Leads

A spy is in the Weyr.

(Pern fan-fiction. World based upon Dragonriders of Pern series by Anne McCaffrey)

“It would seem that the one goldrider is still in cohorts with her Hold.  That’s not all that surprising. I’ve seen that happen before,” the Master Harper mused behind his desk, reviewing the records laid out before him.  M’vyn sat opposite him in a well crafted chair. He idly ran his finger along the varnished wood as he listened to his master’s assessment of his work in the last few months.  “This Lilah.., I imagine there’s more to her. There have been rumors, vague ones, of something that happened at Healer Hall. Forget the other girl for now. She’s a simple enough creature to figure out.  Continue on watching this one,” he pressed a thick finger down on the record marked with the weyrling’s name.

<< You shouldn’t be telling on our friends >> Elsyth’s voice interjected, sharpened as she was to break into M’vyn’s mind, she continued, << They will do bad things to you if they find out. >>

Is it my safety that concerns you, Elsyth?  Or is it that our “friends” feelings may be hurt?  This will come to nothing. It’s all just a game.

<< A game? >> Elsyth answered, digesting this news.  M’vyn silenced her from his mind with a shake of his head and focused back on the man across from him.  He felt a low, throbbing, ache begin behind his eyes as the strain of keeping the green out of the conversation began to take a toll on him.  He had to be careful. She tried harder and harder to listen in on these meetings.

“And the recent development of the Weyrleader looking to replace his Weyrsecond?” M’vyn questioned, lifting his attention to the man across from him.  “It is clearly a matter of dissent among riders who are unhappy with their station,” the weyrling paused, lifting a hand to run across his knot. “I understand their position more than I would’ve were I still a Harper there.  It is my understanding that the Weyrsecond has made numerous political blunders and has on more than one occasion had a significant fight with the Weyrwoman.”

“It has always seemed strange to us that they have kept him on in that position,” the Master agreed, leaning back in his chair as he steepled his fingers over his portly belly.  He cleared his throat and looked across at his former pupil. “Do you have something in mind on how to handle that? I can see you want to do something.”

“It’s easy enough to keep rumors going.  I really don’t see what purpose it would serve us though, one way or the other.  The Weyrsecond has never done anything to the Hall and was a crafter, besides.” M’vyn shrugged, looking up at the Master.  “I’d only enjoy seeing some of the other bronzeriders and brownriders snipe over the possibility of moving up.”

“Were you to have Impressed brown or bronze,” The Master began, as wistful about that as he was the day he found out M’vyn had Impressed a green, “you could’ve been vying for such a position.”  

M’vyn’s face pinched at the reminder of his station and looked down at the desk for fear of the rage that surfaced in answer to it.  He rubbed at the bridge of his nose, feeling Elsyth nudging against his consciousness. He wouldn’t be able to hold her off much longer.

“I have no further assignments for you then, Morvyn.  Stay aware of those around you. Continue to make contacts within the Weyr and outside of them.  Move carefully. Try your best to fit in,” The Master grimaced, looking over at the younger man. “Though I’d rather not see you fall into the depravity that dragonriders can come to.  Don’t go and start numerous love affairs with the excuse of that dragon to back you up. I need you to remain controlled and focused.”

M’vyn’s face did not register his anger though his eyes barely concealed his rage.  “Of course not, sir.” He rose and gave a stiff bow to the man before he turned and stormed out of the office.  He wouldn’t let Elsyth in until he cooled his anger down and when it was no more than his normal anger at the world, he allowed the green to enter his mind.  Her thoughts were cool against the rage and tender against his hurt. All her love for him was there. If he wanted it.

He shook his head and made his way out towards the field where she waited.  Elsyth greeted him with a low croon and he sighed. If only she had been a brown or bronze, he couldn’t help but think as he mounted her dainty forelimb and settled behind her ridges.  He strapped himself in and settled his helmet and goggles over his face as Elsyth made her way skyward.

He could fall into that tangle of love affairs the dragonriders loved to have with little judgement at the Weyr.  He’d seen it happen every day around him, it seemed. And he was witnessing it happen far closer to home than he liked as well.  He was watching Nala closely. More closely than he used to. He felt the desire to control her every move and his trust dwindling as Jynth flew up in so many mating flights.  He had won one. What would become of them when he had won many? What would he do when another won Elsyth? He shuddered at the thought and bid Elsyth Between to escape his thoughts.

Romantic Fiction

Jessica Means View All →

My professional background in biotechnology as a research chemist and as a veterinary technician has allowed me to have experienced two vastly different fields and for that I am thankful. In both careers, I have mentored, encouraged, and developed talent.

As a mother of two (a daughter and a son), I'm a self-proclaimed backyard chicken guru and someone who has “foster failed” nearly all the animals currently running the household. Oh, and I maintain a husband in my spare time.

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