He came to an abrupt halt, bowing to Orlith, who lowered her head to acknowledge his greeting. Then he moved on quickly to assist Moreta to dismount, looking intently up at her.
His light-green eyes, unusual in one so dark-skinned, caught hers. His gaze was as formal and impersonal as his hands as he seized her by the waist and swung her down from Orlith's forearm. He bowed, and Moreta couldn't but notice that his shaggy hair had been neatly trimmed and attractively shaped.
«Weyrwoman, welcome to Ruatha Hold. I had begun to think that you and Orlith were not going to attend.» His voice was unexpectedly tenor for a man so tall and lean, his words clearly spoken.
«I bring the Weyrleadcr's regrets.»
«He gave them in advance yesterday. It would have been your regrets which I, and Ruatha, would have been sad to receive. Orlith is in splendid color,» he added, his voice unexpectedly warming, «for a queen so near clutching.»
The queen blinked her rainbow-hued eyes, echoing the surprise that Moreta felt in Alessan's adherence to formalities. Moreta hadn't expected so polished a delivery from so young a man but, after all, Leef had drilled his heir in the proprieties. Besides, she was always ready to discuss Orlith.
«She's in great health and she's always that unusual shade.»
As her reply deviated from the tradition, Alessan hesitated.
«Now, some dragons are so light as to be more pale yellow than gold while others are dark enough to vie with the bronzes. Yet she is not,» Moreta eyed her queen candidly, «the classic shade.»
Alessan chuckled. «Does shade make any difference?»
«Certainly not to me. I would scarcely mind if Orlith were green gold. She is my queen, and I am her rider.» She glanced at Alessan, wondering if he was mocking her. But his green eyes, with their tiny flecks of brown around the pupil, registered only polite query.
Alessan smiled. «And senior at Fort Weyr.»
«As you are Lord of Ruatha.» She felt slightly defensive for, despite the innocuous and formal phrases, she sensed an undercurrent in his speech. Had Sh'gall discussed his Weyrwoman with a Lord Holder?
«Orlith?»
«The fire-height is warm in the full sun,» the dragon replied evasively, swinging her head toward her rider. The many facets of her eyes were tinged with the blue of longing.
«Off you go, dear heart.» Moreta gave Orlith's shoulder a loving thump and then, with Alessan at her side, she walked from the dancing square. As they reached the edge, Orlith leaped, her broad wings clearing the ground in the first downward sweep. The dragon had launched herself in a very shallow angle toward the sheer rock of Ruatha. As the queen flew a mere length above the stalls and gatherers, Moreta could hear the spate of startled cries. Beside her, Alessan stiffened.
«Do you know what you're doing, my love?» Moreta asked, reasonably but firm. «You're a bit egg-heavy for antics.»
«I am demonstrating the abilities of their queen. It will do them good and me no harm. See?»
Orlith had judged her angle finely, though from Moreta's perspective, she looked to be in danger of clipping her forearms on the cliff edge. But Orlith cleared the cliff easily and, dropping her shoulder, spun almost on wingtip. She set her hindquarters down directly over the Hold's main entrance, in the space vacated by other dragons. Then she flipped her wings to her back, sank down, and rested her triangular head on her forearms.
«Exhibitionist!» Moreta sent without rancor. «She's comfortable now, Lord Alessan.»
«I had heard of Orlith's reputation for close flying,» he replied, his eyes flicking to the jewelry Moreta wore.
So the young Lord knew of the old Lord's gift.
«An advantage in Threadfall.»
«This is a Gather.» With that slight emphasis on the pronoun, Alessan spoke as Lord Holder.
«And where is it more appropriate to display skill and craft and beauty?» Moreta gestured toward the gaily caparisoned stalls and the richly colored tunics and dresses of the crowd. She removed her hand from his arm, partly to show her annoyance with his criticism and partly to loosen her cloak. The chill of between had been replaced by the warmth of the afternoon sun. «Come now. Lord Alessan,» and she linked her arm through his again, «let us have no uncharitable words at your first Gather as Lord of Ruatha and my first outing since the winter solstice.»
They had reached the roadway and the stalls where people were examining wares and bargaining. Moreta smiled up at Lord Alessan to prove her firm intention of enjoying herself. He looked down at her, blinking and creasing his dark brows slightly. His expression cleared to a smile, still reserved but considerably more genuine than his stiff formality.
