Spinning (Spencer/Ryan, Brendon/Jon, PG)
Title: Spinning
Author: Cara (ohnoscarlett)
Rating: PG
Words: 3950
Prompt: bandomvalentine #26. P!atD/TYV Fantasy genre AU - Spencer-centric. Magical quest! Or Dragons! Or Unicorns! Or magic! Anything Fantasy really.
Summary: In a world where dragons are real, the harpers--artists and musicians--are the educators, diplomats, and historians. Spencer and his friends were all of these things and more.
Notes/Warnings: People are mean to some little kids? Unrequited love? Based loosely on the Anne McCaffrey Pern novels, particularly the Harper Hall trilogy (Dragonsong, Dragonsinger, Dragondrums). Beta by cloudlessclimes, kueble, and tuesdaysgone.
The planet Pern had been inhabited by a human colony for thousands of years. Long enough for a distinctly non-Earthlike civilization to develop, and long enough for the people to even forget that they had ever been from anywhere else. They were Pernese; simple, solid, good people.
Life on Pern was tough, but manageable. It had been colonized initially to escape old Earth, which was polluted and overpopulated, so the new colony strove to maintain simplicity. No industry, very little technology, a small population. The problem arose from the planet itself--its path in space. A near asteroid carried spaceborne spores. When the planet and asteroid were in close orbit, those spores were drawn into Pern's atmosphere and would destroy any organic material they touched. Due to their filamentous appearance, the deadly spores were known as Thread.
The early colonists chose to remain on Pern and combat the Thread. While they generally rejected modern technology, they still retained their skills and were able to genetically engineer a solution--dragons. The dragons could fly, breathe fire, teleport, and communicate telepathically. They became an ideal tool for controlling Thread.
The dragons became the driving force behind social organization. The society on Pern developed structurally into three functional classes: weyrfolk, holders, and crafters. The Weyrs were the homes of the dragonriders. These people were pledged to protect everyone else, and in return, the Weyrs were supported by products and services from Holds and Crafthalls. Each segment of the population was just as important as the others, but not everyone saw it that way, of course. One's own contribution to society tended to be viewed as of the utmost importance, and others were marginalized, even ridiculed. But in a non-industrial, pseudo-feudal civilization, the reality was that every job, every function, was needed, even the harpers--the artists, the musicians. For they were also the educators, diplomats, and historians of Pern.
***
Spencer had been at the Harper Hall since he was nine years old. Early, yes, but he'd been a child soprano with a golden throat, and they had wanted him. It was wonderful; he had a beautiful, clear, shockingly well-trained voice. It was a huge step up from being a herdboy on a runnerbeast hold.
Until he was fourteen and it all disappeared.
Well, not everything. Just his voice. Spencer was reduced to multiple-octave crackings; horrified to the extent that he refused to sing--or even speak--for months, until his voice settled into adulthood. It was a perfectly acceptable baritone, but the damage was done. Spencer would no longer sing, so he had to find somewhere else to be, something else to do.
They sent him to the drumheights.
It had been well-intentioned. In the drumheights, Spencer would learn to send messages with the huge message drums, communicating long-distance with the other holds and weyrs. The problem, as it turned out, was that Spencer was too good. He learned every measure set to him, and quickly. The other apprentices--even some of the journeymen--resented Spencer's success.
The apprentices stole his sticks and his papers to make it seem like he was unprepared and irresponsible. Spencer took to hiding spare sticks around the practice rooms, so when his own disappeared, he could simply locate more. Written work was rare for harpers, and for drummers especially so. Spencer always had copies, but when even that failed, his memory never did. Spencer memorized everything, and it made the others crazy. He was still the golden boy, exceeding them in their craft, at which they had been dedicated, some of them, for many years. For Spencer, drumming was a backup plan.
Spencer had been at the crafthall for more than five years before he moved to the drumheights, and he had responsibilities that lay beyond those corridors. When Spencer returned from a news-gathering trip with Jon, he found that his new roommates had peed in his bed and in his clothes press. Spencer imagined that the idea had been to make him seem childlike. Indeed, Spencer was younger than most of the other drum apprentices, but he was in no way new to Harper Hall. His responsibilities that took him away for days and left his scheming roommates drowning in their own filth, unable to report it and unwilling to clean it up themselves. Spencer cleaned it up. And his eyes may have pricked a bit, from more than the stench.
When they greased the stairs and almost killed him, at least it got him out of the drumheights and apprenticed to the Masterharper for real. Brendon had come looking for him when he had been overdue to deliver a message translation, and had found him unconscious and bleeding on the steps. Jon had reduced everyone in the drumheights--from newest apprentice to eldest journeyman--to shreds for their complicity, and then made arrangements to solidify Spencer's place with the Masterharper. Spencer's friends were always his saving grace. He still counted all the boys in the chorus as friends, of course, even when he no longer sang with them, but it was Brendon and Jon who Spencer found most valuable, who he loved the most.
