Chapter 13 - Confusion
Summer, 36th Turn of the Present Pass
It took B'lee a long time to get back to sleep after leaving D'min's weyr. His own bunk was cold and lonely in comparison with the warm tangle of bodies he'd had a few hours before, but he lay down and tried to ignore the aches of muscles seldom used.
He didn't wake up until just before noon, and thanked his lucky stars that Threadfall was late that afternoon and short in duration, as he really didn't want to face S'peren's wrath for being late.
D'min wasn't in his weyr, and a query to Margroth was unsuccessful. Aurieth couldn't - or wouldn't - tell him where D'min was, in spite of the fact that the two dragons were still lying entwined in Aurieth's weyr.
B'lee sighed to himself. That wasn't going to help matters.
He looked through the main caverns, but found no trace of D'min, and came to the conclusion that he must have hidden himself away somewhere. The message was clear - he didn't want to see B'lee. He was probably horribly embarrassed by what had happened.
B'lee wondered if D'min had finally got over his crush on B'lee, and gave a sour laugh at the irony that he had fallen for D'min just as the green rider was moving on.
Not for the first time, B'lee wondered if he'd been right to accept the invitation to be a Candidate. If he'd refused, he would have been a Journeyman Harper by now, either at High Reaches Hold with all his family around him, or in some far-flung place on Pern, helping to keep the traditions alive. He would have met a nice girl, perhaps, and might even have been planning to wed her. He would have been happy.
Only because you didn't know that anything better existed, he told himself. Only because you wouldn't have known D'min.
What would his life have been like if he'd never met D'min? He might have been friends with any of the other blue or green riders - but there was no one quite like D'min. No one else laughed at his silly jokes, or grinned at him in quite that way, or gave him hugs when he didn't even realise he needed them. No one else had such an enthusiasm for life as D'min. No one else could make him as happy just by saying hello in the morning.
He came to the conclusion that not knowing D'min would have been far worse, and resolved to try and mend the breach between them in whatever way possible.
* * *
Threadfall passed without incident, except that D'min was suspiciously busy and looking in another direction whenever B'lee tried to get near him. When they finally met, at the evening meal, B'lee's worst suspicions were confirmed - D'min barely looked at him. He smiled a greeting to the table at large, but there was no special smile for B'lee, no acknowledgement of what they had shared the previous day. He ate quickly and left before the others, saying he had things to do.
B'lee guessed that he would have returned to his weyr, and he was right. He forced his way past the tie that indicated the rider wanted privacy, and entered the room.
"D'min," he began. "I have to talk to you."
D'min was sitting up on the bed, his arms around his knees, looking towards the weyr where Margroth and Aurieth lay, still wrapped around each other. He didn't even turned around as he said, "There's nothing to talk about."
"There is. About last night ..."
"Look, B'lee, it's not the end of the world. Aurieth rose, Margroth flew her, we had a great shag. That's all there is. It doesn't mean we're lovers. It was just dragonlust. Nothing special."
B'lee was shocked by the bitterness in D'min's voice. D'min had to be lying - it had to have meant something more than that. "Is that all it was?" he asked, trying hard to keep his voice calm and neutral when he wanted to scream and yell.
"Sure. What did you think?" His voice was cold and flat, devoid of any emotion, and it sent chills into B'lee's heart.
"I don't know."
"I'm not going to make you live in my weyr. I'm not going to swear eternal love for you. So don't think that anything's going to be different. It won't be. You're free to bed anyone you fancy, and so am I. Things haven't changed at all."
So. D'min hadn't seen how much B'lee loved him, then. At least he had that as a sop to his pride. "All right," he said, pleased that his voice didn't crack, even though he felt his heart was breaking. "I'll see you in the morning, then."
"Sleep well."
"You too."
B'lee went back to his own weyr and sat on the empty ledge, looking out into the bowl. In the twilight he could see a few people down there, talking in clumps or just walking from one side to another, going about their business. No one looked up in his direction. He was just another dragonrider, just a blue rider, no one of any importance.
