Bitra's Bite: The Story of Pern's Most Hated
Bitra Hold decides to reform ties with Benden Weyr by opening its Hold once more to Search. Those chosen, however, are faced with the hatred of Pern's illustrious dragonfolk.
Two Turns Later
There is an icy pain when you learn that people no longer care enough about you to hate you. Once, the boys Mikail and Mujahid were hated for where and to who they were born, so hated that everyone wanted to watch them drown in Benden’s icy lake, the cold, blue-black water turning their bodies a whitish-blue death shade until their heavy corpses sank to the very bottom, never to be dredged up again, in body or in thought. Now, when Turns have passed since a rider looked their way and saw something other than their shoulder-knots, the two riders live in anonymity.
Even fighting Thread offers no hope of acknowledgement. They are lifemates to greens, the most common and least respected dragons in any Weyr. No act of bravery or quick action warrants the notice of more than their Wingmates. Not that they fly in the same Wing, M’jid is with bronzerider H’mrit and M’kai is with T’kith. They see each other on occasion; sometimes, they fly together back to Bitra. They know they can only see their families for a few hours, more because of the disappointment reflecting in their mothers’ eyes and the cold hatred in their fathers’, than any Weyr-dictated reason.
“I did not ask to be a dragonrider,” M’kai had once told M’jid in private, “Even though Dyath is my life, sometimes, sometimes, I wish I could go back and be a holder. I dream of being in Bitra again. I long for the green hills and the lonely cotholdings.”
M’jid had studied his friend. M’kai’s sadness echoed his own, that stranded feeling of being less than what they could have been. Less than what they should have been.
“We would have died from Thread had we never come here,” M’jid had whispered, pushing a strand of hair back from M’kai’s thin face, “Dyath and Glimath are the fulfillment of the promise we made to Bitra.”
“I love her…but I want to go home again,” M’kai had said.
“We are dead to Bitra. This is our home now,” M’jid had said solemnly.
Then he had kissed M’kai. M’kai had just looked at him and told him quietly that Dyath was a green, and M’jid had learned of the one other thing his dragon had cost him: a chance to be with the man he loved.
ØØØ
Ghaliyah shooed Rimath off to their weyr once her saddle was off. Rimath, exhausted from the hours of Thread fighting, left willingly to go sunbathe. Ghaliyah hung the saddle on the rack next to the Wingsecond’s and went to the Lower Caverns, intent on a hot meal.
It was uncharacteristically warm for late winter. The Thread had not frozen into black dust over Nerat as the Wingleaders had hoped and the Wings had been forced into a seven-hour flight. Ghaliyah and the other greenriders had only flown five hours of it. They had spent the rest of the time meeting with groundcrews and reassuring holders that the Threadfall was over.
Ghaliyah slid into a seat next to her Wingmates. T’lyn, their Wingleader, congratulated them on an injury-free Fall. Food was placed before the dragonriders and they ate swiftly, to the amusement of the women serving them. Once finished, the riders headed off to their weyrs on the level above.
Undoing her plaited hair as she walked, Ghaliyah did not at first notice the other woman’s presence in her weyr. Ghaliyah walked in, throwing her gloves onto the bed. She went into her dragon’s apartment and stopped, horrified, at the entrance.
“Get your hands off of her!” she snapped.
The woman lifted her beautiful head. Ghaliyah’s body dropped into a fighting stance automatically. She slid the knife out from the inside of her boot, meaning to attack the woman bold enough to touch Rimath.
“Wait!” Favanna said, throwing her hands in front of her chest, “Please, I don’t mean any harm!”
Ghaliyah paused. Rimath seemed distressed but only because her rider was on edge. The Weyrwoman put a hand to Rimath’s wing and the green did not move away. She did not so much as twitch under Favanna’s touch. Rimath’s calm mind pressed against Ghaliyah’s reassuringly. The fierce jealousy swimming in Ghaliyah’s head did not match Rimath’s mood and Ghaliyah was forced to put the knife back.
She straightened, regaining control of herself, and watched the woman.
Why do you let her touch you? Ghaliyah asked Rimath.
“She can’t help it,” Favanna said before Rimath could answer, smiling up at the green.
Ghaliyah walked over to her. The need to touch Rimath was too strong to resist. Rimath was hers and she had to show the Weyrwoman that.
“You can hear her?” Ghaliyah asked cautiously.
People who could hear all dragons were rare and Ghaliyah had never knowingly met one before.
“No,” Favanna said, “But Rimath can talk to me through Alibith, when she wants to.”
Ghaliyah hissed.
“You’ve talked to her before?” she said, sending the words as a private message to Rimath as well.
We have talked, her green said, I like this Weyrwoman very much. Why do you not?
