Author's disclaimer: The Sentinel belongs to Pet Fly, Danny Bilson and Paul DeMeo. Dragon Riders of Pern belongs to Ann McCaffery. I'm making no money, please don't sue you'll get a cat and some comic books.

Author's notes: This story was previously printed in Love and Guns 11. Due to a request by Dragonriders of Pern author Ann McCaffery, none of her original characters appear in this story.

Turns Upon a Dragon's Wing
by Sorka

It was the first truly hot day of the summer season at Twin Cliffs Hold. All the young Holder boys were running errands or doing chores as was their duty. They had learned from the Harpers that all members of hold had to do their part.

Jagrassim, eldest son of Holder Jorgrace and Winessim, had been given to duty to make sure the watch-wher was properly fed. For some reason, no one could fathom, the creature had taken a liking to him.

Not that he minded. The pen was a place of quiet and solitude. He often found himself seeking out this dark shelter when his acute hearing allowed him to learn of hurtful things the other hold children said about him.

He was teased because he had problems coming out from the hold into the bright light of day. And there were times that he couldn't stand the feel of wool on his skin.

Over the turns Jagrassim had learned to wall up his heart, hiding what he felt from everyone. Even his younger brother Stephinon no longer seemed to be able to reach him.

As the eldest, he was being groomed to take over the small hold one day. Though they lived in the shadow of massive Fort Hold, they where mostly independent in their dealings. He felt that it was his duty to do as his father bid, but he held no love for the position or the Hold.

His demanding father did not know of this, of course. The one time he had voiced such thoughts, he had been thrashed so badly he had borne the marks for months, even now there were faded scars on his back as a reminder.

He was just finishing cleaning the watch-wher's pen when a dragon appeared in the sky above the small hold. Many times he had seen a dragon appear, but normally on its way to Fort Hold proper, not this small holding.

Jagrassim watched as the blue dragon landed in an open field away from the stables. His father came out to greet the rider with a welcoming smile.

He followed his father as was his duty but, after greeting Rider P'grast, he couldn't keep his eyes off the magnificent blue dragon. It's multi-colored eyes spun slowly, contentedly. The dragon swung his head to meet the gaze of the young holder, and for a moment, Jagrassim swore those eyes looked right into his soul.

The conversation between the rider and his father became more serious. "I wish to know if you have more than one son, Holder Jorgrace."

"I have two sons and a third child on the way; it is a late pregnancy but the healers say my wife is in good health," the holder said with pride.

"As I said before, I am here on Search. I believe you eldest son would be an excellent candidate for the Weyr."

"My eldest is to be holder, I have trained him to be so," Jorgrace said, hi tone short.

"You would deny your son the opportunity to protect Pern? Would you deny the Weyr you're beholden too?" P'grast asked in surprise.

"Of course not, but what of my other son? Stephinon. He is of the proper age." As he spoke the boy in question came to stand next to his father and brother. He was a handsome lad with golden blonde hair and bright blue eyes. He had an easy smile and a tilt to his head that reflected arrogance.

The rider turned to his dragon. "Sythisinth. What do you think my friend?" The dragon grumbled low in his throat in response. "I'm afraid he's quite adamant about this. Jagrassim is the one."

The Holder looked at his son, who was showing no sign of having noticed the conversation. His eyes were locked on the dragon, but no emotion was visible.

Jorgrace sighed; he had not seen a hint of reaction out of his son in months, not since his punishment. He had begun to wonder if he had been too harsh, if some real damage had been done to the lad.

Maybe this was for the best. "Jagrassim, pack a few things, you have been chosen on Search."

The lad turned to his father, only a hint of incredulity showing on the otherwise stoic face. He turned to the rider for confirmation, P'grast nodded and smiled. "Better get going, young man. Pack whatever you wish to bring along." Jagrassim turned on his heel and headed for his room.

//Are you sure about this one?// P'grast asked Sythisinth, feeling a bit apprehensive at the young man's lack of reaction.

//Have I ever been wrong before?// the blue asked. //He is hiding inside himself. After he impresses you'll see.//

Jagrassim came out a few minutes later, a large pack slung over his shoulder. He stopped in front of his brother and placed a hand on Stephinon's shoulder. "You behave and don't tease the watch-wher."

Jorgrace looked his sons over with a stern eye. "I expect you to uphold the honor of this hold, Jagrassim. Stephinon will take your place as heir to the hold, since it seems Fort Weyr wants you."

Jagrassim's expression broke for a split second revealing a look of relief. He recovered quickly, his emotionless mask slamming back down. The young man then turned to the P'grast. "I'm ready to go."

P'grast gave him a speculative look, then moved to help him climb onto the blue dragon's back. After a few minutes they had Jagrassim strapped in and his pack secure. "Don't worry, Holder Jorgrace. The Weyr will look after your son," the rider said, settling between two neck ridges.

Then they were in the air, the great wings of the dragon pumping swiftly to bring them high into the sky. They caught an air current and rose even higher, until the small hold was a distant sight. P'grast called a warning, and suddenly the world vanished, replaced with a darkness and a cold so biting it felt like it was the end of everything. The chill lasted the time it would take for three breaths, then they burst out into the warmth of the sky about Fort Weyr.

"Not bad," P'grast called. "Most lads your age would have screamed during their first trip 'between'."

Jagrassim shivered with the lingering feeling of cold on his skin. He was grateful he hadn't lost himself in that great blackness, so caught off guard by the lack of sensory input that he hadn't reacted.

He looked down at the ancient extinct volcano that was Fort Weyr with a sense of awe that he had never before experienced. All along the mile-long bowl were cavern openings at irregular intervals. There were hundreds of them all designed to be living quarters for the dragons and their riders. Even from this height his exceptional vision allowed him to see quite a lot of activity within the weyr.

Sythisinth bellowed his greeting to the dragon guarding the heights; the brown dragon below them returned the call. "Welcome to Fort Weyr, Jagrassim," P'grast told him as they landed on the floor of the bowl.

Jagrassim looked around him in wonder; dozens of dragons could be seen sunning themselves on large rock ledges. Brilliant shades of blue, green, brown, and bronze gleaming in the sunshine. There was one far up at the lip of the crater that gleamed gold -- one of the few queen dragons of the Weyr.

"Come along lad, we'll get you a cot with the other candidates. It's still some time before the hatching, so you'll have a chance to get to know this place."

A tall handsome black man came out of one of the nearby caverns. "P'grast, who is this new face?"

"S'mon, this is Jagrassim, he's a candidate at for the Hatching."

"Well, I look forward to seeing you around." He grinned. "Don't let our home overwhelm you too much, I was a weyrling not too long ago. I remember how frightening it was."

The young holder was led to a large cavern with many single-sized beds set wide apart. Though the room was empty at the moment he could see that he was not the only occupant. Several beds showed signs of use and personal effects were set on small tables.

"You just take one of the unused beds. The Weyrlingmaster is going over the basics with the other candidates at the moment. He'll be here in a little while to check on you."

The next several days were filled with lessons on what was expected of a dragonrider. They were also told what it takes to take care of a full grown dragon. This was learned quickly when one of the riders had become injured and unable to care for his green companion on his own. All the boys were put to work scrubbing and oiling the green's hide.

Jagrassim found himself enjoying the repetitive labor of scrubbing the magnificent creature which was six times larger than the largest runnerbeast that he had ever seen.

It hadn't taken long for the others in his candidates' group to figure out that he was, not only the oldest of them at fifteen turns, but also the highest in rank. All the others had either grown up here or were crafters or simply a member of a hold.

Even though it was told to them time and again that rank made no difference at the moment of impression, he found himself less than welcome. It didn't help matters that he couldn't seem to connect to any of them, his solitary nature making him seem snobbish.

In the lower caverns of the Weyr, where the kitchen area was located, S'mon and P'grast sat with several of the senior riders.

With them was T'mon, the Weyrleader. He was a tall square-jawed man with
a great deal of experience fighting Thread. But while he was a competent enough leader in the air, he was sorely lacking in the finer arts of diplomacy.

"Very little Thread got past us this fall," he said with a confident grin. "The ground crews hardly had any work to do."

"We were lucky that the fall was over so much water," P'grast commented. "Otherwise we probably would have missed more."

T'mon nodded then shrugged. "We need to have more drilling, the formations were getting sloppy near the end."

"Perhaps the Weyrlingmaster should train this new group in some of the basics before they Impress," S'mon suggested. "I know it was difficult to concentrate on lessons when Vineth started getting itchy."

T'mon shook his head. "Why train a lad in the ways of dragon formations if he doesn't impress? We didn't learn that way. I would call that a waste of time."

P'grast refrained from rolling his eyes skyward. "Some traditions that worked fine before the Pass began could use some refining. But it is your decision, Weyrleader."

T'mon smiled brightly. "Speaking of the candidates, R'gel was telling me they all seem to be getting along well."

"There are only sixteen of them this time, so there's little chance of them getting too crowded," S'mon replied. "That's not necessarily a good thing in the middle of a Pass. We need all the riders we can get."

"Cassora has been senior Weyrwoman for nearly three decades," P'grast said with a shrug. "Maybe it's time she stepped down and let Jorana or Carylin take her place."

T'mon grimaced; even he knew the problems that a declining Weyrwoman could do to a Weyr. The mental connection between rider and dragon created a level of awareness between all that lived within the Weyr. When things went bad, everyone knew it. The pitifully small clutch of eggs was a bad sign.

"I'll talk to her after the Hatching," he said. "She'll be more receptive then." Then he stood and left the cavern.

S'mon curled his hands around his mug of klah and stared into the dark liquid. "I heard your catch has been having problems. He's not very out-going."

P'grast sighed. "I think he had some problems at his hold. From what I saw, he could have benefitted from being fostered to Fort or any other Hold."

"As the eldest child that isn't always a option," S'mon replied. "I'm amazed they let him go on Search."

"You know how persuasive I can be," P'grast grinned mischievously.

"Yes, I know," S'mon said aggrieved.

"Besides Sythisinth didn't so much as twitch at the brother." P'grast said, his humor fading. "I'm highly tempted to call on Harper Hall to see if there was anything untoward going on at Twin Cliffs."

"I have to admit though, a lot of the weyrfolk are quite taken with him. He's got a real talent of working with dragons," S'mon said. "Dellon was able to save Menrath's wing because that lad found the blood clot just by feeling for it. I'm almost convinced he might be able to hear all dragons."

"I don't think he can," P'grast replied shaking his head. "Not that we couldn't use that rare talent, but to me, he just seems very perceptive."

As the days passed the excitement of the expected hatching grew. All the candidates were put to work helping in the kitchens and cleaning the grounds for all the expected guests.

Jagrassim had shown a surprising affinity for the kitchen, helping create several of the delicious dishes for the feast. The women of the lower caverns also found him skilled in caring for the children too young to help with the preparations.

A squalling child had suddenly quieted down the moment that she had been thrust into his rather reluctant arms. It was possibly the first time he had held a baby since his little brother had been born. It was as if the child had known he wasn't a threat. He so amazed that he smiled, the first genuine smile to grace his lips in years.

The change did not go unnoticed by the those around him, but wisely, they didn't mention it.

Then just as he thought that things couldn't get any more hectic, a thrumming sound began. He froze in place trying to understand what it was he was feeling. It wasn't just sound, it was texture, warmth, and emotion all wrapped into one. He didn't know how long he had been standing there, lost in the sensation before someone grabbing his arm snapped him out of it.

"Come on Slick, you've got to get cleaned up and change your clothes," P'grast said, as he hauled him towards the weyrling's quarters.

Not even giving Jagrassim time to think, the blue rider had him stripped naked and in the bathing area, efficiently helping him scrub down.

Once he was clean, P'grast handed him a thick white fabric tunic and a sash belt. "All the others are waiting near the entrance to the grounds," he said finally. "You best throw your sandals on and get out there."

Jagrassim did as he was told, and headed out the door. "Hey, Jagrassim! You've done a lot of good around here. If you don't Impress, we could always use someone like you."

The younger man's jaw dropped open in surprise. "Why?"

"Why?" P'grast echoed incredulously. "Because, you're a hard working young man, with a good head on your shoulders. Now get going before you miss your chance."

Moments later, Jagrassim stood with the others at the entrance to the Hatching grounds with an air of nervousness. The thrumming had increased dramatically until the air felt alive with it. High above them, dozens of dragons
were ducking into the large cavern through an enormous opening in the rock.

The Weyrling Master gave them last minute instructions, telling them all to show no fear. Then they were ushered into the large cavern.

The candidates walked out onto the hot sand of the hatching ground to the sight of a dozen enormous eggs being guarded by the gold dragon Roath.

There was a change in the welcoming hum of the dozens of dragons around them, as the giant eggs began to rock. The crowd of Lord Holders, Guild Masters, and families of the candidates watched in awe and fascination as the centuries old ritual was carried out before them.

Everyone heard the first loud crack and all eyes focused on the first egg which shattered suddenly. The brown dragonet stumbled out of the pile of egg shards, his multifaceted eyes searching the group.

With a trumpeting call the little creature stumbled awkwardly across the burning hot sand and came to a stop before one of the young men.

The young man knelt and stared into its eyes with a look of wonder. "He says his name is Fenrynth!"

Soon there was more activity eggs hatching every few seconds, of the dozen, there were five brown, three green, and three blue. The last wasn't rocking very hard, and many of the candidates where turning way from it, believing that it wouldn't actually hatch. But then Jagrassim stared at it; his exceptional eyes saw the hairline fracture that was forming right down the center.

With one loud crack, the last egg split open into to two almost perfect halves. Jagrassim took a step forward at the same moment the bronze dragonet did and they came together on the sand.

As his eyes met those of the bronze, he knew he had found someone that would forever be a part of his life -- an advocate, a champion, and a confidant that would never turn their back on him. "He said his name is Inilith!"

P'grast watched the weyrling's as they took their newly impressed dragonets from the burning sands of the Hatching Grounds, out to a private area where they were given large bowls of freshly butchered red meat with which to feed their charges.

He was particularly proud of Jagrassim, J'im now. He had impressed the only bronze of the clutch, and from the look of things Inilith would rival any bronze in the weyr when he was mature. It didn't hurt that he had won quite a few wagers on the lad impressing at all.

//See, I told you he was a good catch,// Sythisinth said in amusement. //Inilith's rider will be content here.//

"You're just happy because you get to gloat," P'grast groaned. "You always do after a good hatching."

The great blue dragon rumbled deep in his throat in amusement from where he rested, high above the ground on the rock ledge outside his weyr.

P'grast was about to congratulate the new dragonriders when he saw J'im's father make his way to the small knot of proud family members. There was something in the way he walked that made the veteran rider uneasy.

The rider asked Sythisinth to relay a message to S'mon's dragon Vineth for the younger bronze rider to join him quickly. His gut instinct was confirmed when he saw the smile on J'im's countenance crumble after a few words from his father.

J'im was so caught up in the need to scrub Inilith's hide clean of the egg fluids that he didn't register the approach of his father until the Holder was nearly on top of him.

"Son," the holder called, his sharp blue eyes gazing down at J'im with an unreadable expression. "As a dragonrider you are no longer bound by certain rules of conduct. Rules that I have always abided."

J'im felt his chest, which had swelled with happiness, tighten at the unexpectedly harsh tone. Inilith lowered his head in an aggressive stance, eyes that had been green with joy now turning red.

"I tried my best to make you into a proper Holder, but you never seemed to learn." Jorgrace snorted, then continued. "Everyone knows what happens here and most say that we can not expect the riders to go against the nature of the dragons. But I can not accept the notion regardless of the reason. As proud as I am that you have become a dragonrider and to a bronze at that, I can not allow such behavior in my family.

"I have only one son, now." Jorgrace turned suddenly and left.

J'im did his best not to show any reaction, but his emotions were too raw from the impression. Tears began to fall unnoticed down his cheeks. Inilith trumpeted his own distress at his rider's sudden shift in emotions, hissing at the retreating figure.

P'grast was there suddenly, his wind weathered arms wrapping around the youth to comfort him. "J'im, don't let his words ruin the greatest moment of your life," the blue rider insisted softly. "You have an entire Weyr of people that are your family now."

It took several minutes for the emotionally drained youth to get himself back under control. J'im then wiped the tears from his eyes and reluctantly pulled away from P'grast's comforting embrace. He looked into the faces of those around him. He was amazed to see only concern for him, rather than distaste at his emotional outburst. J'im swallowed the last lump of fear he had that these people would reject him, and turned his attention to his new charge.

Nearly two years of intensive training and hard work just taking care of the growing dragons passed before they and their riders were ready to fight the menace known as Thread.

During this period the weyrling's were taught the proper way to care for their dragons, their equipment, and themselves. When they weren't training, they were helping the rest of the Weyr in every day tasks.

J'im had been given quarters high on the upper levels of the bowl; though there was a tendency for the wind to get inside the enormous cavern, he enjoyed the unrestricted view of the sky that it afforded him.

He sat on the rock ledge outside his quarters, resting his back on Inilith's massive bulk. He was enjoying the warmth of the summer sun as much as his dragon.

His life had changed great in the past few years. He had filled out from a slightly awkward youth to a well muscled and, if the attention his got was any way to measure, very attractive man.

There was something to be said about the freedom that being a dragonrider gave him. Because of the need to keep the dragons healthy, the riders didn't have to worry about having to hide or suppress their sexual tastes.

To be truthful he didn't often take up with anyone, though it wasn't for lack of offers. Even though he had found a new family of sorts here, he had problems letting his guard down enough to get close to anyone.

//You really should get to know Yeth's rider better,// Inilith said sleepily.

J'im smiled affectionately at him. "You just want a better chance at her when she rises to mate."

//With Roath's rider stepping down as Weyrwoman, it falls to the next Queen that rises to be senior Queen.//

"Aside from the satisfaction of having flown her successfully, what good is this for?" J'im asked. "I have no desire to be Weyrleader and none of the older riders would want someone my age in charge of the Weyr."

//You would be less alone for once,// Inilith rumbled in exasperation.

J'im ran his hands through his shoulder-length brown hair. He was seriously considering cutting it short. At times, while in the air, it would slip out from under his helmet and obscure his vision. "I don't need people that much, never have. Besides, I have you for company."

//I am a dragon, you are my rider. We are together always, but it is good for you to have company more often.// A large sigh erupted from the great bulk behind him. //And the last time you had a companion, you faded so far away, you nearly took me with you. I'd rather be lost Between than feel you slide away again. Maybe if you mated more often you wouldn't get overwhelmed.//

J'im closed his eyes, not wanting to remember how he had lost control and fell into a trance during a drunken coupling with one of the women from the lower caverns. She hadn't actually noticed his plight and it was sheer luck that the dragon on the heights had bellowed a late night greeting. Otherwise who knew if he would have come back.

Inilith was normally able to notice his little trances as they started, but he wasn't very successful in bringing J'im out of them if he went to deep.

The next morning there was a meeting of all the wingleaders at the Weyrwoman's quarters. T'mon was still Weyrleader after all this time, but he was beginning to show signs of fatigue after eighteen turns of constantly trying to keep the lands beholden to Fort Weyr protected.

J'im may have only been flying Thread for two turns, but he had more than proven himself to be a skilled rider and an effective leader. His promotion to wingleader was a great shock to him, even though he had heard rumors to the fact.

There had been some concerns as Inilith matured, for he wasn't much larger than the brown dragons. Many speculated that the young bronze would never successfully fly a queen, and so far that had been the case, but that didn't detract from the skill of either dragon or rider.

His first wing, which consisted of mostly blue and green dragons, was in charge of sweeping the ground after the fall, to make sure that no Thread spores had reached the ground. He was able to use his sight to his advantage in this duty, being able to find small hints of damage in the forest canopy.

The wingleaders all sat around the long conference table, some with warm cups of klah in hand in an attempt to shake out the cobwebs from waking early.

Sitting next to J'im was S'mon, rider of bronze Vineth. They had formed a pretty steady friendship since Inilith's hatching. J'im looked up to the older rider because he treated everyone fairly and the fact that they found they shared a common interest, fishing.

Not many people thought of catching fish as a way to relax, but the quiet solitude of fishing, especially with most holders staying inside or close to the holds, was very refreshing.

T'mon called the meeting to order. "As you all know, Cassora has stepped down as Weyrwoman. And it seems a safe wager that either Jorana's Fenth or Carylin's Yeth will rise and give us our next Weyrwoman.

"There has been a great deal of speculation here and elsewhere about my joining in the mating flight." There was a general murmur around the room.

"I will put to rest that speculation by saying I have no intension of participating in the mating flight." He raised his hand to stop the protests uttered by several riders. "I've been Weyrleader for far more years than I care to think about. I believe it's time for some new blood."

S'mon stood and held up his mug of klah. "I understand your reasons T'mon, you have been a dedicated Weyrleader, even if you took your role reluctantly at first." With that said, he saluted the older rider, as did the other riders in the room.

"Thank you, all." T'mon smiled sadly. "Now before you think you're going to have it easy from now on. I'm not gone yet and I saw some very sloppy wing formations out there."

There was an eruption of laughter as things went back to business as usual.

Two days after T'mon announced that he would not be part of the mating flight, Jorana's Fenth rose to mate.

It had started as a tickling inside J'im's mind as he slept. The instinct creeping into his subconscious was all heat and blood and passion.

He sat up with a start and quickly got out of bed. He grabbed a knee-length tunic to cover himself and climbed onto Inilith's broad shoulders. The bronze dragon stepped off the rock ledge and spiraled down to the livestock corral.

At the far end of the weyr bowl, there resided a large mixture of herdbeasts, wherries, and runnerbeasts that were kept for the consumption of not only the weyr folk, but for the dragons as well.

The great bronze settled on the grass briefly, allowing J'im to leap to the ground. Then he was off again, circling the herd looking for a suitable meal. When his claws plucked a strong bull from the herd, killing it quickly. J'im suddenly realized what was happening and commanded Inilith not to eat the flesh of the herdbeast. Using the bond between them, he forced his dragon to follow the instinct that was calling him, and watched as Inilith obeyed. The dragon sank his teeth into the warm flesh and sucked the blood from it.

The young rider shuddered as he felt the connection with his dragon deepen; he could almost feel the hot blood running down his own throat. As Inilith went for another kill, he became aware of the other bronze dragons also coming to blood their kills. After his second kill, Inilith was throbbing in anticipation, his eyes focused on the still sleeping form of the Queen. He and the others began to hum low in their throats. Similarly to the sound during a Hatching, but more anticipatory.

The golden queen suddenly woke with a trumpet of challenge. Stretching her long wings she leapt off the ledge and headed for the herd. A brown dragon landed on the ledge and the rider escorted Jorana to the field, where she commanded the great beast to blood her kills. When Yeth had sucked three corpses dry, her golden hide began glowing brightly. She raised her head and screamed in defiance at the male dragons around her. Then with a leap upward and strong pumping of her wings, the gold took off leaving the bronzes to follow in her wake.

J'im felt his mind rise into the air with his great bronze dragon, as Inilith pursued the golden queen high into the sky. They were six rivals for her, each one labored to keep pace. Higher and higher they flew, leaving the confines of the weyr far below them.

One by one, the older dragons tired, dropping out of the race until there were only Inilith and Vineth. The gold folded her wings suddenly nearly colliding with the two of them; she trumpeted her amusement at their distress. Inilith was forced to veer sharply, losing both speed and altitude.

From above him he heard a bugle of triumph as Vineth captured the golden queen in a tight hold.

J'im was rocked back into his own body as both he and his dragon saw that they had failed to capture the queen. He quickly assessed his condition; he was half naked, sweaty, and highly aroused. He was standing in the bed chamber of the new Weyrwoman, the scent of sex was thick in the room.

Only a few feet away, S'mon and Jorana were locked together in a passionate embrace, totally lost in the moment of their dragon's mating flight.

Shaking with unfulfilled need, J'im stumbled groggily out of the weyr and into the harsh glare of the midday sun. As with many a disappointed rider, the instinctual need to relieve the sexual fires created by the mating flight was hard to control. Fortunately there were plenty of weyrfolk that were willing to help.