D'min was right. What had happened between them was nothing unusual in the weyr - dragons mated and riders mated and that was all there was. It was just a part of life. Nothing special.
And B'lee had obviously been right last night, when he'd wondered if D'min had moved on. He wondered who D'min had spent the day with, and felt jealousy burning inside him.
It was no use. He had no excuse to feel jealous. He had no right to feel jealous. He'd had two years of D'min's affections, and if he'd been too stupid to take advantage of them - to really see D'min - in all that time, then perhaps he didn't deserve him. All he could do now was to hide how he really felt and remain D'min's friend. All he had to do was behave in exactly the same way he always did.
He could do that, even if it meant carrying that horrible empty feeling around with him all day. He could do that for his friend.
* * *
The next few weeks were some of the most confusing in B'lee's whole life. Nothing had changed ... but everything was different. D'min was no longer avoiding him quite so much, but he hadn't returned to his previous enthusiastic self. He greeted B'lee quite civilly, and agreed with nearly everything he said, and joined in the discussions on the last Fall, or the next, as he had always done. It was just that there was nothing more - nothing of the teasing, or the suggestive comments, or the grabby hands that he had got used to. And never mind that he had complained more than once about D'min's habit of caressing any body part within easy reach ... now that it wasn't happening, perversely, he missed it. He craved D'min's touch. He craved the easy camaraderie that they had shared for so many months. He particularly missed the special smiles that D'min had given him whenever they met after however brief an absence, the way that D'min would always manage to cadge some sort of treat out of the kitchen staff and share it with him, the way that D'min had looked after him.
Even though he had thought of him as no more than a friend, the attention D'min had given him had made him feel special and wanted and loved, and B'lee now wondered how he could have been so cold in return. How could D'min have gone on being affectionate towards him for so long without encouragement? How had he coped with the pain of being rejected time and time again?
From his viewpoint now, B'lee could understand all too well the hurt he'd seen in Dmin's eyes occasionally, when B'lee had snapped at him or thrown off an arm that had strayed around B'lee's waist. Now it was D'min who was avoiding his touch, sliding away whenever B'lee got too close, never allowing a hug or a hand on the shoulder, or even a friendly nudge and a roll of the eyes whenever M'ken made another asinine suggestion. Every little avoidance hurt, and B'lee grew more and more despairing as the days passed and D'min continued to be distant.
He was away for much of his free time, and B'lee wondered if he'd found a lover in another Weyr. He tried to listen to the gossip a bit more closely, but no one was talking of D'min or his latest attachment, and D'min didn't really have the exuberance and sheer over-flowing love of life that he usually had with a new lover. Instead he was sombre and slow and sad.
B'lee wondered who the idiot could be who was treating D'min badly enough to make him unhappy. How could anyone see him and not want to hold him? How could anyone bear to hurt him? B'lee blamed himself. If he hadn't been so slow, if he hadn't been so stupid, D'min might have been with him all this time, and wouldn't have moved on to whatever fickle-hearted tunnel-snake of a rider had broken his heart. The only thing he could do, he reasoned, was to remain as friendly as possible, and hope that when it all blew over he would be allowed back into D'min's life to help him pick up the shattered pieces of his heart.
With this in mind, he persisted in efforts to be friendly towards D'min. He greeted him cheerily and with a smile every day, brought him klah and food whenever possible, and helped him to make new riding straps when Aurieth's first set started to stretch, but his efforts had little effect. D'min remained friendly but distant, and the shadow in his eyes didn't fade. B'lee felt like pinning him down and forcing him to say who was making him so sad, just so that he could go and pick a fight.
Inevitably, the tensions started to spill over into their flying. In the first two months after joining 4 Wing they had developed a good working relationship, catching most of the stray Thread in their area and leaving little for the ground crews to take care of. Now, with self-consciousness and hesitation, a lot of that had been lost, and P'tan, their wingsecond, had to speak to them more than once about the dangers of getting sloppy in the air.
