"Shalna!" the weyr's Dragonhealer called sharply, "stop dawdling and get over here with that bundle of leaves!"
Dutifully, Shalna shifted her burden and quickened her pace, reaching the built up hearth fires and immense kettles in no time. "Here they are," she announced. "Fresh-picked and flown in."
"Any of those riders happen to have stuck around?" Fadra asked, an evil glint to her dark eyes. Being a dragonrider, she too would be avoiding the weyr at all costs today, but Fadra was also the weyr's Dragonhealer, so while her green Sangath could escape of stay if she chose, Fadra was "trapped". It was the greenrider's constant mission to detain her fellow riders on such days, and she usually managed to snag an unlucky weyrling or two.
Shalna shook her head ruefully. "Not a one. All gone between to wherever they're hiding out as soon as they'd dropped off their numbweed."
Fadra sighed as she took a generous pile of leaves and began crushing them in a bowl. "Pity. They ought to suffer just like the rest of us."
Shalna grinned as she took a seat next to her Master and began crushing her own pile of leaves. "Get one of our proud bronzerider's to help the lower caverns?" she jibed. "Never!"
"If Polanith would just tell the bronzes to stay, then we'd get their riders to work," Fadra grumbled, undoubtedly thinking of her Weyrmate, Weyrlingmaster T'ril. She had never once suceeded in getting him to stay, though the dragonhealer swore up and down mountains that she would.
"Give the poor queen some credit," Shalna replied, "her rider's stuck working here too. She's probably too busy trying to block out the stench to command dragons to do anything."
"True," Fadra admitted, handing her bowl of paste to a passing woman on her way to the pots and starting on another, "but I'm working here and don't think Sangath didn't try to convince at least half the weyr's male dragon population to stay."
Shalna smiled. Sangath was by far one of the most outrageous greens in all of Quinalt. It would be like her to offer every bronze, brown, and blue the winning of her next flight if they would only stay today and help. Of course, it was well known that only Rajinorth would fly Sangath, so the promises were empty. "And not a one would, huh?"
Fadra nodded. "They'll have to some day or another, can't get away with it every time we brew numbweed."
Shalna finished her bowl and sent it on its way, comandeering another pile of leaves and starting over. "I know we need this much, but how in Faranth's name do we use it all?" Shalna said to no one in particular as she attacked the leaves.
"These fool dragons who don't duck quick enough," Fadra replied, though her tone was not accusing. Quinalt's dragons were as adept as any in fighting Thread, but there were always new riders and weyrlings to worry about as well as the occasional injury to a more experienced dragon.
Suddenly, a bronze flit appeared over the table, hovering anxiously. Shalna recognized the bronze as Jurf, P'sol's flit. She smiled, wondering if P'sol was nearby. She had suspected the weyrling would show up, they had been an unnoficial pair, as far as weyr-gossip, was concerned, for some time now. She had tried to make him stay, but P'sol and Arzanth had vanished early that morning.
Jurf landed and cheeped expectantly, extending a leg for Shalna to untie a note from. The dragonhealer smiled and shook her head as she read it. "What an ego."
"P'sol? Of course," Fadra remarked, obviously having recognized Jurf as well. "What's he want?"
"Me," Shalna replied with a grin. "But he's not getting me until after this numbweed is made, unless he decides to show up here." She wrote this on the other side of the hide, rolled it up, and gave it back to Jurf, who winked between immediatly.
"I swear, you can gain the love of a bronzerider but not the nose," Fadra admonished.
"Or the time," Shalna agreed.
A few minutes later, however, P'sol appeared in the kitchens, wrinkling his nose in distaste. "The things I do for you, Shay," he complained as he reached her table, sitting down next to her.
"And you'll keep right on doing if you expect to keep me," Shalna replied with a grin. "Here," she shoved a bowl and pile of leaves at the weyrling, "make yourself useful."
"I'd say he's been doing that already," Fadra remarked with an arched eyebrow, causing both P'sol to smile and Shalna to blush. "This is not your weyr, P'sol, don't act like it. Scoot."
P'sol begrudginly moved away from Shalna a few inches and Fadra chuckled at the look of dissapointment on his face. "Save it for later," the greenrider advised.
Shalna, though used to this sort of banter, having lived in her entire life in Quinalt, was only beginning to get used to have it directed towards her. It was impossible to live in a Weyr and not be subject to it, dragons saw to that. "If he doesn't stink too much after this," Shalna added.
P'sol gave her a suprised look. "I don't recall dressing in my bed sheets this morning..."
"Stuff it. You're just as bad as your bronze," Shalna told him, though she smiled to lighten her words.
"Shalna!" the headwoman bellowed from across the kitchens. "Come get this green of yours before she kills someone!"
With a sigh, Shalna smiled her apologies to P'sol and hurried to where she'd heard the headwoman.
Sure enough, her green sat on a table, shrieking at a flustered drudge. She was crouched over a belt knife, which had obviously been stolen from the man who stood angrily, arms crossed, behind the drudge.
Mavcha gave a little cheep when she saw her human, though she did not back away from the knife. "C'mon Mavcha, you've got plenty of shinies in my quarters," Shalna told the green, extending an arm for the flit to climb up. "Let the poor man have his knife back."
With a last hiss at the drudge, Mavcha backed away, emitting a strange yelp as the drudge grabbed the knife and handed it back to its owner before running off.
"I apologize for my flit," Shalna told the man, a hand on Mavcha's back to quiet her down. While working as a dragonhealer, the flit was essential. While trying to live a normal life, the flit was a trial. "She just loves shiny things."
The man smiled. "Typical green flit. No need to apologize."
"Shalna," the Weyrwoman's voice came from behind her, accompanied by the light touch of Kasiese's hand on her shoulder, "I don't believe you've been introduced to K'tal. He is a rider from Dark Moon Weyr. His weyr is in need of dragonhealers, and we have decided that you should be sent there."
Shalna whirled to look at the Weyrwoman in disbelief. "Dark Moon Weyr?" she asked, her voice wavering. That was on the other side of Pern. Her brother S'lin and his brown Hargeith had transferred there some time ago and sent back Mavcha's egg. S'lin, however, had since moved, following his weyrmate, and she would know no one at Dark Moon. She would be so far from Quinalt. From her family. From P'sol.
Kasiese smiled reassuringly. "P'sol is only a short hop between from anywhere on Pern. He will be given time to visit you, as will the rest of your family." She chuckled at Shalna's look of disbelief. "Well informed, aren't I?"
Shalna nodded numbly. "When are we leaving?" she asked K'tal, turning back to the rider.
"As soon as you've said your good-byes to this P'sol," K'tal replied, a smile on his lips.
Shalna nodded and returned to her table. She explained to P'sol what had happened, giving him a swift hug and parting kiss before leaving, afraid her emotions would take over. She gathered what little she would need until the rest could be packed and taken to her by dragon.