In the sensual haze that followed all he could remember was the willing body that accepted his touch, the hot tight flesh he entered, and the final sexual release not only for himself but for Inilith.

When J'im awoke, he found himself in a strange weyr. The bed was in the wrong area, the ceiling reflected the sounds from outside differently and there was a settledness to the air that suggested a lower place on the bowl.

He was also aware of the warm body he was now spooned up behind. As he took in the feel of his bed-mate, he realized that his choice of sexual partner had been a little unusual for him.

Normally he would bed women, even after his first failed flight, he had bedded a woman. This time though he had chosen a man. He opened his eyes as he ran his hand along the well muscled body. The rider was K'len, a green rider from P'grast's wing.

What truly shocked J'im was that K'len was over a decade his senior. While he had found the older man very handsome, he had never given into his attractions to men like this before.

Slowly he got out of the warm bed, not wanting to disturb the older man. He headed into the bathroom to clean himself and try to piece together what had happened.

//You needed to follow your true nature,// Inilith broke into his thoughts. //You hide too much of yourself.//

J'im scrubbed his face tiredly. He wanted to refute his dragon's words, but there wasn't much of a chance of arguing with someone that had a permanent residence in his head.

"J'im?" K'len called. He entered the bathing room looking concerned. "Are you okay?"

K'len stood next to him and ran his hand across J'im's. He lifted his chin with a finger. "This was a few hours of passion, nothing more. You are a dragonrider, though you were bred to the Hold. You have to let go if those taboos they inflict in the name of morality."

"It's hard to let go sometimes." J'im looked into the older man's eyes and saw only affection and understanding.

"I think you've been alone in that weyr of yours too much," K'len commented. He pressed a soft kiss on J'im's lips. "If you want, you can come back here anytime you want."

J'im pulled back and regarded the older man seriously. "I'll think about it, but now I need to get some more sleep. We are both going to be fighting Thread tomorrow."

"Then spend the night with me, now, before tomorrow's fall." K'len grinned brightly.

A slowly spreading smile took over J'im's face, as though he were fighting it. "Okay."

J'im awoke one morning half a turn later with the sudden realization that he was happy and that he had been for quite some time. The time he had spent with K'len so far had been wonderful, not just some physical release. He had, for the first time, truly enjoyed being openly intimate with someone.

He had been reluctant at first to admit that they were together, his upbringing making it difficult to be open about any sort of relationship. K'len had been patient and understanding, giving him the time to sort out his feelings. While neither of them were willing to give up their own weyr they had made a show of being at least emotionally exclusive. They had their problems of course, but that was part of the package.

Unfortunately, neither man had time for more than an affectionate touch as they raced to get ready for the Fall that morning. Inilith and Frathen were already waiting eagerly for their riders when they exited the weyr. K'len pulled J'im into one last kiss then watched as the young bronze rider leaped onto his dragon's back to fly up to his own weyr to get ready.

Sitting on Inilith's back, waiting for the time when his wing could go 'between', J'im's sharp eyes watched as K'len vanished along with most of the senior wings.

Less than one hour into what was going to be a six hour Fall all the riders knew things were going to be difficult. The leading edge had begun normally, but the winds in the upper levels were causing the fall to shift erratically. Larger than normal tangles of Thread were more difficult to flame.

J'im was grateful in many ways to have been given command of the wing that swept the remains of the fall for anything that might have gotten past the riders high above them. His ears, which were nearly as sensitive as his dragon's easily picked up cries of distress any time either a dragon or rider was injured.

One of the youngest riders, whose duty it was to resupply the fighting dragons with sacks of firestone, flew close to J'im's wing and shouted something. J'im paled in horror as the words become intelligible. "There's a heavy squall line coming in from the west, off of souther edge of Tillek. It came out of nowhere. It'll hit the leading edge of the Fall in an hour."

"What are the winds like?" J'im called back, having already noted some decent gusts.

"Too strong to fly in," he shouted back. "T'mon said he was nearly tossed to the ground. He had to go 'between' to keep from losing it."

J'im waved his understanding and relayed the message to those that could not hear. They would fight Thread until the last possible moment. If there was wind and little rain during the storm, the Thread would devastate the area. Ground crews would fair no better in a storm.

An hour and a half later they were in a full gale. J'im had ordered his wing higher, to try and catch threads that got past the higher wings. They were over shrub-covered hills just before the rocky terrain of the mountains. But they still had at least another half hour before they could leave the Fall to its own devices. The wings had already taken heavy losses, from not just the thread, but the wind as well.

//We are needed,// Inilith said suddenly. As a shriek of pain from a wounded dragon cut through the air above them, J'im turned his gaze upward to see a green shape wink out of existence. Making the instinctual calculation of where the pair would reappear, J'im ordered his wing to follow him and they vanished.

He shivered in the cold of between for the few heartbeats it took to transfer. When he broke into the air, it was several dragon lengths under a flailing, injured dragon.

In a move that was shear desperation, J'im unhooked the left side of his riding straps and clung to the right side of Inilith's neck, as the large bronze caught the smaller dragon on his broad back.

The other dragons in the wing quickly helped relieve some of the heavy burden. J'im had Inilith relay the image of the weyr, along with a warning to clear the airspace in the bowl proper.

There was an undefinable split second of terror as J'im clung to the side of Inilith as they transferred between, the terrible lack of sensory awareness taking on new depths. //I am here,// his dragon whispered to him.

They erupted from between only a few dragon lengths from the floor of the bowl. Having lost the updraft that had kept them all aloft, they managed a controlled fall.

J'im clung to Inilith's side for a moment, the impact stunning him. He quickly untied himself the rest of the way to help with the injured dragon and rider.

He was shocked into immobility as the extent of the injuries registered in his mind. The strong membrane of the right wing was half gone. There was Thread-score down the right flank that J'im could tell was down to the bone in spots. Green blood seeped from the various wounds that covered the hide. At the riding straps the green ichor was intermixed with red blood from the rider's wounds.

The horror of the moment took on new dimensions as J'im recognized who he was helping. "K'len...," his whisper seemed to be torn from his chest. His few years of living at the Weyr had given him enough experience to assess the wounds on his beloved friend.

He cradled his lover's head in his lap when the healer allowed him near. The pain-dulled brown eyes tried to smile up at him. The terrible tracks of Threadscore that marred the handsome face were covered in a thick coating of Numbweed to deaden the worst of the pain.

"I'm sorry, J'im," he whispered roughly. "I guess we won't be going to the Spring Gather after all."

"Don't talk like that," J'im pleaded. "Just save your strength."

"It just got too windy," K'len gasped. "There was no pattern to follow."

Even as he spoke, several wings of riders were returning from the fall. All were soaked to the skin from the driving rain. Many more than normal had injuries, some serious, some minor almost all of them were exhausted from the effort to stay in the fight until the last moment possible.

"I wish we could have had more time together." K'len shuddered, as he took J'im's hand in his. "Don't hide yourself, J'im. You're too beautiful a person..."

K'len shuddered hard once, his entire body clenched in pain. Then he collapsed by inches until he closed his eyes and breathed his last. Farthen screamed in protest as she launched her injured body into the air and vanished between.

A horrible keening rose from all the dragons in the weyr as they mourned the passing of dragon and rider. Many of the weyrfolk were shocked as J'im raised his head and added his voice as well, clutching his lover's body.

Gently, with all the skill that years of experience brought to bear, Weyrhealer Heiti pulled J'im away from K'len's body. He was taken to the kitchen and given strong wine fortified with a small amount of fellis juice.

In less time than anyone guessed the sedative worked its way though the distraught rider's system and he was out. Several riders carried him up into an empty weyr. As a distraught Inilith entered the chamber, the riders were trying to place J'im in the small bed. They changed tactics when the bronze tried to squeeze his head into the sleeping chamber.

Carrying J'im out to the stone couch, they laid him down on a pile of rushes covered with thick wherry hide. Inilith curled around him protectively and promptly fell into a deep sleep as well.

As the rising sun began to illuminate the heights of Fort Weyr, the Weyrleader called a meeting in the Weyrwoman's council room. The gathering of senior riders was a subdued affair, many of them still recovering emotionally as well as physically to the events of the previous day.

S'mon sipped his mug of warm klah slowly. It wasn't the first time there had been heavy casualties in a fall, but it was always difficult to handle so many deaths at once. Fifteen riders had lost their lives yesterday, most from not being able to judge the changing patterns of the Thread as it was blown in the high winds.

Looking at those gathered S'mon noted that all the wingleaders had made it to the meeting with one exception. J'im was still unresponsive, refusing to talk or even look at anyone. Inilith wasn't much better, hovering over his rider like a Queen protecting her clutch.

While it wasn't unheard of for bronze dragons to mate with greens, it was much more unusual for the two riders to become as deeply involved as J'im and K'len had. Their relationship had brought out the best in J'im and had revitalized the older K'len.

J'im had been reticent at best, reclusive at his worst. Now, S'mon, Jorana, and the Weyrhealers Dellon and Heiti were all worried that the bronze rider would have a hard time recovering from such a loss.

With a heavy sigh, S'mon looked down at the hides he had worked on all night, trying to figure out how to redeploy the dragonriders effectively. "All right gentlemen, these are the losses we are looking at."

Dellon entered the weyr, a tray of food in his hands. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom his heart clenched at the sight before him.

J'im lay curled up in the crook of Inilith's arm. While his eyes were dry, it was obvious there was a great deal of emotional distress behind the bright blue depths that simply stared off into nothing.

The healer set the tray down next to the large stone platform and tried to assess J'im's condition. From what he could see it was no more than emotional shock. But that in itself could be debilitating, especially for someone with as many emotional scars as J'im seemed to have.

"J'im, would you like something to eat?" Dellon asked softly. "I brought you breakfast."

At last there was a response, J'im's eyes turned to look at the healer. "I'm not hungry, but thank you," he said softly.

The healer didn't like the flat, emotionless quality to the bronze rider's voice, but it was better than complete silence. "I know you cared for K'len a great deal, as he cared for you. But he wouldn't want you to tear yourself apart over his death."

Slowly, J'im sat up and looked the healer in the eyes. "We'd only been together half a turn. Why does it feel like I died too?"

Dellon almost felt like crying, at the sense of loss in those words. He placed one hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Because normally you keep people a dragon's length away from you, because he was your friend, and because you loved him very much."

J'im covered his face as a wave of pain washed over him; he didn't know losing someone could hurt this much. Inilith moaned in sympathy, ducking his great head down to nudge his rider.

"I-I don't want to talk about this right now," J'im said in a harsh whisper.

"I know, but you might be surprised how much it helps," Dellon suggested.

"Please, just leave me alone for a while. I need some time alone in the quiet and the dark. It helps some..."

The healer stood with a sigh, knowing he had gotten as far as he could this morning. "Okay, just eat something, for Inilith's sake at least."

J'im's hand caressed the soft hide of his dragon's foreleg. "Of course."

The day of the Ruathan Spring Gather brought many of the dragonriders a welcome relief from tensions associated with Thread. Many from Fort Weyr would be in attendance, including the Weyrleaders.

Several weeks had passed since the Fall that had taken the life of K'len. Most of the Weyr was now recovered and all the wings were up to full strength.

The only continuing problem was the emotional distance that J'im seemed to maintain with everyone around him. He was no longer hiding in his weyr, but he couldn't seem to get enthusiastic about anything.

The only times he smiled unreservedly was when Inilith said something amusing. Otherwise he would smile tightly as though he were forcing himself to respond properly. Many in the weyr wondered if they would ever see a return of his old humor.

The object of everyone's concern entered the lower caverns to get some breakfast. He smiled politely as he sipped hot klah and ate the hearth porridge that was the normal fare in the morning.

"J'im," S'mon called as he entered the kitchen. "I was hoping you could go to Harper Hall with P'grast and bring Master Harper Stradon and a few of his journeymen to the Ruatha Gather."

"I was going to switch patrols with G'lel, so that he could go to the gather," J'im replied, less than enthusiastic about the idea of going to the event.

"Well that's just too bad," S'mon replied tersely. "G'lel will just have to sucker someone else into taking his patrol. You have been given an order and you will do it."

J'im stiffened and nodded. "Yes, Weyrleader."

"Oh and J'im, Stradon may need transport at any time during the gather, I would like you to be available just in case."

"I understand," Jim replied and headed to his quarters to put on nice set of clothing. When he was properly dressed for the occasion, he checked the riding straps on Inilith's set up. He added a few extra straps for the passengers he would be carrying, and then joined P'grast on the heights.

"How are you feeling today, Slick?" the older blue rider asked.

"I'm fine," J'im replied, staring out at the scattered billowing clouds that dotted the bright blue sky.

"Right," P'grast said disbelievingly. He didn't press the issue though, if J'im wanted to talk he would.

"Shall we go?" J'im asked. "We don't want to keep the Masterharper waiting."

P'grast shrugged and pulled his riding helmet onto his head, covering his short spiky silver hair. At his silent command his dragon unfurled his great wings and leapt off the edge of the stone cliff, rising high into the air.

They broke out into the air about Harper Hall, their dragons trumpeting their arrival. Many of the people below came out of their shelters to greet them, while others hung out of the hundreds of windows to see the dragons land in the nearby field.

As a bronze rider, J'im was technically P'grast's superior, and so it was up to him to greet the Masterharper and his journeymen. He stood straight, removing his helmet, as he walked through the crowd that parted for him.

Standing ready for them were three men all dressed in their Gather best clothing, J'im could tell from the knots on their shoulders that they were all journeymen. "I was told Masterharper Stradon was to come as well. Has
something happened?" he asked with genuine concern.

"No, J'im. Master Stradon is simply delayed. The last of our group is somewhat reluctant to ride a-dragon-back."

"I see." J'im nodded gravely. His eyes found those of P'grast, who shrugged.

"Not everyone is meant to fly," the older rider commented.

"Well, let's get all of you ready to go," J'im suggested. In very little time the instruments and bundles of new music hides were secured to the riding straps.

From behind him, he heard a hushed voices arguing, one voice cajoling, the other nervous. //No doubt the Masterharper and his the journeyman.// Inilith sent a ripple of amusement at his dry tone.

"Master Stradon, couldn't you let one of the other journeymen come with you? I mean I've always been happy to ride a runnerbeast wherever you needed me to go. Why not just let someone that wants to go have the privilege."

"Because, you are needed to play in the quartet. If you had finished that piece of yours last week like you'd promised, then you would have had time to get to Ruatha in time for the gather by land," Stradon replied. "As it is, you finished yesterday, and we have had very little time practicing it."

"Please, Master Stradon, I don't think I can do this."

"Ballair, there comes a time in every man's life when they have to face their fears. I think its high time you faced this one."

J'im turned to greet the new arrivals. "Master Stradon, it's a pleasure to meet you at last."

"J'im, Inilith's rider, thank you for helping us get to Ruatha. This is one of my best journeymen Ballair."

J'im turned and was stunned by how young Ballair appeared. "Are you sure you are old enough to walk the tables?"

Ballair looked as offended as Stradon looked amused. The younger man pushed past J'im and stood next to the great bronze dragon's foreleg. "Are we going, or aren't we?" he asked testily.

"Please forgive him. Ballair is a bit sensitive about his age. He made his walk to the Journeyman's tables four turns ago." Master Stradon spoke quietly. "He's one of my best composers as well as a skilled archivist."

J'im nodded in understanding. He moved to help the journeyman tie his equipment to Inilith's riding straps. "I'm sorry if I offended you Journeyman Ballair. I was taken by surprise."

"Why, haven't you been outside that weyr of yours enough lately?" Ballair asked. It was meant to be teasing, but it cut J'im deeply. Realizing he'd somehow made the rider uncomfortable when J'im didn't respond, Ballair smiled to try to ease the
man's tension.

J'im turned to Stradon. "We should get going, the Gather will have begun already."

Ballair gave the Masterharper a searching look. The older man simply shook his head, ending any sort of speculation for the time being. Sooner than Ballair liked, they were all strapped in.

The people on the ground ran for cover as the two great beasts leapt into the air, their great wings kicking up a large dust cloud.

J'im could hear the increased respiration of the young man seated behind him. "It won't be long now, Ballair. I'll take us between as soon as we reach a good height."

"Don't try to breathe while you are 'between'," Stradon cautioned. "And recite the first three stanzas of your quartet in your head."

Inilith hovered in the wind currents for a moment, the smaller blue dragon just on his right. J'im raised his hand as a visual signal, then with the image of the heights of Ruatha in his mind, dropped his hand and took them between.

Black, blacker, blackest; cold beyond frozen things.

The words flooded Ballair's mind as he was plunged into a moment of total sensory deprivation; to his horror he realized that he couldn't even feel the bulk of the dragon under him.

Just as he thought he would scream in terror, they emerged into the shocking warmth of the early spring air of Ruatha Hold.

The sight of all the colorful banners streaming from the towering cliffs and the many open windows brightened the severe looking structure, giving the hold a welcoming feeling. Far below in the square, hundreds of holders and crafters alike milled about, happy for the first real breath of freedom after the long winter.

"It's beautiful," Ballair called out. "I've never seen a Hold from this angle before."

"All you had to do is learn how to fly," J'im called back.

"Very funny," Ballair muttered. "I was far too busy learning how to be a proper Harper. I doubt anyone on Search would have noticed me."

J'im shrugged noncommittally as they circled for a landing. As soon as they unloaded the packages, he signaled for Inilith to make himself comfortable.

The bronze launched himself into the air, and settled down on the edge of the fire heights alongside several others, his multifaceted eyes glowing a bright blue. All along the cliffs of Ruatha dozens of dragons could be seen, proclaiming a strong Weyr presence at the gather.

J'im had turned to take in the sight of a Gather in full swing, when he saw Ballair and Master Stradon pulling off their riding leathers. He was astounded by the waterfall of dark curls that came loose from under Ballair's helmet. They seemed to accentuate the high cheekbones, large eyes and full lips. As Ballair ran his hand over his cleanly shaven chin, J'im found himself wondering how soft his skin was.

The young Harper's eyes met his for a moment, but J'im turned away, not wishing to give the young man the wrong impression.

//You like him, what is wrong with that?// Inilith asked.

"I'm not ready to trust that kind of feeling again," J'im whispered.

Inilith hrumphed but didn't comment further.

Ballair sat near the stage tuning up his mandolin as his eyes wandered across the multicolored tents of the gather's stalls. While he had spotted P'grast, the older blue rider, talking with the wine merchant, he couldn't see the handsome bronze rider J'im anywhere.

Stradon saw his wandering eye. "You liked J'im, despite having to fly I see."

"I wouldn't call it like, Master Stradon," Ballair replied forcing his eyes to pay attention to the work in front of him.

"Oh, and what would you call it?"

"Natural curiosity," he replied. He finished with the one instrument and began setting up the music in the proper order. "I've never met a bronze rider before."

Master Stradon laughed. "If you insist on that definition, Ballair, then I think you've been in the archive room too much."

Ballair blushed slightly. "I'm not that naive. He is quite good looking, but I'm not sure a roll in the rushes with a rider would do either of us any good."

"Oh?" Stradon asked. "Why do you say that?"

"He looked right through me, like I wasn't even there. Besides, I don't know how comfortable I'd be knowing his dragon might be listening in."

Stradon just shook his head, "This from the man that was caught dancing naked on the drum heights."

Ballair laughed this time. "You'll never let me forget that will you?"

"Never, my friend. Now, lets get set up to play that piece you created."

P'grast watched with interest as the young harper and the bronze rider tried to ignore each other. It would have been funny, if not for the heartbreaking realization of why J'im was doing it. Ballair actually seemed to be considering approaching J'im, if the sidelong glances he could see were any indication. But the young harper didn't seem willing to take the leap.

Ballair, while interested in J'im, was not crippled by grief to keep his interests focused. The harper had an eye that sought out beauty in both sexes. It was easy to see that this lad had no problem keeping warm at night and it was a simple matter of logic that a young man wouldn't pursue where he wasn't getting any reaction in return.

P'grast shook his head in dismay, he didn't want Ballair or anyone else to feel the grief that seemed to follow J'im like a shadow. He just wanted the young rider to be happy. P'grast had learned that since K'len's death the number of times J'im had faded out mentally had increased dramatically. It was no secret to the Weyr what J'im seemed to be able to do with his senses, but no one knew how to help him. It was painfully obvious that unless something happened soon to distract him from his self-destructive grief, J'im was going to be useless as a wingleader.

As he looked about the stone walls of Ruatha Hold P'grast wondered how he could get those two to stop dancing around each other. An idea formed in the crafty old rider's brain, as he set off to find the Masterharper. If this didn't work nothing would.

The glow baskets were brought out as the sun began to dip low in the horizon. The stage was cleared and the quartet began to set up for the performance. Many had heard that the Harper Hall would be performing new music tonight and everyone was eager to hear it.

Ballair settled down with his mandolin, breathing deep to calm his nerves. He always became nervous before playing a new piece.

The first few songs were rousing dances which had everyone clapping or filling the dance floor. Ballair smiled at Master Stradon, excited to be out with the people after such a long winter.

They took several requested songs allowing time for people to eat and drink. Several times the young harper found his eyes drawn up to the cliffs where the bronze and blue dragons were resting.

When Henrin and Serenna, Lord and Lady Holders of Ruatha, appeared in the square and settled down to watch them, Stradon signaled that they should play Ballair's new song.

The gathered crowd was hushed as the first stings in what Ballair called Night's Wing filled the square. It was a hauntingly melancholy tune that evoked visions of a dragon flying alone through the night's sky.

In the light of the glows, Ballair caught sight of J'im sitting far from the rest of the crowd. Perhaps it was the mood of the music or something in the way the bronze rider held himself. For some reason, Ballair shifted in his seat and began playing directly to him.

When the last stanza was played and the music faded, the young harper was astonished to see J'im turn and leave the square, the light catching moisture on the rider's cheeks.

Later that evening, exhausted from playing their fingers to the bone for the holders, the Harpers were returned to Harper Hall. Unlike when they first arrived the riders did not leave their dragon's backs. They simply helped hand down the packages, then after a polite farewell, they took off again. They disappeared between to return to Fort Weyr.

"Master Stradon," Ballair called as they headed indoors. "I know I've been holed up writing that quartet, but did something happen to J'im that no one is talking about?"

"Why do you ask?" the Masterharper replied.

"He just seems... I don't know, sad. I haven't met too many riders, but I know that's not normal."

"The life of a dragonrider is hard. Which is why the holders tithe food and goods them. It lessens their burdens, and allows them to take better care of their dragons. But that doesn't protect them from the pain of losing someone close to them."

"I didn't think weyrfolk would become attached like that," Ballair said honestly.

Stradon gave him a hard look. "Well its high time I educated you on the realities of what Fort Weyr is like. Rider P'grast has invited me to the next Hatching, and I think I'll take you along. You've become entirely too hide bound for one your age."

Ballair stared after the Masterharper wondering what he had just gotten himself into.

P'grast arrived at Harper Hall to bring the Masterharper to the hatching. He was please to see Ballair waiting with him this time. "Shall we go?" he said in way of greeting. "The dragons are starting to hum, you don't want to miss anything."

Adragonback once more, Ballair found it not nearly so frightening as it had been the first time. In fact he was able to enjoy the wind in his face, so long as he didn't look down. The trip between was still a shock, but this time he didn't feel as though he was going to scream.

They appeared just outside the bowl of the Weyr, in the midst of a dozen other dragons either leaving quickly or arriving. Ballair was amazed that with the multitude of creatures in the air, all flying so closely, none of them so much as brushed wingtips.

High above the opening that led to the Hatching Grounds Ballair saw the Star Stone and Eye Rock for the first time, the ancient stones that had been placed to tell the dragonriders when the new pass would begin. At the morning of the spring equinox nearly forty years ago, the Red Star had
shone through Eye Rock, there were very few Rider's alive today that honestly had been alive when that had happened. Those that were had been children
at the time.

It was only visible for a moment, then they entered the enormous cavern and were hit by a wall of sound as the dragons' low thrumming began to grow in intensity.

