Trayfuls of Food (Candidate Group 1 August Chores)

[Avu]

Corinth rumbled in pleasure at the stroking of said area, eyes whirling shades of blue and green. Shameless, T’rid commented dryly. It feels good, Corinth responded happily. It doesn’t matter whose hand it is, does it? Hmm. “Greens are expected to Impress girls by now,” T’rid countered. The definite ending of the conversation was in her voice; it was hard to miss—and yet, how could he drop a conversation? It just wasn’t T’rid to obey an unspoken command of his own will. It might do you some good, Corinth said wryly.

“Have you ever tried telling a dragon that he made the wrong choice?” T’rid chortled until tears of mirth entered his eyes at the thought. “You’d be sat upon as quick as a dragon could go between if you tried that. Dragons always make the right choice.” Wait, where did table manners come into this? “See how rude you are at the table if your fostermother rapped you across the knuckles every time you so much as touched food before the lady broke the bread,” he retorted. I could flame her room if you’d like, Corinth offered. Mm. Tempting, but nah.

“‘Frozen is as frozen does’,” T’rid echoed Aniqa, one brow raising in amusement again. “Sure, you wouldn’t be saying that if you came out of between as a human icicle. In fact, you wouldn’t be saying anything at all. Just don’t get near a mischievous dragon if you’re drenched, that’s all.” The young Bronzerider shrugged at her next statement. “Almost anything can freeze Thread. It can freeze if it’s just too cold in the sky.” He waved his hand vaguely in said direction. “If the coldest place unknown,” he gave the word a gentle emphasis, “couldn’t destroy Thread, nothing would.”

[morgan]

Ani had an amused smile on her face now. It wasn’t often she had a chance to voice her opinions. “Haven’t Whers of all colors been Impressing girls for a while before Green dragons started doing so? I’ve heard that even bronze Whers have had girl Handlers on occasion.” Very, very, few occasions. Dragons were choosier, but a dragon was a perfect match for its rider, whereas Whers were able to take a new Handler if they lost their old one.

“Telling a dragon that he made the wrong choice? In rider, you mean? No, but I haven’t…” the rest of her statement faded when she realized that he was laughing, some inward joke. It had been a rhetorical question. “I’ll remember to never do such a thing, especially when the dragon is as big as Corinth.” Like I would do that in the first place, she thought wryly. Especially if I had Impressed a dragon of my own, she added mentally.

“I doubt any dragon would allow the person riding it to freeze, or at least, not on purpose,” she said simply. “Although it’d be extremely cold going into between wet. That might be one of those ‘accidental freezings.’” She considered the Thread remark. “True, cold weather will freeze Thread, but you wouldn’t be fighting Thread if it was unable to burrow already, would you? So you wouldn’t need between then, but it could hurt and score if it landed on a dragon while it was fighting it in the first place. Does that make sense?

“If dragons couldn’t destroy Thread, there wouldn’t be dragons. Really, there was always a silver lining.” She paused to let him reply.

[Avu]

T’rid wrinkled his nose. “A wher is hardly as intelligent as a dragon is,” he replied. “Besides, men have been known to Bond to gold watch-whers. Watch-whers are just—crazy.” He shrugged indifferently. “Besides, it’s not like they’re stuck with that one handler if they don’t want to be. They can always switch, but dragons like Corinth—well, they’re stuck with their Rider for the rest of their life.” He shook his head. “Just admit it—whers are nothing compared to dragons.” I second that, Corinth added, although he didn’t move his head.

He was still laughing when the girl realized he hadn’t meant it. Telling a dragon he’d Chosen wrong would probably result in being squished by the dragon or attacked by the Rider. “Yeah, that’d be wise,” T’rid managed to say. “I mean, if Corinth didn’t sit on you, I might just have to make sure you never offend another rider, if you know what I mean.” He touched the dagger at his belt. He wouldn’t really hurt her—it was just a warning that some people would if they were told that. Actually, if he was told that, he’d probably hurt someone too.

“Dragons don’t hurt people. But accidents can happen. You could freeze way up North,” he added. “You ought to know. If it’s colder than that between, you’d freeze—‘Between only lasts as long as it takes to cough three times,’—wouldn’t do you much good. You’d be frozen in one.” You’re going to put people off Riding, Corinth said dryly. No one’s going to set foot near dragon once you’ve been near him. Or her, T’rid replied.

He shook his head, winking wryly. “The best Thread-fighting weather is if it’s pouring rain and it’s icy cold,” he answered. “Which means we don’t have anything to do but stay inside and drink klah and wine.” He raised one brow at her description. “If dragons couldn’t fight Thread,” he said frankly, “Then Pern would be barren by now—not to mention that we wouldn’t be here. Nobody would pay tithe to a useless Weyr. Besides, ‘Dragonmen will fly when Thread is in the sky,’” he quoted. “Dragons get hurt, yes. Riders get hurt, yes. But consider it our duty. It’ll be yours, too, if you Impress.”

