"
M'barak suggested, with a grin of apology for his
haste.

So, for the first time, I traded places with Mor-
eta. I would have liked to have sustained the con-
tact then, for she had a manner about her that
made one want to get to know her better. She
appeared considerably less aloof than she had
seemed in the Hold. As Arith began his prepa-
ratory little run, Moreta did look back over her
shoulder. But it couldn't have been at me.

I turned and saw that Alessan had shaded his
eyes to watch until the dragon went between.
Then he smiled, his welcome taking me in along
with the two brothers, and held out his hand in
the friendliest way. "You've come to help us with
the runners? Was M'barak frank about what is
needed in ruined Ruatha?"

At first I thought he sounded bitter, but came
to understand that he did not hide from the grim
realities of his situation. He ever had a wry sense
of humor, but Suriana, preparing me for my long-
expected visit to Ruatha, had warned me of that.
What would she think of her foster sister coming
here like this?

"Bestrum sent us. Lord Alessan, with his con-

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Anne McCaffrey

dolences and greetings," said the more grizzled
of the two men. "I'm Pol; my brother's Sal. We
like runners better nor other beasts."

Alessan turned his smiling light-green eyes to
me, and all that Suriana had told me about him
rattled through my head. But the sketches that
she had also sent did not do him justice, or else
he had changed dramatically from that young
and rather reckless-looking man. There was now
considerably more character about the eyes and
mouth, and an ineffable sadness, despite the
smile of his greeting--a sadness that would fade,
but never leave. He was thin, had been fever-
gaunt; the broad bones of his shoulders pushed
through his tunic and his hands were rough, cal-
loused, cracked, and pricked, more like a com-
mon drudge's than a Lord Holder's.

"I'm Rill," I said, to bring myself back to the
present and to guard against unexpected queries.
"I have always managed runners. I've some ex-
perience in healing and concocting all kinds of
medicines from herbs, roots, and tubers. And I've
brought some supplies with me."

"Would you have anything for the racking
cough?" the girl asked, her huge dark eyes shin-
ing. Such a shining could scarcely be for me or
for the provision of cough syrup, but I did not
know until much later how these people had
spent the unusual hour that had just ended mo-
ments before we arrived.

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"Yes, I do have," I said, hefting my saddlebags
packed with the bottles of tussilago.

"Holder Bestrum wanted to know if his son and
daughter live," Pol asked bluntly, shifting un-
comfortably from foot to foot while his brother
looked anywhere but at Lord Alessan.

"I'll look at the records," the harper said gently,
but we had all noticed the shuddering expression
that dampened the smile in Alessan's eyes. And
Oklina had given a little gasp. "I'm Tuero," the
harper went on, smiling to reassure us all. "Ales-
san, what's the order of business now?"

And so Tuero deftly turned our thoughts to the
future, away from the sorrowful past. Shortly we
had no time for anything, past or future. The
present consumed us.

Alessan quickly explained what had to be
done. First, the few patients still remaining in the
Main Hall infirmary had to be moved to quarters
on the second level of the Hold. Then the Hall
must be scrubbed thoroughly with redwort so-
lution. He looked beyond me, from whom he
could expect assistance at such a task, to Pol and
Sal.

"We must make sufficient serum to inoculate
runnerbeasts." He turned and gestured toward
the pasture. "We will take blood from those that
survived the plague."

Pol stopped mid-nod and glanced at Sal. I must
admit that I was stunned by the look of the run-

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Anne McCaffrey

nerbeasts. Many were weedy, with light bones
and high haunches, rather thin-necked and far
too gaunt to bear any resemblance to the sturdily
conformed, rugged, firm-fleshed beasts that had
been the pride of Ruatha Hold. Some were no
more than great walking bone racks.

Alessan noticed our consternation. "Most of
the beasts that my father bred died of the plague."
His tone was matter-of-fact and we took our cue
from it. "Those that I had bred for speed over
short distances turned out to be resilient and
came through, as did some of the crossbreds that
our guests had brought."

"Oh, the pity of it, the pity of it," Pol murmured,
shaking his grizzled head. His brother did the
same.

"Oh, I shall breed fine strong beasts again.
Would you know my handler, Dag?" Alessan
asked the brothers. They both brightened and
nodded with more enthusiasm. "He'd some of the
mares in foal and a young stallion up in the hill
meadows. They survived, so I've some of the old
basic stock to breed from."

"Good to hear, lord, good to hear." Sal's words
were directed more to the runners than to Ales-
san.

"But--" Alessan grinned apologetically to the
two men "--before we can start collecting blood
for the serum, we have to have a clean and totally
uncontaminated place in which to work."

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Pol began rolling up his sleeve. "There isn't
much my brother and I wouldn't do to help you,
lord. We've scrubbed before, we can scrub
again."

"Good then," Alessan said with a grin. "Be-
cause if we don't do it right the first time, jour-
neywoman Desdra will make us do it all over
again until we have! She'll be here tomorrow to
check on our labors."

When we reached the courtyard before the
Hold door, Tuero, a man named to me as Deefer,
five fosterlings, and four of the convalescent farm
holders were constructing a strange device from
cart wheels.

"We'll have several of these centrifuges with
which to separate the miracle serum from the
blood," Alessan told us. The brothers nodded as
if they knew exactly what he was talking about,
though some confusion and surprise showed on
Sal's face.

Oklina met us in the Hall, leading out the
procession of drudges with their buckets of hot
water, cleaning rags, and brooms. She carried
containers which I recognized as those generally
used to store the strong cleaning fluid. We all
rolled up our sleeves and I noticed that Alessan's
hands were red already, though there was only a
fainter tinge of red on his upper arms. Then we
all set to scrubbing.

We scrubbed until the glowbaskets were lit,

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scrubbed even as we munched with mean-oils in
one hand and tried to ignore the faint taste of
astringency that the overpowering aroma of red-
wort invariably gave to anything in its vicinity.
We scrubbed until the first sets of glowbaskets
had to be replaced.

Alessan had to shake me several times before
I left off the scrubbing motion and realized that
the others had quit this labor. "You're all but
asleep and still scrubbing, Rill," he said, but he
spoke with such a kind sort of raillery that I gave
him a rueful grin.

I had barely enough energy to follow Oklina
up the stairs to the first-story inner room that she
assigned me. I remembered that I bade her good-
night as I closed the door. I knew I should plan
a few words to say to Desdra on her arrival the
next day, so that she would not expose me as
Tolocamp's mutinous daughter, but the moment
I fell across the bed, I fell asleep.

109

Chapter VIII
3.21.43-3.22.43

L

#woke, startled, as people do atfind-
ing themselves in a strange place, and had to re-
assure myself that I was not back in my room at
Fort Hold. It was silence that I heard so palpably,
a silence that confused me more than did the
slightly strange surroundings. Then I isolated the
difference--no drums at all. I rose and dressed, and
began my first full day at Ruatha.

I was in the Hall, drinking klah and eating a
quick breakfast of porridge when Desdra arrived
on Arith. We all went out at the commotion for

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Anne McCaffrey

the little dragon was once again draped with
many bottles, the large apprentice size and the
smaller ones for the all important serum.

I had no chance to speak with Desdra, for Ales-
san singled me out with the two brothers and took
us off to the field to begin the next step in making
the serum.

Either the animals were apathetic from their
recent illness or they had been well-handled, so
we were each able to lead in two at a time. A
second and third trip filled all the stalls in the
beasthold, then Alessan demonstrated how to
draw blood from the neck vein. AU the creatures
kindly submitted to this bloodletting. Sal and I
began to work as a team, and when I saw that
he had little stomach for inserting the needle-
thom, I took over that job as he held each run-
ner's head.

It was full noon before we had finished with
the twenty-four beasts. After each drawing, the
blood was decanted into the great apprentice jars,
then transported to the Hall and secured onto the
cartwheel centrifuges. Though I was not the only
one dubious about the device, much less the pro-
cess, Desdra's attitude towards the manufacture
was so reassuringly calm that we didn't question
anything. As soon as she had checked the fas-
tenings, she motioned the crews of men to begin
spinning the wheels. The men changed places at
the flywheels frequently, always keeping the

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Nerilka's Story

speed of the whirling at the same pace. I thought
briefly what a mess one loose jar could make of
the Hall, and all our cleaning to be done again,
and then decided that such ruminations were un-
suited to the general air of hope and industry in
Ruatha.

Oklina passed among us then, with a hearty
soup and warm bread rolls. When Desdra finally
joined us, many of us crammed at one long trestle
table and others leaning against the walls, she
explained the urgency of our monumental task.
Only a mass and instantaneous inoculation of
threatened runners would prevent the plague
from recurring. Everyone in Ruatha Hold would
have some part in this enterprise, for the plague
must not be permitted to have a second chance
at decimating the continent. The news created a
hushed silence.

While awaiting the results of the first batch,
Pol, Sal, and I went back to the beasthold to see
how our patients did. Dag was already mixing
them a hearty meal of warmed bran with a for-
tified wine and some herbs, which the old handler
said would strengthen the new blood. Then we
groomed them well, taking the mud and burrs
from their tails and manes.

Despite his splinted right leg. Dag worked
right along with us. What he couldn't do for him-
self was accomplished by his grandson, a rascally,
impudent, possessive lad named Fergal. He

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seemed suspicious of everyone, especially ofAles-
san when the lord came to see how the beasts
had stood up to the bloodletting. The only person
whose bidding Fergal would ever do without
quibble was Oklina. Every other order he con-
tested with questions that were sheer impud-
ence. Dag, he adored. Obviously he thought the
bandy-legged little runner handler could do no
wrong. But, for all his insolence, Fergal was pat-
ently dedicated to the beasts. A very pregnant
mare took most of his caring; swollen though she
was in the last days of gestation, she had a way
of cocking her head, ears pricking forward and
whuffling at Fergal in a manner I thought most
ingratiating.