P'grast dropped them on the bottom tier of the observation seats. "I made sure you had a good place to watch. You can see everything that happens on the sands from here."

"Thank you," Master Stradon replied.

"Will you both be willing to play for us afterward?" P'grast asked. "Our Weyrharper is excellent, but he rarely gets the chance to play with his fellows."

"We would be more than happy to," Ballair replied. His eyes were wide with wonder, not wanting to miss a thing.

From one end of the grounds two dozen figures in white walked across the hot sands to stand in a semi-circle before the twenty eggs that were rocking gently.

After doing a quick count, Ballair turned to the Masterharper. "Do they always give the eggs so few choices?"

"It depends on the Search. The more candidates the better, but sometimes they just barely have enough."

"How many Hatchings have you been to?" Ballair asked, amazed at the older man's calm explanation.

"Hmm, I've gone to at least a two dozen since I became the Masterharper. I never get tired of it. It is truly inspiring to watch."

Ballair tore his eyes away from the sight before him and looked up the walls of the huge cavern; there were dragons of every color everywhere, each perched on a ledges, their eyes glowing brightly as they hummed their greeting to the new arrivals.

He was surprised that he could see Inilith, but there was no sign of J'im. He wondered were the rider could be at such an important moment. It wasn't until Stradon answered him that he realized he'd spoken his thoughts aloud.

"J'im is usually in the kitchens before a hatching. He is quite a talented cook, at least two of the dishes you'll eat tonight will be of his making."

The sound of one of the eggs cracking sent the stragglers scurrying to find their seats. Ballair turned his attention to watch the moment, trying to see everything at once, from the excited family members cheering, to the luminous faces of the newly impressed.

The one thing he noticed was that the candidates did not stand like statues; if it looked like the newborn was going to either hit them or walk past, they let the dragonet have their way. But this lead to a curious event, at least to Ballair's point of view.

One of the hatchlings, wings still damp, was not looking to the candidates. In fact the green was pointedly ignoring them, bright eyes seeming to be looking for something or someone in particular.

Later he could never quite understand why he did it. Ballair stood and moved to the edge of the sands ignoring the hissed warning from the Masterharper. The moment he moved, the hatchling saw him and trumpeted with joy. His jaw went slack as he felt the touch of the young mind to his. "She says her name is Wynnith."

J'im had been watching the hatching from the ground entrance, where the candidates enter from. He could see that things were going smoothly, that is, until the green hatchling decided that none of those presented was suitable.

He felt his chest tighten as he saw the green head for the tiers moving unerringly toward a familiar curly haired man dressed in harper blue.

J'im focused his vision in and saw that it was, indeed, the young harper, Ballair. As he watched the harper kneel down to scratch the hatchling's eye ridge, through the chorus of dragons above him, he heard the young harper say: "She says her name is Wynnith."

//No, no, no, no, no,// J'im's mind reeled. //Not him, not here. Why couldn't he just stay at a hold, away from me?// There was a hint of panicked hysteria in his thoughts. He'd been having dreams about the young harper. Dreams that were harmless since Ballair's fear of heights would keep him Hold-bound.

But now, short of asking the Weyrleader if he could move to another Weyr -- an almost unheard of occurrence -- there would be no avoiding the new rider.

//Good, then you can stop sulking,// Inilith commented with mild annoyance.

"I'm not sulking," J'im muttered heading away from the hatching grounds.

//Yes you are, everyone says so. Including me. B'lair well make a great rider, and give G'ril someone to play music with.//

J'im stopped short halfway to the kitchen. "B'lair..." he rolled the name off his tongue.

"J'im, can you believe what happened in there?" P'grast called shaking his head. "If I'd known he was going to impress, I'd have Searched him long ago."

"I'm going to check on how the feast preparations are going," J'im said and left.

P'grast stared after him shaking his head.

Master Stradon sat with a large goblet of wine in his hand, staring at it intently. He kept seeing his best harper impressing the green hatchling in his mind. He wasn't sure whether to be upset or not.

"B'lair is over with the weyrlings getting Wynnith clean," S'mon said as he approached. "He's as happy as anyone I've ever seen after an Impression."

"I'm happy for him, honestly," Stradon grimaced. "But..."

"What is it?" S'mon asked, placing a large comforting hand on his friend's shoulder.

"I had been grooming him to take over the Hall someday." The Masterharper sighed. "He's the most talented harper in years. How will he be able to compose when he has to fly Thread?"

"We don't always fly Thread, you know that." S'mon chuckled. "After Wynnith is fully grown, B'lair will have a lot of time to compose, perform, or do anything else he wants to do. Many of the former crafters continue to use their skills here at the Weyr, especially in the winter, when Thread freezes to dust before it falls very far."

"I wouldn't be too worried," P'grast commented pouring himself some wine. "I think he'll have plenty of experiences to inspire his music."

"This is all your fault," Stradon muttered sourly.

"Mine? Your blaming this on me?" P'grast didn't look too upset.

"It was your idea to try to get Ballair and J'im together again," Stradon reminded him. "If you hadn't talked me into bringing him here, he wouldn't have Impressed."

"Okay, what are you two talking about?" S'mon demanded.

Stradon downed another goblet of wine. "Your rider here decided to play matchmaker with J'im and Ballair."

"You what?!" S'mon swung his attention to P'grast.

"Calm down, Weyrleader. You didn't see them at the Spring Gather. Anyone that was paying attention could tell they were interested." P'grast spread his hands placatingly. "I was just trying to speed things along."

"After everything J'im's been through?" S'mon growled. "I know you meant well, but- Where is he now?"

"Last I saw of him, J'im was heading for the kitchen," P'grast said.

"Well go find him," S'mon ordered. "Tell him I want to talk. I don't want to give him the chance start acting like a watch-wher again."

"Like he ever stopped?" P'grast muttered as he left.

B'lair was talking excitedly to one of the other newly impressed, a young man from Ruatha's Weavers guild, Wynnith leaning against his leg, when he saw Master Stradon approach.

"B'lair, you have out done yourself this time," he said, no malice in his voice.

"I guess this means I won't be able to help with copying records anymore," B'lair said apologetically.

"Even though I'll miss you at Harper Hall," Stradon smiled. "I think you'll make a great Dragonrider."

"Well, I'll certainly be able to write songs about life in the Weyr," B'lair offered, smiling brightly.

"Yes, but not until your young charge is old enough to feed herself," S'mon said as he approached. "I'll send G'ril to retrieve your things from the Hall tonight."

"I didn't mean to cause so much trouble," B'lair said. "It just happened."

"Don't worry, it's not like you're a Lord Holder," S'mon smiled. "If that ever happened it would be a disaster."

//Am I causing trouble for you?// Wynnith asked tiredly. Her stomach was full and she was becoming very sleepy.

B'lair leaned down and scratched her eye ridge. "No trouble. You could never cause me trouble."

"Why don't we get you two settled?" S'mon suggested. "You'll have a lot of work to do in the morning."

"Lead the way, Weyrleader," B'lair said smiling.

The next morning B'lair woke to the worst case of hunger pains he'd ever had in his life. Groggily he rubbed his eyes and looked around; the touch of Wynnith in his mind told him all he needed to know. His dragon was hungry.

He pulled on the pair of pants that he had been wearing the night before and stumbled out of the ground-level weyr in a quest for food for Wynnith. To his surprise there was someone just outside waiting for him.

"Good morning, B'lair," J'im said with a soft smile. "Inilith told me Wynnith woke up before you did. I figured you'd want some help your first morning, since you didn't get any real instructions like the other weyrlings do."

Not quite awake B'lair stared at him uncomprehendingly until the older man pointed to an extremely large bowl of freshly cut meat. "Oh thank you, J'im. Thank you very much."

J'im stayed nearby as the harper fed the ravenous green chunks of meat. He smiled as B'lair crooned encouragingly.

"I didn't see you last night," B'lair commented, his eyes straying from Wynnith. "Master Stradon said you were in the kitchens?"

"We may have most of the burden of working for our food taken off our hands by tithes," J'im said soberly. "But we all have things that we either can do or want to do to make life in the Weyr livable."

"I always thought Weyrfolk live easy lives, except when fighting Thread," B'lair admitted.

J'im chuckled. "You're about to learn the hard way that life in the weyr, while very different than in a hold, is far from easy."

//My back itches,// Wynnith complained on cue.

B'lair blinked and examined the soft hide of her back. "You're getting patchy skin." He turned to J'im in a mild panic. "What do I do?"

"Follow me, both of you, I have to oil down Inilith this morning as well."

J'im took him down to the weyr's lake next to which a small pile of supplies were sitting. The included several brushes, pots of oil, and a large pitcher of steaming klah.

"First things first," J'im said as he poured them both a cup of the hot stimulant. "You need something in you as much as Wynnith did."

For the next hour, J'im instructed and demonstrated to B'lair the proper way to brush and oil the soft hide of a dragon. By the time the were finished with both Wynnith and Inilith, both men were tired.

"Come on," J'im said wiping the sweat off his head with a clean cloth. "Let's get something to eat."

"What about...?" B'lair gestured toward Wynnith, who was settling down to sleep in the warm sun.

//I will sleep, you go feed,// she said sleepily.

"Okay," B'lair laughed as his stomach grumbled. "I'll go." He turned and followed J'im across the grassy field toward the kitchens.

"Good morning, J'im," Merrin, head woman of the lower caverns, greeted happily. "You're just in time to help me move that hot cereal over to the warming hearth."

"I'll give him a hand," B'lair offered after seeing the size of the pot. "Is this what you normally serve in the morning?"

"No, we have a variety, like in any large hold. But no one wants to cook anything after a feast like last night. Also we'll have hung-over and bleary eyed riders stumbling in over the course of the morning. It's simpler to have something they can serve themselves."

"I guess I missed the party," B'lair sighed. "Too bad, I was told you cooked some of the dishes, J'im. I was looking forward to it."

"Don't worry, there are other Hatchings," J'im smiled. "Although all others will pale in comparison to the one where you, yourself, Impress."

Merrin sat down with them to eat as well, her eyes bright with amusement. "J'im likes to cook, he uses it as a way to stay social. Unfortunately, he tends to take over whatever hearth he is working on. I end up chasing him out of here with my largest ladel just to get anything else done."

B'lair chuckled softly. "It must be some ladel to frighten him away."

"Eat up, B'lair," J'im ordered sternly. "Wynnith will be hungry when she wakes up."

"Wakes up?" The younger man looked confused. "I only just fed her."

"Right," J'im agreed. "Then you bathed and oiled her and helped me with Inilith." As he spoke, more bleary-eyed weyrlings stumbled into the kitchen looking for food. "You'll be feeding her several times a day until she becomes older."

Merrin stood and helped the weyrlings settle for their first meal. When J'im stood to help, she smiled gratefully. After all the weyrlings were fed she returned to her own breakfast. "B'lair, how many bowls of that have you had?" she asked seeing they young man go for the pot again.

B'lair looked startled. "I'm not sure, but I'm still hungry."

J'im took control then, steering him out the door and back into the field. "It's not you that's hungry. You're feeling Wynnith again. One of the hardest lessons to learn in the beginning is to tell the difference between your needs and those of your dragon."

As time passed, B'lair learned a new definition for hard work. He had thought that learning Harpercraft was difficult, but nothing he had done before prepared him for the sheer volume of physical exertion needed to keep a dragon healthy and happy.

The work was repetitive and nearly rhythmic, but it gradually changed as Wynnith grew older. Some things got easier, while other things became increasingly more difficult. Though as a whole he was doing very well.

Which was not to say that the young harper didn't have his own problems adjusting to life at the weyr. After nearly five years of being able to travel with the freedom that only a harper knew, being forced to stay at the weyr was sometimes quite aggravating.

"I can't believe I forgot it was the Summer concert at Fort Hold today," B'lair huffed, giving Wynnith's hide one last swipe with his brush. "Last year I had gone nearly thee sevendays without a decent night's sleep to complete all the work I'd had to do."

"Even if you were at Harper Hall, you would still have had to set aside those duties to take care of Wynnith," Carylin, junior Weyrwoman, reminded him. She was carefully cleaning a minor threadscore on her Queen, Yeth.

"It's not that," B'lair said hastily. "It just feels strange that it slipped my mind. It feels like the one thing that was a driving force in my life is no longer as important as I originally thought."

"Well, think of it this way. In ten years, this pass will be over, and you'll have all that extra time to devote to your musical passions," she teased.

"That's easy for you to say, you're weyr bred," B'lair grumbled. "My mother is a Carter."

"So? Many of those that have impressed over the years have been from outside the Weyr. Including J'im." Carylin smiled.

"Really?" B'lair was surprised. "He never mentioned his life before the Weyr."

"Well, for some, it's easier to forget what had gone on before," she said hesitantly. "You could always ask him, assuming you let him get a word in edge-wise."

B'lair considered the junior Weyrwoman's words carefully as she and Yeth returned to their weyr. Yes, when he and J'im got together in the mornings, he did most of the talking. But that was because J'im seemed such a good listener.

"I don't talk that much," he muttered putting away his cleaning equipment.

//You talk more than most think,// Wynnith commented. //And you think more than you talk.//

"You should know, your in my head enough." B'lair grinned.

In the year and a half that B'lair had been living at Fort Weyr, Wynnith had grown from the size of a small runnerbeast to slightly over a dragonlength in size. She was now nearly full grown and by all accounts one of the largest greens ever seen by this generation of riders. He and his fellow weyrlings were practicing fighting Thread every other day, and were taking short hops 'between' daily to prepare them for the day when they would each join a wing.

There was a strange moment of clarity when B'lair recalled the many instances when he and J'im would be together. The bronze rider would just 'watch' him intensely. Not in a bad way, just very focused. Like he was trying to store up every moment they spent together.

There was something else odd about J'im, something that the others in the weyr either never noticed or didn't talk about.

J'im seemed to be able to sense things more acutely than those around him. J'im was also able to find Thread bores in even the densest foliage without dismounting.

He also tended to avoid the larger Gathers unless he was providing transport for someone else. It was as though all the noise was too much for him. Considering he lived in Fort Weyr, where dragons bellowed frequently, B'lair wouldn't have thought that noise would be a problem.

With a heavy sigh, B'lair added these observations to the list of things he hadn't yet gotten around to asking J'im in the time they had become friends. B'lair hadn't realized how much he didn't know about him, until it was pointed out. Now was a good a time as any to get started.

"Wynnith, where is J'im?"

//Inilith says he is in the lower caverns with Heiti.//

B'lair shook his head, surprised by this. He had several examples of where the Weyrhealers asked J'im to check an injury for them, the reasoning for that mystifying the former harper.

He was off-duty at the moment, having already done his work for the day, and decided to find out just what J'im did that made him so highly sought after by the Weyrhealer.

B'lair entered the lower caverns, easily navigating the stone corridors in his search for the bronze rider. He found him as he passed one chamber, the door slightly ajar. J'im was bent over a woman, his head tilted to the side as though he were listening. His calloused hands were gently running down her bare belly.

"How far did you say you are along?" J'im asked his voice soft.

"Two months," Samitha replied. "She examined me a week ago."

"I was surprised that she hadn't come to me earlier," Heiti said sternly.

J'im lifted his head and smiled brightly. "You're really not that far along. I can hear two extra heartbeats. I believe you're having twins."

"Are you sure, J'im?" Heiti asked, surprised.

"How long have you been asking me to do this?" J'im quirked a brow. "And how often have I been wrong?"

"Not often," Heiti smiled. "I'm glad you decided to return to your studies with me. You have a real sensitivity for it. I just wish you didn't fade out like you do on occasion."

"It's not like I mean to." J'im shrugged. "Inilith can usually catch me, but sometimes..."

"And I can't have a healer that has problems staying in the here and now." Heiti shook her head. "If you ever find a way, you let me know, I could always use another healer in the Weyr."

"Well I can still be of assistance in the meantime," J'im replied.

"Any time you can give me or Dellon would be wonderful," she replied.

"Didn't you mother teach you not to linger in doorways, B'lair?" J'im asked, not bothering to look over.

The green rider gasped at being discovered. "Sorry, I was just looking for you. I didn't wish to intrude."

"You're not," Heiti grinned, looking from J'im to B'lair. "We were just finishing up."

She escorted the two men out of the room. "Why don't you both run along? I can handle it for here."

"If you're sure," J'im asked.

She nodded. "One thing, J'im. We are planning to harvest and render Numbweed after the next rest day. You might want to make arrangements to be out of the Weyr for a while."

J'im grimaced. "Thank you for the warning."

The two riders left walking side by side.

"So you wanted to talk?" J'im asked the former harper.

"Yes, I was wondering about something," B'lair said slightly nervous.

"Ask away," J'im said as they emerged from the caverns into the warm air of the Bowl. "There are very few secrets in the Weyr."

"I keep seeing you do things," B'lair began. "Things that everyone here seems to take for granted. Yet I've never seen anything like it anywhere else."

The older rider shook his head. "Oh, that. I can sense things easier than most people. It's useful at times."

"But you have problems with it?" Blair inquired. "I overheard you back there."

J'im debated whether or not to tell him of his problems. Yes, most of the weyr was aware of his uniqueness, but no one had ever really asked what he could do. It was a bit like hearing other dragons, either you could or you couldn't.

//Tell him,// Inilith said.

//Who asked you?// J'im said gruffly.

//You did,// he replied.

J'im shook his head in disgust, but smiled in spite of himself. //Well move your lazy tail and get down here.//

"I'm sure Wynnith is tired after having elevator duty all day," J'im said aloud. "Join me in my weyr?"

B'lair smiled. "I'd like that."

A few minutes later, they were inside the vast cavern of J'im's weyr. "So, what do you think?" J'im asked.

B'lair looked around for several minutes at Inilith's cavern; there was an enormous rug on the stone couch in which the bronze dragon slept. There were also several wall hangings that cut the echos that might otherwise ring through it.

"Very nice," B'lair said. "I'm looking forward to when I get my own weyr. Then I can have some privacy."

They entered the rear chamber, J'im's living quarters, through a thick wool curtain. B'lair was amazed at how clean it was. Like most weyrs there was a bed, a small work area, and another set of curtains which led to the bathing area. Sitting on a small chest in front of the large bed was another rug in the making.

This room also had several rugs and tapestries along the walls and on the floor, covering the stone; these allowed the room to retain warmth.

"Very nice," B'lair said admiringly. "This is bigger than my room at Harper Hall. And I had one of the larger journeymen's rooms."

"Would you like a beer?" J'im asked. "I have a few bottles."

"Sure," B'lair smiled. After J'im returned he added. "So, what can you tell me about what you can do?"

J'im and B'lair took the two wooden chairs and brought them out to the stone ledge. As they passed Inilith's couch, both men grinned at the sight of Wynnith draped across the larger bronze. They sat down to enjoy the late afternoon sun.

B'lair opened his beer and sipped it. "This is good, J'im," he said in surprise. "Who made it?"

"P'grast is quite an accomplished brewer in the winter." J'im smiled. "He's also a lousy gambler."

"So you won these off of him?" B'lair guessed.

"Yep, and I've also got first choice on his next three batches," J'im confirmed with a wicked grin.

"That must have been a huge wager." B'lair gaped, then took another swallow of the fine brew.

"Well, I told him I could tell how many eggs Yeth was carrying before she clutched. He didn't believe me." J'im took a swallow from his own bottle. "If I lost I had to do all the repairs on his gear for the next six sevendays, and you know what I got if I won."

"You used your abilities to win that wager," B'lair intuited. "How?"

"Almost the same way I could tell Samitha is having twins. Carylin and Yeth agreed to help me with the wager. I basically crawled all over her for a few hours and tried to feel out how many eggs Yeth was carrying."

"So how many was she carrying?" B'lair asked.

"Thirty-three." J'im grinned. "It was her biggest clutch yet. I won quite a few marks with that bet."

"You have problems though," B'lair observed. "What Heiti said about wishing you could be a full time healer."

J'im's smile faded. "Yes, I fade out, if I focus to much. Inilith can pull me out most times but..." He shuddered.

"What happened?"

"I was trying to learn a gem cutting." J'im sighed. "It was something to do in the winter. Other than try knitting, I hate knitting. I looked into this emerald to try to see the flaw that the Gemsmith had said was there... and I got lost."

"How?" Blair asked.

"Its so hard to explain." J'im shook his head. "I could see these tiny rainbows of color in the gem as the light shifted on it. It was beautiful."

He shuddered violently. "It wasn't until Dellon poured cold water over me that I realized something was wrong. Inilith was going mad with worry, he couldn't hear me. He called for help and was literally trying to dig his way into the Hold to get to me."

"I was grounded for a sevenday after that," Jim recalled. "And I had to tell the Weyrleader what was happening with me."

"Isn't there some way for you to control it?" B'lair asked. "After all if you were shocked out of it, surely you could be talked out of this."

J'im stared at him in surprise. "You know, when it happens, everyone is so concerned with getting me out of my fugue, they use the quickest means available. Which, more often than not, isn't exactly comfortable for me afterward. We've never considered trying to talk me out of it."

"Well, I think it's high time you started thinking about it as an alternative." B'lair stood and started to pace. "After all you're an important member of the Weyr. You can't let this side-affect keep you from trying to use your talents to their fullest."

"If you can come up with a suggestion, then I'll be more than happy to listen to it," J'im agreed. "Anything is better than a bucket of cold water or a slap in the face."

"Good." B'lair smiled, sat back down in the chair and took another swallow from his bottle. "I have to say Wynnith has given me a new appreciation for the teaching songs."

"You planning on writing some new songs this winter?" J'im asked glad to be on another subject. "I thought that quartet you wrote for the Ruathan Gather was beautiful."

"Thank you. I think so, music is a part of me. It doesn't just go away," B'lair said seriously, then grinned. "Although I don't think Master Stradon would accept a sonnet about mucking out the weyrling quarters." J'im spit out his mouthful of beer, nearly choking with laughter.

"I had this choir number all written out in my wax tablet, but decided not too many holders want to hear a song called 'My dragon has entrails stuck in her teeth'." the former harper continued.

J'im tried to control his laughter, failing miserably. "Please tell me you haven't written anything about that last Hatching. That was not a pretty sight."

"Well, actually. I do have a short piece about how Lord Raffel of Southern Boll Hold was chased out of the kitchen by Merrin wielding the lower cavern's largest ladle."

J'im howled with laughter; he had been witness to the errant Lord Holder trying to sneak a peak at what was going to be served. Merrin did not tolerate anyone interrupting her while she cooked.

"It may never see a Hold or Hall, but I would love to hear you sing them sometime," J'im said when he finally caught his breath again.

"If you'll let me help you with your senses, I'll be happy to sing them for you," B'lair offered.

J'im raised his eyebrows at the offered hand. He reached over and shook it firmly. "We have a deal."

Several months later

"You want to do what?" S'mon asked, looking up from the Fall chart that was laying on the conference table.

"I want to go to Fort Hold and check their records vault," B'lair replied. "I also would like to check for any references on J'im abilities at the Healer Hall and the Harper Hall."

"We've searched already, B'lair, there is nothing in the records about abilities like his anywhere," Weyrwoman Jorana replied. "We searched the moment he admitted to having problems."

"That may be true, but I have extensive knowledge of how the records are stored, I've spent hundreds of hours just in Harper Halls vaults," B'lair argued. "Surely you could have missed something in that first search."

"I admit that's a possibility," Jorana conceded. "But at the moment we can't let you fly to Fort Hold."

"Why not?" B'lair asked flabbergasted. "I've been flying sweep and firestone runs for months now. It's hardly that long a leap between."

"It's not the distance, its the timing," S'mon replied. "You really shouldn't be away from the weyr at the moment."

"With respect, S'mon," B'lair began testily, beginning to pace back and for in agitation, "I still haven't heard why."

"Wynnith is getting close to her first mating cycle," Jorana explained with an understanding smile. "The first time can be very traumatic for the rider if they are caught unaware."

"But... but it couldn't take me more than a few days to find what I need," Blair responded. "It could take several sevendays for Wynnith to rise. I don't want to wait that long."