I just don't know what to do, B'lee confided to Margroth, after one particularly biting comment from P'tan. I used to know just where D'min would be, just where he'd move, and it made everything so easy. Now I haven't a clue.
Margroth rumbled in sympathy, but he didn't really understand the problem, and B'lee wasn't sure that he could explain it to him.
Could you ask Aurieth what's wrong with him?
She says he is unhappy. He doesn't tell her why.
Well, that wasn't much use to him. He almost debated asking Margroth to ask Aurieth to ask D'min just what the matter was, but it wasn't really fair to get the dragons involved in complex human emotions that they had no chance of understanding. He'd just have to continue his own efforts to get to the bottom of it.
And he still hadn't worked out what was going on inside his own mind, let alone D'min's.
* * *
"D'min."
"Hmm?" D'min looked up from the braid he was weaving and gestured for B'lee to come in.
"I - I need to talk to you."
"So talk. I'm just trying to get this finished for Lidora - she wants to wear it for the Hatching next week, so I can't stop."
"Oh, that's fine." He strolled into the chamber and sat down at the table. "Umm ..." Oh, this was far too difficult. He took a look around the chamber, seeing how much nicer it looked with the newish tapestries that D'min had managed to cajole out of Marta. The colours were soft greens and reds, warm and inviting. They suited D'min and Aurieth.
D'min continued his work, and B'lee took a moment to admire it. It was a three-colour interweaving knot that looked quite complex, even without the gold accents that he'd put in, and B'lee was glad that D'min had developed the skills he'd learned in the Weavercrafthall to the point where a junior queenrider would commission his work. "I hope she's paying you for that."
"Three marks."
B'lee whistled. "Good price! How much are you doing for her?"
"Enough for the neckline and both cuffs. She wanted enough for the hemline as well, but I said it would take too long and cost too much."
B'lee could only agree.
"So," continued D'min, "what did you want?"
B'lee hesitated. He really wanted to ask D'min about his attitude over the last few weeks, but he could see that D'min was busy, and he didn't was to run the risk of D'min losing a commission because of yet another argument with B'lee. Instead he shook his head, and mumbled, "I just wanted to say hello. We don't talk much any more."
"Doesn't seem to be much to say."
Oh, but there is, cried B'lee silently, but aloud he said only, "You're probably right."
"Don't let me keep you, then."
Reluctantly, B'lee rose and turned to go. But he had to make one last effort. "D'min?"
"Mmm?"
"If anyone's been treating you badly, you'd tell me, wouldn't you?"
"What?" D'min looked up, honestly puzzled, and B'lee felt acutely embarrassed.
"I thought - you've been so sad lately, and I thought it might be a rider you've got involved with. Someone who's not treating you well."
D'min gave a bitter laugh. "I can assure you, B'lee, that if I'm sad it's not because of anyone I'm involved with. Quite the opposite in fact. Now if that's all you had to say, I think you'd better leave. I have work to do."
B'lee nodded miserably, and left D'min to his weaving.
Once back in his own weyr, he threw himself down on the bed and tried to think. Yet again he'd just made things worse. But at least D'min's words confirmed his theory - the boy had fallen in love with someone who didn't love him back. B'lee understood that pain only too well.
The trouble was that he wasn't sure that there was anything he could do about it. All he could do was try to work out who it was that D'min was in love with, and then ... well, it would depend. If the other rider just wasn't aware of D'min's feelings, then that was easy - B'lee would tell him, and then the rider would fall in love with D'min (because who wouldn't?) and then the two of them would be happy. And even if that didn't help B'lee much, he could cope with things an awful lot better if D'min was happy.