"The first batch should be done soon," Alessan
announced suddenly.

I was amused that, of the group working with
the beasts, Fergal and I were the only ones eager
to see the result. Pol and Sal ensconced them-
selves on bales for a comfortable chat with Dag,
politely declining the invitation to see the finished
serum.

What startled me was the odd straw-yellow
fluid that was the product of this centrifugal pro-
cess. By the time we got to the Hall, Desdra was
already drawing it from one jar, explaining how
this should be done without stirring up the darker
residue. Under her direction, we tentatively
began to imitate her, drawing the clear fluid from

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the jar, placing it in the glass bottles, using a
clean needlethom with each insertion to reduce
the possibility of contamination. Ruthlessly, Des-
dra employed everyone at the Hall at this task,
even three of the strongest convalescents, con-
stantly moving among us to oversee the task.

"We should have more bottles this afternoon,"
Tuero told us. He meant to be cheerful but was
rewarded by groans from all the workforce.
"M'barak said he'd pass the word of our need dur-
ing Fall."

"How much of this junk do we gotta have?"
Fergal asked. He glanced out toward the fields
where his beloved runners grazed.

"Enough to inoculate the mares and foals of
the remaining herds in Keroon, Telgar, Ruatha,
Fort, Boll, I^en, and Ista," Alessan said. I stifled
a groan at the quantities that would be required.

"Ista doesn't breed runners. It's an island,"
Fergal said belligerently.

"It suffered the plague, man and beast," Tuero
said when Alessan did not reply. "Keroon and Tel-
gar are also producing this serum, so Ruatha
doesn't have to do it all."

"Ruatha has that much, at least, to give Pern,"
Alessan added, as if no other comments had been
made. "We will insure that the best possible
serum comes from our beasts. Let us return to
our tasks."

And so we persevered. Those who had not fully

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recovered were put to sitting at sinks to scrub
glassware or securely stopper the serum bottles
and insert them in reed holders. The youngest
became messengers or, in pairs, carefully carried
crates of serum down to the cool rooms.

My job was bleeding runners. It was almost a
relief to leave the pervading stench of redwort to
bring my patient-victim back to the field and col-
lect another one. At least I had some fresh air.
Dag had started marking the bled ones with paint
so we wouldn't inadvertently get two lots from
the same beast. None of them were strong
enough for that. My frequent walks also gave me
a chance to observe ruined Ruatha, as Alessan
called it. I could see that only a little time and
effort would be required to put a lot of the ruin
to rights, and I worked out the strategy going to
and fro, planning all that I would do if I had the
right to meddle in Ruathan affairs. A harmless
enough pastime, to be sure.

The drums had begun midmoming, telling us
what quantities were needed and which drag-
onriders would collect what amounts. Alessan ex-
plained that the quantities had to be listed ac-
curately, but he really couldn't spare Tuero to
listen to drum codes.

"Then have Rill do it," Desdra said bluntly.

"Can you understand drum messages. Rill?"
Alessan asked, somewhat surprised. I had been
taken so unaware that I couldn't answer. I had

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even begun to think that Desdra had not recog-
nized Tolocamp's daughter in grimy, sweaty,
short-haired Rill.

"And probably the codes as well, isn't that
right. Rill?" Desdra was quite ruthless, but at
least she did not explain to anyone how she knew
so much about my unmentioned skills. "She can
fill serum bottles between messages. She needs
a bit of sit-down time. She's been going full pelt
for some days now."

I took that to mean that Desdra approved of
my labors here and at the internment camp and
was permitting me my whimsy. Fortunately, not
even Alessan questioned how a drudge who had
risen to volunteer healer understood such arcane
matters. But I was indeed grateful for the chance
to sit down. How Alessan kept up his level of en-
ergy, I do not know. I could see why Suriana had
admired as well as adored him. He deserved re-
spect, and he had mine for new reasons at every
turn. I could also perceive that he was driven.
Somehow, despite all the brutal odds against him,
Alessan was going to restore Ruatha Hold, re-
people its vacant holds, restock its empty fields.
I wanted to stay on here, and help him.

I was also discovering that once back in a for-
mal Hall, I automatically assumed familiar re-
sponsibilities, such as ordering drudges to tasks
or explaining how to do a job more efficiently.
Fortunately, no one questioned my right to do so

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when it was all in the best interest of the work
at hand.

Despite a deceptively frail appearance, Oklina
worked as hard as her brother, but the sheer press
of her obligations appalled me, who had always
had sisters to ease burdens. Whenever I could, I
lent her a hand. She wasn't a pretty girl, which
the uncharitable might say was one reason I re-
lated to her so easily, for the dark complexion and
strong features that became a man suited her no
better than my family resemblance suited me.
But she was an exceptionally graceful young
woman, with a charming smile and great, dark,
expressive eyes in which lurked a sort of secret
bemusement. I often caught her gazing toward
the northwest and wondered if she had fallen in
love with some young man. She would make an
excellent holder's wife, young though she was,
and I devoutly hoped that Alessan would not re-
quire her to remain at Ruatha, but would settle
her with a kind and generous man. Ruatha might
be poverty-stricken now, but the prestige of the
Bloodline was still undisputed. Nor would this
altruistic labor on the serum, so willingly under-
taken by Alessan and Oklina, reduce them in the
estimation of their peers.

And so we worked on, turning from one urgent
and necessary task to another, ladling a quick cup
of soup from the pot simmering on the main
hearth, or chewing from a hunk of fresh bread

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in a free hand and a spare moment. From some-
where, fresh fruit had appeared--one of the drag-
onriders was dropping off supplies. Why ripe
melon slices would cause Oklina's eyes to tear, I
could not then fathom. I doubted that she was so
moved by the thoughtfulness behind the gift.
Then I noticed that Alessan regarded the fruit
with a soft smile of reminiscence, but he was off
to work again so quickly, bread in one hand, the
melon slice in the other, that I could have been
wrong. Then another message came in, and I had
to listen to record the message accurately.

Time had lost all order in the press of work. On
my third day at Ruatha, all but a few of us had
gone outside to eat a delayed and well-deserved
evening meal when suddenly Alessan, Desdra,
and Tuero, consulting the maps, lists, and charts,
gave out whoops of exultation.

"We've done it, my loyal crew!" Alessan
shouted. "We've got enough! And enough over
the requirement to take care of any spillage and
breakage in dispatching. It's wine all round!
Oklina, take Rill and get four flasks from my pri-
vate store."

He tossed her a long slim key, which she
caught deftly in midair. She grabbed my hand
and, laughing with delight, hauled me to the
kitchen and then on down to the stores, beyond
the cold room.

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"He is really pleased. Rill. He rarely parts with
bottles of his own store." She giggled again. "He
guards them for a special purpose." Then her
charming little face saddened. "And I hope he will
again," she added cryptically. "He must soon in
any case. Here we are."

When she had unlocked the narrow door and
showed me the racked flasks and wineskins, I
gasped in astonishment. Even in the dim light
from the glowbasket down the corridor, I could
see the distinctive Benden flask. Quickly I dusted
off a label.

"It is Benden white," I cried.

"You've had Benden white wine?"

"No, of course not." Tolocamp would not have
approved of his daughters drinking rare vintages;

the foxy Tiliek pressings were good enough for
us. "But I've heard about it." I managed to giggle.
"Is it really as good as they say?"

"You can judge for yourself, RUl."

She locked the door again, then relieved me of
half the burden.

"Did you finish your training at the Healer
Hall, Rill?"

"No, no." Somehow I could not lie to Oklina
even if it meant demeaning myself in her eyes.
"I volunteered to help nurse, as I wasn't needed
any longer in my own Hold."

"Oh, did your husband die of the plague?"

"I have none."

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"Well, Alessan will see to that. That is, of
course, if you wish to stay on in Ruatha. You've
been such a help. Rill, and you seem to under-
stand a great deal about Hold management. I
mean, we shall have to start all over again, so
many of our people died. There are many holds
empty, and while Alessan is going to approach
the holdless in hopes that some are suitable, I'd
rather have a few people about us whom we al-
ready know and trust. Oh, Rill, I'm putting this
so badly. But Alessan asked me to sound you out
about staying on here at Ruatha. He has great
respect for you. You have been such a help.
Tuero--" Oklina giggled again "--plans to stay,
no matter how he and Alessan go on about the
salary and perks."

That discussion had been running between
harper and Lord Holder whenever they passed
each other or worked on a common chore. Tuero
had come to the Gather with other harpers to as-
sist the Hold's regular harper, another victim, as
were Tuero's companions. I couldn't imagine
Ruatha Hold without Alessan and Tuero bick-
ering in the most amiable fashion.

When we returned to the Main Hall, the men
had stacked some of the cartwheels and the large
jars back against the wall. Alessan and Tuero
were clearing space on the trestle table, where
we had been consuming our hasty meals. Dag
and Fergal came up from the kitchen with the

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stew; Deefer brought plates and cutlery; Desdra
had an armful of bread loaves and a huge wooden
bowl full of fruit and cheeses, including the one
forwarded by Lady Gana. I wouldn't have thought
that that would have lasted past my bringing it
here. Follen arrived with the cups and the cork
pull.

Outside I could hear the subdued revelry of
the others who had now been released from their
unremitting labors of the past two days.

So it was only the eight ofAlessan's loyal crew,
an odd assortment to sit down at any table for any
meal, but the knowledge of an almost impossible
task timely completed made companions of us all,
even Fergal. He refused a cup of wine with an
insolence that I'm certain Alessan excused only
because the boy had worked so hard. I'd wager
that Fergal was as knowledgeable about such re-
stricted treats as anyone else here. Fergal's sort
is born knowing. In spite of his impudence and
suspicious nature, I did like the boy.

