Anne McCaffrey: Moreta - Dragon Lady Of Pern

It was within the Weyrs that the greatest social revolution took place, for the needs of the dragons took priority over all other considerations. Of the dragons, the gold and green were female, the bronze, brown, and blue male. Of the female dragons, only the golden were fertile; the greens were rendered sterile by the chewing of firestone, which was as well since the sexual proclivities of the small greens would soon have resulted in overpopulation. They were the most agile, however, and invaluable as fighters of Thread, fearless and aggressive. But the price of fertility was inconvenience, and riders of queen dragons carried flamethrowers to char Thread. The blue males were sturdier than their smaller sisters, while the browns and bronzes had the staying power for long, arduous battles against Thread. In theory, the great golden fertile queens were mated with whichever dragon could catch them in their strenuous mating flights. Generally speaking, the bronzes did the honor. Consequently the rider of the bronze dragon who flew the senior queen of a Weyr became its Leader and had charge of the fighting Wings during a Pass. The rider of the senior queen dragon, however, held the most responsibility for the Weyr during and after a Pass when it was the Weyrwoman's job to nurture and preserve the dragons, to sustain and improve the Weyr and all its folk. A strong Weyrwoman was as essential to the survival of the Weyr as dragons were to the survival of Pern.

To her fell the task of supplying the Weyr, fostering its children, and Searching for likely candidates from hall and hold to pair with the newly hatched candidates. As life in the Weyrs was not only prestigious but easier for women and men alike, hold and hall were proud to have their children taken on Search and boasted of the illustrious members of the bloodline who had become dragon riders.

We begin our story toward the end of the Sixth Pass of the Red Star, some fourteen hundred Turns after men first came to Pern.

«SH'GALL is OUT on other Weyr business,» Moreta told Nesso for the third time, beginning to loosen her sweat and oil stained tunic as a hint.

«His Weyr business should be accompanying you to Ruatha Gather.» Nesso's voice had a whining note to it in the best of her humors. Now the Fort Weyr Headwoman was filled with aggrieved indignation at the fancied slight to her Weyrwoman, and her voice grated like a bone saw in Moreta's ear.

«He saw Lord Alessan yesterday. A Gather is not a time to discuss serious matters.» Moreta rose, seeking to end an interview she hadn't wanted to give, one that could continue as long as Nesso could dredge up complaints, real or imaginary, against Sh'gall. Their antagonism was mutual, and Moreta often found herself in the position of placating or explaining the one to the other. She could not change Sh'gall and was loathe to displace Nesso for, despite her faults, the woman was an exceedingly efficient and hard-working Headwoman. «I must bathe, Nesso, or I'll be unpardonably late at Ruatha. I know you've arranged a good meal for those who remain. K'lon's comfortable now that the fever has broken. Berchar will look in on him. Just leave him alone.»

Moreta fixed Nesso with an admonitory gaze, reinforcing her injunction. Nesso had an officious habit of 'taking' Moreta's place whenever the Weyrwoman was absent unless specifically ordered not to. «Away with you now, Nesso. You've enough to do, and I'm longing to be clean.» Moreta accompanied her words with a smile as she gave Nesso a gentle shove toward the exit from her sleeping room.

«Sh'gall should go with you. He should,» the irrepressible woman muttered as Moreta held aside the vivid door-curtain. Only when Nesso neared the sleeping queen dragon did she cease her imprecations.

Heavy with egg, Oriith dozed on, oblivious to the woman's passing. The golden dragon had arranged herself on the stony couch so as not to mar the fine gleam of oil that Moreta had rubbed into her hide as part of the morning's preparation for the Gather at Ruatha. Moreta was heading for her own much needed wash when she was asked to examine K'lon, so she'd been late for her chat with Leri to be sure the old Weyrwoman had what she required for the day. Leri would have no ministrations from Nesso's hands.

The interview with Nesso had proved unavoidable. The Headwoman had 'heard' that Sh'gall and Moreta had 'had words' that had caused the Weyrleader's abrupt departure, dressed in riding gear rather than in his Gather finery. Nesso had also to be reassured that K'lon was not wasting from a virulent fever that would spread rapidly through the Weyr, it being only three days to a Fall.

Moreta stripped off her clothes. She ought to have been at the Gather long since, getting through the obligatory courtesies before the racing started.

«Orlith?» Moreta called softly, concentrating the strength of her gentle summons in her head. As always, the sleepy response of her queen cheered her of Nesso's petulance. «Rouse yourself, my golden beauty. We'll be leaving soon for Ruatha's Gatherday.»

«It's still sunny at Ruatha?» Oriith asked hopefully.

«It should be. T'ral did the morning sweep,» Moreta said, opening her robe chest. The new gown lay in gold and soft, warm-brown folds, colors that would accent Moreta's eyes. «You know how accurate T'ral's weather sense is.»

The dragon rumbled with satisfaction, and Moreta could hear her stretching and turning.

«Don't roll too much now,» Moreta said politely.

«I know. I mustn't lose my shine.» Oriith spoke with patient acknowledgment. «I will keep clean until we reach Ruatha. And then I'll sun. When I get hot enough, I'll swim in Ruatha Lake.»

«Would that be wise so close to clutching, my dear? That lake's cold as between.» Moreta shivered at her memory of those ice-fed waters.

«Nothing is colder than between.» Oriith spoke definitively.

Having laid out her Gather finery, Moreta strode into the bathing room. She grabbed a handful of sweet sand, then swung her legs over the lip of the raised pool, whose surface was faintly steaming. Standing waist deep, she sanded her body until her skin tingled. Submerging for a moment, she surfaced, tipping her head until her short hair fanned out in the water. Then she pushed back to the edge of the pool, reaching for more sand, which she scrubbed into her scalp and hair.

«You take a long time to get clean though there's not much of you,» Oriith remarked, somewhat impatient now that she was fully awake.

«There may not be much of me, but there was a great deal of you to be bathed and oiled.»

«You always say that.»

«So do you.»

The countercomplaints were lodged with total affection and understanding. Queen and rider had been partnered for nearly twenty Turns, though they had only recently become the leading pair at Fort Weyr when Leri's Holth had not risen to mate the previous winter.

Moreta gave her head a final drubbing, then flicked her fingers through her hair to make the short crop settle into natural waves. Wearing a leather cap during Threadfall made her scalp sweat so much that the long blond braids in which she had taken so much pride as a holder girl had been shorn. Once this Pass was completed, she could grow her hair!

Once the Pass was completed … In the act of pulling on a clean undertunic, Moreta paused in surprise. Why, this Pass would end in another eight Turns. No, seven if one counted this Turn a quarter gone. Moreta sternly corrected an optimistic attitude. The Turn was barely seventy days old. Eight Turns then. In eight Turns, she, Moreta, would no longer have to fly with Orlith against Thread. The Red Star would have passed too far to rain the devastating parasitic