[morgan]

“I never said that Whers could stack up to dragons in most ways,” Aniqa said, leaving out that they had other qualities that Dragons lack. “Especially when comparing the power of their minds. Dragons are better for Threadfighting, since they are able to communicate among themselves and with their riders better, and are smarter. This is why they Bond for life. It is more practical.” She was mostly paraphrasing what she had read at Healer Hall, but the practicality remark was her own. After all, she wasn’t a rider. Yet, she added hopefully.

“Point taken,” Ani said, repressing the urge to squirm. She didn’t doubt the truth in that statement. Fight wounds obtained to defend one’s “honor” were bad enough (she’d seen enough to know). A dragonrider told he wasn’t worthy of his dragon would probably inflict ten timeS worse, no matter how nice or kind they were when calm.

“I wouldn’t want a dragon to be responsible for my death,” she said staunchly. “I shall be sure that I am wrapped in wherhide and am completely dry before the next time I take a trip between.” She grimaced. The trick was to know when that would be. Maybe tomorrow, maybe never. “It would not due to waste such wisdom.”

Aniqa turned her face upwards, her grey eyes examining the sky as if she could see the Thread falling already. She wondered what the weather would be like the next Threadfall. “My best wishes for a wet and cold Threadfall.” It may happen, it being winter and cold and rainy anyways. That didn’t mean that it would be that way… but there was always that chance.

She didn’t speak for a while after that. Threadfighting was dangerous, not just because of Threadscore but hurt or inexperienced dragons or riders. Would she want this responsibility? Yes. Would she be good at Threadfighting? Not without LOTS of practice. Dragons, whatever might have been, were a necessary creature on Pern. “Dragonmen… and women,” she said, attempting to lighten her own mood by smiling a little.

[Avu]

T’rid waggled his head, grinning. “Maybe dragons are smarter”—Of course we are, did you even think we weren’t for a minute? Corinth demanded—“but whers fight Thread too, or didn’t you know? Thread doesn’t wait on our…” He sought for a word and settled on “…convenience. It falls at night, too, you know. Whers’ wings are small, but big enough to let them fly at night, when the air is thicker. And they don’t need a Wingleader, a queen wher organizes their ‘wings’ of sorts.” He grinned. “They depend a lot less on people, too. Whers don’t have to Bond…lot more useful if they do, though.”

He nodded amiably when she agreed. T’rid had no urge to draw on Candidates unless he absolutely needed to—although a good fight did cheer him up slightly. But fights over honor were not fun. Actually, Corinth didn’t think fights were fun at all. That just went to show that even beings sharing a mind could argue sometimes. Why you like rolling around in the dirt… Corinth said, wincing mentally.

Then he surveyed Aniqa, raising one brow at the lack of defense. “Don’t you carry a blade on you, girl? At least if someone draws you can defend yourself then.” Or, he added to Corinth slyly, If a big bronze tries to sit on her, she can make sure he got a little prick in his tail end as well. The bronze huffed indignantly. “I’ve never been up north and I still carry around a blade. You ought to, too.” He quirked one brow questioningly, deciding not to point out that his use of a blade was a far cry from defense at some times. For example, a little playing with a knife could haggle far better than sitting and shouting at a gather.

“Mm. Dragons don’t hurt people,” he repeated his previous sentiment firmly. “No dragon in his or her right senses would take you between if you were inadequately dressed. Unless it was a death,” he added softly, and briefly the cheer in his face flickered out, replaced by pain. “Which happens all too often these days…” He sighed mentally, shaking his head against the thoughts. There was no need to frighten the Candidate out of Impressing. “In this uncertain Pass, the best advice I can give you is don’t do anything without being certain the person directing you is from Selenitas. Learn to read knots as fast as your eyes process them and you’re set to go. Not many loose knots lying around.”

He was about to go on when Corinth told him that his wing itched in such a wistful tone that he let out a bark of laughter, instructing the bronze to unfurl said wing. Corinth did so and T’rid answered as he rubbed, his reply coming in the rhythm of his jerking motion. “It’s-been-a-while-since-we’ve-had-a-‘good’-Thread-fall,” he said, and then pulled away. “That better, Corinth?” The bronze rumbled in assent, carefully folding the wing again. “Pern never seems to favor us when Thread decides to fall,” he said grimly, pushing his hair out of his eyes where it continually fell.

As she fell silent, T’rid waited patiently for her to say something. After all, Impressing wasn’t all fun and games. You had to think about the future. What happened after Impression? Lessons, chores. Thread. Responsibility. Danger. The irreversible linking of your mind to another being’s also alerted one to love without measure, and gave you a new reason to look after yourself. If it hadn’t been for Corinth, T’rid would probably have spent a lot of time in a healer’s ward. As it was…fighting was an occasional pastime now. “And women,” he agreed absently. “There seem to be more of them Impressing as it is.”