The Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey [207]
Well, she didn’t want to have to look at Brekke’s broad commoner face. She certainly didn’t want to see a lizard. Not now. Horrible creatures, no gratitude. No real sensitivity or the thing would have known it was only being shown off. Prideth jumped them to the Feeding Ground and landed so smartly that Kylara gave a gasp of pain as her arm was jarred. Tears formed in her eyes. Prideth too?
But Prideth gave a flying jump to the back of a fat, stupid herdbeast and began to feed with a savagery that fascinated Kylara out of her self-pity. The queen finished the beast with ravenous speed. She was upon a second buck and disemboweling it so voraciously that Kylara could not escape the fact that she had indeed been neglecting Prideth. She felt herself caught up in the hunger and vicariously dissipated her anger by imagining T’bor as the second buck, F’lar as the third, Lessa as the big wherry. By the time Prideth’s hunger was sated, Kylara’s mind was clear.
She took her queen back to the weyr and spent a long time sanding and brushing her hide until it lost all trace of dullness. Finally Prideth curled in a contented drowse on the sun-warmed rock and Kylara’s guilt was absolved.
“Forgive me, Prideth. I didn’t mean to neglect you. But they’ve slighted me so often. And a blow at me is a slam at your prestige, too. Soon they won’t dare ignore us. And we won’t stay immured in this dreary, underside Weyr. We’ll have strong men and the most powerful bronzes begging us for favors. You’ll be oiled and fed and scrubbed and scratched and pampered as you ought. You’ll see. They’ll regret their behavior.”
Prideth’s eyes were completely lidded now, and her breath came and went with a faint whistle. Kylara glanced at the bulging belly. She’d sleep a long time with that much to content her.
“I ought not to have let her gorge so,” Kylara murmured, but there had been something so gratifying in the way Prideth tore into her meat; as if all indignities and affronts and discourtesy had leaked out of Kylara as blood from the slaughtered animals had seeped into the pasture grass.
Her arm began to hurt again. She’d removed the wherhide tunic to groom Prideth, and sand and dust coated the new scabs. Suddenly Kylara felt filthy, disgustingly filthy with sand and dust and sweat. She was aware of fatigue, too. She’d bathe and eat, have Rannelly rub her well with sweet oil and cleansing sand. First, she’d get some numbweed from little nurse-goody Brekke.
She came past the side window of Brekke’s weyrhold and heard the murmur of a man’s voice and the low delighted laughing response from Brekke. Kylara halted, astonished by the rippling quality of the girl’s voice. She peered in, unobserved, because Brekke had eyes only for the dark head bent toward her.
F’nor! And Brekke?
The brown rider raised his hand slowly, stroked back a wayward strand of hair from Brekke’s cheek with such loving tenderness that there was no doubt in Kylara’s mind that they had only recently been lovers.
Kylara’s half-forgotten anger burst into cold heat. Brekke and F’nor! When F’nor had repeatedly turned aside her favors? Brekke and F’nor indeed!
Because Kylara moved on, Canth did not tell his rider.
CHAPTER X
Early Morning in Harpercrafthall at
Fort Hold
Afternoon at Telgar Hold
Robinton, Masterharper of Pern, adjusted his tunic, the rich green pile of the fabric pleasing to the touch as well as the eye. He turned sideways, to check the fit of the tunic across his shoulders. Masterweaver Zurg had compensated for his tendency to slouch, so the hem did not hike up. The gilded belt and the knife were just the proper dress accouterments.
Robinton grimaced at his reflection. “Belt knives!” He smoothed his hair behind his ears, then stepped back to check the pants. Mastertanner Belesdan had surpassed himself. The fellis dye had turned toe soft wherhide into a deep green the same shade as the tunic. The boots were a shade darker. They fit snug to his calf and foot.
Green! Robinton