That dinner was a very happy event for me.
Alessan had taken the seat next to me, and I
found his proximity strangely agitating. I tried to
avoid touching him, but we were rather crowded
on the benches, companionably so for everyone
else. Since he was close to me, his arm resting
on the table touched mine, occasionally his thigh
brushed mine, and he grinned at me when Tuero
said something particularly amusing. My heart

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raced, and I knew that my answering laugh was
a httle high and foolish. I was tired, I expect, over-
reacting to the success we were celebrating,
and very much unused to the fine white Benden
wine.

Then Alessan leaned against me deliberately,
touching my forearm with his fingertips. My skin
tingled.

"What's your opinion of the Benden, Rill?"

"It's made me giddy," I replied quickly so that
if he noticed my unusual behavior, he would
know the reason, even though I wished to do
nothing to lower myself in his good opinion.

"We all need to relax tonight. We all deserve
it."

"You more than anyone else, Alessan."

He shrugged and looked down at his cup, his
fingers idly twisting it around by the stem. "I do
what I must," he said, speaking in a low voice.
The others were involved in an argument.

"For Ruatha," I murmured.

He looked at me, mildly surprised at my re-
joinder, his strange green-flecked eyes for once
candid. "That's perceptive of you, Rill. Have I
been such a hard taskmaster?"

"Not for Ruatha's sake."

"This--" he waved his hand at the cartwheels
and empty jars "--has not been for Ruatha's
sake."

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"Oh, but it has. You said so yourself. Ruatha
can do this much for Pern."

He gave a slightly embarrassed laugh. But his
smile was kind, and I think he was pleased.

"Ruatha will be herself again! I know it!" It
was safer to talk about Ruatha's future.

There was an odd expression in his eyes.
"Then Oklina spoke to you? You'll consider stay-
ing on with us?"

"I would like to very much. The plague left me
holdless."

His warm strong hand closed on mine, squeez-
ing lightly in gratitude. "And do you have any
special requirements, Rill, to cement our rela-
tionship?" There was a real gleam in his eye now
as he tilted his head toward Tuero.

His question had come up so unexpectedly
that I'd had no time to think about anything be-
yond the fact that my wish to remain in Ruatha
had been granted. I stammered a bit, and then
Alessan once again gripped my arm.

"Think about it, Rill, and tell me later. You'll
find that I hold fair with my people."

"I'd be surprised to find aught else."

He grinned at my vehemence, poured more
wine into my cup and his, and so we sealed the
agreement in the traditional manner, though I
had trouble swallowing past the lump of joy in
my throat. Companionably, we finished bread

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and cheese, listening to the other conversations
at the table and to the music outside.

"I wasn't so taken with that Master Balfor,
Lord Alessan," Dag was saying, his eyes on the
wine in his cup. He was speaking of the man
presently designated to become Beastmaster at
Keroon.

"He's not confirmed in the honor," Alessan
said. I could see that he didn't wish to argue the
matter right now, especially not in front of Fergal,
who was always listening to matters he ought not
hear.

"I'd worry who else might have the rank, for
Master Balfor certainly hasn't the experience."

"He has done all that Master Capiam asked,"
Tuero said with an eye on Desdra.

"Ah, it's sad to realize how many good men
and women have died." Dag lifted his cup in a
silent toast, which we all drank. "And sadder to
think of the fine bloodlines just wiped out. When
I think of the races Squealer will walk away with
and no competition to stretch him in a challenge.
You say Runel died?" Dag went on. "Did all his
bloodline go?"

"The oldest son and his family are safe in the
hold."

"Ah, well, he's the right one for it. I'll just have
a look at that brown mare. She could foal tonight.
Come along, Fergal." Dag picked up his splinted

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leg and hauled it over the bench. For just a mo-
ment, Fergal looked rebellious.

"I'll come with you, if I may," I said, handing
Dag the crutches. "A birth is a happy moment."
I needed some clean night air to fill my lungs,
and clear my head of all that good Benden wine.
And I also needed to be away from Alessan's stim-
ulating presence.

My heart was very full and beating erratically.
I did not wish to embarrass Alessan with an over-
flow of gratitude, or any outpouring declaration
of loyalty, though I felt both emotions intensely.
By a freak of chance I had achieved a miracle: I
had been invited to stay at Ruatha Hold. Forget
that the rationale was prosaic; merely that I was
useful, they trusted me, and Ruatha had to re-
build itself. I tried not to let my mind refine upon
anything that Oklina had said, much less what
Alessan had not. To be able to live at Ruatha was
enough. I would be in his company, in the very
place that had figured so often in my daydreams,
that had been the focus of all happiness. Ruatha
could once again be a happy place, and I would
have the totally unexpected opportunity to
achieve that.

Fergal was with us in a moment. He would not
allow me to monopolize his grandfather's com-
pany.

The night was clear, the air was fresh, and I
could feel spring ascending from the warmer

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climes. We exchanged nods and smiles with the
people sitting before the spit fire and along the
cot line. I carried the glowbasket to light our path,
though all three of us knew each flag, pebble,
and dip to the beasthold by now. Fergal ran on
ahead.

"If she hasn't foaled by midnight, she's not
likely to," Dag announced. "We need another
colt."

"Who's the foal's sire?"

"One of old Lord Leefs burthen stallions, so
it's a colt we need to bring the line back. You're
staying on with us, are you, Rill?" Dag was gen-
erally blunt.

I nodded, unable to answer, the joy and relief
at my good fortune too precious to talk about. Dag
gave a curt nod of his shaggy head.

"We have need of folk like yourself. Any more
where you come from?" He gave me a sly side-
ways glance.

"Not that I know of," I replied amiably, hoping
to still his curiosity. We hadn't had much time
for personal conversations these past two-and-a-
halfdays. Now I saw that I would have to develop
an appropriate previous history.

"Not every woman can turn her hand to most
chores in Hold and beasthold. Were you in a fair-
sized place before the plague?"

"Yes, and it saddens me to think of those I
lost." Maybe that prevarication would suffice.

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Some ethic in me refused to tell untruths. I
sighed. One day the truth surely would come out,
but by then I hoped to be so well established at
Ruatha that I would be forgiven origin as well as
defection.

Fortunately we had arrived at the beasthold.
Pol and Sal were there, sitting on bales across
from the mare, maintaining a discreet watch.
They were soaping a leather harness from the pile
of tack collected from Gather detritus as worth
saving. Pol handed Fergal a breastplate, green
with mold. The boy glanced first at Dag, who nod-
ded, and then grimaced at Pol, but he sat himself
down and took up a cloth. Dag and I found bales
to sit on and straps to clean.

"Bestrum's second son's looking for cropland,"
Pol said out of the contented silence.

"Is he?" Dag asked.

"Strong lad, good worker, got a girl in mind
from the next Hold."

"Think Bestrum will mind after losing the oth-
ers here?"

"Likes Alessan. Boy'd do better here and Bes-
trum knows it. Fair man, Bestrum."

"For sending you and Sal, yes, he is." Dag kept
nodding in approval. Then he looked up at Pol,
eyes narrowed in speculation. "How long can he
spare you? I've got all those mares to put to our
stallions and this broken leg ..."

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Anne McCaffrey

"You said I'd be helping you. Dag," Fergal
complained, glaring at Pol, who ignored him.

"So you will, lad, but there's more than two of
us can handle."

"Spring comes later in the mountains," Pol
said.

"We be-n't needed a while yet," Sal added.

"Shall I ask Holder Bestrum when I write Lady
Gana about her children?" I asked.

"That would be kind of you."

Tuero had established that Lady Gana's
daughter had died in the first wave of deaths,
nursed by the old servant, who also succumbed.
Both were buried in the first of the stark mounds.
The son had worked hard helping Norman, the
field manager of the racing flats, before they, too,
collapsed and died. They lay in the second great
mound.

"She be mighty restless," Sal said, breaking
the silence.

Fergal hopped up on the bale, stretching his
neck and standing on tiptoe to see.

"She's birthing," he said with such authority
that I had to smother a snicker.

Kindly, none of the men insulted him by look-
ing, But we all heard the mare sink to the deep
straw bedding. How clever of animals to improve
on humans in this activity. We heard several
grunts from the mare, no screams or long ulu-
lating cries, no weeping and complaining about

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her lot, or cursing the man who brought her to
this condition.

"Hooves," Fergal announced in a low voice.
"Head coming. Normal position."

I couldn't keep from glancing at Dag, who
winked at me, nibbling at a thick straw.

"Ah," Fergal drawled. "Just one more push, my
beauty, just one little effort on your part... ah,
there."

We heard the mare's effort, the rustle and
slither on the straw, and simultaneously the sus-
pense was too much for us. We all reached the
stall at the same time, peering over the partition
as the mare began to lick the placenta from her
foal. The head was free and the wet little body
began to struggle, the overlong legs kicking with
Incredible strength for a creature so newly born.

"Hey, you're blocking my view," Fergal cried.
He barged in beside Dag and hung onto the par-
tition edge to pull himself up. "What is it? What
is it?"

The foal was not helping us to sex it--its legs
went out at angles to its body. It snorted in disgust
at its helplessness. The mare nudged its rear, the
little whisk of a tail. It repositioned its legs and
made another stab at rising. Its legs did not co-
operate, and it gave a high-pitched little squeal
of frustration. Its feet scrabbled in the straw as
the foal determined to find a purchase and rise.
It had skewed about now, and as it flicked its tail

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in annoyance, its sex was revealed. Or, to be more
accurate, it revealed that it was not a female.

"A colt foal!" Fergal yelled, having paid more
attention to that critical detail while we were all
enchanted by the creature's sturdy independ-
ence. He flipped open the stall door and entered.
"What a marvelous creature you are! What a
splendid girl! What a brave mare! What a fine
son you have!" Fergal stroked the mare's nose
and fondled her ears, his voice rich with approval.
Then he began crooning to the colt, gently
smoothing the neck to get it used to human
touch. The newbom was far too involved in sort-
ing out its legs to worry about any extraneous
annoyance.

"He's got a gift for 'em, he has," Pol told us,
sagely nodding his head.