***
Brendon had come to Harper Hall when Spencer was eleven. Brendon was nearly fifteen, and he was phenomenal. He had come from the remotest Sea Hold, originally. At least that was where he had lived until earlier that year when his family finally had had enough of their silly youngest son and just kind of... gave up on him. Brendon hadn't wanted to captain a ship in the fishing fleet, or anything else that the Sea Hold had had to offer.
He wanted to be a harper.
Brendon's parents found it acceptable for him to practice with the Hold's harper, an old man in his last years. They found it acceptable for Brendon to assist him in Teaching, when the old harper became ill. They also found it acceptable for Brendon to stand in as his temporary replacement after the old man died. What was not acceptable, apparently, was for Brendon to think that harpering was an appropriate vocation for a Sea Holder and to want to continue doing so after the arrival of the permanent replacement.
They told Brendon he couldn't sing. He couldn't play his gitar or his pipes. And for goodness sake, he could not write his own songs. Brendon was finished with all the harper silliness; there was fishing to be done.
Brendon hadn't meant to get caught outside the Hold when the deadly Threadfall was due.
They locked the doors to the Hold when the signs of Thread were sighted. Everyone knew they had to be inside. Everyone knew that to be outside meant certain death.
Brendon was caught outside. Brendon was dead. They never even looked for him.
But Brendon hadn't died, even to his own astonishment. He had been too far away from the Hold, true, but he had been able to find a tiny crack in a cliff, a cavern, and wriggle inside. Inside the cave he was safe. He was wet and dirty and had a sackful of snapping and clicking spiderclaws, but he was alive.
He also happened upon a clutch of fire lizard eggs just ready to hatch.
Now that was what really caught Spencer's attention, at first. Fire lizards were sort of mythical creatures. There were tales about them, and boyish talk, but no one had ever really seen one. Until Brendon.
Brendon had managed to Impress nine fire lizards.
"But how did you end up with nine of them, Brendon?" Spencer had pressed, his eyes shining up at his friend while he listened to the tale.
"There were thirty eggs in the clutch, Spencer." Brendon tried making it sound like nine was a very small number indeed compared to what it could have been. Spencer had been undeterred.
"Yes, but they look just like tiny dragons! And an entire clutch of dragon eggs won't imprint on one person," Spencer argued. Brendon grinned and nodded.
"You forget; I was the only one there."
Brendon had continued to tell Spencer how the first hatchlings had flown past him like lightning, straight out into the falling Thread, where they died, screaming. Brendon tried blocking the exit, tried catching them, but the only thing that would keep the fire lizards in the safety of the cave was to stuff their mouths full of food. As it turns out, fire lizards are ravenous when they first emerge from the shell. It's the only concern in their tiny heads. He emptied his sack of spiderclaws, and he saved nine hatchlings. They were very grateful. He couldn't get rid of them if he tried.
Brendon had ended up living in his cavern for nearly five months. His fire lizards never left his side for long, and he was happy, after a fashion. But once again, Brendon found himself too far from his shelter with oncoming Thread. That time, though, running for his life, Brendon was scooped up bodily and deposited on the back of a dragon.
The dragons and their riders were out fighting the Thread. That was their purpose and reason for being. The dragons would flame the Thread into ash and it couldn't harm anyone. It was dangerous, for Threadscore was exceedingly painful and scarred dreadfully without a doubt. But fire was the only thing that could kill Thread, and dragons for sure had fire.
The dragon took Brendon between and back to the Weyr. The cold blackness of between, while horrifying, only lasted for a couple of seconds before they were circling above the Weyr. It was much more efficient than flying the entire way.
Seemingly everyone in the Weyr descended upon Brendon when he climbed off the dragon. He was hurt and disoriented, and his fire lizards were causing a ruckus. But the Weyrleaders were all kind and gentle, and took care of Brendon, nursed him until all of his hurts were healed. They promised Brendon that he never had to return to the Sea Hold if he didn't want to. They made him feel welcome; like family.
In this way, Brendon met and befriended Ryan.
Ryan was a fosterling at the Weyr who was being groomed to one day become Holder. It gave Ryan a sense of self-importance, but his laid-back manner and glib remarks offset his tendency to officiousness. Brendon liked him immediately. Ryan often tended to Brendon during his convalescence, and they were able to spend long hours discussing everything from weyrs and holds and crafthalls to fish and fire lizards. They became great friends.
There was to be a Hatching at the Weyr, and the boys were allowed to attend. To Ryan, it was nothing new. It was exciting, to be sure, but he had attended several Hatchings and knew what to expect. Not the same for Brendon. His attention flitted from the sandy pit filled with eggs and nervous potentials, to the crowd watching anxiously, to the dragons perched high above.
Brendon's fire lizards were in fact very similar to the dragons. They were similar in structure and movement, really differing only in size. Brendon's largest, his little gold queen, Beauty, sat neatly on his shoulder with her tail wrapped around his neck. The Weyrwoman's gold queen Ramoth loomed over man and woman alike.
When the eggs began to crack, Brendon found that more was similar than just looks. The dragonets were ravening fiends, but not for food, for attention. They cast about the circles of youngsters surrounding them, searching for their one true lifemate. For that's how it was with dragons. Dragon and rider were joined in a bond stronger than any other. If one was to die, the other certainly followed. They were never, ever separated.