"The answer to your request is 'No'," S'mon barked. "J'im has handled his senses well enough for turns, a few more weeks won't make a difference. Now if you'll excuse us we have work to do."

B'lair felt a wave of frustration wash over him as he saluted and left the room. His insides churned with resentment at the constraints that were suddenly put upon him.

//I'm causing you trouble?// Wynnith asked in a distressed tone.

//Never. I just want to help J'im,// Blair soothed her.

//You wish to go, J'im and Inilith need you to go, we should go.// she reasoned.

The former harper exited the chamber to find Wynnith waiting for him just outside. He leapt onto her back and urged the green into the air. He directed her to land at their weyr. "We need to wait for few hours. Let S'mon think we are obeying his orders," B'lair said. "Then we can go find what we need. It can't take that long."

He paced his living area nervously trying to remember any references he might have run into in the record vault in Harper Hall. B'lair grabbed one of the beers J'im had gifted him with a few days before and opened it. He took a several swallows of the brew, hoping it would calm him some.

The smooth brew was from P'grast's newest batch; J'im had said it was for all the work he had done in the past months to help him with his senses. Though B'lair personally thought they hadn't managed to accomplish much.

"I can't believe the Weyrleader is being so stubborn about this," he muttered.

He grabbed his stylus and a clean wax tablet and sat down on his bed. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he then began to list all the possible topics that J'im's abilities might be hidden under.

Two hours and two beers later, B'lair looked up from his stylus. He had a long list of potential subjects to search now.

//Is it as quiet as it sounds in the Weyr?// Blair asked Wynnith.

//For the moment. We are going?// Wynnith asked eagerly.

//We are going,// B'lair replied as he threw on his riding gear and climbed on her back.

Wynnith poked her head out of the weyr, her eyes whirling with excitement. No one was about, though there was noise coming from several areas. She leapt into the air, her wings pumping hard to gain altitude quickly. As they crested the top of the bowl, B'lair pictured the view of Fort Hold from above and vanished 'between'.

B'lair had decided that the first place to look was the one place he was most familiar with: Harper Hall. He landed in the courtyard, startling many of the apprentices that were going about their duties. Hopping off Wynnith's back, he ordered her to wait for him on the fireheights.

"B'lair!" Masterharper Stradon called excitedly, leaning out the window of his quarters. "It's been some time since we've had you running through these halls. What brings you here?"

"Hello, Master Stradon," B'lair smiled, happy to see his former mentor. "I'll tell you in a moment." He strode quickly through the halls up to the Masterharper's quarters.

He was amazed at how easily he was able to run the stone stairs; nearly two turns at the Weyr had toughened him up even more than he had imagined.

"So what's so important, my friend?" Stradon asked, as he entered the room. "You look a little... stressed."

"One of the other riders has a problem," B'lair said shifting from foot to foot. "I'm hoping I can find something in the records to help him."

"Well of course the Hall will give you any assistance you require," Stradon asserted. "All you have to do is ask."

"Thank you. I'm sorry about being abrupt, but I'd like to start my search now."

"Oh, certainly." Stradon looked a bit hurt. "You need any help?"

B'lair grinned. "You know me, if I don't do the search myself I won't believe the search was thorough enough. I'll be fine."

J'im stepped out of the bath, feeling wonderful after a long soak. He toweled himself off and pulled on a soft pair of cotton pants and a red dyed, buttery-soft leather jerkin.

Inilith had eaten well early that morning and he had slept most of the day away. Now that the bronze was starting to wake up, J'im planned to mingle with the rest of the weyr.

"Where do you suppose B'lair is?" he asked, scratching Inilith's eye ridge. "Probably writing more strange songs."

Inilith's eyes flew open. //Wynnith is not in the Weyr.//

"What?" J'im asked startled. "Where is she?"

After a moment the bronze answered with obvious agitation. //The singing hold. She is alone.//

"Shards, what is that idiot doing there?" J'im cursed as he grabbed his riding gear.

//She is hungry,// Inilith informed him.

J'im stopped in mid-stride. He reversed his course back into his bedroom a litany of curses running across his lips as he grabbed a small jar. "B'lair, when this is over I'm going to kick your ass between."

He jumped onto Inilith's back and they flew through the air swiftly getting the height they needed. He didn't even wait to get clear of the bowl when he ordered Inilith to Harper Hall, which was a small section of the larger Fort Hold.

B'lair threw his hands into the air in frustration. He couldn't understand it, he had never had trouble finding anything before. Yet in the three hours he had been searching the vault, he couldn't seem to find a single reference.

"I leave for a couple of years and suddenly everything is moved. What did they do, create an entire new filing system while I was gone?"

That wasn't the only problem he was having. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was forgetting something important. The thought itched at the back of his mind, distracting him from his search.

J'im erupted out of between a mere dragon length above the Harper Hall's courtyard. His eyes immediately caught sight of the B'lair's Wynnith upon the fire heights. Her hide was a nearly iridescent shade of green, indicating her readiness to mate.

He ordered Inilith to touch down and leaped off, the bronze dragon taking flight nearly before he had hit the ground.

His entrance had not gone unnoticed as dozens of faces looked out the windows at the second unexpected visitor of the day. Master Stradon met him as he looked around.

"This is a surprise," Stradon said. "B'lair didn't tell me to expect anyone else."

"Where is he?" J'im asked quickly. In his mind's eye he could see Inilith settling down next to Wynnith, the bronze nuzzling the green tenderly.

"B'lair? Down in the records vault," Stradon replied becoming concerned. "Is there something wrong?"

"Your former journeyman is stubborn to a fault. I need you to show me the way down to the vault. Now," J'im said. "They should never have left the Weyr in their condition."

"What do you... ?" Stradon had been witness to several mating flights; he understood exactly what 'condition' J'im was referring to. "But here? Now?"

J'im grimaced. "Now. There's no time to get them back to the Weyr."

The Masterharper led J'im down to the vault without further delay. He was horrified to see that, in his agitated state, B'lair had managed to toss loose record hides everywhere.

"B'lair!" J'im called as found the former harper in one of the many rows of records. B'lair turned; his eyes had a wild glint to them. J'im reached out and enveloped the younger man in his arms in an attempt to calm him.

B'lair resisted the sudden grip thrashing about until he recognized who it was that was holding him. "J'im? What's going on?"

"Wynnith is rising you wherry head," J'im's admonishment held little sting as he felt himself getting caught up in Inilith's emotions.

Grabbing hold of his control he practically dragged B'lair toward the entrance to the records room. "Stradon, we need a room, preferably with a bed."

"Shards! Follow me." Stradon headed down the hall. He stopped at a guest room, used for family members visiting the apprentices.

"This will do fine," J'im said. "Thank you." B'lair stumbled as the older rider pushed him into the room and latched to door shut behind them.

And not a moment too soon. Wynnith leapt from the fireheight and pounced on an unsuspecting herdbeast that was grazing in a nearby field.

B'lair rocked with the feeling of hunger that swept through him.

"You have to control her, blood only," J'im whispered harshly, as Inilith found his own kill among the Hold's livestock. "Otherwise she'll be too heavy and can hurt herself during the flight."

With a groan of effort B'lair controlled Wynnith's urge to feed. The feel of hot blood seeming to run down his own throat shocked him into the reality of the moment. He was in Harper Hall, of all places, being stripped naked by a fellow rider and he was extremely aroused.

All thought fled him as Wynnith rose into the air calling out a challenge to Inilith to try and catch her.

J'im grabbed onto his shattering control, trying desperately to stay present as Inilith took off after her. He could feel the rising lust with each beat of the bronze's wings, his own cock acheingly hard with need.

He clutched B'lair's naked form to him, running his hands over the former harper's body skillfully. He pushed B'lair onto the bed, quickly stripping out of his own clothes, grabbing the small jar of salve he had brought with him.

J'im settled between B'lair's spread legs, lifting his knees up to gain better access to the younger man's body. He coated his fingers and quickly prepared the tight opening.

There was little time for tenderness in a mating flight, just enough to make it good for both of them.

J'im and B'lair were barely conscious of their own bodies, as they flew with their dragons. High above Fort Hold Inilith caught up with the smaller green dragon, and wrapped his tail and neck around her.

Opened his wings to stop their fall, Inilith entered Wynnith, mating with her in midair, their passion echoed down in the small bed chamber. J'im thrust deep inside B'lair's willing body, both of them crying out as they rocked together.

B'lair wrapped his arms and legs around the hard body above him, taking everything J'im had to give him. His eyes opened wide as he felt J'im's hand wrap around his erection.

The feel of completion that washed over them from their dragons pushed them both over the edge. Both men screamed loud enough to be heard outside the room as they came.

The sweat slowly cooled on their exhausted bodies as they lay wrapped in each other's arms.

"Are... you... okay?" J'im managed finally, his mind's eye telling him that both dragons had made it to the fireheights safely.

B'lair slowly opened his eyes. "By Faranth's egg... I never knew it would feel like that. Why didn't anyone warn me?"

"How can you tell someone something that can't be explained?" J'im asked, his hand carding through B'lair's hair.

"What happens now?" B'lair wondered aloud.

"First, we sleep. Then we go back to the weyr and deal with S'mon." J'im replied. "You. Are. In. Serious. Trouble." He punctuated each word with a soft kiss. "Now go to sleep."

J'im woke the next morning with a groggy sense of being both comfortable and sated. He could sense that Inilith too had this same sense of well-being, along with a larger helping of smugness.

He smiled as he heard his bed-mate mumble in his sleep. J'im tightened his loose hold on B'lair as they lay spooned together. He liked the feel of the younger man in his arms, they fit together perfectly.

He felt a pang of grief as his mind drifted back to K'len. His first real lover had taught J'im so many things in their brief time together. He couldn't help wondering if K'len would be happy for him. J'im smiled then; yes, no doubt he would be.

"Good morning, B'lair," J'im said as the former harper stretched into wakefulness.

"Morning, J'im." B'lair looked back at him and managed a half smile as his quick mind ran through the events of yesterday. "I'm in big trouble."

"Definitely. I think we'll have to wait and see how angry Lord Henrin is before we know the full extent though." J'im chuckled, placing a kiss on B'lair's forehead.

"Oh shards," the green rider muttered. "A green mating flight over Fort Hold. I'm a dead man."

"Come on," J'im nudged him. "Let's go see if we can get something to eat. I missed dinner last night because someone decided to visit his old stomping grounds."

B'lair got out of bed muttering. "I was trying to help you."

J'im sighed. "B'lair, I'm not mad at you. But what you did was dangerous, not just for Wynnith, but for you as well. The sexual drives that are created by a mating flight dissolve most reason and self-control is nearly nonexistent."

"Are you saying I could have hurt someone?" B'lair asked horrified.

"It's possible," J'im admitted. "There have been times when a rider has lost control. Which is why you needed to stay near the Weyr."

"I feel like a total wherry head," B'lair said, rubbing his temples.

"Stop beating yourself up," J'im admonished as he finished dressing. "S'mon will give you all the punishment you want and then some when we get back. Now get your clothes on, we are going to find some food."

They emerged from the guest room fully dressed, if looking somewhat haggard. B'lair led the way to the Masterharper's quarters and reluctantly knocked on the door.

"Come in," a voice called from within. B'lair swallowed and opened the door.

"Master Stradon?" B'lair called, stepping inside. J'im placed a comforting hand on his shoulder to calm him.

"Ah, you're awake I see," Stradon said in a stern tone. "You realize that Vereni nearly fainted when he saw what you did to the records room."

"I'm so sorry about that," B'lair said, his entire body reflecting contrition. "It's no excuse for my behavior, but I wasn't exactly myself."

"Of course it's no excuse, but it was certainly exciting to watch." A smirk graced the Harper's lips, his eyes glittered with mischief.

J'im tried not to smile, but failed terribly. "I'm grateful that you bare no resentment for an error that can only be attributed to his... lack of experience."

B'lair turned and glared at him, though he too caught the humor of the moment and smiled. "Are we too late for breakfast?" he asked turning back to his former mentor.

"I was about to send someone to see if you were interested in eating actually," Stradon replied. He went to the doorway and snagged an apprentice heading down the hall. "Go to the kitchen and have them send up breakfast for three to my chamber."

//Vineth says we should return to the weyr,// Inilith told his rider.

J'im grimaced at the message. One glance at B'lair told him the green rider had received a similar message from Wynnith. //Please relay to Vineth, that we are breaking fast with the Masterharper and will return afterward.//

Inilith's reaction was the equivalent to a chuckle.

"So, B'lair, how have you been adapting to life in the weyr?" Stradon asked. "I know you've sent messages to me fortnightly, but it's been nearly a turn since I've actually seen you."

"The burden of being a weyrling," B'lair made a comical suffering noise. "There is always something that needs to be done."

"But it must be hard, after all the traveling you did as a journeyman, to have been stuck in the weyr until Wynnith could fly between," Stradon said. "I know how much you enjoyed taking the open road, meeting new people."

B'lair's expression darkened. "I do miss it, on occasion," he admitted. "I don't think about it much."

"Sorry, B'lair," the Masterharper said softly. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"No, it's okay, I've just been so busy with what I have been doing, I haven't had a chance to thing about what I lost."

Breakfast arrived then, allowing them to ignore the obviously painful subject.

As they ate, Stradon couldn't help but see the way J'im watched his former journeymen. He wondered briefly if B'lair knew that the normally reticent bronze rider was smitten with him.

The Masterharper had learned of the death of J'im's weyrmate, K'len, from S'mon several days after that tragic Thread Fall. The Weyrleader had been honestly concerned that they would lose J'im as well if he didn't pull out of his depression.

Seeing him smiling now, after the past few years was a wonderful sight indeed. To see him directing his attention at B'lair was welcome as well.

"So, would you mind telling me what was so important that you tore apart the records vault trying to find it?" Stradon asked.

"It's a rather personal matter," B'lair mumbled around a mouthful of cereal.

"You can tell him," J'im nudged. "If we can't trust the Masterharper, then who can we trust?"

B'lair gazed at J'im for a long moment. Then he explained their quest to find a way to help with J'im's strange sensory awareness.

"That's amazing," Stradon said, wide-eyed. "And you've lived with this most of your life?"

"I don't know about my early childhood, its kind of hazy." J'im shifted uncomfortably. "But I'd been able to notice things easier than others at least four years before I was Searched."

"You never talk about your life before the Weyr," B'lair commented.

J'im's expression became as stone. "I don't enjoy discussing the past."

Spooked by the abrupt change in his friend, B'lair retreated to the subject at hand. "Anyway, S'mon told me that the Weyr did a search of the records when they first learned of J'im's abilities. But honestly, there is a chance that the information could be stored under any number of areas."

"So *that's* what they were looking for." Stradon shook his head. "Veneri had a fit because they wouldn't tell him exactly what it was, they said it was 'Weyr business'. Indeed."

J'im chuckled. "Well I've learned that when the Weyrleader wants to keep things 'Weyr business' there is usually a good reason. I don't want all of Pern to know what I can do. Someone might get it into there head to write a song about it."

Both harpers smiled guiltily at J'im's accusing look.

"Actually, I think you might have better luck at the Healer Hall than here," Stradon admitted, wiping the last traces of his breakfast from his mouth. "We could go there now if you like."

"That would be great!" B'lair said enthusiastically.

"I'm sorry, but we have to return to the weyr," J'im interrupted.

"But, J'im?" B'lair stared at him is disbelief. "If we find what we're looking for..."

"Which could take hours," J'im interjected.

"We'll have something to take back to S'mon to make up for the trouble I caused."

"Which will not save you from whatever discipline the Weyrleader decides is appropriate for disobeying a direct order."

"Look, B'lair, you've given me all the information I need to find anything in the records. As much as I hate the idea of you getting into trouble, I really think you had better go," Stradon said reluctantly.

B'lair looked from J'im's somewhat stern gaze to Stradon's sympathetic one. "Okay."

"I understand that as a Harper you had become accustomed to a certain freedom of movement. And while having been a full journeyman for several years in the Hall at a young age, you might consider the constraints put upon you at the Weyr to be somewhat stifling." S'mon had begun in calm tone but his voice was rising rapidly.

"However, as a dragonrider your primary obligation when not fighting Thread is to the health and well-being of your dragon. Traipsing off to a hold on a whim when Wynnith was so close to mating is NOT considered either safe or sane behavior."

B'lair stood at attention before the irate Weyrleader, his eyes looking straight forward as he was berated for his actions. He had learned that there was a certain amount of military-like mentality when it came to discipline. The only problem he ever had was that in these moments of stillness unfailingly his nose would itch, distracting him from the problem at hand.

"Are you listening to me?" S'mon demanded.

"Yes, Weyrleader," B'lair said quickly.

"Good, because I'm not done yet," S'mon growled. "I got a drum-message from Fort Hold late last night wanting to know if there was something wrong with our Weyr that two dragons happened to have a mating flight practically outside Lord Henrin's window.

"While I'm sure Masterharper Stradon, who has had much more intimate contact with weyrfolk, will be quite understanding of the whole incident, I shudder to think of how many young holders woke up this morning wondering how they had managed to end up in the sack with their neighbor." S'mon shook his head. "Did it ever occur to you to wonder why we don't want mating flights near the holds?"

"Well, actually, no," B'lair admitted.

"Since you obviously weren't paying attention during the Weyrlingmaster's lessons I'll refresh your memory. Dragons in the heat of a mating flight project their emotional state all over the place. Anyone that is even a little sensitive will pick up on it. That includes holders going about their normal business."

B'lair swallowed hard, his expressive face easily conveying remorse.

"As it's obvious that you need to be taught a lesson. You will be restricted to the Weyr except for Thread Fall, for the next two months. You are also relegated to stacking and filling firestone sacks, and cleaning duty for the same amount of time."

"Understood, Sir." B'lair said, inwardly wincing at the jobs ahead of him.

"Good." S'mon switched gears suddenly, his anger draining slightly. "There is just one other item."

B'lair looked at him directly, relaxing his stance a bit. "Yes?"

"I don't want you to think that what you're trying to do for J'im isn't appreciated. I think he would be an excellent high altitude wingleader, but I've been very reluctant to give him command of such a wing because of his focusing problems."

B'lair smiled. "Thank you."

"Now get out of here, you have a lot of sacks of firestone to fill before the midday meal."

B'lair groaned and headed off to start his work.

B'lair was a grimy sweaty mess when he finally staggered back into his weyr. After a sevenday of his punishment he was well and truly sorry. Every muscle in his body hurt from doing sorting and filling firestone sacks. They were essential to the protection of Pern, for it was those phosphorous-bearing rocks that allowed the dragons to breath their thread destroying fire.

He entered his bath to find a warm meal waiting for him next to the natural hot spring. Hot slices of roasted beef, baked tubers, and a small bubbly pie. And next to them were two bottles of beer, condensation beading off of them to indicate they hadn't been there long. A meal had been read and waiting for him like this every evening since his punishment began.

He smiled tiredly as he stripped out of his clothes and stepped into the ever-moving water. He washed his hands and face first, then paused to devour most of his dinner. After all that was left was the bubbly pie, he relaxed into the water, letting dirt soak off.

When B'lair caught himself beginning to doze off, he grabbed the small bag of sweetsand that sat in easy reach on the side of the tub. He poured out a handful and wet it, the methodically scrubbed himself clean.

When the water ran clear again, he dunked his head and scrubbed the phosphorous smell out of his hair. It wasn't too bad, nothing like the reek of having fought Thread for hours.

Reluctantly B'lair did a final rinse and climbed out of the bath, wringing hair dry before wrapping it up in a towel. He then toweled himself dry and threw on a robe.

Feeling a thousand times better than he had a hour ago, he took his dinner tray back into his living area and sat at the small work table. He wondered who was being so thoughtful to him during his punishment. He had figured that it must be Merrin, she was always looking out for everyone. There was a chance that it was one of the women that he had enjoyed being with during his time here, but somehow he doubted it.

"I must be getting used to this if I can work like I have been and still be able to think," he muttered, taking a long drink from the still cool beer.

He glanced into Wynnith's chamber, happy to see her curled up on her couch. "And where were you while I was stuck inside cleaning the hearths?"

//Inilith's ledge gets more sun,// she answered.

B'lair started at the level of genuine affection in her voice. He had been so tired that he hadn't had a chance to dwell on the mating flight and what happened between J'im and himself.

He felt his face grow hot and his groin tighten at the memory. Not just because of the inflamed passions caused by the flight, but the feel of J'im holding him, kissing him. The tenderness the bronze rider had shown was just what he had needed at that moment.

His eyes drifted to the bottle in his hand. "I'm an idiot."

B'lair stood slowly on protesting limbs, and walked to the weyr entrance. His eyes scanned the bowl for a moment, then came to rest on J'im's weyr.

While the distance was such that detail was impossible he could see Inilith curled up on the ledge and J'im casually scratching his eye ridge.

With a knowing smile he raised his beer bottle to salute the pair. "Thank you, J'im."

J'im smiled softly. B'lair was handling the nastiest menial jobs in the Weyr. Not just to teach him a lesson, but as an example to the rest. All things considered, he was taking it very well. There was nothing that said he couldn't be comforted during the duration. So, J'im had taken it upon himself to give it.

"Oh Shells," J'im sighed. "Why does he have to be so easy to like?"

//Because he is good for you,// Inilith rumbled contentedly.

"Maybe so," J'im grunted. "But a mating flight and a few dinners are hardly going to sway him. Wynnith could have been caught by any other dragon, if she had been at the Weyr."

Inilith made an indignant hrumphing sound and gave his rider a gentle nudge.

"Sorry," J'im smiled. "I'll make it up to you. In the morning we're going hunting for wherry. How does that sound?" Inilith rumbled with pleasure.

A message runner came to the weyr the day B'lair's punishment ended. It wasn't unusual, especially when between Falls. He entered the one ground entrance to the Weyr and was given a drink.

"I have a message for J'im, rider of Inilith," the young man said catching his breath.

Merrin took the sealed scroll. "I'll see that he receives it. You'll enjoy the hospitality of the Weyr until you are rested."

As she made her way to the Bowl, the head woman of the lower caverns turned the scroll thoughtfully in her hand. She wondered who could possibly be sending J'im a message. In all the time he had lived in the weyr, he had never received correspondence from any of his family or friends from his Hold.

She exited the lower caverns and entered the bowl scanning for the bronze rider. J'im sat on the fence of the feeding pen, watching Inilith dispatch and devour a medium sized herdbeast, hooves and all.

"J'im," B'lair called from behind him. "How can you watch that so calmly?"

"It's how he eats," J'im shrugged. "I'd have thought you were used to it by now."

B'lair shuddered involuntarily. "I guess it'll take me longer." He winced as the bronze dragon snatched a flightless bird and nearly swallowed it whole.

"So how does it feel to be back on regular duty?" J'im asked with a winning smile.

"Wonderful." B'lair stretched, showing off his increased muscle tone. "I hope I receive word from Master Stradon on his search of the records soon. If nothing is found soon we'll have to do a little trial and error with your abilities."

J'im nodded, then turned his head, hearing his name called. He felt B'lair place his hand on his knee as he scanned the mile-long bowl. "It's Merrin, she's looking for me." J'im turned back to the feeding area for a moment. "That's quite enough, you. Leave some for the rest of the Weyr."

Inilith eyed several more bucks that were panicking around the fenced area. //But I'm still hungry.//

"You have to fight Thread in the morning," J'im admonished. "I'm not going to let you fly with an over-stuffed belly."

Inilith took one last look at the herd and flew gracefully up to his rock ledge to sun himself.

Satisfied that his charge wouldn't try for another snack, J'im moved to intercept Merrin, aware that B'lair was at his side the whole time.

"What is it Merrin?" he asked.

The older woman handed him the sealed scroll. "This came for you just now, by runner."

"Really?" J'im glance incredulously at B'lair as he opened it. "I wonder who it's from."

J'im broke the wax seal and rolled it open. His entire body, which had been loose and relaxed, began to tighten like a guitar string. His expression which had been open and curious, turned hard and unreadable.

On the cliffs above them Inilith growled in sympathy.

"J'im? What is it?" B'lair asked uncertainly.