«I fear I have none of my dam's virtues. Lady Moreta.»
«And all of your sire's vices?»
«My good Lord Leef had no vices,» Alessan said very properly, but his eyes had begun to gleam with an amusement that proved to Moreta that the man had at least a vestige of his sire's humor.
«The races haven't started yet?»
Alessan missed a stride and glanced sharply at her.
«No, not yet.» His tone was wary. «We have been waiting for late arrivals.»
«There seemed to be a good number at the pickets. How many races?» She gave him a quick glance. Didn't he approve of racing?
«Ten races are planned, but the entries have been lighter than I had anticipated. You enjoy racing, Lady Moreta?»
«I came from a runnerhold in Keroon, Lord Alessan, and I have never lost my interest in the breed.»
«So you know where to place your wagers?»
«Lord Alessan,» she said in a determinedly light tone, «I never wager. The sight of a good race well run is always a pleasure and excitement enough.» His manner was still uncertain so she changed the subject. «I believe that we've missed the eastern visitors.»
«The Benden Weyrwoman and Weyrleader have only just left us.» Alessan's eyes sparkled at having acted the host to such prestigious guests.
«I had hoped to exchange news with them.» Moreta's regret was sincere, but she was also relieved. The Benden Weyrleaders did not like Orlith's fascination with Tuzuth, the Benden bronze, any more than she herself did. Such cross-weyr interests were encouraged in young queens but not in seniors. «Did Benden's Lord Holder come, too?»
«Yes.» Pleasure tinged Alessan's tone. «Lord Shadder and I had only the briefest but most congenial of talks. Most congenial. East and West don't often have much chance to meet. Have you met Lord Shadder?»
«When I was in Ista Weyr.» Moreta smiled back at Alessan, for Shadder of Benden was undoubtedly the most popular Lord Holder on Pern. His warmth and concern always seemed intensely personal. She sighed. «I really wish I had been able to come sooner. Who else attends?»
The briefest of frowns crossed Alessan's face. «At the moment,» he said briskly, «holders and Craftmasters from Ruatha, Fort, Crom, Nabol, Tillek and High Reaches. A long journey for some, but everyone seems well pleased that the warm weather had held for the Gather.» He glanced about the crowded stalls, noting trades in the making. «Tillek's Lord Holder may arrive later with the High Reaches Weyrleader. Lord Tolocamp rode in an hour ago and is changing.»
Moreta grinned in sympathy with Alessan. Lord Tolocamp was an energetic, forceful man who spoke his mind and gave his opinion on every topic as if he were the universal expert. As he did not have the least sense of humor, exchanges with him were apt to be awkward and boring. Moreta preferred to avoid his company whenever possible. But, as she was now senior Weyrwoman, she had fewer excuses to do so.
«How many of his ladies came with him?»
«Five.» Alessan's voice was carefully neutral. «My mother, Lady Oma, always enjoys a visit with Lady Pendra.»
Moreta had to choke back a laugh and turned her face slightly away. All Pern knew that Lady Pendra was angling to get Alessan to marry one of her numerous daughters, nieces, or cousins. Alessan's young wife, Suriana, had died the previous Turn in a fall. At the time, Lord Leef had not pressed his son to make another marriage, a fact that many had taken to mean that Alessan was not to succeed. As the Fort Hold girls were as plain as they were capable, Moreta didn't think much of Fort's chances, but Alessan would be obliged to marry soon if he wished his own bloodline to succeed.
«Would it please the Fort Weyrwoman for Lord Alessan to take a Fort Holder as wife?» His voice was cold and stiff.
«You can surely do better than that,» Moreta replied crisply and then laughed. «I'm sorry. It is not really a subject for levity, but you don't know how you sound.»
«And how do I sound?» Alessan's eyes glinted.
«Like a man sorely pressed in a direction he does not wish to travel. This is your first Gather. You should enjoy it, too.»
«Will you help me?» Pure mischief played across his face now.
«How?»
«You're my Weyrwoman.» His face assumed a proper respect. «Since Sh'gall has not accompanied you, I must be your partner.»
«In conscience, I could not monopolize your time.» Even as she spoke, Moreta realized that that was what she would rather like to do. There was a rebellion in him that attracted her. «Most of it?» His voice was wistfully pleading, quite a variance with his sparkling eyes and grin. «I know what I have to do but »
«There'll be girls here from all over.»