Brendon had been astonished. Particularly when his little troupe began to sing in joyous rapture over the Impressions. They trilled harmoniously, in chords no humans could ever match. No one seemed to mind. Except Brendon, who blushed red and wished fervently that the Thread had indeed gotten him. He disappeared into the kitchens with Ryan as soon as was polite.
"Who was that!" a voice roared over the gentle clatter of kitchen sounds. Brendon shrank in on himself and would have happily scrambled under the table for shelter, but Ryan just sat back and smirked infuriatingly.
"Now, Master," the boys could hear Greta chiding him gently, just out of sight. "You know you shouldn't strain your voice."
"But who taught those fire lizards to sing?" he continued. "To whom do they belong? I must know!"
Ryan cleared his throat, and Brendon shot him a withering glare.
"I did," Brendon admitted sheepishly. The Master, the Masterharper, turned on him with a look of delight and actually clapped his hands.
"Well, goodness, boy, how did you do it?"
"It had been our way of passing the time, alone in the sea cavern," Brendon told his feet. His cheeks burned, and he was just waiting for judgement to drop. But the Masterharper lit up with a reaction so violent that Brendon actually stepped back.
"You!" The Masterharper's tone completely confused Brendon and forced him to look up at him wonderingly. "The lost Sea Holder apprentice! We've been looking for you, my dear boy."
Brendon was sent to Harper Hall.
Now, Brendon was somewhat used to being alone. Even when he lived at the Sea Hold, he really had no friends. He was the youngest of a rather large family, so it was expected that at least he had his siblings, but they were either fostered out or uninterested in their strange little brother. At Harper Hall, Brendon was overwhelmed, and with similar results. Most of the other apprentices were either jealous or intimidated by Brendon's skill at songcraft. Spencer was neither, and so they were fast friends.
Spencer helped Brendon care for his fire lizards. And they looked out for each other.
Brendon's record-breaking ascent to Journeyman was unprecedented. Most apprentices spent several years learning their craft at the Hall. Spencer himself had been there for more than two years by the time Brendon arrived. Brendon was an apprentice for a week.
***
Jon was also a Journeyman for the Masterharper. He was the eldest of them all, having been at the Harper Hall for even longer than Spencer. He was dark-haired and dark-eyed and had a tendency to scruff when he was focused on his music. He played harp and gitar, and all the apprentices loved him for his easy laugh and gentle manner. He didn't frighten them as so many of the other journeymen did. Jon was even beloved by his fellow journeymen. He was easy to work with, and always had a clever way with things.
Spencer and Brendon often didn't see Jon (as the senior Journeyman to the Masterharper, he was gone more often than even Brendon,) for long periods of time. Spencer could see the change in Brendon when Jon returned from his duties. He lit up, and it wasn't just the reflection of Beauty's golden scales on his skin. Spencer felt like his energy was being sucked out of him and being used to fuel Brendon's inner fire. He felt deflated.
Spencer tried not to be sullen, but really. Everyone knew about Brendon and Jon; they could give up the charade. It was pointless. It was clear to anyone with eyes that Jon watched Brendon wherever he went, and it wasn't mere concern for one journeyman to his junior, not with that look in his eye. Jon most certainly didn't look at Spencer that way. They sat together, but not too close. They touched a lot. There was a lot of whispering. It made Spencer crazy.
As Journeymen for the Masterharper, the three of them often worked together, but not exclusively. Jon, as the most senior, would go off on his own, leaving Brendon and Spencer to continue their duties at the Hall. Of late, Brendon and Jon had begun working together frequently. Spencer suspected something had happened on their last journey to the southern continent, though neither had mentioned anything. They wouldn't.
But Jon's gold fire lizard Kimi had clutched not long after that trip. In fact, Spencer had Impressed the little queen from that Hatching, and his Farli sat and chattered with Beauty while he and Brendon worked.
From the moment of her hatching, Spencer knew there was a connection. Not thoughts, real telepathy, like the dragons, but the little fire lizards could convey images and emotions to their masters, and likewise receive them.
When Spencer was excited, Farli was excited.
When Brendon was sad, all nine of them--golden Beauty, the bronzes, Rocky and Diver, little green Auntie 1 and Auntie 2, tiny blue Uncle, and brown Lazybones, Brownie, and Mimic--they were all sad. It was depressing.
When Kimi wanted to mate, well. Spencer needed to only connect the dots.
***
Everyone was excited about the upcoming Hatching. Ramoth had again laid a huge clutch of eggs, so the newest crop of riders would be substantial. It was important to gather all the details of a hatching, and to spread the word to all the people of Holds and Weyrs who could not attend. It was Harper business, and all three of the Masterharper's Journeymen were there.
Ryan bound up to their little group in a flurry of mismatched clothes. He wasn't Holder yet, but it was only a matter of time. His enthusiastic hugs to each of them weren't a surprise; they all spent quite a bit of time at the Weyr. For Spencer, the drumheights at this location held particular interest, so he visited often. Ryan and Brendon were friends of old, of course, and Jon, well, everyone loved Jon. Ryan made Spencer smile. This time, especially, Ryan was simply effusive. It was kind of weird, and made Spencer wonder uncharitably if Ryan had been dipping into the fellis juice.