"Jorgrace, my father, is dying. My brother wants me to return to the hold to see him one last time." J'im's voice was flat and lifeless.

He crumbled the scroll into a ball and dropped it onto the tall grass. "If you'll excuse me."

B'lair picked up the wrecked scroll as he watched J'im retreat across the field. "What's wrong?" B'lair asked Merrin.

"You'll have to ask him for those answers," Merrin said sadly.

J'im stalked off toward the lake; his guts felt so twisted up inside that he wasn't even sure what he was feeling. A message from his brother, after nearly six turns of not receiving any sort of contact.

His first few months at Fort Weyr he had attempted to correspond with Stephinon. Sending a letter a week to him, in a hope that they could keep in contact. But with each passing day with no reply it became more and more apparent that either Stephinon could not or would not reply. When a turn had gone by without word, J'im stopped writing.

And now, to learn that Jorgrace was dying. Why even bother telling him? What would going back there accomplish?

He stopped at the edge of the lake to watch the midday sun glitter off the water. On one end of the water, he could see several weyrfolk having a relaxing swim. He picked up a few rocks from the lakeside and skipped them across the water.

"Hey, J'im," B'lair called from behind him. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," J'im replied, tossing another rock.

B'lair stared at the stony expression, trying to find a way to reach his friend. "Did I ever tell you about my mother, Naomi?"

J'im glanced over at him, then tossed another rock, which skipped across the water a few times. "You told me she's a Carter."

"That's right. She told me I was born on the road to High Reaches Hold." B'lair smiled. "Anyway, she had been encouraged to foster me off to some farming hold, to let me have a stable home to grow up in, but she didn't want to part with me. Naomi always said she knew I would become something important, and she wanted to be a part of my life for as long as possible."

"Sounds like a very caring woman," J'im replied.

"I think she is," B'lair smiled softly. "But as a Carter, she was always on the move. I never had a chance to get to know anyone at the holds for very long, and none of the other Carter women brought their youngest children with them.

"When I was sponsored to become an apprentice at Harper Hall, I had no understanding of what it meant to be confined by walls everyday or what it meant to make long-term friends."

"Is there a point to this?" J'im asked, interested inspite of himself.

"I was so out of place at the hall, because Naomi thought if I had a structured environment, it would stifle my creativity. I spent several months hating her, because I was such an outsider to the ways of hold life."

"I guess you got over it though." J'im turned to face him. "After all you get letters from her all the time."

"Yeah, because I know she was trying to do what was best for me," B'lair replied.

"You think you had a tough time growing up?" J'im expression hardened. "At least you get letters from her. You know what my father said to me the last time I saw him?"

B'lair shook his head, surprised at the amount of pain he saw.

"He- he said, that he was proud that I became a dragonrider, but despite of how 'proud' he was about that, he couldn't accept the behavior that occurs here."

"What did he do?" B'lair asked softly.

"He disowned me!" J'im cried out, his voice shaking.

"Shards..." B'lair murmured.

"You know, I've never heard a word from anyone in my father's hold since the day I Impressed." He sighed. "I suppose Jorgrace was right in his own way. I am living in a way that would have disgusted him. And since that is the case, why should I bother to see him? Let him die, if he wants to see me, he can write me himself." J'im's word were harsh, but his posture was pulled inward, like he was trying to convince himself.

"He was wrong to do that to you," B'lair said softly, his right hand caressing J'im's forearm. "You've done nothing but be honorable in all the time I've known you."

"Thank you," J'im managed. "I don't know what to do. I never spoke of what happened on my Impression day. I didn't want to think about it."

"And now you have to confront all those feelings unexpectedly." B'lair nodded in understanding. "I know it's not really my place, but I could come with you, if you want."

For a moment, it looked like J'im was going to refuse. But then B'lair saw him smile softly. "I wasn't sure I was even going to go. I think I'd like you by my side for this."

"Do you want to go today?" B'lair said.

"No," J'im said quickly. "We have Thread Fall tomorrow, and I don't want to deal with anything else until afterward."

"But he's dying," B'lair insisted. "You don't want to wait too long."

"My obligations to protect Pern will always take precedent over anything else."

"You can skip one Fall, J'im," B'lair replied. "The survival of the entire planet doesn't rest on your shoulders alone."

J'im chuckled softly. "I feel like it does sometimes. I feel guilty when I can't fight a fall, for whatever reason. It always feels like I'm letting my fellow riders down."

"Tell S'mon you can't fight tomorrow, he'll understand."

"No," J'im touched B'lair's hair. "I'll go the next day. That way we don't deprive the wings of two riders."

"Okay," B'lair conceded.

The next day the dragonriders of Fort Weyr took to the air in several waves over the four hour Fall. Three quarters of the way through the fall, J'im was feeding Inilith several chunks of firestone, when his peripheral vision caught sight of a thin silvery filament descending just in front of his face.

On pure instinct of both rider and dragon, they violently veered to the right. The attempt to avoid the small patch of thread was almost successful. The last piece caught and wrapped around J'im's arm and burned its way through his wherhide jacket and into his flesh almost instantly.

Inilith took them between the instant the pain registered. The intense cold killed the deadly strand in seconds. When they reappeared in formation, J'im's arm throbbed with excruciating pain. He was relieved that he wasn't bleeding too badly.

//You're hurt,// Inilith crooned. //We're going back to the Weyr?//

J'im was going to negate the suggestion, but a searing throb ran up his arm, worse than it should have been. "Fardles," he gasped. "Yes, back to the weyr. Tell F'lyn he has command."

Inilith relayed the message and returned to Fort Weyr. By the time he landed he was crooning in sympathy for his rider. J'im unhooked himself one handed and slid down the bronze's shoulder.

Dellon saw him first and came to examine his wound. "J'im, let me get that jacket off so we can get a look," he suggested.

"It feels like my whole arm is on fire." J'im hissed as the Weyrhealer unbuttoned the wherhide jacket. He cried out in pain as the sleeve brushed against his wound. Dellon received an even more violent reaction as he tried cutting away the tough leather.

"Shells, I need to get this damn thing off to treat the wound, he muttered. "J'im, I need you to calm down and let me get this off of you."

"It hurts," J'im ground out through clenched teeth.

"J'im!" B'lair suddenly appeared next to the Weyrhealer. His face was reddish and soot-covered from fighting Thread.

"How did you know, Blair?" Dellon asked in surprise. As he watched B'lair spoke softly to J'im, the green rider's hand barely touching J'im with light pats. He crooned softly keeping up the flood of encouraging words until J'im seemed relaxed enough to receive treatment.

"Dellon, I think his senses overloaded from the threadscore. I'm going to give him something else to think about," B'lair said with determination. "The second he goes limp, get the jacket off."

"What are you...?" Before Dellon could finish the sentence, B'lair sealed his mouth over J'im's slightly parted lips.

J'im jumped at the sudden invasion of his mouth, but he went with the sensation. The hot wet intruder dueled with his tongue, exploring his mouth enthusiastically.

Dellon was stunned for a moment, nearly cheering when J'im slumped into complete relaxation. He cut away the burned wherhide and cleaned the wound thoroughly before slathering a thick coat of numbweed on it.

B'lair pulled away slowly, reluctantly, from J'im's soft sensual lips. "How do you feel?" he asked.

J'im smiled up at him, panting slightly. "Better, thank you... that was... quick thinking."

"It was my pleasure, J'im." B'lair smiled in return.

"How did you know that would work?" Dellon asked. "The first time he had threadscore, he was a real handful."

"When Inilith called for me, I had a feeling what was going on," B'lair replied. "From what I've learned about him, J'im reacts well to positive stimulation. And I'm more than willing to provide any that he needs."

"Thank you, B'lair," J'im breathed in gratitude. "That was much better than having fellis juice poured down my throat."

Dellon grimaced. "You, J'im, are a healer's nightmare."

"At least numbweed acts like it should," J'im replied lifting his now numb arm.

"One thing I don't understand," B'lair began. "You can normally detect Thread before it gets close enough to touch you. What happened?"

J'im glanced away with a resigned sign. "I guess I was a little distracted, thinking about my father."

Dellon looked at J'im in surprise. "You've had word from your father?"

"You could say that," J'im muttered.

"His brother sent him a message, asking him to come. We're going to visit his hold tomorrow," B'lair supplied, knowing J'im wouldn't.

"Then I can easily understand what happened. You just relax for the rest of the day. I also recommend that B'lair stays with you in case you have any problems with your senses."

"I think I can agree to that," J'im smiled.

S'mon, Jorana, and P'grast entered the dining area, talking about the general lack of serious injuries from the day's fall. They were all tired from the fight, but satisfied by the success of the day.

P'grast left them when he saw J'im and B'lair at one of the long tables. "Hey, you two, I heard you had some problems."

"Yeah, not too bad," J'im shrugged.

B'lair rolled his eyes and clasped J'im's hand. "You say that now, while you can't feel anything."

"So you think I can't feel anything?" J'im looked offended. "We'll see who can't feel anything." He leaned forward, pressing his lips to B'lair's. A rush of pleasure shot through J'im's body as he felt B'lair respond favorably.

They pulled apart after a few minute's time, a quick glance at P'grast showed the older man was patiently waiting for them to come up for air. "I was wondering when you two were going to stop dancing around each other," he snorted.

B'lair licked his lips unconsciously. "Was it that obvious?"

"You've been the most speculated on couple in turns," P'grast teased. "I lost quite a few marks when you didn't become weyrmates after Wynnith's mating flight."

B'lair groaned and dropped his head onto the table.

"Hey, it's not a big deal. I'm just happy you two finally stopped circling each other like a couple of frightened wherries."

"Keep it up, P'grast," J'im growled. "And I'll let everyone in on your beer recipe."

P'grast's eyes widened. "You wouldn't."

"Try me."

The older rider lifted his hands in self-defense. "Okay, I'll stop." P'grast got up from the table to fetch himself some dinner and grinned. "For now."

"Why don't we get some rest?" B'lair suggested. "It's going to be a long day tomorrow."

"Will you join me in my weyr?" J'im asked.

B'lair grinned softly. "There's nothing I'd like more."

Wynnith carried both of them up to J'im's weyr. Both she and Inilith settled down on the stone couch, her smaller body draped over his.

"I really need to get clean," J'im complained. "I still stink of firestone."

"I can help you with that," B'lair suggested with a sly grin.

"I'd like that," J'im replied. He pulled B'lair against him with his uninjured arm and captured his full lips.

B'lair moaned into his mouth, leaning into J'im taller frame. They stayed like that for several long minutes tasting each other slowly.

"You taste so nice," J'im sighed as he pulled back. "But you smell awful."

B'lair burst into laughter and tugged his lover into the bath. "Well, we'll just have to remedy that won't we?"

Both men stripped out of their clothes, B'lair casually tossing his as he went, while J'im left his in a neat pile near the entryway.

B'lair climbed in first, letting out a sigh of relief as the heat soaked into his skin. J'im climbed in after him pressing his naked body against the younger man's back.

"J'im..." Blair sighed at his gentle touch. "We're supposed to get clean."

"I could wash you," J'im crooned into his ear. The older man created a trail of soft kisses across B'lair shoulder. The younger man shivered with delight as the sensual trail traveled down his spine, to the cleft of his ass.

"Don't move," J'im whispered. He stood and grabbed the bag of sweetsand, and slowly soaped his lover's shoulders and back. His hands dipped below the surface of the water to caress B'lair's firm cheeks.

He traveled back up, running his soapy hands up and down B'lair's arms. J'im smiled as B'lair moaned with pleasure, he pressed into the soapy back, his hardening cock snug against B'lair's cleft.

"J'im, that feels wonderful," B'lair moaned, his head falling back to rest on the older man's shoulder.

The deft hands gently combed through B'lair's chest hair and teased his already hard nipples with incredible skill.

"If you like this so far, then you'll love this..." J'im whispered. He reached below the water and caressed B'lair's straining erection, and lowered his mouth to nibble the tender skin just behind his lover's ear.

"Aaaah! J'im!" B'lair gasped trying to rock into the teasing hand. "Do something."

"You mean like this?" J'im wrapped his hand around B'lair shaft and pumped it with sure strokes.

"Oh! J'im!" B'lair came in his hand, collapsing against the strong frame, gasping for breath.

"That was beautiful," J'im smiled into his hair. He lowered B'lair's limp body down into the water, letting the soap rinse off. "Stay there and I'll wash your hair."

B'lair smiled lazily as J'im soaped up his hair, massaging his scalp with long soft strokes. The long calloused fingers carded through the soapy locks, removing the tangle created by the riding helmet.

He dunked his head when J'im finished. When he surfaced he had a soft seductive smile on his face. "My turn."

"Be my guest." J'im smiled back.

B'lair grabbed the bag of sweetsand and started with J'im's hands, soaping each digit then moved up the muscular arms. He carefully avoided the threadscore and continued up the shoulders.

He leaned forward and licked J'im's right nipple, dragging a groan from him. He gathered more sweetsand, soaping up the hairless chest and abdomen. B'lair grinned with lust at the impressive cock just below the water.

"This is what we didn't have that first time. The chance to learn each other's bodies," B'lair whispered as he pushed J'im back to sit on the warm rock edge. He spread J'im's legs apart and ran his tongue over the stiff member.

"B'lair!" J'im cried out, grasping the edge of the bath. "Touch me, taste me. Suck me, please."

"Yes." B'lair slowly engulfed J'im's cock with his mouth. He wrapped his fingers around the base and pumped in time with his gentle sucking.

J'im screamed, his hips thrusting into the hot mouth. He thrashed his head back and forth moaning encouragement.

Blair gently pushed J'im into a prone position. He set the older man's legs over his shoulders, lifting his hips. He used one soap covered finger to tease J'im's tight entrance as he swallowed around his aching cock.

J'im's scream echoed off the walls as he came. He thrust frantically into his lover's eager mouth, the feel of his B'lair swallowing his essence nearly pulling another orgasm from him.

They lay together afterwards trying to catch their breath. B'lair kissed J'im's softening penis and crawled up to check on him. "Are you okay?"

"I think I went between for a moment," J'im replied softly. "That was... that was... thank you."

"Come on," B'lair smiled. "I want to finish washing you."

"Okay." J'im groaned as he sat up. "Just hurry or I'll end up falling asleep here."

"Not as young as you used to be?" B'lair teased.

He soaped down J'im's back quickly, then ran scrubbed his soft shoulder-length brown hair. "Your hair is so nice. You should let it grow longer."

"I have enough problems at this length," J'im sighed. "Any longer and it would drive me crazy. The wispy hairs tickle my skin too much."

"Okay," B'lair sighed. "You rinse, I'll find the towels."

Back in the living area, they toweled each other off, stealing kisses as they went. Once they were dry, J'im hung the damp towel and turned the glowbaskets to dim the light in the room.

B'lair watched J'im walk naked across the room with open admiration. As he studied the plains of the older man's back, B'lair noticed something he hadn't seen earlier, small whitish scars on the otherwise flawless back. At first he thought they were old threadscore, but now he wasn't so sure.

"What happened to your back?" he asked in a light tone.

"What do you mean?" J'im asked as he sat on the bed. B'lair scooted over, letting J'im lay down with him.

"I mean, those little scars. Did you get scratched by a tunnelsnake or something when you where a kid?"

J'im closed his eyes and didn't say anything for so long, B'lair thought he might have gone to sleep. "My father doesn't like people questioning him, especially the person that was to succeed him."

"I'm so sorry," B'lair whispered wrapping his arms around J'im's waist and held him tight. "I'll never let anyone hurt you again. Never."

"I know. Go to sleep," J'im sighed, letting the warmth of his lover carry him into slumber.

The next morning both men dressed in their separate weyrs. J'im acquired a new wherhide jacket from the stores, since his old one had been ruined.

Dellon insisted on examining J'im's threadscore. With B'lair's aid, he was able to remove the old numbweed and apply fresh with very little fuss.

"I don't want to do this," J'im said quietly as he and Blair stood between their dragons.

B'lair caressed his cheek with the back of his hand. "I know. And I understand why, but I think you need to do this. For yourself, not for him."

Taking a deep breath, J'im nodded. "Come on, let's get this over with."

They erupted from between above the small holding, their arrival punctuated by the herdbeasts in the nearby field running for the cover of trees.

"What do they call this holding, anyway?" B'lair called as they circled for a landing.

"Twin Cliffs," J'im replied, pointing to the nearly identical ledges that were nearby.

Landing a few dragonlengths from the hold, they walked side by side to the entrance.

B'lair placed a comforting hand on J'im's back as the hold door opened. A tall blond haired man greeted them. "J'im, it's good to see after all this time."

"Stephinon." J'im nodded tightly. "It's you've grown up I see."

"Yes, well..." Stephinon grimaced.

The young holder turned to greet B'lair. "Welcome to Twin Cliffs. You are...?"

"B'lair, Wynnith's rider," the green rider replied, a hint of indignation in his voice.

"Forgive my rudeness for not recognizing you, we've been rather distracted with my father's illness." Stephinon appeared to be genuinely aggrieved at his slip of protocol. "Please, accept the hospitality of the Hold while you are here."

"Thank you," B'lair nodded. "I'll be certain to inform Masterharper Stradon that you're having difficulty with recognizing the riders of the Weyr you are beholden to."

Stephinon was less than pleased by this, but held his tongue on the matter. "The healer is in with Jorgrace at the moment," he said as he showed them the way inside. "You'll have to wait until they're finished to see him."

"We're in no rush," J'im said casually.

Stephinon led them to the main hall. A small group mingled about, doing different tasks or just talking to one another in hushed tones.

He approached a good looking dark haired woman, holding out his hand, which she took. "J'im, this is my wife, Maynia. And this little one next to her is Alexia."

J'im gazed at the little blonde girl that clung to Maynia's skirt. She couldn't have been more than eight turns old. "Your daughter?" he guessed.

Stephinon's expression fell. "No, I've only been with Maynia for five turns. When you left to join the weyr, mother was pregnant, Alexia is our sister."

Stunned J'im turned to his brother. "Is mother with Jorgrace?"

"Shells J'im, he wasn't kidding was he? Father never told you, never sent word?"

"About what?" J'im demanded. B'lair touched his arm, trying to calm him.

"There were complications with the pregnancy. Mother died during labor."

J'im backed away as though having received a blow. B'lair grabbed hold of his good arm to support him. "J'im I want you to sit for a few minutes. Just breathe deep and ride it out, okay?" B'lair said softly.

"I knew Jorgrace had disowned me," J'im whispered harshly. "But it never hit me, until this moment, just how much he must hate me."

"When Jorgrace told everyone you Impressed, I thought I would be seeing you often. He always said that you were too busy at the weyr to write or visit."

J'im chuckled bitterly, his voice shaking with shock. "The man was too ashamed to even tell his family what he'd done. Just let everyone think that I couldn't take the time to contact anyone?"

Stephinon swallowed hard and nodded. "We assumed he was telling the truth."

The bronze rider stood quickly. "Well he can just live with that decision. Come on, B'lair. We're going home."

"Wait, J'im," Stephinon pleaded. He was about to say more, but the Healer came out into the main room.

"You can see him now, there isn't much else I can do for him," she said seriously.

"What's wrong with him?" B'lair asked.

"His heart is failing." The healer shook his head sadly. "Nothing we can do at this stage. If he had asked for help earlier we might have been able to treat it."

"Please, J'im," Stephinon called. "See him at least once, before you go."

The bronze rider turned; seeing the seriousness of the healer, he swallowed hard and simply nodded.

J'im stood before his father's bedroom door. He had been staring at it for several minutes trying to decide if he really wanted to go inside.

"Do you want me to go in with you?" B'lair asked quietly, touching J'im's arm.

"Yes, but I need to do this on my own," he replied tightly. "Wait for me here?"

"Always." B'lair smiled encouragingly.

Taking a deep breath, J'im opened the door and stepped inside. The room, which was well lit by several glow baskets, was dominated by a large bed and a wooden trunk.

Lying on the bed, was his father. The years had aged the man greatly. The last time J'im had seen him, he'd had a small amount of gray within his dark hair. Now gray was the dominant color. Jorgrace also bore the weight of the turns upon his face, deep craggy wrinkles at his mouth and eyes.

J'im stepped to the side of the bed; looking down at the weakened old man, he felt torn emotionally. The man before him was sick and dying, yet he was still the man that had taken the joy of his Impression Day and made it a moment to shy away from.

"Jorgrace?" J'im called softly. "I've come home to see you."

The old man's eyes fluttered open, then widened at the sight of him. "Jagrassim? What are you doing here?" His voice was as soft as a gentle breeze.

Unaccountably pleased by the reaction, J'im folded his arms and smiled tightly. "Stephinon sent word that you weren't feeling well. He asked me to come."

The older man studied him for a moment. "You look... well."

"Weyr life agrees with me, Jorgrace," J'im replied.

"So it seems." Jorgrace closed his eyes again.

"Why didn't you send word to me about my mother?" J'im asked feeling the raw pain behind the question. "Why did I learn about it today, eight full turns after the fact? How could you hate me so much that you denied me the right to mourn her?"

"You have to ask?" Jorgrace asked. "Look at you, wearing those finely made clothes. You certainly look like you've been taking advantage of the tithes. I know my duty to the Weyr, I honor them in all the ways I can. But to condone such vile behavior..."

"You have no right to judge what happens in the Weyr. Even if it does go against you 'high moral standard'," J'im said. "So much for honoring in 'Thought, favor, word, and deed'."

Jorgrace raised himself into a sitting position. "Yes the Weyr protects us from Thread, and for that we tithe our best every year, but that's not enough. No, they have to take away my firstborn. Is there nothing I can keep for myself?"

"Is that what you're so angry about?" J'im shook his head in disgust. "I don't think so. You turned your back on me, not because of what I became, but because I refused to think like you."

"You don't know what you're talking about, Jagrassim," Jorgrace hissed weakly.

"You think I don't remember the beatings I took when I questioned you? You think I can't still see the anger in your eyes when I would watch the sweep riders fly by? I never understood the hatred for the dragonriders that you hid behind a veil of courtesy." J'im's voice rose steadily, not caring that he was shouting at a dying man. "I mentioned once that I didn't think I'd enjoy running this Hold. You beat me so badly I still have the scars. I bless the day P'grast took me for Search, I probably wouldn't have survived living here another turn."

Jorgrace looked honestly horrified by the implication. "I would never have hurt you like that. I was trying to teach you a lesson, you were my eldest son. You were supposed to succeed me."

"I'm happy to report that your lessons in behavior didn't work as well as you'd hoped," J'im said coldly. "I'd rather get lost between than have to deal with your bigotry."

The door opened suddenly, B'lair and the Hold's healer entered the room. Both wore concerned expressions.

J'im backed away from the bed as the healer checked on his father. B'lair searched J'im's eyes for answers to his unasked questions. The bronze rider touched B'lair's cheek and gave him a wan smile. "It's okay, B'lair."

"You don't look okay," B'lair whispered.

"You'll both have to leave," the healer said. "Jorgrace is in no condition for a shouting match."

"We'll be going now," J'im said, glancing back at his father. "We have nothing more to say to each other."

Jorgrace stared at his son and his companion. "Jagrassim, who is that?" he demanded.

"My name is *J'im*, and has been for eight turns," the bronze rider replied. "But since you asked, this is B'lair, Wynnith's rider. My weyrmate."

J'im and B'lair left the room, not waiting for Jorgrace's reply. They nearly ran over Stephinon where he was standing near the doorway.

"What's going on?" the holder demanded. "I heard shouting."

"Jorgrace and I were simply talking," J'im said bitterly. "We have a difference of opinion on what family is."

"How can you raise your voice to him after not seeing him for so long?" Stephinon demanded following the two riders down the hallway. "You can see he's not well."

"Yes, I can hear it too," J'im replied in a harsh whisper. "But he is the one that turned his back on me. He may not have admitted it to anyone at the hold what he did, but many at Fort Weyr will stand witness to his disowning me."

"No. He wouldn't have done that. You're his oldest son," Stephinon denied vehemently.