Ghaliyah blinked. She realized then that she had never told Rimath about things before her Hatching. Ghaliyah had always assumed that her dragon knew everything about her.
Darling, she is a mean person. She hurt my friend a very long time ago.
She is nice to me.
“Why are you here, Favanna?” Ghaliyah asked.
The Weyrwoman must have been quiet while Rimath and Ghaliyah had been speaking because Ghaliyah could not remember if she had replied to her earlier question.
“I came to apologize,” Favanna said, absently stroking Rimath’s wing in a way that made Ghaliyah’s blood boil, “The scare I gave you and Buthaynah- I want your forgiveness.”
“What is done is done, Weyrwoman. You ask for something that is not mine to give. Good day,” Ghaliyah said, her dark eyes hard as flint.
Favanna continued to stroke Rimath, her eyes distant.
“You know, greens are my favorite color, after golds, of course.”
Ghaliyah suppressed a frown.
“I used to wonder if I should have been a greenrider. Alibith always tells me no, that I am hers and only hers but there is always that doubt. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors of Alibith’s birth, yes?”
Ghaliyah nodded, not quite caring where Favanna’s story was going. Only the woman’s rank kept Ghaliyah from throwing Favanna out of her weyr. A Weyrwoman was to be respected.
“Well, almost twelve Turns ago, I was just a Weyrbrat, hardly even fourteen Turns. My father was a Wingleader, a great strong bronzerider. He just knew I was going to Impress and Impress well. So he kept me from the Sands until a queen egg was laid. Clutches were rarer then than they are now, and I only missed two Hatchings. Kikereth, the only queen at Benden, was old when she laid the queen egg. I don’t know how much you know of Weyr history, but Kikereth and Milla, her rider, ruled Benden Weyr for eighty Turns. Kikereth only laid one queen egg in that whole time and that was Alibith.”
Favanna paused, her long fingers splayed against Rimath’s hide.
“Milla had been nineteen Turns when she Impressed Kikereth, making her almost one hundred when Kikereth laid the queen egg. Milla was very old, even for a dragonrider, and her heart gave out one night, a sevenday after that last Clutch. Kikereth went between.
The Clutch lay on the Hatching Sands unattended. A queen had to be found to care for the eggs and to lead Benden until our queen hatched. There were six queens in all of Pern at that time, Imath of Fort, Utilath of Telgar, Minhiath of High Reaches, Tuleth of Ista, Piosth of Igen, and Biheth of Igen.”
Favanna caught Ghaliyah’s surprise and chuckled softly.
“You know Biheth, she is Galla’s queen. Galla was originally the Junior Weyrwoman of Igen and Kikereth’s death was the chance for her to become the Weyrwoman of Benden. The other queens could not leave their Weyrs- a queenless Weyr falls quickly into disaster- and so it was decided that Galla and Biheth should come to Benden.
But they could not: Biheth was seven months old and could not go between yet. She was huge, far too big to be carried by other dragons, and so the pair had to stay at Igen until Biheth matured. The eggs lay on the Sands for three days, motherless.
Then, green Yseth presented herself to the Weyrleader. She said that she had been Kikereth’s sister and that they had Hatched at the same time. Yseth went into the Hatching Grounds and curled herself around the queen egg. She sang to the Clutch and stayed with it for months, her rider at her side. Even when Biheth was able to go between, Yseth did not leave the Clutch. Galla and Biheth took over the Weyrwoman’s apartments but they knew, if the queen in that egg lived long enough to Hatch, they would never truly be the leaders of Benden.
But, when the day of the Hatching came, five eggs did not Hatch. Alibith and four others left with riders that day but the other eggs were cold and lifeless. The Weyrleader took them between and the Weyr mourned even as they celebrated my Alibith’s birth.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Ghaliyah asked, once the shock of the story faded.
It was a sad tale but Ghaliyah had been lied to all her life and knew that selective words could turn the same story from horrific to joyful.
“Ghaliyah, even if you hate me, I am still a queenrider. I would rather you know my story and hate me than hate a woman you barely ever met. When I set you on Alibith’s back, I only wanted to scare you. I was scared to have a Bitran become a rider in my Weyr because I was always taught that Bitrans were evil people who would take advantage of their own mothers. But, since you Impressed, I have heard only good things about you and Rimath, and I want to apologize for hating you. I truly am sorry, rider Ghaliyah.”
Ghaliyah sighed and bit her lip.
“I accept your apology, Weyrwoman, and I will respect you as the Weyr dictates. That is all I can promise.”
Favanna nodded and took her hand off of Rimath.
“Thank you,” she said as she left Ghaliyah’s weyr.
Chapters:
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