Ryan dragged them all down to find good seats for the Hatching. He sat between Spencer and Brendon, if you could call what he did "sitting." He fairly bounced. Spencer laughed at him.
"Are you in love?" Spencer teased. Ryan turned a horrified countenance upon him.
"Oh, hell no," he croaked, making Brendon snort outrageously and Jon giggle into his shoulder. Spencer raised an eyebrow. "I don't know," Ryan continued dreamily. "I just feel... like something's building. Something big is going to happen soon--today--and I'm going to see it."
Spencer opened his mouth to comment, but Ryan shushed him with flapping hands. Eggs were beginning to rock. The Hatching was starting.
As Hatchings go, it was unremarkable. A big clutch, to be sure, but double the usual number of potentials as well. The little dragons would have plenty from which to choose. Spencer and his friends sat back to watch, and remember how it felt to Impress their fire lizards, for even Ryan had a little bronze snugged into his elbow. It wasn't precisely the same, but it was as close as any of them would ever come to the relationship between dragon and rider, and they cherished their little friends just as much.
The last egg to hatch was taking it's time. All the other dragonets and their new riders were settled in along the periphery of the hot sands, where it was a little cooler, cooing and stroking and nuzzling and generally making a scene. It was lovely. Spencer, for his part, began to wonder if the last egg simply wasn't going to hatch. It happened.
Then the egg rocked violently, and with a loud crack, split open. The little green dragon tumbled onto the sand and the ring of potentials surrounding her actually stepped back. Ryan leaped out of his seat, horrified. Spencer reached for him, to make him sit, but Ryan shook him off, leaning forward anxiously.
"Ryan--"
"Hush!" he hissed. "Can't you see something's wrong?"
Indeed there was. The green dragonet pushed past the potentials who had been hoping to Impress her and lurched across the sands, wailing piteously. Ryan hopped from foot to foot, wringing his hands. Surely someone down on the sands was meant for that little dragon.
"Help her!" he cried. At the sound of his voice, the green dragonet's head snapped up, and she looked straight at Ryan, her sparkling eyes whirling. Then she began to make her way toward the crowd, toward Ryan. "No. No, no, no, this can't be happening," Ryan intoned. "I'm not meant to be chosen. I'm not meant for a dragon."
"Apparently, you are," said the Weyrleader, who had moved up behind them. "Go to her."
Ryan did.
The little dragon butted Ryan's knees with her pointy head and mewled. Ryan's face softened, and he scratched behind her brow ridges. The dragon hummed pleasantly, and Ryan crumpled into a heap beside her. She climbed on him and he smiled.
"Her name is Path," he said softly. "She says her name is Path."
***
Spencer returned to the Harper Hall in a strange mixed state. On the one hand, he was happy for his friend to have Impressed a dragon so unexpectedly. On the other, he couldn't deny that he was horribly jealous of Brendon and Jon. It made his stomach hurt. He loved them both, he did, and it pained him that he couldn't let it go and accept that they were happy together.
So Spencer threw himself into drumming. He was exceptional at it. No one knew drum message measures like Spencer. The Masterharper sent Spencer frequently to Holds and Halls and Weyrs to teach and maintain their drumheights. For the most part, they were well-established and just needed practice, but the single Hold and Weyr on the southern continent were a mess.
Spencer spent a lot of time on the southern continent.
The southern continent suited him. It was warm and beautiful, and everything was bigger and brighter. With the busy Hold and Weyr, he was kept drumming until he couldn't feel his arms, and he would fall into bed at night exhausted, but happy.
Spencer was made even happier when Southern got a new dragon. It was Path, and with her, of course, was Ryan. It was nice to see a friendly face, yet it was a little odd; Southern didn't really need a new dragon. The southern continent was possessed of the happy accident of Thread-eating grubs. The nasty little creatures consumed the Thread as soon as it hit the ground and prevented it from doing any damage. The dragons were there to make sure none of the stuff got into the Hold, or Weyr, or any of the number of small cotholds that dotted the area. It wasn't a hard assignment; Ryan was lucky.
Spencer asked him about it one day as they lounged on the sandy beach and watched their fire lizards frolick in the surf while Path napped sprawled over a dune behind them. Farli let Berd chase her, dipping and wheeling, until they fell into the sea with a splash, floundering out to do it all over again.
"Why did you come here, Ryan?" Ryan gazed out over the sea thoughtfully for a while.
"I requested it," he finally stated.
"Not much action down here," Spencer teased. "Not for a fighting dragon. You like the weather so much?" Ryan arched an eyebrow.
"I prefer the company," Ryan answered. He jerked his chin out at the fire lizards. "They make quite a pair, don't they?"
Spencer sat silently and watched as Farli and Berd flew higher and higher, disappearing momentarily in the sun before dashing past them in a flash of wings and writhing tails.
"Oh," Spencer said softly. He looked to Ryan, who continued to watch the water.