"Steph, I know it's been many turns, but think for a moment," J'im pleaded softly. "I'm a dragonrider. I can travel anywhere on the planet in seconds. Do you really believe I would have stayed away if I'd had any indication that I would have been welcomed?"

Stephinon looked torn. "You left for the Weyr, then Father went to the Hatching, and that was it. You never sent word about how you were doing, ever."

J'im closed his eyes and shook his head in disgust. "I must have sent you two dozen letters that first turn. I'd hoped that Jorgrace would at least give them to you."

"Jag- J'im, I never saw any letters from you." Stephinon sat down slowly. "I thought you hated me."

"By the first shell. Why would you think that?" J'im gaped.

"What happened, between you and Jorgrace," Stephinon began reluctantly. "I didn't try to stop him."

"I never hated you for that. You were just a little boy," J'im replied his hand clasping his brother's shoulder.

"But he..." the holder stopped. Bright blue eyes reflected feelings of betrayal on many levels. "I need to think about this."

The hold healer came out of Jorgrace's room. "I've quieted him down again, and given him a small amount of foxglove to steady his heart. But I will not allow any more emotional outbursts like that. His heart can't take it."

"What heart?" B'lair muttered bitterly. He had watched as the two brothers tried to understand what had happened, his own heart aching from the pain he could see. There was no way to replace the years lost between them.

Stephinon looked up. He seemed to have forgotten that B'lair had even been in the room. "Is it true?" he asked. "What J'im said about the two of you."

B'lair smiled brightly. "Your brother is an honorable man. He would never lie about something that important to him."

"Besides," J'im began. "Most of Fort Hold was witness to our first night together."

B'lair groaned. "You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

"That was you?!" Stephinon asked incredulously. "We'd heard about that flight. I wasn't sure if it was true or not."

"Does everyone know about that night?" B'lair asked in exasperation. "One little error in judgement..."

"And about a third of the female population of Fort Hold is now expecting," J'im finished for him.

The former harper blushed with mortification. "So I've heard."

"Excuse me," the healer interrupted. "But if you'll let me continue?"

The three men looked contrite. J'im motioned for her to proceed.

"His health condition is grave, I'm not holding much hope for his living past another month, even with the foxglove. If there is anything that needs to be done before the end, I suggest you take care of it now."

"I've said all I plan to," J'im said tiredly, then winced as the injury to his arm flared with pain.

"Are you okay?" Stephinon asked with concern.

"Yes, it's a threadscore." J'im waved him off. "I think the numbweed is wearing off."

Stephinon's eyes widened at the nature of his brother's injury. "How can you be so casual about something so serious?"

The dragonriders glanced at each other. "It's not that bad, just a surface scoring," J'im replied. "Inilith knows how to duck between quickly."

"Wynnith is the same way." B'lair grinned. "I've had my share of minor scoring. I think every rider has."

"If you'll all excuse me," the healer said. "I have others in the hold that need my services." She ducked out the door quickly leaving the holder and riders alone.

"Jorgrace named you holder after he goes, right?" J'im asked his brother. "In front of witnesses?"

"Yes," Stephinon nodded. "He made it clear to everyone in the hold what his wishes were."

"Good," J'im replied. "I was concerned he might make it difficult for you."

"J'im, he was always a hard man," Stephinon began with a troubled expression. "But he never showed me the menace that he seemed to visit upon you at times."

B'lair looked at J'im's brother sharply. "Do you have any idea why?"

"No, just that Jorgrace saw something in J'im that... I don't know."

B'lair saw J'im wince again, a change of posture which had him favoring his injured arm also appeared. It looked like the emotional upheaval was beginning to play havoc with the bronze rider's acute senses.

"Stephinon, as much as I'm sure J'im would love to stay and become reacquainted with you and your family, I think it's best if we go," B'lair said quickly.

Seeing the color start to bleed out of his brother's tanned complexion, Stephinon quickly said his goodbyes.

"I want to see you again, J'im," he said. "I want both you and B'lair to be a part of this family."

"I want that too, Steph." J'im smiled weakly. "We both do."

B'lair ushered his lover out of the hold and onto Inilith's back. The bronze dragon crooned encouragingly as J'im gasped in pain.

"J'im," B'lair called. "I need you to visualize Fort Weyr so you can get home. Can you do that for me?"

J'im nodded, urging Inilith into the air. He pictured Fort Weyr and vanished between, the biting cold searing the wounded flesh even under the wherhide jacket.

"J'im," a voice called from far away. "Come back now. I need you to hear me and come back."

J'im opened his eyes slowly to the sight of an extremely worried lover hovering only inches away. As he took in his surroundings J'im realized he was in his own bed in his own weyr. "What happened?" he asked groggily.

"You passed out after going between," Heiti said from behind B'lair. "I think it was the shock of pain from the cold of between on the threadscore. B'lair also tells me you had a serious emotional shock at Twin Cliffs Hold."

"How long have I been out?" J'im asked.

Heiti sat down on the edge of the bed to check his temperature with her hand. "Not long, but your system wasn't ready to handle the stress of going between. And from what B'lair has told me, there is a good chance that your senses where acting erratically just prior to returning to the weyr."

"I've never had problems before," J'im said in confusion. "Why would it hurt me so much now?"

"Because you were emotionally stressed," B'lair said softly.

J'im grimaced. "I wasn't that bad."

"J'im," Heiti scolded. "You dealt with the idea that your family despised you for Impressing. Now you find out that it was your father's manipulations that kept you from staying in contact with your brother. You have every right to be upset."

At J'im's closed expression, B'lair added, "No one would expect you not to react. If it had been me, I'm not sure I would have handled it as well."

"Okay," J'im sighed.

"How does the arm feel now?" Heiti asked.

"Not bad," J'im replied flexing it. "A little stiff. I can feel the threadscore, but it doesn't actually hurt."

"Good," Heiti smiled. "Are you feeling up to some company?"

"Who?" J'im asked.

"You'll like this, J'im." B'lair grinned. "Master Stradon sent a drum message while we were gone. He thinks he found some of what we were looking for. He's waiting for us in the council room."

"I think I can drag myself out of bed for the Masterharper," J'im replied with a winsome smile.

Several minutes later, J'im and B'lair entered the council room. Waiting for them was Master Stradon, S'mon, Jorana, and Dellon. There were several dozen hides and scrolls laid out on the large table. J'im sneezed violently several times from the musty smell of the old records.

"I guess I should have aired them out a little before bringing them here," the Masterharper said apologetically.

"No... it's okay," J'im sniffled. "I just wasn't expecting it."

"What did you find?" B'lair asked excitedly. His eyes scanned over the records with eagerness.

"Look for yourself." Stradon offered.

The former harper practically dived onto the table. J'im chuckled at his lover's eagerness. "So where did you find these?" The bronze rider looked at Stradon expectantly.

"In Healer Hall's records," he said. "Unfortunately a many of them are very old and faded. I wasn't able to read more than a few references."

"What have you been able to learn so far?" S'mon asked.

"Well, J'im obviously isn't the first to have acute senses, though the latest, most easily read records mention only one or two senses at a time. There is probably more information in the older records," Stradon said.

"Do you think there's a way to help him?" Jorana asked. The Weyrwoman had originally suggested grounding J'im until a they found a cure. But she had met an overwhelming amount of objections, not only from their fellow riders, but from the healers as well.

Both Dellon and Heiti had told her over and over that J'im needed to fly Thread, even if it was on the lower levels, because his sense of pride and self-confidence demanded that he do something. If he was grounded it could undermine his self-esteem, something that everyone in the weyr knew was a precious commodity in the bronze rider when he had first arrived.

"Yes," B'lair said looking up from the record he was visually devouring. "What I can read points to J'im needing to practice control."

"It'll take time to go through these faded records," Stradon sighed. "Unfortunately there isn't much need for information on problems like yours J'im."

B'lair looked away from the record skin in his hand, his eyes locking on his weyrmate. "J'im, come here a moment," he called. "I want to try something."

J'im raised his brows curiously. "What is it?"

The younger rider picked a badly faded hide off of the table and handed it to J'im. "I want you to run your fingers along what's left of the text; tell me if you can make out what is written."

"I don't know, B'lair," J'im said reluctantly.

"At least try," B'lair cajoled. "You're the one that can tell how many eggs will be clutched based on touch. Surely reading scratches on hides can't be out of your depth."

The Masterharper and the Weyrleaders stared at the two men is surprise. "You can do that?" Stradon asked.

Heiti nodded with a grin. "Quite a few wagers have been won and lost over J'im's talent in that regard."

"Okay, I'll try," J'im said, running his index finger over the first area of obvious text.

"Well?" B'lair asked after a full minute.

"I'm not sure... I think I can make it out but it's hard to tell."

"Master Stradon," B'lair turned to his former mentor. "Could we keep these to study? J'im will be grounded for a few days, and that should give us time to recopy what he can read."

"Of course, my boy. Do you think I would have carried those musty records here just to bring them back with me?"

B'lair smiled gratefully at his former mentor. "Forgive me, it's been a long few days."

"I wouldn't doubt it," the Masterharper replied. "Well, if I could get a ride back to the Hall, I'm sure you all must have a great deal of work to do here."

"Certainly," Jorana said. "We'll get F'bor to take you. If you'll excuse me I'll see to it."

"There are some things in here that I don't understand," B'lair muttered looking at the meticulously copied text.

He and J'im had spent the last two days at one of the long tables in the lower caverns deciphering the faded records. B'lair's hands were stained with ink from the stylus and his weyrmate was weary from concentrating so hard.

They now had over fifty pages all written down and legible and yet the green rider felt no closer to the answers than they had been before they began.

"There's something about all this that I just don't understand," B'lair said again in frustration.

"Which part?" J'im asked blearily, sipping at his fifth cup of klah that evening. "I've got a headache just trying to look at it anymore, don't ask me to understand it."

"This," B'lair said pointing to one page. "It's one of the newest records, the healer at the time tried to treat the woman afflicted with little result. Yet the earliest ones speak of the acute senses being under control."

J'im stood and wandered over to the kitchen area and greeted the men and women there with a smile. He'd been smelling bread cooking for quite some time, and was determined to get a fresh loaf.

"You'll just have to wait a few more minutes, J'im." Merrin shooed him back. "I know the sourdough is your favorite, but I won't have you burning your mouth on the first slice like the last time."

The bronze rider looked offended. "I was just testing to see if you had used enough starter in the dough."

"Tell that to someone that doesn't know you," she said wagging a finger at him.

"Just a little taste?" J'im asked. "Or maybe one of the sweetrolls you have in there. They must be done by now."

"How about I get you some more klah," Merrin suggested. "You don't look at all awake."

"Please, no." J'im clutched his stomach. "B'lair may be able to drink gallons of it without harm, but if I have any more I'll be shaking."

"J'im could you tell me what this one line here says?" B'lair called from across the room.

The bronze rider dropped his head to his chest. "I like him truly I do, but at the moment I really want to hurt him," he muttered.

"Think of it this way," Merrin said sympathetically. "You've been too occupied to worry about not being able to go between."

"True," J'im conceded. His injury was well on the way to being fully healed. He didn't even need numbweed at the moment. "But I think if not for Wynnith's needs my weyrmate would spend all his time buried in those records."

"You really think so?" Merrin asked, her eyes drifting over to the green rider.

"I've talked to the Masterharper," J'im confirmed. "He used to get lost in the records room for days. B'lair would sometimes forget to sleep while working on a project." What he didn't say was that the Masterharper had confided his honest concern B'lair would work himself to death of he didn't find some way to distract him.

There had been more than one occasion that Stradon or another at Harper Hall would find the young man passed out still at his work station. The thought of the brilliant mind and handsome body of his weyrmate wasting away because of his academic pursuits had J'im urging Inilith and Wynnith to accidentally get dirty. Thereby forcing B'lair to take time off to give his green a good scrubbing down.

"Well then, I think it's time the man had a break don't you?" Merrin suggested. "Why don't you go clean off that kneading table. I'll see if I can get him to wash his hands."

J'im grinned conspiratorially at her and nodded.

Merrin approached the former harper with a confident stride. The trestle table the two men had taken over was covered with hides, some fresh and newly written upon. Others were so old and faded she had problems telling that they ever contained anything legible.

"B'lair," she began in a stern voice, "is there any chance I'll be getting my table back sometime in the near future?"

"Mmm, sure, sure, almost finished," B'lair said distractedly, not looking up from the hide he was staring at. "Just a few more pages to go."

"Good, then you won't mind helping me with a few minor projects while you are drinking up the Weyr's supply of klah."

"Sure, no problem," B'lair said, still not paying attention.

Merrin swiped the record hide out of the former harper's hand. "Good, but first you have to wash your hands."

"Hey! I was reading that." B'lair tried to snatch the hide back.

"Yes," Merrin confirmed. "And now you're helping me. Now go wash that ink off your hands. I'm not letting you get any on my pastry dough."

"Now wait...," B'lair protested as he was shoved to the cleaning area.

"Not a word, you've been distracting everyone in here for two days. You left only long enough to take care of Wynnith and get clean yourself. I can use those strong arms of yours while you're here."

Merrin grinned as J'im entered the kitchen carrying a large bowl. It was filled with dough that had been rising for a few hours. B'lair had managed to scrub most of the ink stains off his hands, and joined them at the work station. He looked rather perturbed at the interruption.

"J'im why are you doing this now?" he asked. "When we're so close to finding the answers we need to help you."

"You're mentally exhausted," J'im said looking kindly at his lover. "Can you honestly tell me you could even understand your own writing at this point?"

B'lair's biting reply was cut off when he remembered what he had just moments before asked his lover to do. "I'm just a little tired. I'll make a fresh pot of klah and get back to work."

"B'lair if you make one more pot of klah today I'll make you harvest the bark yourself to replace what you've drank," Merrin warned.

The former harper muttered under his breath about the injustice of being tricked into making bubbly pies, when he had important research to do. "It's not like I'm doing this for me. I'm doing it for J'im, but am I appreciated for the work I'm doing? Of course not."

"I can hear you, you know," J'im said, taking a pie form and setting the rolled out dough into it. "I do appreciate this, but you're getting a little wherryheaded about it."

"Wherryheaded?" B'lair shot him a look that could scorch thread.

"Keep rolling that dough flat," Merrin said. "We have twenty to make before lunch."

"Yes, and if you would listen to Wynnith when you get like this you would see that I'm telling the truth," J'im replied calmly.

"Where are the rest of the kitchen staff?" B'lair asked looking around the nearly deserted kitchen area. Instead of the dozen or so men and women that did food preparations during the day, there were only a handful.

"They're out with Dellon, harvesting numbweed leaves," Merrin replied, setting aside another pan. "Tomorrow we'll start cooking it down."

"Oh I see, spoil all the Weyr with these pies to make up for the fact that every meal will taste like numbweed for the next week." J'im grimaced.

"You've learned my secret," Merrin grinned. "We have to make up for the discomfort somehow."

"That and the berries will go bad if you don't cook them up soon," J'im replied. "And they'll be inedible by the time you're done cooking those leaves."

"Guess I'll have to move my records to my weyr then," B'lair sighed as he finished rolling out another pie crust. "I won't get much work done tomorrow in here."

//Good, then we can go hunting with Inilith and J'im?// Wynnith said.

//Hunting?// Blair blinked and glanced at J'im.

//Fresh wherry is quite tasty,// she said enthusiastically. //We haven't gone hunting in a long time.//

Blair's gut clenched with guilt. //I've been neglecting you.//

//Never,// Wynnith replied confidently. //But you need to have some fun.//

//Hunting it is then,// Blair smiled.

//Good!// Wynnith cheered.

"So, J'im," B'lair began. "Wynnith says you're going hunting tomorrow?"

"I always go hunting when its time to make numbweed," J'im replied with a grimace. "There's no way I can stand the stench."

B'lair shuddered remembering his first exposure to the Weyr's processing of the medicinal plant. "You can't go hunting for the whole time, it's nearly a sevenday."

"With warm nights and a Thread free sky," J'im shrugged, "you can stay out as long as you like."

B'lair nodded conceding the point. He handed another finished pie form to Merrin who was smiling at both of them. "Where were you planning on going hunting?"

"There's normally a large flock of wherry between Peyton Hold and Southern Boll. Good climate and there won't be another Fall there for a while," J'im replied.

"Sounds good. But you get to gut them." B'lair grinned.

J'im nodded. "Just so you know you'll be helping me with the rest."

When the last of the pie shells were finished and set aside, Merrin came out of the cold room with a large bowl of berries that had been mixed with sweetener and left to sit for several hours. Using large ladles, J'im and B'lair set about filling the shells near to the top with the mixture. Then each pie was covered with another layer of crust, with large cuts in the tops to allow steam to escape.

"Well, that's all done," B'lair said with a strong exhale. "Now what?"

"Now you get to help me pull the fresh loaves out of the oven before they burn." J'im grinned patting B'lair's cheeks with flour-covered hands.

"Hey!" B'lair took a playful swipe at his weyrmate, then wiped the flour from his cheeks. "I'll get you for that."

"I'm looking forward to you trying." J'im grinned back.

It took several minutes to remove the breads and rolls from the ovens and set the pies in their place. When they were done, Merrin bundled up several of the rolls and a loaf of fresh bread for the two riders.

"I want you two to get those records out of here and not worry about them for a while. Time away from the Weyr will do you both a world of good."

"You just don't want to see a repeat of my first exposure to raw numbweed getting cooked." J'im sighed dramatically as he gathered up the record hides. "It was so humiliating."

"What happened?" B'lair asked, putting the stylus and ink away carefully into their carry case.

"J'im got his first taste of one of the tougher aspects of Weyr life only six months after Impression. He emptied his stomach every time the wind shifted," Merrin said aggrieved.

"Inilith was frantic with worry and Heiti and Dellon were positive I'd caught some new illness." J'im shook his head. "By the time they were done cooking that wretched stuff, I'd lost ten pounds and was badly dehydrated."

"After Inilith was old enough to fly, we made sure to be out of Fort Weyr until the batch was done."

"Well then let's go," B'lair enthused. "Last thing you need is to start heaving your guts out all over the weyr."

"No, I'll just have to deal with your heaving at the sight of a few wherry entrails," J'im teased. "I'll get my bow. You put that stuff in your weyr."

"My weyr?" B'lair asked incredulously. "I've got all my songs on my desk, and that sand table is cluttered."

"Not my fault," J'im replied as they headed out of the lower caverns.

"And you have plenty of room in your weyr," B'lair pointed out. "Shards, it's practically empty compared to mine and you've been at the Weyr for turns longer than I have."

J'im stopped dead in his tracks, B'lair's quick strides taking him several yards before he realized he was alone. When the former harper turned back to question him, J'im's expression was as stony as the cliffs they lived in.

"I don't make comments about that disaster you call a weyr," J'im ground out. "You keep your comments about mine to yourself." He stalked past the bewildered green rider not saying another word.

"Okay, what just happened?" B'lair asked aloud.

//You hurt his feelings,// Wynnith said impatiently. //I like J'im and Inilith's weyr. You like it too.//

"But all I said was...," B'lair would have pulled his hair if his hands hadn't been full of record hides. "Fardles."

J'im seethed as he gathered his hunting equipment. Each more he made was an exercise in self-control as he kept himself from smashing the few precious possessions that he had on the stone floor.

//He didn't mean to hurt you,// Wynnith said softly.

Dragons could speak to anyone they wished to, though they didn't often speak to anyone but their own rider.

//Maybe,// J'im replied tersely. //If he wants to apologize he can do it in person.//

He grabbed his backpack and stepped over to the weyr entrance. "Let's go Inilith. I'm not in a mood to hunt with anyone."

//Wynnith is going to be upset not to get wild wherry,// Inilith pointed out.

"We'll bring her back a nice fat one." J'im offered.

Inilith waited for J'im's command and dropped off the ledge. He caught an updraft and rose high into the air. As the bronze dragon wheeled toward the Star Stones, J'im's eyes strayed to B'lair's weyr.

The sight of B'lair staring up at them, riding jacket in hand, unaccountably irritated J'im all the more. As they crested the heights, J'im ordered Inilith between to his favorite hunting area.

They came out of the cold of between into the warm foothills of Southern Boll. Below them was a wide stream that was fed by runoff from the nearby mountains. The hills were dotted with small trees and covered with green grasses that waved lightly in the wind.

Aside from the whisper of the wind and the distant sounds of animals, the area was blissfully silent. There were times that Fort Weyr could be noisy to the point of serious discomfort for J'im. The bellows from the many dragons would echo off the bowl making it hard to relax.

As J'im soaked in the quiet, his heart was heavy. He felt guilty for reacting as badly as he had, but he was still quite angry with his lover.

//You miss him already,// Inilith commented sadly. //I could call Wynnith and they could join us here.//

J'im's lips twitched with a smile at Inilith's enthusiasm. "Maybe in a little while," he replied after a moment. "I really just need some time alone. I rarely get any quiet anymore."

//The sun is too high in the sky for hunting today,// Inilith observed, agreeing with his rider's wishes. //It's a good time for a nap. I'd like to bake in the sun for a while.//

"Okay, you lazy lump, let's get to the camp site first, then you can bake." J'im grinned fully this time.

Inilith rumbled with pleasure as they flew to a small outcropping of rock. It was a shale and slate protrusion with an overhang that served as a shelter in bad weather. Inilith stretched out on the top of the sun warmed rocks with a contented sigh and slept.

J'im set about making his hunting camp livable for the next few days. He cleaned the area of green and gathered dead wood and dry grasses to burn in the small fire ring that was their since the last time he used this spot for hunting.

He set the bow and his hunting dagger against the cliff face and unpacked his other equipment. The small bedroll he took was only enough for one person, he realized suddenly, knowing that he and B'lair would have combined their things to create a bed warm enough for two people.

//Crack dust! Why can't I just not think of him for a while?// J'im chastised himself.

He was grateful when Inilith didn't add his own view of the situation. Even with the happiness their bond brought him, J'im needed time to work things out on his own once in a while. Inilith was well aware of his riders needs, and was willing to keep his opinions to himself until asked.

Shoving the thoughts of B'lair aside for a while, J'im finished his work and unwrapped one of the rolls Merrin gave him. He bit into it and smiled in delight. The roll had been stuffed with spiced nuts and sugar, just the kind of thing he loved to have when he was feeling down.

With a tired sigh, J'im leaned his head back onto the cliff behind him and let himself relax.

B'lair stared at the empty airspace where he had just witnessed his lover go between without him. He honestly couldn't believe what had just happened. They had been working together nearly non-stop since Stradon gave them the records. B'lair had thought they had been getting along quite well. Then he said one thing that could be construed as an insult and J'im took off like Thread is falling out of pattern or something.

To make matters worse, Wynnith was now being peevish because she was missing out on the hunting that J'im offered.

He tossed his riding jacket back into the weyr and Wynnith reluctantly put him back on the floor of the bowl. He strode back into the lower caverns looking for Heiti.

"Hey, B'lair," a voice called down the hallway.

The former harper turned to see P'grast heading in his direction. "I'm looking for Heiti," B'lair said. "Have you seen her?"

"Actually yeah, I have," P'grast replied. "She's very busy at the moment, you can bug her later. Right now I want to talk to you."

"What about?" B'lair asked. He was surprised by the seriousness of the blue rider. P'grast was considered a bit of a rogue, often in the center of the gambling that was often present in the Weyr.

"You've been researching what J'im can do," P'grast continued. "But I don't think you quite get the implications of what a person with those abilities would mean to people outside the Weyr."

"I don't get your meaning," B'lair said, following the veteran rider through the corridor.

"I'll be the first to admit that I'm a scoundrel," P'grast said with a wry smile. "But I would never take unfair advantage of someone. The problem is that there are people out there that would sell you a fowl egg and tell you it's a firelizard."

B'lair rolled his eyes. "I'm not naive. I was a journeyman harper for four years before I Impressed. Again what's your point?"

The older man regarded B'lair steadily. "There is less than a decade before the Last Fall of this pass. When Thread is finished, J'im will still be in his prime. If his abilities ever got out to the Lord Holders they would all be clamoring to take advantage of him and anyone else like him."

