Alessan, Orlith told her, which surprised Moreta for Orlith wasn’t all that good on remembering people names.
“Moreta?” Alessan sounded uncertain. “Ah, you are here,” he added as she stepped forward. “I thought I saw you slip away to elude Tolocamp. I come laden with food and drink. Am I intruding on your privacy?”
“You’re not if you happened to bring any more of that Benden wine. Mind you, the Tiliek you’re serving is not bad”
“But it doesn’t at all compare with the Benden, and I hope you haven’t mentioned the difference to anyone.”
Moreta: Dragonlady of Pern 49
“What? And miss out on my share? And you brought more wherry! My compliments to your cook: The roast is superior and I’m starving. Here, sit on a pack saddle.” She pushed one toward him and, after emptying her cup of the inferior wine, held it out to him. “More Benden, please?”
“I’ve a full skin here.” Alessan poured carefully.
“But surely you must share it with your partners?”
“Don’t you dare” Alessan reached for her goblet in a mock attempt to retrieve the wine from her.
“That wasn’t fair of me. You were doing your duty as Lord Holder, and very nicely, if I may say so.”
“Well, I’ve done my duty as Lord Holder and will now resume the responsibilities of being your escort. I will now enjoy the Gather.”
“Hosts rarely do.”
“My mother, the good and worthy”
“and duty conscious”
“Has paraded every eligible girl in the west, with all of whom I have dutifully danced. They’re not much on talking. By the way, speaking of talking, is that bronze rider who’s been monopolizing Oklina a kind and honorable man?”
“B’lerion is kind, and very good company. Is Oklina aware of dragonriders’ propensities?”
“As every proper hold girl is.” Alessan’s tone was dry, acknowledging dragonrider whims and foibles.
“B’lerion is kind and I have known him many Turns,” Moreta went on by way of reassurance. Oklina’s adoration of her brother was not misplaced if he troubled himself to speak to a Weyrwoman about a bronze rider who was paying marked attention to his sister.
They ate in companionable silence, for Alessan was as hungry as Moreta. Suddenly the harpers struck up another tune, one of the spritelier dances, more of a patterned run, requiring the lighter partner to be lifted, twirled, and caught. She recognized the challenge gleaming in Alessan’s eyes; only the young and fit usually attempted the toss dance’s acrobatics. She laughed low in her throat. She was no timid adolescent, uncertain of herself, and no decorous hold woman, vitality and body drained by constant childbearing; she was fhe fighting-fit rider of a queen dragon and she could outdance any manholder, crafter, rider. In addition, Orlith was encouraging her.
Deserting the remains of her food and her wine, she caught Ales-
50
Moreta: Dragonlady of Pern
san by the hand and pulled him after her toward the dancing square where already one pair had come to grief and lay sprawled, the subject of goodnatured teasing.
Weyrwoman and Lord Holder were the only pair to survive the rigors of that dance without incident. Cheers and clappihg rewarded their agility. Gasping for breath and trying not to weave with the dizziness generated by the final spins, Moreta reeled to the sidelines. A goblet was put in her hand and she knew before sipping that it would be the Benden. She toasted Alessan as he stood beside her, chest heaving, face suffused with blood, but thoroughly delighted by
their performance.
“By the Shell, with the right partner, you can really show your quality,” Falga cried, as she walked up to them. “You’re in rare form tonight, Moreta. Alessan, best Gather I’ve been to in Turns. You’ve outshone your sire who is, as of this moment, no longer lamented. He set a good spread but nothing to compare to this. S’ligar will be sorry he didn’t come with me.”
The other dragonriders with Falga lifted their cups to Alessan. “See you at Crom,” Falga said to Moreta in parting as the harpers
began a gentle old melody. “Can you move at all?” Alessan asked Moreta, bending to speak