"Yes. Oh."
Author: Cara (ohnoscarlett)
Rating: PG
Words: 3950
Prompt: bandomvalentine #26. P!atD/TYV Fantasy genre AU - Spencer-centric. Magical quest! Or Dragons! Or Unicorns! Or magic! Anything Fantasy really.
Summary: In a world where dragons are real, the harpers--artists and musicians--are the educators, diplomats, and historians. Spencer and his friends were all of these things and more.
Notes/Warnings: People are mean to some little kids? Unrequited love? Based loosely on the Anne McCaffrey Pern novels, particularly the Harper Hall trilogy (Dragonsong, Dragonsinger, Dragondrums). Beta by cloudlessclimes, kueble, and tuesdaysgone.
The planet Pern had been inhabited by a human colony for thousands of years. Long enough for a distinctly non-Earthlike civilization to develop, and long enough for the people to even forget that they had ever been from anywhere else. They were Pernese; simple, solid, good people.
Life on Pern was tough, but manageable. It had been colonized initially to escape old Earth, which was polluted and overpopulated, so the new colony strove to maintain simplicity. No industry, very little technology, a small population. The problem arose from the planet itself--its path in space. A near asteroid carried spaceborne spores. When the planet and asteroid were in close orbit, those spores were drawn into Pern's atmosphere and would destroy any organic material they touched. Due to their filamentous appearance, the deadly spores were known as Thread.
The early colonists chose to remain on Pern and combat the Thread. While they generally rejected modern technology, they still retained their skills and were able to genetically engineer a solution--dragons. The dragons could fly, breathe fire, teleport, and communicate telepathically. They became an ideal tool for controlling Thread.
The dragons became the driving force behind social organization. The society on Pern developed structurally into three functional classes: weyrfolk, holders, and crafters. The Weyrs were the homes of the dragonriders. These people were pledged to protect everyone else, and in return, the Weyrs were supported by products and services from Holds and Crafthalls. Each segment of the population was just as important as the others, but not everyone saw it that way, of course. One's own contribution to society tended to be viewed as of the utmost importance, and others were marginalized, even ridiculed. But in a non-industrial, pseudo-feudal civilization, the reality was that every job, every function, was needed, even the harpers--the artists, the musicians. For they were also the educators, diplomats, and historians of Pern.
***
Spencer had been at the Harper Hall since he was nine years old. Early, yes, but he'd been a child soprano with a golden throat, and they had wanted him. It was wonderful; he had a beautiful, clear, shockingly well-trained voice. It was a huge step up from being a herdboy on a runnerbeast hold.
Until he was fourteen and it all disappeared.
Well, not everything. Just his voice. Spencer was reduced to multiple-octave crackings; horrified to the extent that he refused to sing--or even speak--for months, until his voice settled into adulthood. It was a perfectly acceptable baritone, but the damage was done. Spencer would no longer sing, so he had to find somewhere else to be, something else to do.
They sent him to the drumheights.
It had been well-intentioned. In the drumheights, Spencer would learn to send messages with the huge message drums, communicating long-distance with the other holds and weyrs. The problem, as it turned out, was that Spencer was too good. He learned every measure set to him, and quickly. The other apprentices--even some of the journeymen--resented Spencer's success.
The apprentices stole his sticks and his papers to make it seem like he was unprepared and irresponsible. Spencer took to hiding spare sticks around the practice rooms, so when his own disappeared, he could simply locate more. Written work was rare for harpers, and for drummers especially so. Spencer always had copies, but when even that failed, his memory never did. Spencer memorized everything, and it made the others crazy. He was still the golden boy, exceeding them in their craft, at which they had been dedicated, some of them, for many years. For Spencer, drumming was a backup plan.
Spencer had been at the crafthall for more than five years before he moved to the drumheights, and he had responsibilities that lay beyond those corridors. When Spencer returned from a news-gathering trip with Jon, he found that his new roommates had peed in his bed and in his clothes press. Spencer imagined that the idea had been to make him seem childlike. Indeed, Spencer was younger than most of the other drum apprentices, but he was in no way new to Harper Hall. His responsibilities that took him away for days and left his scheming roommates drowning in their own filth, unable to report it and unwilling to clean it up themselves. Spencer cleaned it up. And his eyes may have pricked a bit, from more than the stench.
When they greased the stairs and almost killed him, at least it got him out of the drumheights and apprenticed to the Masterharper for real. Brendon had come looking for him when he had been overdue to deliver a message translation, and had found him unconscious and bleeding on the steps. Jon had reduced everyone in the drumheights--from newest apprentice to eldest journeyman--to shreds for their complicity, and then made arrangements to solidify Spencer's place with the Masterharper. Spencer's friends were always his saving grace. He still counted all the boys in the chorus as friends, of course, even when he no longer sang with them, but it was Brendon and Jon who Spencer found most valuable, who he loved the most.
***
Brendon had come to Harper Hall when Spencer was eleven. Brendon was nearly fifteen, and he was phenomenal. He had come from the remotest Sea Hold, originally. At least that was where he had lived until earlier that year when his family finally had had enough of their silly youngest son and just kind of... gave up on him. Brendon hadn't wanted to captain a ship in the fishing fleet, or anything else that the Sea Hold had had to offer.
