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Meetings, drills, research, speeches, planning, feasts, hobnobbing, more meetings, more drills, Threadfall! Busy! Busy, busy, busy!

K’ienn was as high as the dragons in the sky above the spires of his beloved home. This was it. This was where he wanted to be. After sixteen turns of work and preparation, he’d finally made it. He’d been in a constant state of euphoria since the moment the Wingleader promotions had been announced.

Fresh from another meeting, he strode into his new, larger weyr, turning about to take it all in for what had to be the hundredth time. So much space. A comfortable armchair. An oh-so-soft bed that nearly felt large enough for a dragon. And the bath… he lifted a corner of the curtain with his wrist and peered into the alcove that contained his own private bath. And a bath would be just the thing before supper.

He’d just started to lift his shirt when a perturbed warble distracted him. A blue firelizard was sitting on the table, eyes flashing yellow. It was awfully fidgety, probably had been waiting for some time. The little creature fixed the man with a stare and then a sent a meaningful look toward the container strapped to its belly. Ah – another message! K’ienn went to the firelizard, which helpfully sat back on its haunches so that he could easily access the tube. He retrieved the scroll and let out a thoughtful “hmm” as he saw the seal.

Ruatha… what sort news would come from there? Another missive regarding ever more refugees from the mines that needed dragon transport, no doubt. They seemed to have an endless supply of those. Or another Candidate hopeful, “Searched” by one of those depressing little white wastes of a good shell that seemed to flock to that Hold. K’ienn himself had been dispatched to Ruatha quite a few times as a regular wingrider to move people here and there at the whim of the Lord Holder. And now he would be the one to dispatch others to do such trivial tasks. Delegation… what a beautiful word. On that pleasant thought, he forewent the sigh that he’d been about to let out, unfurled the scroll, and began to read, starting with a glance at the numerous signatures on the bottom of the paper.

His face was already plastered with a wide grin before he’d even gone back to the top and finished the first sentence. A few master crafters and the Lord Holder were among those who had penned their names to the letter. Word traveled fast on Pern these days. And how appropriate that they should congratulate him on his promotion with such decorous words! He had been quite civil with them during his appointed tasks in the past, even when bringing concerns from higher up about Ruatha’s tithe. Not that these issues were ever serious, or common. Ruatha was a very well-to-do hold, and quite loyal to its beholden Weyr.

It was toward the end of that first paragraph that his grin vanished. Falienn? The conventions of Pernese names were as they were for a very specific reason – to identify blood connection. He stared at the name of the woman and date of the cited goldflight, swallowing a rather unwelcome feeling with a throat-clenching gulp.

Regret.



In 3555AL, his bronze Yisketh was three turns old. K’ienn was a boy of eighteen turns, only a youngling himself, and still quite new to his role as an actual wingrider and not a weyrling. Back then, he still had stars in his eyes, just like most other youths who’d managed to Impress before Thread’s return. Being sent out to gather tithe reports, unsupervised, even though it was just a routine task, was incredible. He had responsibility and freedom at the same time!

At his tender age, overflowing with curiosities, he was noticing the lovely hold-women at each stop, perhaps even attempting to charm a few in between his duties. He was enough of a gentleman (and still a little shy) to leave it at simple flirting – that is, until he and Yisketh landed at Ruatha, where a blue-eyed beauty named Falern captivated him with just a smile. He spent a lot of time with her in the few days they were there, bragging and gossiping and otherwise just being a foolish young dunderhead with no idea what he should do to impress her. She seemed taken with him anyway, and it just so happened that they were together when a gold dragon suddenly rose over the Hold, trumpeting a thunderous challenge to all the male dragons within hearing. K’ienn’s bronze Yisketh was one of those who accepted her challenge. It was the young bronze’s first time chasing a gold with so little competition, and he was zealous to win.

It would have taken a lot less for the two young folks to come together on their own in time, but the dragons’ flight sped things up quite effectively. The next evening, K’ienn promised Falern that he would return for her, even under the pretense of Search, if need be. His second-string wingrider’s weyr wasn’t much, but it was adequate for two. Falern instantly agreed, and K’ienn returned home to High Reaches with his big plans and preparations to make.

What he failed to take into consideration was rank. A freshman wingrider, even a bronze wingrider, had little to speak of. He couldn’t just pop off to Ruatha on an impulse. He had to get permission. And free time. And Wingleader K’voran was not forthcoming with such privileges. Though K’ienn was welcome in his father’s social circle, he was not given any special favors, and certainly wasn’t permitted to act on such a frivolous scheme. There were plenty of doe-eyed, willing starlets in the Weyr to choose from, said K’voran – though not in the hearing of his son. The boy did not learn until turns later, after K’voran was disgraced and went into forced retirement, that his father had purposely kept him from getting back to Ruatha, and prevented anyone else from making the errand for him, hoping to distract him until he forgot about that girl.

Over time, and with his headfirst plunge into the politics of High Reaches, K’ienn did become distracted from that dream. And when gold Fianth’s maiden flight was won by his Yisketh, he moved on to a new dream.



A bitter sound, something between a chuckle and a scoff, escaped K’ienn’s lips. And when that dream was crushed, he’d moved on again… this time to succeed.

And now he could… well. Wasn’t a Wingleader above kidnapping some simple holder girl to warm his bed? Didn’t he deserve the best – nothing less than a strong goldrider, together with whom he would be an even greater force to reckon with? With such a woman, he might even become...

The words seemed to echo in his mind in the voice of his father.

Flicking its tail impatiently, the blue firelizard hissed and creeled in a loud, sharp tone. K’ienn stared at it for a long moment, picturing himself rolling up a scroll and tucking it into the creature’s little carrier. His hand moved to hover over a stack of blank parchment that lay on the table. Then it turned toward the firelizard, giving it an apologetic scratch between the headknobs.

“No return message. Off you go.”

With another hiss, the tiny blue shook the hand away. Then it turned and dropped from the edge of the table, returning to its master with a tiny pop as it went between.

As some of the flowery words from the Ruathan letter came back to mind, the beginnings of a smirk formed on K’ienn’s lips. A son, eh?

He would have to introduce himself.