"Delivered three in the hill meadows all by
himself after I broke my leg."

"I'll tell Alessan," I said.

"The more good news he gets, the better it'll
set with him," Dag said, which struck me, as I
walked quickly back up the road, as cryptic for
the blunt runner handler.

When I got back to the Hall, Oklina and Desdra
were gone, presumably to bed, for it was after
midnight now. Tuero had propped his elbows on
the table and was gesturing expansively at Ales-
san, who had his head down on his arms.

"That's fair enough," Tuero was saying in a

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very amiable and conciliatory tone. "If a harper
can't find out--and this harper is very good at
finding things out--if a harper can't find out, he
doesn't have the right to know. Is that right, Ales-
san?"

The answer was a long drawn-out snore. Tuero
stared at him for a moment in mixed pity and
rebuke, then pushed at the wineflask under his
elbow and sighed in disgust.

"Has he finished it?" I asked, amused at the
disappointment on Tuero's long face. His long,
crooked-to-the-left nose twitched.

"Yes, it's empty, and he's the only one who
knows where the supply is."

I smiled, remembering my trip with Oklina to
the wine store. "The foal is a male, a fine strong
one. I thought Lord Alessan would like to know.
Dag and Fergal are watching to be sure it stands
and suckles." I looked down at the sleeping Ales-
san, his face relaxed, peaceful. He looked
younger, so much less strained. Behind the lids,
did those pale green eyes still flicker with their
habitual sadness?

"I know I know you," Tuero said.

"I'm not the sort of person a journeyman har-
per knows," I replied. "Get to your feet. Harper.
I can't allow him to sleep in this uncomfortable
position and he needs a proper rest."

"Not so sure I can stand."

"Try it." I am tall, but not as tall as Tuero or

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Alessan, and not strong enough to shift Alessan's
heavy frame by myself. I looped one lax arm over
my shoulder and urged Tuero, who had managed
to get upright, to take the other.

Alessan was heavy! And Tuero was not a very
able assistant. He had to pull himself up the stairs
by the handrail, which I sincerely prayed was
firmly secured to the stonework. Fortunately,
Alessan's rooms were at the head of the stairs. I
hadn't been past the sitting room, still furnished
with the doss-beds and bits and pieces just cast
down in the press of other tasks. Tomorrow, or
the next day, perhaps we could begin to freshen
up the inner Hold.

I gave the heavy fur robe on Alessan's bed a
yank, and it tumbled about my feet, briefly hin-
dering us as we maneuvered Alessan's limp body.
He collapsed on to the bed, feet hanging over the
edge. Tuero clasped the bedpost, murmuring an
apology as the bed-curtain tore a bit from its
frame. I tugged off Alessan's boots, loosened his
belt, bent his legs upward, and, with one hand
on his hips, gave as mighty a push as I could and
managed to get all of his long frame on the bed,
on his right side.

"I wish ..." Tuero began as I covered Alessan
with the robe, tucking it in carefully above his
shoulders so that if he rolled, he would not be
cold. He smiled slightly in his sleep and my
breath caught. "I wish ..." Tuero stared at me

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with a suddenly blank face, frowned, and lowered
his head to his chest.

"The doss-bed is still in the next room. Har-
per." Even with Tuero's drunken help, I doubt I
could have assisted him to his room far down the
corridor.

"Will you cover me up, too?"

Tuero's request was delivered in such a wistful
tone that I had to smile. In two or three lurches,
he had followed me into the next room. I picked
up the blanket and shook it out. With a sigh of
weary gratitude, he lay on his side.

"You're good to a drunken sot of a harper," he
murmured as I covered him. "One day I'll re-
memmmm..."  He was unconscious. Perhaps
one day Tuero would remember that it was he
who had coined the phrase "the Fort Hold
Horde," which had been joyfully applied to my
sisters and me. I suspect it would put a blight on
our relationship when he did. But that was really
his problem.

Mine was getting into my own bed, and not
wishing that there was someone who might care
to tuck me in.

134

Chapter IX
3.23.43

Uright and clear, -with a promise of
spring that was soon to be blighted in the heart,
dawned that momentous day. Despite our excesses
of the night before, or because of them, we rose
rested, and breakfasted early. Everyone was smil-
ing, including Desdra, who was not much given to
trivial expressions. Details of the day's business
were discussed at die breakfast table. Alessan ran
up to the beasthold to inspect the colt foal, express-
ing considerable pleasure in its strength and fris-
kiness. Oklina and I got the fosterlings and several

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of the stronger male convalescents to help trundle
the apprentice jars up to an unused beasthold so
that some progress could be made in setting the
Main Hall back to the purpose for which it was in-
tended.

Deefer took others off to see if there might not
be a few plump wherries in the hills; they would
make a nice change from the tough herdbeast
meat, the supply of which was now virtually ex-
hausted.

I made plans in my head, rehearsing sugges-
tions to present to Alessan tonight. I felt that a
week's hard work would clean up the debris, and
he must wish to see the last of the reminders of
that horrible time. Not that we could do anything
to block out the sight of the burial mounds.
Spring would at least bring grass to cloak the
muddy prominences. When the earth had settled,
we would be able to level them, but that would
be some time in the future.

"Dragons!" someone yelled from the Outer
Court. We all rushed out to see the spectacle. The
first one to land was B'lerion on Nabeth. Oklina's
little face filled with joy. Bessera, one of the High
Reaches queen riders, on her great beast, settled
to the ground behind him. The Court, an ample
space, seemed suddenly dwarfed and constricted
by the presence of the huge beasts. They looked
immensely pleased with themselves, glowing in

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Anne McCaffrey

the bright sunshine. Six more dragons, bronzes
all, landed on die roadway.

As Okhna rushed out to B'lerion with his sup-
plies, I could not help but notice the way the
bronze rider's face lit up as he slipped down his
dragon's side. When she reached him, she halted
abruptly to gaze lovingly up at him until, smiling
a trifle foolishly himself, he took the serum from
her.

I felt a touch on my arm. Desdra stood there
with the brace of packaged serum bottles for me
to deliver to a rider. "Don't stare. Rill. It has been
sanctioned."

"I wasn't staring--not exactly. But she's so
young, and B'lerion has quite a reputation."

"There's a queen egg hardening at Fort Weyr."

"But Oklina's needed here."

Desdra shrugged, transferred the serum to my
hands, and gave me a bit of a push to call me to
attention. I rushed off, but my mind was unset-
tled. Okhna was so very young, and B'lerion so
very charming. Yet Alessan sanctioned the alli-
ance? How odd, when he would need her chil-
dren as well to secure the Bloodline. Oh, I knew
perfectly well that Ruathan women often became
queen riders and that Weyrwomen conceived and
bore children like any others, though not as pro-
lifically. But I wouldn't fancy such a life. The
bond between rider and dragon was too intense,
too all-consuming for someone like me. What I

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Nerilka's Story

envied in Oklina was the happiness, the rapture
in her face as she looked up at Blerion. Nabeth's
rainbow-sparkling eyes were turned on the pair,
as if he knew everything that was passing silently
between them. Dragons had such powers, I
knew. I wasn't certain I would like having some-
one know exactly what I was thinking all the
time. But I supposed dragonriders grew accus-
tomed to it.

No sooner had we recovered our breath from
the departure of that dragon contingent than the
Fort Weyr queens arrived. Leri, whom I was sur-
prised to see, set old Holth down in the Courtyard
while Kamiana, Lidora, and Haura landed on the
roadway. Then S'peren and K'lon arrived. Leri
was in great form, joking with Alessan and Des-
dra, but I noticed that she kept watching Oklina.
And so did Holth. So this involvement was of re-
cent origin? Then I remembered my arrival here
at Ruatha, a mere three days ago that had the
quality of three months, so much had happened
in that short space. Alessan had seemed happy;

so had Moreta, and Oklina had been positively
shining. So was Leri reviewing the situation
today?

The Weyr had the right to Search for suitable
candidates from any hold, especially when a
queen egg was hardening. Oklina was so young,
so sweet. I chided myself for criticizing my new
Lord Holder. What right had I, save that ofacon-

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Anne McCaffrey

cemed friend? But then I was good at seeing the
bad side in everything.

Around midday, we had time for a cup of soup
and bread. Most of the serum bottles had been
speedily delivered to the messengers--I tried to
figure out the logistics of delivery. It took nearly
five minutes for a dragon to land. Working as fast
as we could, another five minutes were needed
to hand the rider the bottles, then three to four
minutes for the dragon to become airborne. Al-
though his actual flight time between one location
and another was a few seconds, it had to take at
least half an hour to complete each delivery. With
all the holds in the west. South Boll, Crom, Nabol,
Fort, what few were occupied in Ruatha, Ista, and
the western portions of Telgar, the entire com-
plement of each Weyr ought to have been turned
out. And there were but eight from the High
Reaches, seven from Fort, and six from Ista.

"Don't try to make sense of it. Rill," Desdra
advised me, her wry tone amused. "It actually can
be done if one takes into account unusual dra-
conic abilities."

Her reference confused me further, but the
Istan and Fort contingents of dragons were back
for their last consignments. If the dragons looked
a bit off-color, that was to be expected. Going be-
tween must take a great deal of energy, as did all
that landing and taking off. Leri looked ex-
hausted, but then she was the oldest of the drag-

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Nerilka's Story

onriders at Fort. It was a measure of her dedi-
cation to the Weyrs that she undertook such a
task.

Suddenly all the queens let out roars of angry
protest. The only blue dragon present cringed.
Leri looked furious, as did the other queen riders.
There seemed to be an intense, if silent, confer-
ence among them. Leri signaled me, as the near-
est person to her, to take her last consignment
from her.

"Take these to S'peren; there's a good girl.
He'll deliver."