"I think you're being a little ridiculous," B'lair said. "J'im is a dragonrider, he has the protections and freedoms that Weyr life has always given everyone."

"Very astute, but the Lord Holders will, invariably try to find ways to get the Weyrleader to agree to the use of J'im's skills," P'grast said. "And S'mon won't always be Weyrleader. There is no telling what someone else might agree to, but again, this is all contingent on J'im's talents becoming well known."

"So what do you suggest?" B'lair was becoming worried by the seriousness of the blue rider. "Master Stradon knows and probably Masterhealer Mackoi."

"Ask them to keep this in strict confidence. Don't allow the knowledge of his talents to be known far and wide," P'grast said vehemently.

"I don't have the right to suppress knowledge like that!" B'lair replied. "As a harper I know that the only way we're going to survive is by the healthy exchange of ideas."

P'grast didn't touch him, but the sudden look of pure menace sent B'lair backing up against the wall. The older man planted both hands on the wall framing B'lair's head as he leaned bare inches from his face.

"J'im is like a son to me," P'grast growled. "I will not have his life or that of Inilith put in jeopardy because you don't have any common sense."

"Back off!" B'lair warned. "I care about him too!"

"Then show it! Talk to Stradon and Mackoi. Maybe the reason no one knows about acute senses is because it was too dangerous to become common knowledge." The blue rider backed off then, giving the former harper room to breathe. P'grast ran his hand through his short, spiky, gray hair in an attempt to calm himself.

"Look I do see your point," Blair sighed. "But you don't have to come after me like a crazed watch-wher."

"Sorry," P'grast replied. "But you don't know everything that man has gone through over the years. I'm very protective of him."

"I have some ideas," B'lair grimaced. There was a moment of awkward silence as the two men thought about the man they both cared for.

"I just wish I could understand why he's so stand-offish," B'lair sighed. "I mean, he was able to call me his weyrmate only a few days ago. He even invited me to go hunting this morning. But I said one thing out of turn and he left without another word to me."

"I don't know what to tell you," P'grast said. "Sometimes J'im just needs his space. There were times when J'im would just tear off for his hunting spot when the stress of the Weyr got to be too much. Even living with K'len didn't..."

B'lair hid his shock at finally hearing the name of J'im's deceased weyrmate. J'im tended not to speak of the past, whether it was his family or whatever. It was as though he liked to pretend that the past events never happened.

Not that he thought that J'im ever denied K'len, but he would only talk about things if he had to. This made it difficult to know what might be a sensitive issue to breach with the older man.

Seeing B'lair's troubled expression, P'grast asked, "So why'd he leave without you, if he invited you hunting?"

"I was stupid and teased him about his weyr's lack of accoutrements." B'lair admitted.

P'grast shook his head. "He'll calm down soon enough. J'im tends to be a bit sensitive about his weyr."

"You're telling me," B'lair muttered. "Wynnith isn't happy with me either. She wanted some fresh wherry meat."

"It's never good to deprive your dragon of something they want, unless they're trying to overfeed," P'grast chuckled.

"Listen, P'grast," B'lair said thoughtfully. "You wouldn't happen to know where J'im normally goes hunting do you?"

"Thinking about surprising him?" the older man asked.

B'lair shrugged. "Maybe."

"Well, I may know the spot," P'grast admitted. "But I think you should give him some time to himself. As much as you both seem to care for each other, you've practically been in each other's pockets for weeks."

"Come on," B'lair cajoled. "J'im could need me."

"I've no doubt," P'grast replied, looking very amused. "Tell you what. Come find me in the morning and I'll have Sythisinth give Wynnith the co-ordinates."

"In the morning?" B'lair was aghast. "What if something happens in the meantime? J'im could end up hurt, even dead."

"Will you calm down?" P'grast advised. "J'im has been taking care of himself for quite some time without you. He's not going to fall to pieces just because you're not there."

B'lair glared at the older rider. "Fine. I'll see you in the morning." He stalked off fuming the whole way.

"Hopeless," P'grast muttered and smiled at the retreating man.

The sun sank slowly that evening, its warm rays alighting on J'im's eyes. He turned in his sleep, waking slightly when his movements took him off the bed roll.

//Don't move,// Inilith called. The urgency of the call kept J'im from flinching.

//What's wrong?// J'im asked instantly awake.

//There's a tunnel snake next to your foot.//

//How big?// J'im asked, his sense of touch registering a large mass only inches way.

//Big, for a snake.//

Inilith sent the image of the large mottled snake; the body was as wide as J'im's thigh and nearly twice as long as J'im's whole body.

//Shards, I haven't seen one that big in my entire life.// J'im nearly gasped and his hand drifted down to his belt knife, gripping the leather wrapped handle in a tight grip.

//I'll get it,// Inilith promised.

The large bronze leaned carefully over the shale outcropping, reaching down with his massive five fingered claws. Quicker that J'im could blink the large six legged predator was snatched away from his body and dashed roughly against the rocks below.

J'im looked at the enormous predator, shaking his head in disbelief. "Too bad they're no good for eating. That's a huge beast."

//Too stringy for me,// Inilith commented. //I'd rather have a fat wherry.//

"Best time to hunt them is now," J'im replied, inhaling the warm air. He stripped down to his trousers and slung the quiver of arrows over his back. "Let's see if we can't catch a flock offguard."

The bronze rumbled enthusiastically as J'im trotted off into the underbrush and out of sight. They had developed a system of hunting the large avian creatures over the years. It was a little risky, but it was also very effective.

J'im settled deep into a wooded glen, covered his exposed skin with stripes of a darkly pigmented grease paint, and waited. Inilith flew to the far side of the forest and drove the flock of wherries toward J'im's hiding place. The risk was that the frightened wherries might attack J'im if they considered him an obstacle.

There was something primal about hunting in the silence of the forest alone. Even with Inilith with him, he felt the quiet of the wild settle inside him, bringing a calm that he couldn't normally experience.

He heard the distant bugle from Inilith, as he startled the large flock of wherries. He settled into his perch more firmly and nocked an arrow onto his bow.

J'im heard them coming through the trees herded in his direction by the clever bronze dragon. He pulled back and fired as the first of the flock came into sight, his superior vision allowing him to aim with extraordinary accuracy.

The first wherry fell without making a sound. The second let out a squawk of pain and fell as well. The huge flock was now passing him so he picked his targets carefully. He fired three more arrows taking down two more wherries, then signaled Inilith that he could take his own kill.

J'im smiled with satisfaction as he climbed down from the tree to survey the kills. One of the wherries was still struggling, so J'im dispatched it quickly with his long hunting knife.

The wherries were large creatures, with six limbs like the dragons, one set of wings and four clawed legs. Their bodies were covered with soft fur-like feathers.

//These are good wherries,// Inilith said happily. //They've fed inland instead of on fish. They are nice and fatty.//

//Good,// J'im replied tying rope to the legs of the kills. //When you're ready I could use a hand moving these to the camp.//

//Just one more? They're really tasty.//

J'im considered for a moment. //How many have you had?//

There was a reluctance as the bronze dragon said, //Three.//

//That's more than enough you,// J'im said with a shake of his head. //You eat anymore and you won't be able to fly.//

//I could have shared them with Wynnith, but you had us leave without them,// Inilith said peevishly.

J'im sighed in exasperation. "I don't want to talk about it."

Inilith gave his rider the mental equivalent to a raspberry rather than comment further. The bronze appeared over the trees and settled to a landing in a small clearing nearby. J'im dragged each kill over to him and Inilith lowered himself to allow his rider to tie them to his neck ridges. //We could take them to the Weyr.// Inilith suggested in his most reasonable tone.

"We just got started, and I plan on drying this meat for the winter," J'im reminded him. "Besides if I gave these tasty wherries to the lower caverns they would end up smelling like numbweed."

The bronze shuddered dramatically under him. //Please no, that's a terrible thing to do to such succulent wherry meat.//

"Then get moving you lump." J'im grinned. "I've got work to do."

It took several hours to clean and dress the four wherries. The hides had to be stripped off, and the usable entrails hung up to dry on a set of wooden racks that J'im had set up earlier.

"Since you're full, why don't you take a hold of this and stretch it out for me," J'im said holding up an end of one of the wherry's intestines. "B'lair needs some freshly dried gut for that new harp he's building."

They laid out the gut to dry properly, making sure that it wasn't twisted anywhere. J'im took his hunting knife and butchered the carcases and hung the meat alongside the gut, keeping it all off the ground.

It was a messy job. When he had been growing up at Twin Cliffs Hold, he had taken up hunting to get away from the stifling influence of his father. Though there had been little chance of getting to stay out in the open as he was able to now.

At the Weyr, many of the riders hunted to augment the meat supply that they received from the tithe trains. Herdbeast was fine, as was fowl, and fish, but on occasion it was nice to have wherry. Since the animal had never been domesticated, it wasn't often on the menu.

Wherry was also a vicious predator, often turning to cannibalism if one of their own was injured. The tough hides where perfect for the riding leathers and strapping used by the dragonriders. The hard part about tanning the hide was the arduous task of removing the proto-feathers. But once it was finished there was nothing else on Pern like it.

J'im enjoyed being able to completely process a wherry down to its usable components. It took hours to do just one, which is why he always went hunting during the numbweed harvest. Chances were good that the kitchens would be clear of the smell by the time he was done.

When the bronze rider raise his head from his labors he was startled to see that it was already full night. The twin moons were shining their light down on him, giving enough light that his eyes had easily compensated for the darkness.

"I think that's enough for today," J'im sighed putting the hide scraper down.

J'im banked the fire under the drying meat and settled down to sleep. His muscles were a bit sore but it felt good.

Tomorrow he would have to think about going to the smithcraft hall to get a large pot. He had left so quickly he hadn't thought about needing something to render the fat in. That would not be a pleasant trip, considering the amount of noise in the Hall. If Blair was with him that would not be a problem.

A wave of depression washed over him as he thought about how he had just left B'lair staring up at him. He had to admit he acted rather childishly. No matter what was said to him, he knew better than to think that B'lair would have meant it maliciously.

It was just at that moment, for some reason, J'im had felt very defensive of his territory. Maybe it was the sudden and unexpected contact with his father and brother, and all the pain that had resurfaced. But that was no reason to alienate the man he loved.

//About time,// Inilith muttered.

"Oh hush," J'im replied. "Okay, I'll talk to him in the morning."

//Good, now get some sleep before you fall down.//

J'im laughed as he curled into his bed roll and drifted off.

"I can not believe you did that," Jorgrace ground out angrily, as he paced the room. Though his health was failing and he was weakening by the day, the elderly holder refused to listen to the healer's advice and stay in bed. "That man has no place in this Hold."

"Father, 'that man' as you call him, is my brother. More than that, he is your son," Stephinon replied with a great deal of self control. "More over he is a dragonrider and should be afforded the respect of the members of this hold."

"How can you stand there speaking of respecting those people? Weyrfolk are all twisted, amoral, and unnatural," Jorgrace sputtered. "They have lavish feasts when the rest of Pern is slaving away to feed them."

"And they in turn risk their lives to defend the planet from Thread," Stephinon reminded his father.

"That does not give them the right to turn their backs on basic morality," the elder holder replied. "Just because the dragons have certain instincts does not mean that their riders must also act like herdbeasts during the rutting season."

"If you really want to know father," Stephinon ground out, his temper flaring at his father's blatant disgust. "I think that the fact that they face the prospect of threadscore or worse every time the fly thread does give them certain freedoms that the rest of Pern may or may not see as proper behavior. And I am grateful for them every time I look out at out fields and herds, for without them we would have died of starvation turns ago."

Jorgrace didn't seem to have a response to that, he simply glared at his son. "I made a decision, the one I felt was best for this hold and this family. You had no right to contact him."

"And you kept that decision from the rest of us. Hid the fact that you turned your back on your eldest son. What are you going to do, now that I've gone against you?" Stephinon demanded. "Disown me as well? The who will run the hold after you are gone?"

The older man's stern visage crumbled at the suggestion. "You think I enjoyed what I did? You think I wanted to cast out my eldest son? That was the hardest thing I've ever had to do, next to burying my wife."

"You certainly have a strange way of showing any regrets," Stephinon replied, his expression not softening a bit. "If I had known what you had done, I doubt I would have asked J'im to come. I'm sure it was difficult for him to come see you."

"Do not mention his name in my presence!" Jorgrace spun on his son, his face was red and blotchy, beads of sweat forming on his brow.

"Father, please calm down," Stephinon cautioned. "The healer said you can bring on a heart attack if you overexert yourself."

Jorgrace glared at his son, not sure if he was more angry at the open defiance or the honest concern exhibited. "My health may be failing, but I still run this hold. Until that changes that man is not welcome here."

"I see," the younger man replied. "And if there is an emergency in which we need to signal a sweep rider, will you refuse the help given if it comes in the form of your son?"

"That would be a dragonman doing his duty," Jorgrace said stiffly. "As well they should."

"You are such a hypocrite, Jorgrace." Stephinon turned and left the room. "I'll be bringing in the herd if you wish to speak to me."

B'lair woke early in the morning, something that in his normal sleep patterns was unheard of. He stretched and climbed out of bed, and went to the entrance to the weyr. His inhalation of the fresh morning air was cut short by the acrid smell of cooking numbweed.

Wynnith rumbled in a dragonish equivalent of a chuckle at her rider's distress.

"Cute, very amusing," B'lair muttered. "I wonder if there is anything worth eating in the kitchens?"

//Inilith says J'im has breakfast if you want to join him,// Wynnith said eagerly. //We could get away from the smell too.//

B'lair turned back to stare at the green dragon. "Why would J'im want to have breakfast with me? We had a fight remember?"

//Maybe he misses you,// Wynnith suggested. //He certainly won't come here, so you'll have to go to him.//

The former harper sighed in exasperation at her eagerness. There were times when he wondered about how intelligent the great beasts were. Everyone said that they generally had the reasoning of a clever child. But the way they sometimes schemed to get their riders to do certain things suggested a much more sophisticated level of reasoning.

Many of the holders and crafters, himself included before his Impression, had looked upon the dragons as no more intelligent than a well trained runnerbeast. Yes the teaching ballads spoke of their cleverness and intelligence, but it was one thing to know, and another thing to know.

//Just because we can't talk they think we can't think?// Wynnith asked rather amused.

"That's about the size of it," B'lair replied.

//Well I don't have to talk to them, I talk to you,// Wynnith said confidently. //And sometimes to J'im.//

B'lair was startled by this admission. "What do you talk to him about?"

//Different things,// Wynnith said. //But you mostly.//

A smile crept across B'lair's lips. "What does he ask?"

//He asks me to listen to you, when you are in your weyr,// Wynnith said. //He likes to hear you sleeping, he says it helps him to sleep knowing someone is listening in.//

"I wonder if that has anything to do with his senses?" B'lair wondered aloud.

//Maybe it's because he cares about you.//

"Maybe."

//Maybe you care about him too?// the green suggested. Finally done packing, B'lair climbed onto Wynnith's back, and they headed off into the morning sky, leaving Fort Weyr behind.

J'im watched as B'lair and Wynnith emerged from Between a dozen dragonlengths away from the camp. Inilith raised his head ans bellowed a greeting to them. The green landed, and waited until B'lair threw down his things before climbing up to lay next to the bronze.

"So," B'lair said standing over J'im, who was cooking breakfast.

"Do want some of this?" J'im asked holding up the small pan of eggs cooking with slices of fresh tubers mixed in.

"Looks good," B'lair replied as he sat down next to the older man. His eyes wandered over to the drying racks, he was amazed by the work that J'im had gotten done in the time they had separated.

"You've been busy."

J'im shrugged noncommitally. "It'll take time to dry the meat enough to store it properly. Good thing is that Thread already fell recently the overlap won't happen for quite a few weeks."

B'lair nodded as he accepted the small plate of food. He scanned the bright blue sky and smiled at the fluffy white clouds that dotted the otherwise clear sky.

"Do you always come here?" B'lair asked.

J'im nodded, his mouth full of food. "The wherry flocks are pretty large around here. Sometimes they attack the local holder's herds, because the food is easier to catch. Hunting them reduces their numbers to help the holders and the Weyr gets a lot of supplies."

"You know, we can get tanned wherhide from the Tanners Guild. They tend to make nice colors too," B'lair mentioned in passing looking at the hides staked out on the ground.

"True, but this way I don't have to spend the marks on it," J'im said. "Besides, I like to do tanning."

"You learn that at the Weyr or at the Hold?" B'lair asked.

"The Weyr actually," J'im replied. "Though I learned to hunt at Twin Cliffs. It's easy, assuming you can stand the mechanics."

"What do you mean?" B'lair asked seeing a mixture of something in a bowl next to one of the hides.

"Well to properly tan a hide so its nice ans soft, you have to the right ingredients." J'im shrugged. "Usually the brain and liver made into a puree with some natural oils thrown in."

"Eeww! That's disgusting!" B'lair shuddered. "Do you take some perverse pride in making me lose this wonderful breakfast?"

J'im smiles brightly, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "But your face makes such interesting expressions, I love to watch you."

B'lair smiled back for a moment, then became serious again. "I'm sorry I upset you yesterday. I didn't realize that I'd hit a sore spot."

"No, I shouldn't have overreacted. I just haven't had anyone be critical of my personal space in a long time, I reacted badly."

"Do you want to talk about it?" B'lair asked.

"Not right now." J'im sighed. "But maybe after we get some of this work done?"

"Deal." B'lair agreed. "What do we do first?"

J'im nestled down to sleep after the long hours of satisfying work he and B'lair had accomplished. The younger man had gone to sleep a few minutes ago, insisting on combining their bedding so they could sleep together. The night air was warm, but it was also damp.

He curled himself around the other man, letting B'lair's scent wash over him like a gentle breeze. As he lay there J'im realized that he was becoming intimately aware of his lover on a primitive level.

The same way he knew Inilith, but without the psychic connection. He could tell from the shifts in muscle tension whether he was asleep or awake. He smiled sadly as he thought back to when he had begun to know K'len as intimately.

The knowledge of how his lover's heart beat, the calming scent of the man at rest, the sight of his face relaxed in sleep; those were the things that were burned into J'im's memory. The absence of those things was why he had taken so long to recover from the older rider's death. It wasn't just his emotional trauma, his senses went into a state of shock not being able to find him.

It worried the bronze rider that he was allowing himself to get this close to B'lair. Especially considering the danger of losing another loved one to the ever present threat of Thread. He wasn't sure he would be able to survive the loss again.

J'im had honestly thought, before that first night of passion with K'len, that he would never find anyone to be emotionally close to. And after his death, J'im thought he would never love anyone like that again.

But lying here, inches away from B'lair's warmth, he knew that those feelings weren't some blind, single shot at happiness. All the things that his beloved K'len had taught him helped him open up to the former harper.

J'im slipped his hand down to clasp one of B'lair's broad ones. They were strong and while still sporting some callouses from working as a harper for many turns, they had softened from the weekly application of oil onto Wynnith's hide.

He lightly ran his fingers across the palm of the talented hand. There was so much strength in this man, not just in his body, but his spirit. Able to overcome his fear of heights and a weakness when it came to seeing blood, he had become as fine a rider as any in Fort Weyr.

J'im smiled as he closed his eyes, letting sleep finally claim his weary body. His last conscious thought was a fervant wish that they would survive to see the end of this Pass.

Jorana looked up from the supply reports as S'mon entered her weyr. He looked tired and deeply troubled, as though a great weight was hanging upon his shoulders.

"You look terrible," she said, concerned, lowering the record hide.

"Then I look about the same way I feel," S'mon sighed deeply as he sat down next to her.

"The only time I've seen you like this is when there's trouble brewing."

"Even during a Pass, with Thread falling on some part of the planet every day, there are always people that resent us." S'mon sighed. "Holders that can't stand being dependent on us for protection."

"What happened?" Jorana sat back folding her hands in front of her.

"Twin Cliffs Holder Jorgrace, has sent a message to the Weyr," S'mon held up the scroll in his hand. "He is refusing to send another tithe. He states that he can no longer in good conscience support those that 'live in an amoral and unnatural fashion'."

The Weyrwoman's eye widened in disbelief. "He actually said that? Is he insane or just a complete fool?"

"I don't know, but it's obvious this has to do with J'im's visit," S'mon replied gravely. "Whatever happened, neither he nor B'lair would talk about it."

"I'd better go talk with Heiti and Dellon," Jorana said. "They know more about what's going on with those two than anyone else. Maybe they can make some sense of this mess."

"Good idea," S'mon agreed. "But in the meantime, we're going to have to send someone over to that Hold and find out what happened."

"Who would you suggest?" the Weyrwoman asked, tapping her stylus against the table. "I wouldn't send a dragonrider at the moment."

S'mon opened his mouth to protest, but understood the logic. After a moment he replied, "There's only one person I'd trust this to, I just hope Masterharper Stradon can take the time out of his busy schedule."

Jorana looked at him in surprise, then nodded. "The fewer people know about this the better, the gossip in the Weyr is terrible. I think one of us should visit him in person."

"You go," S'mon suggested. "I think I should be the one to tell J'im what has happened."

"Is there a particular reason?" Jorana asked.

"Yes," S'mon said reluctantly. "J'im has been unpredictable as far as his reactions to news about his family. At the very least I'd be able to keep him from breaking anything."

"Do give me some credit, S'mon," Jorana chided. "Do you honestly think he would react violently? From what I've seen, J'im is more likely to stew in his own juices."

"Well...," S'mon sighed. "No. I just would rather break the news in person."

"Now that I can understand," Jorana replied with a soft smile. She stood and wrapped her arms around the taller man's muscular frame. "I'll be back soon."

"I know." S'mon smiled kissing her lightly on the lips.

Stradon stepped quickly to greet Fort Weyr's Weyrwoman. It wasn't often that Harper Hall had the pleasure of her company. The golden queen dragon sat majestically in the field outside the Hall's walls, settling down to take a nap.

"Jorana, this is an unexpected pleasure," he said with a warm smile. "How are J'im and B'lair faring?"

"Well as can be expected," she replied. Though Jorana was smiling, her dark eyes were serious. "I have some concerns for which the Weyr needs your advice."

He nodded quickly discerning that there was a serious problem. "Harper Hall is always willing to give aid to the Weyrs in what ever form it requires," he said as he escorted Jorana up to his apartment.

Only after he had shut the door and had seated the Weyrwoman in one of his comfortable chairs did he question her. "This must be very serious for you to come to me like this."

"It is," she nodded, and handed the message scroll to the Masterharper.

As he read it, Stradon's eyebrows rose steadily until they attempted to disappear under his auburn hair. "This is serious. When did this arrive?"

"Just this morning by runner," Jorana said shaking her head. "On occasion we have had a hold ask that they be allowed to skip a tithe due to a poor harvest. Which is fine, we would never begrudge the Holds of food to feed themselves. But this..." she waved her hand and shook her head.

Stradon nodded. "It isn't totally unheard of. There have been times of unrest when tithes were withheld. But that was always between Passes."

"There is another problem along with this," Jorana said reluctantly.

"What is it?"

"Twin Cliffs is J'im's former hold. Holder Jorgrace is his father."

"Oh that's just lovely," Stradon muttered. He looked into the Weyrwoman's eyes and said, "There is nothing you can do to force them to tithe, since the Charter allows each Hold autonomy. But I could go as an arbiter and try to reason with him."

"I don't know if there is any way to reason with a man like that," Jorana replied gravely. "But I was hoping you could help. It's not the tithe, though every little bit helps. It's for J'im, he doesn't know about this yet, and we're reluctant to tell him."

"I'll do my best Jorana," Stradon promised. "I have a soft place in my heart for that bronze rider, since he seems rather attached to my best journeyman-late-turned-dragonrider."

"He wasn't my idea of a rider when he Impressed," Jorana admitted. "But B'lair has more than proven himself to be not only competent, but brave and skilled as well. He is every bit the dragonman, and he's even found time to compose."

"B'lair has been composing?" Stradon stared at her in disbelief. "Why hasn't he sent anything to me?"

