A pearlescent glow spiraled up in front of his mind’s eye, and his eyelids moved painfully beneath their bandage, seeking the light’s source desperately. Cantrell’s ruined eyes saw nothing, and the strands of light did not move with that motion. They twined and spun a core of brilliance, shifting gradually to the blue-white of a lightning bolt, sending pale tendrils of warmth and light into the sound-filled recesses of the Harper’s mind. <<You understand,>> a voice whispered, not sepulchral at all, but a deep, pleasant bass, like the instrument of that name. It was made all the richer, to Cantrell’s mind, by the undercurrent of a tremendous grief, the echoes of an unbearable loss.
“Meilizath?” the Harper asked softly, as if loud speech might break the rapport like glass.
<<I am Meilizath,>> the sweet, sad bass agreed, but there was a reverberant triumph to it now. <<You were Harper Master Cantrell.>>
Hardly daring to hope, the Harper whispered, “And who am I now?”
<<Rider Ca’trell, partner of light blue Meilizath,>> the light blue said hesitantly, <<if you wish to be.>> His tone held such a lack of self-worth that Ca’trell half-rose involuntarily.
“My dear Meilizath, I’m simply very surprised. For a man resigned to spending the rest of his life being passed around like a bad mark, it’s pretty earth-shaking, don’t you think?”
<<And how do think it feels, Ca’trell, to have a Harper suddenly descend upon your ceaseless mourning and refuse to leave until you’ve recovered your joie de vivre? My own lifemate didn’t want me—why on Pern would you? You should have been mourning your own loss, not singing me out of mine. You’re quite impossible, Ca’trell, but here you are, and here I am, taking another rider.>> Meilizath brooded for a moment, his luminescence dimming and darkening.
The Harper/Rider rose, stumbling a little, and walked cautiously over the rough sand until his questing fingers met the warm hide of the light blue. He pressed himself against the dragon’s foreleg, fiercely. “If you’ll have me, Meilizath, even -=between=- will not part us.” A thought struck him, and Ca’trell swallowed hard. “Meilizath…I’m fifty-three Turns old.”
<<Yes,>> the light blue acknowledged, his mellow voice a trifle impatient. Meilizath wished to savor the moment while it lasted. <<I know. You don’t look it. Why do you bring it up?>>
“Dragons go -=between=- when their riders die, don’t they?” the Harper asked, his mobile face grave.
<<Yes,>> Meilizath replied, a trifle curtly. <<What is your point?>>
“I’m old, Meilizath. I wouldn’t leave you for the world, but people, unlike firelizards, have only so long to live.”
Meilizath curved his neck around and down like an embrace, and Ca’trell could feel the flicker of the dragon’s first-lids as the light blue shoved his head against the Harper. <<And because of this, you expect me to leave you again and go enjoy a miserable eternity? I will not! I’ll chase you across the face of Pern, if I must, but never, ever suggest that I would be better off without you. Besides, I tried young-and-innocent before. Young wine is only grape juice, Ca’trell. Green fruit is not fit to eat. You are not too old.>>
“And my eyes?” Ca’trell said huskily. “I’m useless for fighting Thread.”
Meilizath hissed at the word. <<I will not fight Thread with anyone. Nuita thought that the be-all and end-all of all activities was fighting that wretched silver rain. I was not good enough for her, I trow. I hope you don’t hold the same views.>>
A little shaken at the light blue’s vehemence, Ca’trell shook his head. “No, Meilizath. I’ve no desire to take these hands out where they could be devoured by some mindless worms.”
<<A practical Harper,>> the dragon muttered, amused. <<I thought I’d never see the day. Come now, Ca’trell. We’d best tell Weyrwoman Tiyanni of this newest impudence of yours. I’d like to hear the Hall’s reaction to the Master they turned away being a dragonrider now.>>
Breathless, Ca’trell lengthened his stride, and walked purposefully beside Meilizath. The new Rider couldn’t help but appreciate the tenderness with which his lifemate shortened his steps so that they moved as one. |