I was soon covered in the dust stirred up by
Holth's precipitous departure. I think the dragon
hadn't so much as cleared the outer wall before
she went between. A whoosh of cold air made me
shudder convulsively. Everyone else had grown
grim indeed when there should have been some
measure of satisfaction for the completion of a
difficult and most unusual task. I walked slowly
back to the Hall.

"These can go back to the cool rooms." Alessan
was indicating the remaining crates of serum, the
extras prepared against the possibility of break-
age. "We ought to get them over to Keroon Beast-
hold when the fuss subsides. Whoever becomes
Beastcraftmaster will be glad of them. They're
sure to discover more abandoned runners in Ker-
oon or Telgar. There are many untenanted holds
there now."

Anne McCaffrey

At that point, Deefer and his team came back,
all grinning broadly, each man carrying at least
one plump wherry on his back.

"We shall feast tonight. Oklina, Rill, what else
can we find in the larder to add to roast wherry?
We owe ourselves a real celebration; a proper
meal, not another stew, and a swing round with
a wineskin."

There was a general outbreak of cheers and
shouts, and offers of assistance to the cooks. The
Hall was enthusiastically cleared of its medical
detritus, and the long-absent sturdy dinner tables
were hauled, dusty, from their cupboards. They
had been so hastily stored after the Gather that
some still bore wine- and food-stained cloths.
Oklina and I quickly bundled those up and out
of sight in the mound of wash.

"I shall be sorry to leave here," Desdra said
to me as she paused in collecting her bits and
pieces and her records of the serum manufacture.
"Despite all this--" she gestured at the disorder
"--Ruatha is recovering quickly."

"You and Master Capiam must come back
soon," Oklina said, her eyes still shining from
B'lerion's last visit "You'll see what Ruatha
should look like, won't she. Rill?"

"Just give me elbow room, and we'll have the
place to rights in no time," I vowed so fervently
that Desdra laughed.

Then she winked so that Oklina wouldn't see.

Nerilka's Story

"You were right to come here, Rill. You were
never appreciated at your former Hold. And I'd
like to apologize for misconstruing your motive
in offering your assistance at the Hall. You'd've
been a rare, fine help to us there."

"No, I would not have been allowed," I said,
relieved that Oklina had moved out of earshot.
"Here I am my own person, accepted on the
strength of my own endeavors. I can be of use
here, especially if Oklina--" I paused, not certain
what I meant to say.

Desdra cocked one eyebrow, and I quickly cor-
rected any misapprehension she had of high-
flown ambitions.

"Oh, don't be ridiculous, Desdra. Despite
Ruatha's present state, this is a prestigious Hold
for alliance. Alessan's done himself no harm in
anyone's eyes to pull out of this disaster with so
much dignity. Every Lord Holder with eligible
daughters will be courting him assiduously as
soon as they can wangle conveyance here."

"You've sufficient rank, Lady Nerilka."

"Hush! Rank to be sure I had." I emphasized
the past tense. "And little joy of it. I am far more
satisfied to be part of Ruatha's future, for I had
none of my own at Fort."

Desdra conceded my point with an open ges-
ture of both hands. "Is there anyone to whom I
should drop a hint of your whereabouts? I shall
be most discreet."

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Anne McCaffrey

"If you would, tell my Uncle Munchaun that
you have seen me oh your travels, well and happy.
He'll reassure my sisters."

"Campen was worried, too, you know. He and
Theskin searched the surroundings for a whole
day, certain you had been hurt out gathering
herbs."

I nodded, accepting what she didn't say as well
as Campen's attempt.

I remember that I was wondering if we'd ever
eradicate the astringent odorofredwort from the
Main Hall when Oklina, setting the highly bur-
nished copper ornaments back on the mantel,
suddenly cried out and would have fallen had not
Desdra, beside her, held her up. Ashen-faced,
Alessan burst from the small office that had so
recently been Follen's surgery.

"MORRRETTTAAA!" Alessan's scream was
the anguish of a man already overburdened by
grief and loss. He fell heavily to his knees after
that one shout, sobs racking his body as he bent
over, pounding his fists on the stone, heedless of
Follen's attempts to restrain him from doing him-
self damage.

I couldn't stand those sobs and ran to him,
kneeling so that his already-bloodied fists pum-
meled my thighs, not cold stone. He gripped my
thighs so fiercely I had to bite my lips to suppress
a cry, but then he burrowed his head in my lap,
convulsed by this grief.

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Nerilka's Story

Moreta! What harm could have befallen her at
Fort Weyr? I knew that her queen was in the
Hatching Ground, surely the safest place in any
Weyr.

Alessan's arms encircled my hips, his fingers
clawing at my back, as he wrestled with this new
and tremendous grief. I clasped him to me as
tightly as I could, murmuring inanities, trying to
understand what could have happened.

I was aware that Follen and Tuero were stand-
ing beside us, but whatever they said was masked
by Alessan's hideous, gasping sobs and the scrape
of his boots on the stone as his very body tried to
escape this new tragedy.

"Whatever it is," I said, "let him purge it, for
he has not indulged himself with tears until now.
What can have happened to Moreta?"

"Whatever," Desdra said, joining them, "has
rendered Oklina unconscious. I don't understand
any of this. He's not a rider, nor is she yet."

We heard a mournful howl, far louder than
could have come from the throat of only one
watchwher.

"Shards!" Desdra cried.

I looked up at the anguish in her voice and saw
B'lerion leaping up the stairs into the Hold, his
face totally white, his eyes wild. The grayed
dragon beyond him was a terribly altered Nabeth.
It was his weird keening we had heard,

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Anne McCaffrey

"Oklina!" B'lerion cried, trying to find her
among us.

"She fainted, B'lerion." Desdra pointed to the
Hall where Oklina's body was stretched out on
the table, a servant hovering solicitously by her.
"What has happened to Moreta?"

B'lerion turned haggard tear-filled eyes from
Oklina to Alessan, whose sobs as he lay in my
arms were as racking as ever, and the bronze
rider's whole body sagged as he dropped his head
on his chest. Tuero reached out to support him
on one side, Follen on the other.

"Moreta went between."

I couldn't quite grasp what he meant. Dragons
and riders went between so frequently.

"On Holth. Telgar riders defected. She knew
Keroon. She made the run. Holth was already
tired. She did too much. They both went between.
And died!"

I held Alessan even tighter then, my own tears
mingling with his, my grief as fierce but more for
him now than for the valiant Weyrwoman. How
could he endure this third ghastly tragedy when
he had stood so courageously against the plague,
and mourned Suriana far longer than would most
men. I burned anew against my father. Why, if
there was any justice in the world, was Alessan
so grievously assaulted by misfortunes of the
most terrible degree while Tolocamp enjoyed

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Anne McCaffrey

health, fortune, and fleshly pleasures that he no
longer deserved?

I knew then why Alessan's incredible eyes had
been shining the day I arrived. I certainly didn't
know how Moreta and Alessan had contrived to
be lovers. They could not have had much time
together at all. On that afternoon, the six had
been gone from Ruatha only an hour. Alessan's
sanction of Oklina and B'lerion was now more
comprehensible if he and Moreta were involved.
I was glad that the Weyrwoman had had some
joy, for I hadn't liked Sh'gall on those few times
I had encountered him. He wasn't likable,
whereas Moreta was. Poor Moreta. Poor, poor
Alessan. What could possibly comfort him in this
new trial?

Desdra had an answer. She waited until Ales-
san's sobbing had subsided to shudderings. Then
she and Tuero lifted him from my lap. I could not
move immediately, so cramped were my legs. But
I could and did cushion him against my body as
Desdra gently tipped a cup to his lips and told
him to drink.

The look in his eyes will always haunt me: lost,
totally lost, incredulous of his loss--and so, so
sad. He had taken all the draught Desdra had
given him, and it was merciful to him as well as
to those about him that his eyelids lowered over
his ghastly expression as the fellis took instant
effect.

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Nerilka's Story

There were willing arms to transport him to
his quarters, and I willing to sit by him, though
Desdra assured me that she had given him
enough fellis to keep him asleep until the next
day.

"What can we do for him then, Desdra?" I
asked, still shaken by his grief. Tears would not
stop coursing down my cheeks.

"My dear Lady Nerilka, if I knew the answer
to that, I would be Masterhealer." She shook her
head from side to side, expressing the utter help-
lessness that I, too, felt to my core. "It will depend
in every degree on what he will allow us to do for
him. How cruel this new loss. How horribly,
wastefully cruel!"

We undressed him and covered him with the
fur. His face was prematurely aged, his eyes
shrunken in his head, his lips drawn down, his
complexion waxy-white. Desdra felt his pulse and
nodded with relief. Then she sat down on the
edge of the bed, wearily propping her back
against the stead, her hands palms up and limp
in her lap.

"He loved Moreta?" I was bold enough to ask.

Desdra nodded. "When we collected the nee-
diethom. What a glorious day that was!" She
sighed, the faintest of smiles touching her usually
austere face. "I'm glad they had that much. And
perhaps, in a strange, unjust way, it is for the
best That is, if Ruatha is to endure."

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Anne McCaffrey

"Because Alessan must secure his Bloodline?"
In all of Pern's history, no Weyrwoman had be-
come a Lady Holder, though many Lady Holders
had become Weyrwomen. Moreta had been
nearly to the end of safe childbearing, but Alessan
could have taken a wife as well. A Lord Holder
could make his own laws within his Hold, es-
pecially to secure his Bloodline. Hold girls were
raised with that precept firmly implanted in their
brains and hearts.

"Oklina's children were to be fostered here,"
Desdra said.

"But that's not enough with all his losses."

"You must tell him who you are. Lady Ner-
ilka."

I shook my head even as I grasped firmly at
the thought, at that utterly impossible possibility.
He needed someone pretty and appealing, clever
and charming, who could rouse him from all the
grief he had endured.

She left me then, murmuring something about
bringing food when it was ready. It took too much
energy to tell her that I doubted I could choke
anything down.