On the other hand, if the other rider knew of D'min's feelings and simply didn't love him back, that would be more difficult. B'lee wasn't sure what he could do in that situation. He could always point out that the rider was being stupid to pass up the chance of loving the funniest, brightest and most affectionate green rider in the Weyr. And if that didn't work ... well, he might just have to accept defeat and try to work out some other way to console D'min. You couldn't force someone to fall in love. Shells, if you could, then B'lee would be doing everything he could to make D'min fall in love with him.
* * *
After the near-disaster at the next Threadfall, he was expecting the reprimand from his wingleader. The wind was gusting Thread in unexpected directions, and more than one dragon got scored, especially as the light failed. He and D'min, once more at cross-purposes, had emerged from between in almost the same spot, and Margroth had squawked and almost spun on his tail as he avoided not only Aurieth but also a clump of Thread that was heading straight for him.
B'lee hadn't been paying attention, that was the problem. He'd allowed himself to admire the way D'min had been silhouetted against the darkening sky, instead of tracking Thread, and had let his concentration lapse at the crucial moment. If Aurieth - or Margroth - had been injured, it would have been his fault, and he knew it. If he'd got lost between, it would have been only what he deserved. So, he bore his tongue-lashing from S'peren with head bowed and eyes on the floor, nodding at each scathing word.
What he hadn't expected was for D'min to be reprimanded as well, and in terms as harsh as his own.
"It wasn't D'min's fault!" he interjected immediately. "I was the one who wasn't paying attention!"
"You were both at fault," snapped S'peren. "You're both of you lucky I'm not grounding you for a month and sending you back to the weyrling class. You can't afford to lose concentration in a Fall. If I see anything like that happen again I'll flay the both of you. Now, go away and make sure you're rested and ready for tomorrow."
"Sorry," muttered B'lee to D'min as they returned to their weyr. "I didn't mean to make things worse for you."
"No, you never mean to," said D'min, wearily. "But you do it just the same."
B'lee stared after him, completely mystified.
* * *
A couple of evenings later, B'lee was sitting in his chamber, idly picking out a notes and chords on his gitar. He'd been humming a little melody in the last few days, and he was trying it out to see if he had the beginnings of a song. He hadn't written anything in ages, and he wondered if he could find any lyrics that would go with the tune.
There was a knock at the entrance and a tentative call. B'lee looked up and saw H'tan's face peering anxiously around the curtain.
"Can I come in?" asked the boy.
B'lee nodded, and H'tan came into the room, clutching a scroll.
"I wondered if you'd be able to explain the Thread charts to me again. I just can't understand the way that F'neldril teaches it."
B'lee sighed. He'd tried to discourage H'tan's attentions, but the boy was persistent, and he always couched his approaches in ways that made it very difficult for B'lee to refuse.
H'tan set the scroll down on the table, securing the one edge with B'lee's beaker and the other with his hand. "It's the progression I don't really understand," he said, pointing out one area of the chart. "Why should the Falls suddenly jump from here to there?”
B'lee set his gitar down and tried to explain the complex - but logical - movements of Thread across Pern.
It wasn't until after he'd fastened the scroll after B'lee's impromptu tutorial that H'tan brought up the real reason for his visit - his class was shortly to start training to go between, and he was quite apprehensive. Some of the Weyr-bred boys in the class had been telling horror stories, much the same as they'd done with B'lee's class the year before, only B'lee had been a little older and a little more sceptical, and hadn't fallen for the more outrageous tales as H'tan had apparently done.
"There's really nothing to it," he said. "You just picture it clearly in your mind and your dragon does the rest."
"But what if he doesn't?"
B'lee shrugged. How could he know? He'd watched Lath and S'gan go between, never to return, but he had no idea what it would be like to be lost forever in that cold, grey nothing, as the seconds lengthened into minutes, and rider and dragon realised that there was no end ...
