Impressed at Black Night Weyr
"If you'd been out there even a moment longer, do you know what would have happened to you!?"
Marta chuckled, it turned into a hissing groan, and then she smiled with her teeth gritted. "I do know --" she huffed, "I know that this child would be named Lucky!"
Marta's second child was NOT in fact named Lucky. His name was Tralmar, in honor of his father Tralen. His turn-old sister Millia was clearly not of the same brood. And that turn old sister wasn't even fostered within Blackstone Weyr.
"He's healthy," the healer announced, putting her hand over her ear when the boy child began to bellow. "Now, you're going to stay put while he's nursing, aren't you?"
Marta grinned. "I will nurse him until I find him a wet nurse or a foster home, master healer. No longer than that. He's going to make some barren woman a very happy person. Like Millia did for her foster folk."
It was clear that the healer didn't approve of such ... what to call them, antics? Activities? Marta was only 19 turns old, and already the mother of two.
Well, two very healthy children, at that. She had to admit, that though Marta obviously didn't want to keep the children she bore, she knew well that there were those who did.
"You'll be a fighter like your father, I know that... I think you will go to Alabaster. They will teach you the arts of war. Or perhaps I could wave you at poor T'shen, he'd be having you meditate on the meaning of it before you even knew..."
Marta stood, ran a hand through her short hair. She knew that her 'sleeping around' was a bother to some people. But it kept the bucks happy and it kept her happy too. Sometimes the only way to get into an interesting place or a group that had something of value to her, was by wedging herself in as a lover. It worked several times already: she got herself lessons in self defence so good that the Dawnlight guard asked her to work with them sometimes; and also got her the unusual weapon she loved so much, a collapsing metal bar. It remained at her side at all times, it was a vital hunting tool, and a good defence weapon. And, it could be kept with her when she wore a dress, or hunting gear.
It would be nice to fit into her proper hunting gear again, she mused while walking off the cramp in her leg. Two full months of cursing at her swollen belly... three before that of ripping out little seams at first, and then bigger ones... Not worth it! She decided to keep all the clothing she had worn over the last half turn, because, for all the flirting she did... she would probably be wearing them again.
The hunters blood in her called out, she heard out the balcony ledge of the infirmary the cries of a wounded wherry being torn apart by a large tunnel snake. She wasn't sure what she respected more: the snake for being a good hunter, or ... well, she did respect it more than the doomed wherry. Who was she kidding?
***
Morning came around the infirmary and Marta had already gotten up for breakfast. Her new son proved quite the entertaining feature in the dining hall. But then it also drew attention from someone else... Someone with a Searchrider's knot on his shoulder.
He eventually wandered over to her, congratulating her on her newborn. His eyes hazed up and she waited while he spoke with his dragon.
"Would you like to see the dragon?" P'ter asked of the baby. He waved his finger in front of the babe, and then looked at Marta's eyes. "Or would you?"
"I would!" Marta said, happily. She snugged Tralmar to her shoulder with the sling she constructed in the infirmary, and followed the blue rider outside. Down in the weyr's courtyard, there were several riders and their dragons, of course. But she recognized his as one from Wu weyr.
"He's beautiful!" Marta said. The blue swung his head around and sniffed at Marta and her child. Tralmar made a loud gurgling noise, reaching out toward the dragons' nose. "He's got nice warm breath, doesn't he!" She said to her son. "He's a very handsome dragon!"
"He says you're good for a candidate, miss," P'ter said, casually. "For Black Night Weyr."
Marta looked at him, and then at her son. "Well. Then... Well then. I'll have to find that foster care quickly!"
But the second was a big blue, who completely ignored the bustling boys who tried to impress him. He wobbled up to Marta, and butted her hand with his head.
I know you might have wanted that green, my sister, but... I want you. Is that all right? Do you want me? I am Shamith.
"Yes, Shamith! I'm very happy to have you!" Marta cried, suddenly aware that the hot part of her feet that she'd been concentrating on was suddenly replaced with a knot in her stomach. "Oh, Shamith, let's get you fed! I know that feeling well enough, my babies made me so hungry!"
What are 'babies'?
"Why, they're a lot like you, Shamith!"
Well I will probably like them, won't I?
"Oh," Marta said, looking slyly at some of the older riders who had arrived for the weyr's first hatching, "I think you will..."