149

Chapter X
3.24.43-4.23.43

A.'m not sure how any of us got
through the next few days. Blerion stayed with
Oklina. It was more obvious than ever to me that
her destiny would be the Weyr. She had heard the
outcry from the dragons, which was unusual
enough for someone not of the Weyr or dragon-
linked. Alessan's knowledge of Moreta's death was
shatteringly unexpected to all but Desdra and
Oklina. I pieced together some parts of their story,
aided by a growing Intuition that seemed to be sen-
sitive to anything concerning Alessan.

Anns McCaffrey

AH the dragonriders and most Weyrfolk had
been instantly aware of the two deaths, Moreta's
and Holth's. Later B'lerion told us of the rein-
forced rules and disciplines imposed on all riders
to prevent a recurrence of this type of tragedy.

It had begun as a logical expedient for injured
riders to ask their flightworthy dragons if they
would fly a sound dragonman to make up Wing
strength at Threadfall. Each dragon had his own
peculiarities of flight that his impressed rider
understood. But, generally speaking, any dragon-
rider was capable of riding another's dragon. No
blame could be attached to Leri for adopting that
custom and allowing Moreta to ride Holth in the
several emergencies that had arisen. The cour-
tesy was by then customary Weyr practice. But
tired dragons and tired riders make mistakes, and
that late afternoon, Moreta and Holth had been
pushed beyond mere exhaustion to the point
where habit only had carried them through the
motions of landing and taking off. I remembered
then how Holth had gone between a wingspan
above the Court that afternoon.

"Yes," B'lerion said, his voice a broken whis-
per. "Holth had lost a lot of natural spring in her
hindquarters. She'd have leaped up and gone be-
tween before Moreta could have told her where
to fly--they stayed, lost, between."

Later, when Master Tirone began to write a
celebratory ballad about Moreta's courageous

Nerilka's Story

ride, Desdra told me that, at the insistence of all
Weyrleaders, Moreta was to be properly mounted
on her own queen, not Holth. To broadcast the
truth behind that tragedy could have done in-
calculable harm. Most of Pern never knew the
truth. I'm not so certain I was all that glad to be
in the minority. Not that it diminished Moreta's
heroism in my estimation, but because so simple
a mistake was causing so much anguish.

Desdra also told me, since she knew me to be
discreet and trustworthy, how the dragonriders
had managed to make so many deliveries. This
had contributed to their total exhaustion, a major
factor in the tragedy: Dragons could go as easily
between one time and another as one place to
another. Moreta and Holth had overtaxed their
strength in this way. For only by stretching time
in this bizarre fashion, or rather doubling back
on themselves, could Moreta and Holth manage
to deliver serum to all the holds on the Keroon
plains. Moreta had been the only one of the riders
available that fateful day sufficiently familiar with
Keroon's many half-hidden holds to have suc-
ceeded in that task.

Telgar Weyr was to suffer disciplinary action
from the other Weyrs, led by Weyrwomen. They
were unalterably convinced that had M'tani not
been so intransigent and permitted his riders to
fly, Moreta's life would not have been lost. I never

Anne McCaffrey

did learn what was done against Telgar Weyr. If
Oklina ever knew, she never mentioned it.

I also was now in a far better way of under-
standing how the six people--Alessan, Moreta,
Capiam, Desdra, Oklina, and B'lerion--had spent
that hour preceding my arrival at Ruatha. I had
previously assumed that supplies of needlethom
had been available, not that these six courageous
people had dared to spend a whole day in the
future harvesting the thorns on far Ista.

I understood a great deal--yet it was not
enough to help Alessan. I knew only that I won-
dered how he would find the courage to continue
after this latest brutal tragedy.

He came back to consciousness, and aware-
ness of this new sorrow, twenty-four hours later.
I had been dozing, and roused at the slight sound
his restlessness occasioned. I had to look away
from his haunted, almost wild eyes.

"Desdra drugged me?" When I nodded, my
own eyes downcast, he cursed her. "It won't help.
Nothing will help. Does anyone know what hap-
pened?"

So I told him, somehow able to keep my voice
level and calm though my throat kept closing up.
The waves of grief that rolled from the man were
palpable. He stared at me when I had finished,
eyes burning in his drained white face.

"But Leri and Orlith could go together!" His

Nerilka's Story

resentment and fury were compressed into that
accusation.

"The eggs. OrMth stays until they hatch, Leri
with her."

"Brave Leri! Gallant Orlith!" His sarcasm
made me flinch, but the agony in his rigid body,
his clenched fists, told me that a different strug-
gle was being fought. "Dragons and riders have
many advantages denied us! Would that my fa-
ther had released me on that Search! When I
consider how much different my life would have
been ..." He turned away from me, his face to-
ward the window. Then, because I knew his view
included the burial mounds, I knew why he
turned back, his shadowed eyes closed in the taut
skin of his tormented face.

"So you have watched me while I slept, loyal
Rill. And I shall have a new guardian, no doubt,
whenever I wake, to keep me living a life I have
no wish to live."

My own anguish spoke then, not the sensible,
patient, dutiful, plain member of the Fort Hold
Horde, but Suriana's friend, Alessan's newest
holder, and someone who valued him far more
than she should. Any sorrow may be borne. Time
will heal the deepest hurt of heart--but time
must be won.

"You may not want to live, Lord Holder of
Ruatha, but you don't have the right to die!"

"Ruatha is no longer sufficient reason for me

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Anne McCaffrey

to live!" he told me in a bitter, intense, angry
voice. "It's tried to kill me once already."

"And you have fought to save it No one else
could have done so much, with so much honor
and dignity."

"Honor and dignity mean nothing in the
grave!" He flung his arm up, toward the window
and the graves of so many.

"You still breathe, and you are Ruatha." I
spoke sharply, wondering if anything I said could
jolt him out of the course he had tacitly an-
nounced. Duty and honor and tradition were
such cold substitutes for a beautiful woman and
her love. "As your holder. Lord Alessan, I require
that you have an heir of your Blood to leave be-
hind you." I surprised myself with the vehe-
mence in my voice, and he frowned as he looked
up at me. "Unless you want Fort or Tiliek or Crom
Blood to hold Ruatha at your defection. Then I'll
mix the fellis for you myself and you can quit!"

"A bargain, then." With a quickness I hadn't
expected from a man lying abed so wracked and
spent with grief, he was upright, extending an
implacable hand to me. "When you are with
chUd, Nerilka, 111 drink that cup."

I stared back at him, aghast that my rallying
words had evoked such a response from him,
stunned that he misconstrued what I had said
and applied It personally to me. Then I realized
that he knew my name.

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Nerilka's Story

"Your parents have always favored an alliance
..." His words were derisive, sneering.

"Not me, Alessan, not me,"

"Why not you, Nerilka? You've shown all the
qualities of the perfectly trained Lady Holder.
Why else are you so fortuitously at Ruatha? Or
did you think to revenge those deaths on me?"

"Oh, no! No! I could no longer endure Fort.
Tolocamp sunk himself beneath contempt. How
could I remain there when he denied the healers
medicine and help. Coming here was chance. I
was at Bestrum's when M'barak came and asked
for help. How can you know who I am?"

"Suriana." Then, more irritably, he said, "You
fostered with her. Rill. You know how endlessly
she sketched. Your face appeared in many draw-
ings. How could I not know Nerilka when we
finally meet? What I didn't know was why you'd
come, so I let you have your anonymity." Then
he snapped his fingers impatiently. "Come, girl,
it is not so bad a bargain, to be undisputed Lady
Holder of Ruatha, and no Lord to abuse you for-
ever. You can't be afraid of me? I never beat Sur-
iana. Surely she told you that I was a good hus-
band to her."

She had told me that, not in so many words,
but implying much more than goodness, but the
thought of her now dead, and of his so palpable
grief for Moreta, made the tears flow down my
cheeks again.

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Anne McCaffrey

"You are kind and good and brave, and do not
deserve to be so ill used by circumstance."

"I seem unable to avoid misfortunes, Nerilka."
His voice was harsh, his face coldly set. "Spare
me your pity. I have no use for it. Give me instead
the child to carry on Ruathan Blood? And the
cup?"

How I could have agreed to either part of the
bizarre bargain I now wonder, but at the time I
thought that surely when the worst of his grief
had passed, Alessan would reconsider taking the
cup even if I could find the courage to mix it. I
would have said anything at that moment

"Then let us begin the first now." His hand
compelled me to the bed, but I broke his grip,
horrified, not entirely by his precipitous behavior.

"No, I will not imitate Anella."

Alessan regarded me with angry incompre-
hension.

"Tolocamp had Anella in his bed an hour after
he knew my mother was dead."

"Our circumstances are vastly different, Ner-
ilka." His expression was terrible, his eyes now
burning.

"You loved Moreta."

A muscle in his cheek twitched and his eyes
stared coldly at me, glittering with something so
akin to hatred that I recoiled.

"Is that what holds you back, Lady Nerilka?

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Nerilka's Story

I'd liefer it be maidenly modesty. I never knew a
Fortian to go back on his word."

He taunted me and, exerting pressure on my
hand, drew me inexorably to him. I tried to put
in words any one of the many reasons why I re-
sisted him then, the main of which was that this
was such an inauspicious moment for a proceed-
ing that was reputed to delight the participants.

"A man who has tasted death needs loving to
remind him of life, Nerilka." Now his voice was
persuasive, and I was very close to capitulation
when we both heard the scrape of the outer door
and quiet footfalls.

"You are reprieved, Nerilka, but not for long,"
he said in a swift, low, intense tone. "We have
made a bargain--Lord and holder--and it will be
consummated, the sooner the better. I long for
that cup."

Tuero entered quietly, relief on his kind, long
face when he saw that Alessan was awake and
talking to me. "Were you wanting anything, Ales-
san?"

"My clothes," Alessan said, holding out his
hand for them. I got clean ones from the press,
and Tuero handed him his boots. He dressed
quickly, then led us from his room.