He wanted to be a harper.
Brendon's parents found it acceptable for him to practice with the Hold's harper, an old man in his last years. They found it acceptable for Brendon to assist him in Teaching, when the old harper became ill. They also found it acceptable for Brendon to stand in as his temporary replacement after the old man died. What was not acceptable, apparently, was for Brendon to think that harpering was an appropriate vocation for a Sea Holder and to want to continue doing so after the arrival of the permanent replacement.
They told Brendon he couldn't sing. He couldn't play his gitar or his pipes. And for goodness sake, he could not write his own songs. Brendon was finished with all the harper silliness; there was fishing to be done.
Brendon hadn't meant to get caught outside the Hold when the deadly Threadfall was due.
They locked the doors to the Hold when the signs of Thread were sighted. Everyone knew they had to be inside. Everyone knew that to be outside meant certain death.
Brendon was caught outside. Brendon was dead. They never even looked for him.
But Brendon hadn't died, even to his own astonishment. He had been too far away from the Hold, true, but he had been able to find a tiny crack in a cliff, a cavern, and wriggle inside. Inside the cave he was safe. He was wet and dirty and had a sackful of snapping and clicking spiderclaws, but he was alive.
He also happened upon a clutch of fire lizard eggs just ready to hatch.
Now that was what really caught Spencer's attention, at first. Fire lizards were sort of mythical creatures. There were tales about them, and boyish talk, but no one had ever really seen one. Until Brendon.
Brendon had managed to Impress nine fire lizards.
"But how did you end up with nine of them, Brendon?" Spencer had pressed, his eyes shining up at his friend while he listened to the tale.
"There were thirty eggs in the clutch, Spencer." Brendon tried making it sound like nine was a very small number indeed compared to what it could have been. Spencer had been undeterred.
"Yes, but they look just like tiny dragons! And an entire clutch of dragon eggs won't imprint on one person," Spencer argued. Brendon grinned and nodded.
"You forget; I was the only one there."
Brendon had continued to tell Spencer how the first hatchlings had flown past him like lightning, straight out into the falling Thread, where they died, screaming. Brendon tried blocking the exit, tried catching them, but the only thing that would keep the fire lizards in the safety of the cave was to stuff their mouths full of food. As it turns out, fire lizards are ravenous when they first emerge from the shell. It's the only concern in their tiny heads. He emptied his sack of spiderclaws, and he saved nine hatchlings. They were very grateful. He couldn't get rid of them if he tried.
Brendon had ended up living in his cavern for nearly five months. His fire lizards never left his side for long, and he was happy, after a fashion. But once again, Brendon found himself too far from his shelter with oncoming Thread. That time, though, running for his life, Brendon was scooped up bodily and deposited on the back of a dragon.
The dragons and their riders were out fighting the Thread. That was their purpose and reason for being. The dragons would flame the Thread into ash and it couldn't harm anyone. It was dangerous, for Threadscore was exceedingly painful and scarred dreadfully without a doubt. But fire was the only thing that could kill Thread, and dragons for sure had fire.
The dragon took Brendon between and back to the Weyr. The cold blackness of between, while horrifying, only lasted for a couple of seconds before they were circling above the Weyr. It was much more efficient than flying the entire way.
Seemingly everyone in the Weyr descended upon Brendon when he climbed off the dragon. He was hurt and disoriented, and his fire lizards were causing a ruckus. But the Weyrleaders were all kind and gentle, and took care of Brendon, nursed him until all of his hurts were healed. They promised Brendon that he never had to return to the Sea Hold if he didn't want to. They made him feel welcome; like family.
In this way, Brendon met and befriended Ryan.
Ryan was a fosterling at the Weyr who was being groomed to one day become Holder. It gave Ryan a sense of self-importance, but his laid-back manner and glib remarks offset his tendency to officiousness. Brendon liked him immediately. Ryan often tended to Brendon during his convalescence, and they were able to spend long hours discussing everything from weyrs and holds and crafthalls to fish and fire lizards. They became great friends.
There was to be a Hatching at the Weyr, and the boys were allowed to attend. To Ryan, it was nothing new. It was exciting, to be sure, but he had attended several Hatchings and knew what to expect. Not the same for Brendon. His attention flitted from the sandy pit filled with eggs and nervous potentials, to the crowd watching anxiously, to the dragons perched high above.
Brendon's fire lizards were in fact very similar to the dragons. They were similar in structure and movement, really differing only in size. Brendon's largest, his little gold queen, Beauty, sat neatly on his shoulder with her tail wrapped around his neck. The Weyrwoman's gold queen Ramoth loomed over man and woman alike.
When the eggs began to crack, Brendon found that more was similar than just looks. The dragonets were ravening fiends, but not for food, for attention. They cast about the circles of youngsters surrounding them, searching for their one true lifemate. For that's how it was with dragons. Dragon and rider were joined in a bond stronger than any other. If one was to die, the other certainly followed. They were never, ever separated.