Jorana grinned. "He's not done with most of what he has been working on, though G'ril claims to have read several of his works and thinks they are quite nice. The others are... not quite what you would expect out of someone as well trained as he is."

The quirked eyebrow and curious eyes was all that was needed for the Weyrwoman to elaborate on the more colorful songs the former harper had created, and often played for the amusement of the weyrfolk.

"I take it he thinks that the rest of Pern would be... offended by these songs?" Stradon asked chuckling.

"I think so, they are rather... descriptive."

"Well, after we fix this thorny problem, I'll have to visit Fort Weyr and hear them for myself." Stradon smiled. "Now, if you'll join me for lunch?"

It was only a half a day's ride from Fort Hold to Twin Cliffs. Stradon had decided that he would take two of his journeymen and some swift runnerbeasts to the holding, rather than ride adragonback.

The three men were greeted at the hold'd main entrance by Stephinon, who bid them to enter. "This is an unexpected pleasure, Masterharper Stradon," he said nervously. "My father is resting in his room at the moment. Is there anything I can assist you with?"

"Are you authorized to make decisions about the running of the hold?" Stradon asked.

"No, Jorgrace doesn't wish to give up his responsibilities until he can no longer run the hold properly." The young holder failed to keep the deep bitterness from his voice.

"I can understand how difficult it can be," Stradon began cautiously, "knowing that your Holder is ill can put a strain on those around him. Especially when that man is your father."

"Forgive me, Masterharper, for being blunt," Stephinon said sourly. "But what business here could be so important that you would take time out of you busy schedule to visit this small hold?"

"There has been a minor problem stemming from a letter Holder Jorgrace sent to Fort Weyr. If you could let him know I'm here, I'm certain I'll be able to clear up this misunderstanding quickly," Stradon said.

"Shards, what has he done now?"

Stradon was taken aback by the realization that the young holder had no idea what mischief his father had been up to. Knowing it was only fair that Stephinon knew the truth, he explained the content of the letter.

Stephinon went through the entire gamut of negative emotions starting with anger and ending in a shocked white. "Masterharper, I had no idea he had done this. He refuses to speak to me any more than is necessary. Ever since J'im came to visit he has been nearly non-communicative."

"He's resentful of the Weyrs for some reason, he says its because of their lifestyle," Stephinon continued. "But he's never done anything that might endanger the Hold in any way. We had a disagreement, about J'im and the Weyrs, and now he's acting like all of Pern is against him."

The Masterharper nodded gravely, adding this to the growing picture of what Jorgrace would most likely be like when they spoke. "I've come here as a arbiter, in hopes of resolving this matter. His personal feelings are clouding his judgement when it comes to the well being of his people."

"Surely the Weyr wouldn't begrudge us protection because of that letter." Stephinon paled at the concept of Thread falling unchecked over the fields and herds. They would be wiped out in a single fall.

"If it is made clear by a Holder that the Weyr's protection is not wanted or needed, and that the hold is refusing to tithe, then the Weyr is fully within its rights to bypass that particular hold."

"I'll go see if he's awake," Stephinon said, his manner stiff with shock.

He came back a few moments later and bade the Masterharper should follow him. In the Holder's personal quarters, there was little indication that the man was dying, aside from the pale skin, and the mild scent of medicinal herbs in the room.

"Thank you for seeing me, Holder Jorgrace," Stradon said.

"It's an honor to have the Masterharper visit my humble holding, Master Stradon," Jorgrace replied. "Though from your expression I assume this is not a social call."

"You are correct, Holder., Stradon said aggrieved. "I have been asked to act as intermediary between you and the Weyr."

"There is nothing to negociate," Jorgrace replied, rising from his small desk. "The Weyr has taken more than its fair share of goods from this hold. I will not continue to contribute to the degradation of the morals of hold, hall and weyr by condoning their behavior."

"I see," Stradon said. He was amazed at how much venom the older man was able to generate in his weak voice.

"You seem to believe that what goes on in the privacy of someone's hold or weyr should be restricted."

"Yes!" Jorgrace growled. "No one should be allowed to act in such disgusting and vulgar ways."

"I see," Stradon repeated. "And you feel so strongly about this that you are willing to put the rest of the Hold in jeopardy."

"So long as the herds are brought in we can barter for fresh greens when the harvest runs out. There will be no real danger," the old man said.

"You seem to have thought this out," Stradon replied. "But may I ask you something?"

"Certainly."

"By your own argument, unacceptable behavior should not be tolerated," Stradon began. "Then what do you consider acceptable behavior?"

"I think it should be obvious," Jorgrace muttered, his right hand absently touching his left forearm.

Suddenly frustrated by the man before him, Stradon said, "And beating your son until he's bloody, is that also part of your definition of acceptable behavior?"

Jorgrace was stunned, he broke out into a sweat and what little color he'd had left his face. "What do you know about that?" he gasped.

"I've known about it since it happened," Stradon said. "The Harpers are more than teachers in the holds. And while we respect the right for everyone to live as they see fit, those that treat their fellows as you treated your sons are duely noted and watched."

"I never laid a hand on Stephinon," Jorgrace replied in an effort to defend himself.

"No you just did that to you eldest son. Dividing them with layers of resentment. And then the final blow, disowning your son at the moment when you should have felt nothing but pride." The Masterharper took a deep breath. "If this is the way you see proper morality and behavior, then I fear for those living within this hold."

"How dare you!" Jorgrace roared. "You come into my hold and make judgements about how I raise my family, and run my Hold. Get out! And tell Fort Weyr there is nothing they have that my hold requires." He turned his back on the Masterharper, his posture defiant.

"As you wish, Holder Jorgrace," Stradon replied and left the room. He was disappointed in his own lack of control during the meeting.

He shook his head in irony; his lack of objectivity could easily be traced to his feelings toward B'lair and that included J'im, not only through association, but through the reports the Twin Cliffs harper has sent him about the abuses in the hold.

While not widespread, Jorgrace's actions towards his eldest son seemed inexplicable, especially when he considered the preferential treatment Stephinon appeared to have received, even early on.

"I guess it didn't go very well," Stephinon said as Stradon entered the main room of the hold.

"Honestly, no it didn't," Stradon admitted. "I lost my temper with him, even though I understand how ill he is." He paused in thought for a moment. "Perhaps you should send for the healer. He really didn't look well."

Stephinon looked honestly torn by the thought of his father's condition deteriorating further. "Thank you for trying Master Stradon," he said turning to get the healer.

The Masterharper gave him a sympathetic smile. "I'll be returning to Harper Hall immeidiatly. Please, if you need assistance in any way, don't hesitate to fly a banner or send a message runner."

"I'll keep it in mind."

"I still don't understand why I have to be the one to do this," B'lair complained as he wrapped several yards of dried gut into tight bundles for transport. "In my opinion you have the better job."

J'im chuckled as he cleaned the camp site, scattering the cold ash from the morning's fire and piling the stones form the fire pit against the shale cliff to keep the weather from moving them. "Because I know how you clean, and I'd rather not have to do both jobs."

"J'im give it a rest; we're outdoors, its always dirty out here." B'lair waved with a free hand.

"Not really," J'im contradicted. "In fact, this cliff is completely clean for the most part. Usually I only find some dead leaves and some dirt blown in when I come here. And the cleaner I leave it, the less I have to do when I come back"

B'lair huffed in exasperation. "Okay, okay. I get the point."

Several minutes of banter and packing later they surveyed the now empty camp. "Is that everything?" Jim asked

"Yes, J'im. Everything, including that drying rack you made," B'lair replied. "Why are you bringing that anyway?"

"Because I had to cut down a few saplings to make it," J'im said with a grimace. "And as precious as the wood is, it would be a waste to just leave it to rot in the sun." He shrugged looking at the bundle of rough hewn poles. "I'll find a use for them, don't worry."

Shaking his head, B'lair climbed up Wynnith's leg to settle between the neck ridges. He set the riding straps in place and double checked the load he had tied to either side of her back. "All set?" he asked her.

//Yes, I'll be happy to get home,// she said. //Outside is find, but I miss the Weyr.//

"We're all set here, J'im," B'lair said.

"Then let's go home," J'im smiled back.

Fort Weyr was buzzing with activity when they returned. There was a fall tomorrow and many riders were making last minute repairs to their equipment. The numbweed cooking had finished the day before, and the kitchens had been aired out. But the stench of the cooking leaves could still be detected ever by those without senses as acute as J'im's. Fortunately it was to the point that the smell was tolerable.

"Well, you're both looking rather good," Dellon commented when they landed near the lower caverns entrance. "You have a good time hunting while the rest of us were suffering from numbweed overdoses?"

"J'im had a good time," B'lair said. "I got overworked and underappreciated."

The affore mentioned rider looked insulted. "Thats not what you were saying the last two nights. If I remember correctly I had problems getting any sleep because you were so enthusiastic."

B'lair stared at his lover, not quite believing he'd said that in public. A slight blush crept around the former harper's ears as he tried not to let the memories of the past two nights affect him.

Dellon watched his reaction and smiled knowingly. "So, did you bring back anything useful, or did you spend the entire time exhausting each other?"

"See for yourself." J'im smiled, motioning to the bundles. "I even managed to render the fat down enough that you can make a new batch of those herbal salves."

Dellon's expression lit up with delight at the news. "If it's anything like the last batch you made, all I'll need to do is add the herbs."

The grin faded and Dellon's expression became more serious. "J'im as soon as you're done unloading, S'mon and Jorana need to speak to you."

"Alone?" B'lair asked.

"You can go too, B'lair."

"Why do I get the feeling that I'm not going to like whatever it is?" J'im sighed.

"Because, whenever they want to speak to you, it's usually something unpleasant," B'lair replied, having lost much of his earlier humor.

"Let's go see," J'im said.

They quickly unpacked their things, taking the time to store everything carefully in J'im's weyr. Then after a quick bath, they changed into clean clothes and went to meet up with the Weyrleaders in the council room.

"J'im, B'lair," Jorana greeted with a pleasant smile. "Please have a seat."

"Is there something wrong?" J'im asked as he sat.

The Weyrleader entered the room with a serious expression. He was carrying a bottle of wine and several glasses.

"Stay seated both of you," S'mon ordered as he rest down a glass in front of J'im and filled it. "Take a drink and we'll fill you in."

"I really don't like the idea of getting J'im drunk before you tell him something," B'lair said, his apprehension growing as another glass was set before himself and filled to the top. He could tell just from the beuquet that it was a strong vintage.

"Drink," S'mon said sternly. "You're both going to need it."

When it became evident that neither Weyrleader was going to say anything until they drank the wine, both J'im and B'lair began to drink. J'im was surprised at how strong the wine was, never drinking anything other than the lightest vintage except when it was used in conjuction with fellis juice, which was a very rare occurrance.

"Okay," J'im said after reducing his glass to a fifth of its original content. "Now that you've got me warm, what's wrong?"

"There is no easy way to tell you this." Jorana poured more wine into his glass. "Holder Jorgrace died this morning. We received word via a banner flag at Twin Cliffs Hold."

J'im felt as though he had been kicked in the gut. His face drained of color as he grabbed the wine glass and downed the entire contents in one draught.

B'lair took a swallow from his own glass, then placed a comforting hand on J'im's leg and squeezed lightly. "How did it happen?"

"The healer said his heart gave out sometime durring the night," S'mon replied.

The silence was punctuated by the sound of J'im tapping the side of his now empty glass with his fingers. "So what has this got to do with me?" he said finally. "You know as well as I do that he wanted nothing to do with me. Why should I care that he's finally out of my life forever?"

"Your brother has asked me to tell you that regardless of what your father may have said or done, you are welcome at Twin Cliffs anytime you wish."

J'im snorted, "Of course, now that he has control of the Hold."

"J'im! That's no way to talk about Stephinon," B'lair scolded lightly.

"Maybe not, but I didn't see him for years," J'im replied heatedly. "Regardless of what Jorgrace may or may not have said, Twin Cliffs isn't that far from here. He couldn't have come and visited me just once in all that time?"

"I think we covered that already," B'lair reminded him gently.

"Oh yeah and he was so upset about it, wasn't he," J'im said sacastically. "The minute I came out of that room he was all over me wanting to know what I'd done to Jorgrace. Just like always, wanting to know what I'd done to piss off our father."

B'lair looked stricken; he didn't know how to respond to the pain he was hearing in his weyrmate's voice. He took J'im's hand in his hoping the gentle touch would convey his emotions.

"It's over J'im," Jorana said soothingly. "Whatever he did in the past is done now."

J'im stood suddenly his whole body vibrating with repressed emotions. "I don't want it to be over!" He threw the wine glass against the smooth stone wall. "I want him alive, so I can be angry with him. So I can hate him and not feel guilty."

"J'im!" B'lair reached out for him again, but he turned away.

"Nothing I ever did was good enough, nothing I ever said was right, nothing I did on my own was proper." J'im was literally shaking. "I swear the only living thing that had the guts to show an ounce of caring for me was the bloody watch-wher, and that was because I was nice to it."

Outside Inilith bellowed in sympathy to his rider's distress. It was loud enough to grab everyone's attention, including the weyrhealers.

J'im's vision swam as the raw emotions and alcohol worked on his system. Too many conflicting thoughts ran though his head making him dizzy. He reached out to steady himself with a chair, but is depth perception was off kilter causing him to miss.

Before he could fall, a set of strong arms wrapped themselves around him, holding him up. Recognizing his lover's scent, J'im relaxed into the embrace.

"S'mon, help me!" B'lair hissed. "He's not a light weight."

The Weyrleader rushed forward and helped ease the burdon off the green rider. His concern and confusion was evident on his normally stoic face. "Are you okay, B'lair?"

"I'm fine, I've just never seen him react like that," Blair said.

Both Dellon and Heiti came into the council room at a dead run. They stopped short at the sight before them. "What happened?" Heiti managed through gasping breath.

"We had to inform J'im about his father's death," Jorana replied worriedly. "He didn't take it very well."

"I'd say that was a gross understatement," Dellon replied shaking his head.

"I knew making him drink was a mistake," B'lair muttered darkly. "But they wouldn't say anything until he'd had some wine."

"Look, most people reacted badly when they lose a family member," S'mon said rather defensively. "I thought it would help soften the blow."

Dellon directed them to lay the unconscious man down on the table. "B'lair, you've read most of those records, what is you assessment of what happened?"

The former harper stroked J'im's hand gently as he thought. "I'd say the strong alcohol, along with the emotional shock, may have overloaded his senses. His reactions were so off scale compared to how he normally acts, I was actually worried he might hurt himself."

He reached up and touched his lover's cheek; the lines of tension had not left J'im's face, despite his being unconscious.

"He kept going on about not wanting Jorgrace to be dead, because he wasn't ready to not hate him," Jorana said softly.

"There are some things about his life at that hold he's never talked about," Heiti said quietly. "Not even when pressed."

"While I believe everyone is entitled to their privacy," Dellon said, "this kind of reaction makes me strongly wish J'im had been Searched earlier in his life."

"It's all well and good to discuss J'im's past," S'mon said tiredly. "But that doesn't explain why he suddenly passed out."

"Doesn't it?" B'lair asked. "He never talked about what his childhood. He hid that from everyone, including me."

"No, it doesn't," S'mon replied irritated.

B'lair sighed in exasperation. "Look, J'im has had a lot of emotional and physical shocks. He's been moody and reactionary lately, more than usual because of it. On top of this are his senses." He ran his hands through his long hair for a moment. "It's hard enough dealing with just one of those things. All together they're overwhelming. J'im's brain shut down in self defence."

"Okay, I get it," S'mon sighed. "Is there anything you can do for him? I haven't seen him this bad since K'len died."

B'lair looked at the expressions of everyone around him at the mention of the deceased rider. After checking to see that J'im wasn't even close to waking up, he said. "Okay, thats it. Will somone please tell me why everyone walks on eggshells when it comes to talking about J'im's old lover?"

"J'im was a bit of a recluse, even after Impression," Dellon said reluctantly. "He and K'len got together after a queen's mating flight. They hit it off so well, that they became weyrmates. J'im stopped hiding in his weyr, and everyone was aware how much they meant to each other."

"When K'len died, J'im took it badly," Heiti continued. "A lot of us thought we might lose him too. That sort of attachment has always been hard on dragonriders."

"Which is why long term relationships aren't exactly encouraged," S'mon reminded everyone.

Dellon shot the Weyrleader a dirty look. "But someone like J'im needs that kind of emotional attachment. He just collapsed into himself without it."

B'lair listened in thoughtful silence. He now understood why J'im was so reluctant to get involved with anyone. If he had dealt with the many levels of dissapointment and desertion that J'im had over his lifetime, B'lair wasn't sure if he would be able to trust enough to attempt to love someone.

"What happened with J'im's senses during his time with K'len?" he asked finally.

Dellon looked at him in surprise. "Nothing really, he didn't have many problems at all. None that had to do with the daily routine that's for certain."

To the further confusion of everyone around him, a smile spead across B'lair's lips. "That makes sense. It all makes sense now."

"What makes sense?" J'im said groggily from the table. He had been slowly coming out of his emotional stupor by listening to B'lair's voice.

"Hey, J'im," B'lair said softly as he came to stand by his side. "You okay?"

"I've been better," J'im replied sitting up with a groan. "So what makes sense?"

"In all the records, there are consistent mentions of people close to the subject who seem to be part and parcel of their ability to control their overly acute senses. I couldn't understand why the cases in the notes seemed to point to the importance of these people, because it was obvious that while you have a lot of friends here, you're not close to anyone in particular."

//Thats not true,// Inilith said in a huff.

"Of course!" B'lair smacked his forhead. "Inilith can keep you focused for most problems, but it's obvious, from what I've been told so far, that he can't help you when you go too deep because he can't penetrate the mental shutdown."

"I'm confused," Jorana admitted.

"When someone that had these heightened senses didn't have someone that was close to them as a sort of anchor or guide," B'lair explained, "there was a tendency for that person to experience moments of sensory overload to the point of a coma. With a guide, especially one that was emotionally involved, these attacks diminished in frequency and severity to the point of being nearly nonexistant."

"Then why has he been having so much trouble lately?" S'mon demanded. "I thought you two were..." He trailed off waving his hand at the green and bronze riders.

J'im looked away, looking uncomfortable. B'lair shook his head in frustration. "We are, but I think we have some minor problems that need to be resolved before things settle down."

"Like what?" S'mon asked.

//J'im is afraid of losing B'lair if he lets himself be close to him,// Vineth told him. //But he's already in love with him, so he's hurting himself by trying to separate himself from his emotions.//

The Weyrleader rubbed his temples in reaction to the headache he knew he would have later.

"I don't want to talk about this," J'im said angrily. //Besides, he might find someone else more suited for him. Someone more stable, someone less of a neat freak.//

//If you don't start talking,// Inilith said softly, //I will, and everyone will know that you're in love with B'lair, and we'll all make sure that neither of you get any kind of relief, short of a mating flight, with anyone but each other.//

J'im blinked hard, and then blinked again. Inilith had never sounded so... mercenary to him before. Nor had he ever heard of the dragons of a Weyr conspiring against anyone before.

//Who said anything about the Weyr?// Inilith replied haughtily. //I'm talking about the entire planet.//

As much as he wanted to be angry at him, J'im could feel a grin of admiration threatening to break over him. //You'd do it too. You oversized wherryhead,// J'im replied affectionately.

"B'lair could I speak to you in private?" he asked. Though he was outwardly calm, inside his stomach was doing cartwheels.

The former harper gave his lover a quizzical look. "Sure, what is it?"

J'im pulled him over to the far corner of the council room, he tried to force a smile but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I know after everything that's happened today this might seem really sudden."

"You have to know by now that you can tell me anything," B'lair said earnestly.

A real smile graced J'im's features this time but only for a moment, it was replaced with a mask that hid all emotions. The only place that showed any feelings were his eyes, and they looked rather panicked. "I do know, but that's part of the reason I didn't feel I could tell you. Because I wasn't sure how... How would you feel if I told you... I think I'm in love with you."

B'lair stared for what seemed to be an eternity, then a beautific smile spread across his face. "You love me? Really?"

//Yes really, you wherry head,// Wynnith said in exasperation. //You know he doesn't say things he doesn't mean.//

B'lair ignored the tone and listened to the words. He grabbed both sides of J'im's head and pulled him into a hard penetrating kiss. Imediately J'im responded, taking fists full of B'lair's hair and deepening the kiss.

They explored each others mouths for several minutes holding onto each other as though their lives depended on it. Finally they pulled apart, a bit breathless.

"I love you too," B'lair finally replied. The mask had fallen from J'im's features leaving his raw emotions open to be scene. There was fear, hope, uncertainty and love all vying for dominance.

As J'im traced B'lair's moist, kiss swollen lips it was the love that won the battle. "I've loved you since we first met, you know. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

"You have?" B'lair was honestly surprised. "That was turns ago, back at the Ruathan Gather."

"I know," J'im whispered. "I didn't want to feel it. I didn't want to get hurt again, but then you were here at the Weyr, and I couldn't not be near you."

"And then I had to pull that stupid stunt by going to Harper Hall," B'lair shook his head.

J'im ruffled his hair. "As mad as I was at you for that, I was so grateful for the excuse to touch you, to hold you, and to make love to you."

The loud clearing of someone's throat brought both men back to reality. They turned as one to see the Weyrleaders and the Weyrhealers watching them.

"Um, hi," B'lair said sheepishly.

"Hi, yourself." Heiti grinned back.

"So, is this problem all fixed?" S'mon asked gruffly, though he couldn't seem to stop a small grin himself. "Or is there more to this drama?"

"Not quite, there's still one more thing I need to do," J'im replied seriously.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" B'lair asked for the fifth time as they entered Twin Cliffs Hold.

"Yes," J'im replied stiffly. "I have to."

Both men were wearing their gather-best clothing in honor of the somber occasion. The main hall of the hold was filled with many of the holders that had come to pay their last respects to Holder Jorgrace, they also wore their finer clothing.

Stephinon was standing stoically with his wife and his little sister, taking the well wishes from all that approached. It was obvious that the new holder was taking the death of his father hard. But his eyes light up with joy as he noticed J'im and B'lair's entrance.

Jorgrace's body lay on a raised pallet near the back wall. It was wrapped tightly in layers of linen, and covered with a layer of sweet smelling flowers. J'im clasped B'lair's hand in his as they walked to the body waiting to be interred.

"You never forgave me for being different than you father," J'im said softly. "But maybe that's not what was important. You lived the way you thought was right and proper. I'm going to do the same."

There was no response from the deceased, not that J'im expected one. The body of his father would only remain here a few more hours, then in would be interred in a small cave several dragonlengths from the farthest corner of the hold. He looked over at B'lair who was watching him intently. "I'm fine, B'lair. Let's go pay our respects to Stephinon and his family. Then we'll go home."

"You don't feel like staying?" B'lair asked, unsure of J'im's reaction.

"Not really," J'im admitted. "As much as Stephinon is my brother, I'm not a part of this family anymore. I'll stay in touch, but I doubt we'll ever be as close as we could have been." He smiled softly. "Besides, I have another family that accepted me unconditionally turns ago."

"I've never seen you this relaxed," B'lair observed. "Or so open."

"This is who I was, I think, before all of my father's 'lessons'," J'im replied. "I've stopped hiding myself from everyone around me."

"What's different now?" B'lair asked, though he was certain of the answer.

"Someone I love dearly allowed me to love them back."

"But, J'im, we're dragonriders," B'lair said softly as they moved through the hall together. "Either one of us could die in a Fall, and there are still ten years before the end of the Pass."

"I know," J'im kissed his forhead. "But until that happens, I'm going to love you with everything I have. I'm not going to let my fear of the future destroy what we have now. We live each day, fight each fall, as best we can. And when this pass is over, if we're still here, we'll tell stories of how we fought Thread to the next generation."

Stunned by the confidence in his lover's voice B'lair brushed his hand through J'im's soft brown hair. "Then we'll make it. Because I can't think of anyone better to teach the next generation what being a Dragonrider of Pern is all about."

The End!