«Yes, a Search has been conducted for my benefit.»
«What else did you expect. Lord Alessan, when you're now such a suitable match?»
«Suriana liked me, not my prospects,» Alessan said in a flat bleak voice. «When that match was arranged, of course, I had none, so we could suit ourselves. And we did.»
So that explained why he had been allowed to grieve and defer a second marriage. Moreta hadn't thought Lord Leef had so much compassion in him. «You were more fortunate than most,» she said, oddly envious. Once she had Impressed a queen, personal choice had been denied her. Once she had Impressed Orlith, their love compensated for many things; love for another human paled in comparison.
«I was acutely aware of my good luck.» In that quiet phrase, Alessan implied not only his loss but his realization that he must discharge the responsibilities of his new rank. Moreta wondered why Sh'gall had developed a curious antipathy to the man.
They were moving through the Gatherers, past the stalls. Moreta sniffed deeply of the aromas of spicy stew and sweet fruit pies, the odor of well-tanned leathers, the acrid smell from the glass-blowers' booth, the mingled smells of perfumes and garment herbs, the sweat of human and animal. And above all, the pleasant excitement that permeated the atmosphere.
«Within the bounds of Gather propriety, I accept your partnering. Provided that you like racing and dancing.»
«In that order?»
«Since the one comes before the other, yes.»
«I appreciate your courtesy, Weyrwoman!» His tone was mock formal.
«Have the harpers arrived yet?»
«Yesterday » Alessan grimaced.
«They do eat, don't they?»
«They talk. There are enough of them, however, to keep the dancing square filled until dawn, now that your queen has graced it. And our ever jovial Masterharper has promised to dignify our Gather with his presence.»
Moreta frowned at yet another undercurrent in Alessan's speech. Didn't he like Tirone? The Masterharper was a big hearty man with a robust bass voice that he allowed to dominate every group he sang in. He favored the rousing ballads and stirring sagas that best displayed his own talents, but that was his one conceit, and Moreta had never considered it a flaw. But then, herself only lately the Weyrwoman, she had not seen as much of him in his capacity as Masterharper of Pern as had Alessan. She didn't think she would like to antagonize Tirone. «He has a beautiful voice,» she said noncommittally. «Is Master Capiam coming?»
«So I believe.»
Shells, thought Moreta to herself at Alessan's terse reply. With the exception of Lord Shadder, Alessan apparently did not share any of her preferences among the leaders of Pern. She'd never heard of anyone who didn't like Masterhealer Capiam. Could Alessan fault the man for failing to mend his wife's broken back?
«Is that sort of exercise good for Orlith at this time, Moreta?» demanded Lord Tolocamp, bearing down on them suddenly. He must have been following their progress along the roadway to have intercepted them so neatly.
«She's not due to clutch for another ten days.» Moreta stiffened, annoyed both by the question and the questioner.
«Orlith flew with great precision,» Alessan said. «An ability well appreciated by Ruatha.»
Lord Tolocamp checked, coughed, covering his mouth belatedly and plainly not understanding Alessan's reference.
«She's thoroughly shameless,» Moreta said, «whenever there's a new audience for her tricks. She's never so much as bunged a claw.»
«Yes, well, ah. Lady Pendra is just over here, Moreta,» Tolocamp went on with his usual ponderous geniality. «Alessan, I would like you to become better acquainted with my daughters.»
«At the moment, Lord Tolocamp, I am obliged to become better acquainted with the Weyrwoman, as Sh'gall is not here as her escort. Your daughters,» Alessan looked over at the young women, who were talking placidly with some of his subordinates, «seem well suited.»
Tolocamp began to huff.
«A glass of wine, Moreta? This way.» Alessan firmly propelled her away from Lord Tolocamp, who stood staring after them, somewhat surprised by their abrupt departure.
«I'll never hear the last of this from him, you know,» Moreta said as she allowed herself to be hurried off.
«Then you can drown your sorrow in a Benden white wine I have chilling.» He beckoned to a servitor, pantomiming the pouring of wine into a glass.
«Benden white? Why, that's my favorite!»
«And here I thought you were partial to Tillek's.»
Moreta made a face. «I'm obliged to assume a partiality for Tiliek wines.»
«I find them sharp. Soil's acid in Tillek.»
«True, but Tillek tithes its wines to Fort Weyr. And it's far easier to agree with Lord Diatis than argue with him.»