Brendon had been astonished. Particularly when his little troupe began to sing in joyous rapture over the Impressions. They trilled harmoniously, in chords no humans could ever match. No one seemed to mind. Except Brendon, who blushed red and wished fervently that the Thread had indeed gotten him. He disappeared into the kitchens with Ryan as soon as was polite.
"Who was that!" a voice roared over the gentle clatter of kitchen sounds. Brendon shrank in on himself and would have happily scrambled under the table for shelter, but Ryan just sat back and smirked infuriatingly.
"Now, Master," the boys could hear Greta chiding him gently, just out of sight. "You know you shouldn't strain your voice."
"But who taught those fire lizards to sing?" he continued. "To whom do they belong? I must know!"
Ryan cleared his throat, and Brendon shot him a withering glare.
"I did," Brendon admitted sheepishly. The Master, the Masterharper, turned on him with a look of delight and actually clapped his hands.
"Well, goodness, boy, how did you do it?"
"It had been our way of passing the time, alone in the sea cavern," Brendon told his feet. His cheeks burned, and he was just waiting for judgement to drop. But the Masterharper lit up with a reaction so violent that Brendon actually stepped back.
"You!" The Masterharper's tone completely confused Brendon and forced him to look up at him wonderingly. "The lost Sea Holder apprentice! We've been looking for you, my dear boy."
Brendon was sent to Harper Hall.
Now, Brendon was somewhat used to being alone. Even when he lived at the Sea Hold, he really had no friends. He was the youngest of a rather large family, so it was expected that at least he had his siblings, but they were either fostered out or uninterested in their strange little brother. At Harper Hall, Brendon was overwhelmed, and with similar results. Most of the other apprentices were either jealous or intimidated by Brendon's skill at songcraft. Spencer was neither, and so they were fast friends.
Spencer helped Brendon care for his fire lizards. And they looked out for each other.
Brendon's record-breaking ascent to Journeyman was unprecedented. Most apprentices spent several years learning their craft at the Hall. Spencer himself had been there for more than two years by the time Brendon arrived. Brendon was an apprentice for a week.
***
Jon was also a Journeyman for the Masterharper. He was the eldest of them all, having been at the Harper Hall for even longer than Spencer. He was dark-haired and dark-eyed and had a tendency to scruff when he was focused on his music. He played harp and gitar, and all the apprentices loved him for his easy laugh and gentle manner. He didn't frighten them as so many of the other journeymen did. Jon was even beloved by his fellow journeymen. He was easy to work with, and always had a clever way with things.
Spencer and Brendon often didn't see Jon (as the senior Journeyman to the Masterharper, he was gone more often than even Brendon,) for long periods of time. Spencer could see the change in Brendon when Jon returned from his duties. He lit up, and it wasn't just the reflection of Beauty's golden scales on his skin. Spencer felt like his energy was being sucked out of him and being used to fuel Brendon's inner fire. He felt deflated.
Spencer tried not to be sullen, but really. Everyone knew about Brendon and Jon; they could give up the charade. It was pointless. It was clear to anyone with eyes that Jon watched Brendon wherever he went, and it wasn't mere concern for one journeyman to his junior, not with that look in his eye. Jon most certainly didn't look at Spencer that way. They sat together, but not too close. They touched a lot. There was a lot of whispering. It made Spencer crazy.
As Journeymen for the Masterharper, the three of them often worked together, but not exclusively. Jon, as the most senior, would go off on his own, leaving Brendon and Spencer to continue their duties at the Hall. Of late, Brendon and Jon had begun working together frequently. Spencer suspected something had happened on their last journey to the southern continent, though neither had mentioned anything. They wouldn't.
But Jon's gold fire lizard Kimi had clutched not long after that trip. In fact, Spencer had Impressed the little queen from that Hatching, and his Farli sat and chattered with Beauty while he and Brendon worked.
From the moment of her hatching, Spencer knew there was a connection. Not thoughts, real telepathy, like the dragons, but the little fire lizards could convey images and emotions to their masters, and likewise receive them.
When Spencer was excited, Farli was excited.
When Brendon was sad, all nine of them--golden Beauty, the bronzes, Rocky and Diver, little green Auntie 1 and Auntie 2, tiny blue Uncle, and brown Lazybones, Brownie, and Mimic--they were all sad. It was depressing.
When Kimi wanted to mate, well. Spencer needed to only connect the dots.
***
Everyone was excited about the upcoming Hatching. Ramoth had again laid a huge clutch of eggs, so the newest crop of riders would be substantial. It was important to gather all the details of a hatching, and to spread the word to all the people of Holds and Weyrs who could not attend. It was Harper business, and all three of the Masterharper's Journeymen were there.
Ryan bound up to their little group in a flurry of mismatched clothes. He wasn't Holder yet, but it was only a matter of time. His enthusiastic hugs to each of them weren't a surprise; they all spent quite a bit of time at the Weyr. For Spencer, the drumheights at this location held particular interest, so he visited often. Ryan and Brendon were friends of old, of course, and Jon, well, everyone loved Jon. Ryan made Spencer smile. This time, especially, Ryan was simply effusive. It was kind of weird, and made Spencer wonder uncharitably if Ryan had been dipping into the fellis juice.