If his appearance was a surprise to those in the
Hall, his manner was even more of a shock. He
collected Deefer, sent a fosterling for Dag,
wanted to know where OkJina was, and did not

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Anne McCaffrey

question Desdra's continued presence when she
and Oklina arrived together. But he turned
sharply away when Oklina reached to embrace
him, and sharply requested that Tuero and I join
the others in his office. Then, in a low, controlled,
but uninflected voice, he told us what must now
be accomplished as quickly and thoroughly as
possible.

Everyone was so grateful to see him plunge
into activity that no one but I knew that he was
setting Ruatha Hold in order for his death. Not
content with physical labor, he spent long hours
at night with Tuero, sending out messages, some
by drum but others in sealed letters conveyed by
mounted messengers. I could hear the first--re-
quests for brood mares for his stallions, requests
for any holdless families with good reputations to
apply to him. Some of the messages were re-
minders of marks owed Ruatha Hold; I saw those
entries in the Records. He sent everyone able to
walk or ride out to check on the condition of the
empty holds, to tally what stock remained in the
fields and in what condition, to discover what
crops had been sown and their progress.

I, for one, found no joy in the work, colored as
it was by his cheerlessness and dispassionate in-
dustry. We had worked harder making the
serum, but a strong and good spirit had imbued
us then. Now there was no animation in any of
us, as if Alessan's emotionlessness drained us as

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well. There was even scant satisfaction in seeing
Ruatha refurbished and clean, every removable
evidence of the epidemic cleared away. Oklina
put spring flowering plants about the Hall, hop-
ing to cheer us up. Some of them withered and
died immediately, as if they, too, could not survive
in this atmosphere. I worried constantly that
what I had said to Alessan had been wrong, that
I had brought about this fearful change in him
by appearing to condone his desired suicide.

Ten days after Moreta's death, at our somber
evening meal, Alessan got to his feet, command-
ing our instant attention. He took a thin roll from
his belt.

"Lord Tolocamp permits me to take his daugh-
ter, Lady Nerilka, as my wife," he announced in
his blunt, uninflected way.

Much later, I came across that roll, wedged in
the back of a coffer. Tolocamp's actual words
were: "If she is there, take her. She is no longer
kin of mine." Alessan need not have spared my
feelings; but it proved in yet another way that an
essential goodness of spirit was imprisoned be-
hind that emotionless facade.

That evening there was a ripple of surprise,
but no one looked at me. Not even Tuero. Desdra
had returned to the Healer Hall five days before.

"Lady Nerilka?" Oklina asked timidly, staring
with wide eyes at her brother.

"The Ruathan Bloodline must continue," Ales-

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Anne McCaffrey

san went on, and then gave a mirthless snort.
"Rill agrees to that."

Everyone looked at me then as I stared straight
ahead.

"I remember now where I've seen you before,"
Tuero began. He smiled, the first smile I had seen
in the ten days. "Lady Nerilka." He rose, bowing
to me amid the scattered gasps of surprise.

Oklina stared only one moment longer, and
then she was around the table, her arms about
me, crying and trying not to cry. "Oh, Rill. Is it
really you?"

"I have received permission from her Lord
Holder. We have a harper present and sufficient
witnesses, so the agreement can be formalized."

"Surely not just like that?" Oklina protested,
snapping her fingers.

I took her hand in mine, pressing it firmly.
"Just like this, Oklina." With my eyes, I begged
her not to protest. "There is too much to be done
to waste time, or marks that we don't have, on
ceremony."

She allowed herself to be persuaded, but her
little face was troubled. For my sake, I know. So
I stood up, and Alessan took me by the hand, and
we faced the assembled. He took a gold marriage
mark from his pouch and repeated the formal re-
quest that I become his Lady Holder and wife,
mother of his issue and honored before all others
in Ruatha Hold. I took the mark--later I would

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Nerilka's Story

see that it had been engraved with the day's
date--and told him that I accepted the honor to
become his Lady Holder and wife, though it was
hard for me to add, "mother of his issue and hon-
ored before all others." But that was our bargain.

Oklina insisted on wine, the effervescent white
of Lemos, so that all could toast our union. The
traditional words were spoken by a harper who
could not smile and had no new song to celebrate
the occasion. The handshakes I received were
firm, and one or two of the women were tearful,
but it was a grim wedding day. Remembering
that I was a bride, I managed to smile.

Tuero presented the Family Record for us to
inscribe our names, my Bloodline, and the date,
then Alessan excused us.

He was kind, and very gentle, and it broke my
heart to sense how mechanical he was about the
business.

Not much else changed, for I would not be
treated formally and remained Rill to everyone.
Uncle Munchaun sent me the jewels I had left
with him, along with a small but heavy chest of
marks. These were my dower. He also told me
what Tolocamp had said when he learned of my
whereabouts: "Ruatha Hold swallows all my
women, and if Nerilka prefers Ruathan hospi-
tality to mine, this is the end of her as my daugh-
ter."

Uncle told me this because he wanted me to

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Nerilka's Story

hear it from him. But Uncle thought I had done
exceedingly well for myself, and he wished me
good fortune. I could have wished that good for-
tune were as visible as jewels and marks so I
could display it to Alessan. Uncle added with
great satisfaction that Anella had been infuriated
by the news, having been certain that I was hid-
ing in a sulk somewhere in the Hold. Finally she
had complained bitterly about my continued ab-
sence to Tolocamp, who, indeed, hadn't realized
I was missing until that moment

Holdless men, their families crowded into
wheeled carts or drays, arrived in a fairly steady
stream. Oklina and I fed them and let the women
wash in the bathing rooms, managing to establish
certain standards and values about them. Tuero,
Dag, Pol, Sal, and Deefer would chat up the men
over a cup of klah or a bowl of soup. Follen would
give them a once-over for health and fitness.
Strangely enough, it was often Fergal who would
have the final telling word, and to whom Alessan
listened most acutely. He gleaned information
from the children that sometimes did not tally
with what the adults had said. Always to our ad-
vantage.

We were fortunate enough to attract younger
sons of lateral Bloodlines from Keroon, Telgar,
Tiliek, and the High Reaches, so that the Hold
once again filled its empty apartments and there
were more capable supervisors. Craftsmen were

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Anne McCajfrey

sent, approved by Mastercraftsmen, with tools
and supplies. Now, when I walked up the cot line
to the beastholds, there were cheerful greetings
from the settled, happy women, and children
playing on the dancing square and in the mead-
ows before lessons with Tuero. Gradually our
subdued and somber meals took on some sem-
blance of relaxation and geniality. That lasted
until we heard from M'barak, who frequently was
on convey duty to Ruatha Hold, that the Hatching
was imminent.

Then all of us were reminded of Moreta, Leri,
and Orlith--and Oklina. I was horribly reminded
of my bargain with Alessan. It was too soon to
know if his attention to me was successful: that
was the only alleviating factor for the stress I was
obliged to hide from everyone.

Though Alessan never spoke about the
Impression, we had come to assume that Oklina
would be permitted to take her place among the
candidates for the queen egg. We all knew that
B'lerion came on more visits than the tactful ones
he made by way of the Court.

I was dumbfounded when Alessan asked me
had I a gown suitable for the Hatching.

"You cannot want to go?"

"Want, no! But the Lord and Lady of Ruatha
will not absent themselves from this Hatching.
Oklina deserves our support!" The look on his
face chided me that I could even for a moment

165

Nerilka's Story

sobbing. Alessan stiffly unwound her arms and
almost pushed her at B'lerion. His face was stony
as B'lerion wordlessly led Oklina away. I knew
how hard it must have been for Alessan, and
bowed my head against this fresh onslaught of
despair.

A red-eyed M'barak arrived to escort us to Fort
Weyr, and I quailed, knowing the reason for such
tears. It was Alessan who showed me the courage
to face the inevitable.

Hatchings are supposed to be joyous days,
since Impression celebrates the beginning of
brave new partnerships between dragons and
men and women. How today's Impression at Fort
Weyr could possibly contain any element of joy,
I could not guess. And arriving at Fort Weyr was
even more horrific. All the dragonriders were red-
eyed, all the dragons a trifle gray-hued. All the
guests were subdued, though not all of them
knew that Leri and Orlith had gone between at
dawn.

Despite the numbers of people arriving, de-
spite their gay and festive garb, there was no con-
versation, no murmur of pleasantries as we all
trudged across the Bowl and into the Hatching
Ground. I hoped the somber mood would not af-
fect the dragonets, or have some other unfore-
seen adverse effect. I don't think I could have
sustained another disappointment; I marveled

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Anns McCaffrey

once more at Alessan's great strength of char-
acter and purpose.

So I held firm to the knowledge that if we sur-
vived this ghastly day, I would have Alessan's
company for another month. I had to hold on to
positive matters. I had to hold on to dignity and
honor to sustain me in this day of crisis. I had to
remember that I was now Lady Holder of Ruatha
Hold, one of the oldest Holds in Pern, and that
our sister was a candidate for the queen egg. I
had the right to be proud today. So I held myself
tall and proud beside Alessan and wished with all
my heart that his courage would be sufficient to
see him through the day.

He was pale, I noticed in a quick sideways
glance, but pride must have strengthened him,
too. As we entered the Hatching Ground itself,
he courteously took my arm. I was as glad for his
support, for it was difficult to maintain any digni-
ty while hot sands burned through the thin soles
of my light shoes. Alessan led me to the tiers on
the far left of the Ground. When we were seated,
he kept his eyes studiously on the eggs, focusing
in particular on the golden egg slightly apart from
the others on a raised mound of sand.

I looked about me, because I could not look at
the eggs or at Alessan. Master Capiam was there,
blowing his nose fiercely, and the newly created
Masterhealer, Desdra, sat beside him, looking
sad, proud, and anxious all at once. Desdra would

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Nerilka's Story

not be returning to her former Hall, as had been
her original intention on attaining her Mastery.
She was remaining with Capiam, and I so hoped
that meant what I thought it might.

