Mnementh could be yours, silly one, she told her beast, scrubbing the itchy spot with the long-handled brush.
No. I do not contend with Ramoth.
You would quick enough if you were in mating heat, Kylara replied, wishing she had the nerve to attempt such a coup. Its not as if there was anything immoral about mating with your father or clutching your mother …
Kylara thought of her own mother, a woman too early used and cast aside by Lord Telgar, for younger, more vital bedmates. Why, if she hadnt been found on Search, she might have had to marry that dolt whatever-his-name-had-been. Shed never have been a Weyrwoman and had Prideth to love her. She scrubbed fiercely at the spot until Prideth, sighing in an excess of relief, blew three clusters of blooms off their twigs
You are my mother, Prideth said, turning great opalescent eyes on her rider, her tone suffused with love, admiration, affection, awe and joy.
Despite her annoying reflections, Kylara smiled tenderly at her dragon. She couldnt stay angry with the beast, not when Prideth gazed at her that way. Not when Prideth loved her, Kylara, to the exclusion of all other considerations. Gratefully the Weyrwoman rubbed the sensitive ridge of Prideths right eye socket until the protecting lids closed one by one in contentment. The girl leaned against the wedge shaped head, at peace momentarily with herself, with the world, the balm of Prideths love assuaging her discontent.
Then she heard Tbors voice in the distance, ordering the weyrlings about, and she pushed away from Prideth. Why did it have to be Tbor? He was so ineffectual. He never came near making her feel the way Meron did, except of course when Orth was flying Prideth and then, then it was bearable. But Meron, without a dragon, was almost enough. Meron was just ruthless and ambitious enough so that together they could probably control all Pern …
Good day, Kylara.
Kylara ignored the greeting. Tbors forcedly cheerful tone told her that he was determined not to quarrel with her over whatever it was he had on his mind this time. She wondered what attraction he had ever held for her, though he was tall and not ill-favored; few Dragonriders were. The thin lines of Thread scars more often gave them a rakish rather than repulsive appearance. Tbor was not scarred but a frown of apprehension and a nervous darting of his eyes marred the effect of his good looks.
Good day, Prideth, he added.
I like him, Prideth told her rider. And he is really devoted to you. You are not kind to him.
Kindness gets you nowhere, Kylara snapped back at her beast. She turned with indolent reluctance to the Weyrleader. Whats on your mind?
Tbor flushed as he always did when he heard that note in Kylaras voice. She meant to unsettle him.
I need to know how many weyrs are free. Telgar Weyr is asking.
Ask Brekke. How should I know?
Tbors flush deepened and he set his jaw. It is customary for the Weyrwoman to direct her own staff …
Custom be Thread-bared! She knows. I dont. And I dont see why Southern should be constantly host to every idiot rider who cant dodge Thread.
You know perfectly well, Kylara, why Southern Weyr …
We havent had a single casualty of any kind in seven Turns of Thread.
We dont get the heavy, constant Threadfall that the northern continent does, and now I understand …
Well, I dont understand why their wounded must be a constant drain on our resources …
Kylara. Dont argue with every word I say.
Smiling, Kylara turned from him, pleased that she had pushed him so close to breaking his childish resolve.
Find out from Brekke. She enjoys filling in for me. She glanced over her shoulder to see if he understood exactly what she meant. She was certain that Brekke shared his bed when Kylara was otherwise occupied. The more fool Brekke, who, as Kylara well knew, was pining after Fnor. She and Tbor must have interesting fantasies, each imagining the other the true object of their unrequited loves.
Brekke is twice the woman and far more fit to be Weyrwoman than you! Tbor said In a tight, controlled voice.