Ryan dragged them all down to find good seats for the Hatching. He sat between Spencer and Brendon, if you could call what he did "sitting." He fairly bounced. Spencer laughed at him.
"Are you in love?" Spencer teased. Ryan turned a horrified countenance upon him.
"Oh, hell no," he croaked, making Brendon snort outrageously and Jon giggle into his shoulder. Spencer raised an eyebrow. "I don't know," Ryan continued dreamily. "I just feel... like something's building. Something big is going to happen soon--today--and I'm going to see it."
Spencer opened his mouth to comment, but Ryan shushed him with flapping hands. Eggs were beginning to rock. The Hatching was starting.
As Hatchings go, it was unremarkable. A big clutch, to be sure, but double the usual number of potentials as well. The little dragons would have plenty from which to choose. Spencer and his friends sat back to watch, and remember how it felt to Impress their fire lizards, for even Ryan had a little bronze snugged into his elbow. It wasn't precisely the same, but it was as close as any of them would ever come to the relationship between dragon and rider, and they cherished their little friends just as much.
The last egg to hatch was taking it's time. All the other dragonets and their new riders were settled in along the periphery of the hot sands, where it was a little cooler, cooing and stroking and nuzzling and generally making a scene. It was lovely. Spencer, for his part, began to wonder if the last egg simply wasn't going to hatch. It happened.
Then the egg rocked violently, and with a loud crack, split open. The little green dragon tumbled onto the sand and the ring of potentials surrounding her actually stepped back. Ryan leaped out of his seat, horrified. Spencer reached for him, to make him sit, but Ryan shook him off, leaning forward anxiously.
"Ryan--"
"Hush!" he hissed. "Can't you see something's wrong?"
Indeed there was. The green dragonet pushed past the potentials who had been hoping to Impress her and lurched across the sands, wailing piteously. Ryan hopped from foot to foot, wringing his hands. Surely someone down on the sands was meant for that little dragon.
"Help her!" he cried. At the sound of his voice, the green dragonet's head snapped up, and she looked straight at Ryan, her sparkling eyes whirling. Then she began to make her way toward the crowd, toward Ryan. "No. No, no, no, this can't be happening," Ryan intoned. "I'm not meant to be chosen. I'm not meant for a dragon."
"Apparently, you are," said the Weyrleader, who had moved up behind them. "Go to her."
Ryan did.
The little dragon butted Ryan's knees with her pointy head and mewled. Ryan's face softened, and he scratched behind her brow ridges. The dragon hummed pleasantly, and Ryan crumpled into a heap beside her. She climbed on him and he smiled.
"Her name is Path," he said softly. "She says her name is Path."
***
Spencer returned to the Harper Hall in a strange mixed state. On the one hand, he was happy for his friend to have Impressed a dragon so unexpectedly. On the other, he couldn't deny that he was horribly jealous of Brendon and Jon. It made his stomach hurt. He loved them both, he did, and it pained him that he couldn't let it go and accept that they were happy together.
So Spencer threw himself into drumming. He was exceptional at it. No one knew drum message measures like Spencer. The Masterharper sent Spencer frequently to Holds and Halls and Weyrs to teach and maintain their drumheights. For the most part, they were well-established and just needed practice, but the single Hold and Weyr on the southern continent were a mess.
Spencer spent a lot of time on the southern continent.
The southern continent suited him. It was warm and beautiful, and everything was bigger and brighter. With the busy Hold and Weyr, he was kept drumming until he couldn't feel his arms, and he would fall into bed at night exhausted, but happy.
Spencer was made even happier when Southern got a new dragon. It was Path, and with her, of course, was Ryan. It was nice to see a friendly face, yet it was a little odd; Southern didn't really need a new dragon. The southern continent was possessed of the happy accident of Thread-eating grubs. The nasty little creatures consumed the Thread as soon as it hit the ground and prevented it from doing any damage. The dragons were there to make sure none of the stuff got into the Hold, or Weyr, or any of the number of small cotholds that dotted the area. It wasn't a hard assignment; Ryan was lucky.
Spencer asked him about it one day as they lounged on the sandy beach and watched their fire lizards frolick in the surf while Path napped sprawled over a dune behind them. Farli let Berd chase her, dipping and wheeling, until they fell into the sea with a splash, floundering out to do it all over again.
"Why did you come here, Ryan?" Ryan gazed out over the sea thoughtfully for a while.
"I requested it," he finally stated.
"Not much action down here," Spencer teased. "Not for a fighting dragon. You like the weather so much?" Ryan arched an eyebrow.
"I prefer the company," Ryan answered. He jerked his chin out at the fire lizards. "They make quite a pair, don't they?"
Spencer sat silently and watched as Farli and Berd flew higher and higher, disappearing momentarily in the sun before dashing past them in a flash of wings and writhing tails.
"Oh," Spencer said softly. He looked to Ryan, who continued to watch the water.
"Yes. Oh."