"I'm just so scared!" said H'tan, and B'lee could understand that, at least. He put an arm gingerly on H'tan's shoulder to reassure him, and was promptly enveloped in a hug, with the boy's head resting on his shoulder. B'lee gave him a couple of tentative pats on the back, and wondered how soon he could disengage himself without upsetting H'tan too much.
A small noise from the doorway alerted him, and he looked up to see D'min staring at him, the completed braid in his hand and his face white and shocked. They stared at each other for several seconds before D'min turned abruptly and left.
B'lee thrust H'tan away and raced after D'min, but it was too late - D'min had reached his own weyr and drawn the curtain tight across.
"D'min? D'min! It's not - I wasn't - Oh, shards!"
He sagged against the wall, letting his forehead rest on the rock face. Why did D'min have to make things so difficult? Why did he have to come in at just that moment, when H'tan was drooping all over him?
He turned back towards his chamber and saw H'tan watching him, his eyes as big as saucers.
"Get back to your own weyr," he ordered, bluntly. "And pay attention to F'neldril in future. He's perfectly clear in his explanations if you bother to listen."
He brushed past the boy and into his own chamber, drawing the curtain across with a snap.
None of them slept well that night.
* * *
Orlith's clutch hatched the following week, at the end of the eight month. Luckily Threadfall had been early that day, and the Wings were already back and cleaning up when the humming alerted them to the event. All the riders hurried to the Hatching Ground to see the latest group of candidates make their Impressions, many of them still with the stench of firestone on their clothes.
B'lee and D'min were among those who crowded into the spectator stands, though D'min had unaccountably veered off towards another section further up. They, at least, had had time to bathe and change, and had scrambled into their good tunics before pelting headlong down the stairs to join the throng. B'lee had made sure he was wearing the shirt with the braid that D'min had given him last Winter Solstice, but D'min had barely given it a glance.
There were 23 eggs on the sand - fewer than in their own clutch, B'lee noted, but plenty to keep up the fighting strength of the Weyr until the end of the Pass. He saw the Candidates standing nervously in their white robes and thought back to the day over two Turns ago when he had stood there himself. So much had happened in that time that he could honestly say he was a different person.
He cast a surreptitious look back up the tiers, towards D'min, and wondered what he was thinking. Was he remembering his own Impression? And did he think himself better or worse off now than he was then? And why was he still avoiding B'lee?
He glanced over to the seating occupied by the gold riders, and noted with vicarious pride that Lidora was wearing her new dress, trimmed with the braid that D'min had woven. It looked good from this distance, and the gold thread picked up the light from the glow baskets, making the braid glint and gleam. He wondered if D'min would get any more commissions from people who saw Lidora's dress. He hoped so. D'min deserved to have his talents recognised.
His attention returned to the hatching eggs, and he realised that the weyrling barracks was going to be very full, with two classes only three months apart. B'lee had wondered how F'neldril would cope, even with the riders he'd drafted in to help him, but D'min had explained - in the days when they were still speaking to one another, before the last debacle involving H'tan - that they'd probably combine the class to make things easier for everyone. That made sense, though he didn't fancy the weyrlingmaster or his assistants, trying to keep fifty eager dragonets and riders under control.
* * *
Even though D'min was barely speaking to him, B'lee still tried to do what he could to salvage their friendship. He also found himself staring at D'min every chance got. He knew he must be making himself look ridiculous, and probably giving himself away, but he couldn't help it. Everything D'min said, everything he did, was important to B'lee, and he couldn't bear the thought of letting any of it escape his notice.
D'min was rarely in his chamber now, and became even more evasive about where he'd been. B'lee heard vague rumours of his activities that filled him with concern - orgies involving multiple riders, and worried himself silly until he realised firstly, that D'min had been active in the Weyr for years and knew his way around, and secondly, that Aurieth would never let anyone harm her rider.
The rest of the wing started making jokes about a dragon with one egg, which didn't endear them to either D'min or B'lee. It didn't stop B'lee trying to look after his friend, either.
Somehow, some day, he was going to fix this.