Masterharper Tirone and a huge number of
harpers of various ranks were just arriving, so I
didn't miss the entrance of Tolocamp and the
gaudily dressed little Anella. She looked over the
tiers and then pulled Tolocamp off to one side,
distancing herself from us, I'd no doubt. The
other Weyrleaders and Weyrwomen filed in,
though Falga limped badly crossing the sands.
Someone behind me pointed out the Benden Lord
and his lady and the major Lords Holder as they
entered. That was the first time, I think, that I
realized I now held equal rank with such famous
folk. Ratoshigan entered by himself, as usual.
Craftmasters and their ladies arrived, although I
saw few visitors with the Telgar Badge; many
were wearing Keroon's.

Then I heard the humming, which grew in
excitement as the dragons, gripped by a sense of
occasion, sang a welcome to the candidates.
Sh'gall himself led in the four girls, then fussily
motioned for the boys to walk on while he posi-
tioned the girls in front of the queen egg. Other
eggs were beginning to rock, and the dragons'
song became ecstatic. My heart began to lift, my
pulses quickened. Oh, please, let it be Oklina!

Anne McCaffrey

That would be the best sign there could be that
our sorrows, Ruathan sorrows, were over.

She stood there so proudly, no more a shy, un-
certain, slender girl, but a confident, dignified
young lady. I had tears in my eyes. I had uncon-
sciously clenched my hands into fists when I felt
Alessan's hand unclasp one, his cold fingers lac-
ing into mine.

One egg, just below us. began to rock strongly.
Others were equally agitated, and I could hear
people behind me make wagers as to which egg
would crack first. I wouldn't have won; the egg
below us broke and a moist dragon head ap-
peared, crooning piteously as the dragonet shook
itself free of the shell. It was a bronze! A sigh of
relief rose from every throat. It was a very good
sign for a bronze to be the first to hatch. The Mtde
beast staggered directly toward a tallish boy with
a shock of light brown hair. That was also a good
sign, that the dragonet knew whom he wanted.
The boy didn't quite believe it and looked in ap-
peal to his neighbors. With a laugh, they gave
him a push toward the lumbering dragonet. No
longer resisting such good fortune, the boy ran
to kneel in the sand before the little bronze and
stroke his head.

Tears were streaming down my face now, and
I was hardly the only one so affected. No one
could fault me for such a display. I had not re-
alized that I had bottled up so many tears inside.

Nerilka's Story

To cry was to release all sorts of ugly little pres-
sures and tensions. Like waking out of a long,
dark dream to a sun-filled day. Then I saw
through the mist of tears, with Alessan holding
my hand tightly, that a blue had found his chosen
partner. The hum of the mature dragons was
augmented by the crooning trill of the hatchlings
and the excited exclamations of the newly chosen
riders and their happy relatives in the tiers.

Suddenly everyone had eyes only for the queen
egg, which was rocking violently. As Alessan's
fingers crushed mine, I realized that he cared
about the outcome of this far more than he would
permit himself to hope--if only because express-
ing hope or love or care of anything must, in his
lexicon, mean its loss. That flash of perception
gave me the insight and knowledge to persevere
in our relationship, and to understand the man
who appeared to everyone else as undemonstra-
tive and uncaring.

Then the egg gave three good wobbles and
cracked neatly in half, the fragments falling away
from the little queen who seemed to spring from
the shards. Another positive omen!

Two girls wavered in their stance. I heard Ales-
san catch his breath, but I was filled with a
strange and overpowering certainty which girl
the little queen would choose. Quickly and with
considerably more agility than the rest of the
clutch had shown, the moistly gold queen made

Nerilka's Story

straight for Oklina. I didn't know that I had
started to cling to Alessan, but his arm encircled
me as Oklina lifted shining eyes, her gaze instinc-
tively finding B'lerion.

"Her name is Hannath!" Oklina cried in a voice
of exultation and amazement, her face so radiant
that she was truly beautiful.

"Oh, Alessan! Alessan! Alessan!" I kept re-
peating, clinging to him, unwilling to express the
tumultuous joy in my heart, but equally unable
to suppress it even when I knew how painful this
scene must be for him.

"She knew Oklina would Impress," he said in
a broken voice, staring down at Oklina's glowing
face. I knew he was speaking of Moreta. "She
knew!" He clung to me then, his grip so fierce I
could not breathe. I felt the anguish in his body,
the pounding of his heart. Then his chest heaved
in one massive sob, and he buried his face in my
shoulder, sagging against me for the support I
gladly gave him. Was this the reason I had been
made so tall? We stood like that only a few mo-
ments, then parted, Alessan sinking to the seat
and looking out across the Sands. I know he saw
nothing, for he made no sign when B'lerion and
Oklina looked at us. I signaled them that,we
would follow. Then everyone else left.

The silence in the Hatching Ground was pro-
found, the excitement outside in the Bowl muted
by the great stone walls. Finally Alessan raised

Anne McCaffrey

his head, gazing across the sands to the tiers on
the other side. His manner had altered in a subtle
way I could not then explain. It was as if he had
let go, as perhaps he had at that moment of
Impression for Oklina. Had he ended grief as she
began a new life? Could he find a new life, too?

"I gave her back her Gather gown there." His
voice was a whisper I had to strain to hear. "She
gave me hope and help. I can never forget her,
Rill."

"None of us should, Alessan."

He had not wept, though his eyes were red and
his face blotchy. He wiped my cheeks dry, as
Uncle Munchaun often had. He didn't smile, but
he didn't look so stonily hard of eye and mouth.
He rose then and stepped to the next level down,
holding up his hand to me.

"Today is Oklina's joy day. Nothing, not even
old sorrow, should mar it. Nor, honorable Rill, will
I require that cup of you." We had started down
the tiers and he was watching his steps, so he
did not see how near I came to tears again with
this new pressure of joy in my heart. "There is
too much to be done at Ruatha, now we have lost
Oklina to the Weyr. I could not have stood in her
way as my father did in mine. Now I am relieved
that I did not, I had to come to Fort Weyr to un-
derstand that lives end, and lives begin."

"Oh, Alessan."

We were on the hot sands again, and since I

Nerilkd's Story

didn't have to be on my dignity in front of a critical
audience, I grabbed his hand and began to run.
I had to do something active with relief boiling
about inside me. "My feet are burning, and we
mustn't be too tardy in our congratulations."

With a noise that was almost a laugh, Alessan
followed me out of the Hatching Ground and to-
ward the festivities already begun in Fort Weyr's
BowL Above us, outlined against the brilliant sky,
dragons crowded every available perching space
on the Rim. And the sun made a gold of every
one of them.

178

Chapter XII
3.11.1553 Interval

A,

LS J conclude this narrative, there
has been no Thread to blot our skies for five mar-
velous Turns. Few signs remain of what Ruatha
endured, for the burial mounds have been leveled
and their sites are all but invisible in the luxurious
grass.

And change, the change from unrelenting
Thread, has benefited all. Kamiana is Weyr-
woman at Fort, and G'drel, a genial, heavyset
man originally of Telgar, is Weyrleader. His Do-
rianth flew Pelianth on her next mating flight.

Nerilka's Story

No one hears much of Wingleader Sh'gall these
days, but G'drel and Kamiana are often visitors
here, and G'drel constantly teases Alessan about
his runner. Squealer. He's about the only one,
save Fergal, who dares, even though Alessan is
generally easier to approach on most matters.

B'lerion's Nabeth outmaneuvered every
bronze on Pern to fly Oklina's Hannath, not that
anyone doubted the outcome of that flight. Her
two sons now play with ours, for I have fulfilled
the first half of my original bargain with Alessan
five times: four strong sons and a daughter whom
we have named Moreta. Alessan will not have me
overbear, though I keep telling him that I am
happiest pregnant and never suffer as others
have from being in that condition.

He is even permitting himself to show affection
to his children. At first he pretended total indif-
ference, as if any tenderness would mark them
as victims for disaster. To my delight, they have
been incredibly healthy, less prone to catch the
usual childhood maladies than any other children
of the Hold, sturdily immune to cuts, bruises, and
breaks that often occur in childhood. Our daugh-
ter, Moreta--and Desdra has told me quite sin-
cerely that she is the most beautiful child she ever
saw, so it is not only this doting mother who so
describes her--has provided the sun to thaw the
coldness in her father. He could not help but
adore her, for she seems to blossom with joy

Anne McCaffrey

whenever she sees him, and her delight is con-
tagious. Alessan will never be as carefree, blithe,
or gay as Suriana described him, but his smile is
readier now, and he will laugh at Tuero's out-
rageous humor and smile at his sons' antics and
boasts. He will cheer when Squealer wins yet an-
other race and be a genial host when visitors are
in the Hall.

We plan our first Gather, a very modest affair,
when the spring has dressed the land with blos-
som and new growth. If occasionally when we
make our plans, a shadow crosses Alessan's face,
it is to be expected, and I ignore it.

If he does not love me as he did Suriana or
Moreta, still he loves me in ways he would not
have known with his first wild and tempestuous
wife and different from his deep devotion to Mor-
eta. We understand each other well, often start-
ing the same sentence simultaneously. Certainly
we are of similar mind in every matter concerning
Ruatha Hold and our children. He is public in his
appreciation of my efforts, though he cannot
know that his ready acknowledgment of my ef-
forts is the greatest of compliments he could pay
me, the girl who was never praised or thanked
by her own Blood.

And gradually, as his fear of losing yet again
that which is precious to him abates, his regard
has extended to all areas of our life together. At
night it is not the shadow of Suriana or the dream

Nerilka's Story

of Moreta that he holds in his arms and loves--
it is Nerilka, his wife, the mother of his children,
and the Lady of his Hold.

It is time to end a story that began in sorrow
and ordeal and has ended in a deep and lasting
happiness. May it be so for others.