The Old Time (3/3)

Writers: Estelle
Date Posted: 8th December 2024
Series: The Missing Wingleader

Characters: M'gan, Nirzhaya
Description: Nirzhaya and M'gan argue about returning to the past
Location: Dolphin Cove Weyr, Elsewhere on Pern
Date: month 2, day 20 of Turn 12
Notes: Notes: M'gan's past timing is council approved.

M'gan hesitated as the opening bars of the dance resounded over the raucous noise of the crowd. He felt adrift, dizzy with the wine and his strange doubled memory of the tune, sounding both new and fresh, and like a melody he half-remembered from long ago.

Could just one dance hurt?

"If he's not one for dancing, I'd happily offer myself as partner instead."

He turned to see another man extending a hand, with a merry grin on his face. He was about their age, not quite M'gan's height with a mop of dark curls and the kind of light, athletic build that suggested he'd be graceful in the dance. His tunic was simply cut but finely embroidered in many colours, with wooden beads stitched around the neck, painted in all the colours of a fair of firelizards.

"I'm Isemon. Trader from Hymondel's caravan. Perfectly respectable," he added, with a wink. M'gan realised he'd been glaring at the interruption, and tried to smooth his expression.

"I'd love to dance." Nirzhaya handed M'gan her almost-empty wine glass with a teasing smile. "Wait for me here?"

She didn't leave him much choice. M'gan retreated to the shadowed edge of the dance square, awkwardly clutching the glasses, while the trader led Nirzhaya out into the open space. It was true, he wasn't much one for dancing, and the way they lightly stepped and turned and passed hand-in-hand, in-and-out of the others, both mystified him and filled him with envy.

The first dance came to an end with a burst of applause, but no sooner had that faded then the musicians began again, this time with a lively circle dance which involved one partner lifting the other, hands on her waist, between each set of intricate steps. Little by little the tempo increased, the dancers' feet flying and the harper with the fiddle bowing furiously, until it came to an end in three swift, triumphal chords. Nirzhaya was breathing hard and laughing, her head thrown back in delight as the watching holders clapped and cheered.

M'gan started forward, but then the third dance began, more sedate this time, perhaps to give the participants time to recover. He watched as they moved through the steps, arms linked. Now they had enough breath to talk, and Nirzhaya was nodding, then saying something in reply to the young trader, though he couldn't tell what.

**We should go,** he told Isarth.

There was a pause. }:Lixanth says her rider wants to stay.:{ Another moment passed. }:She says we can go if we want.:{

**We can't go without her. I've got the star chart.**

Silence. The harpers played another verse, the gitar player leaning forward, singing softly and intimately. He couldn't quite make out the words. Finally, Isarth replied. }:She says, all right, but one more dance.:{

**Fine.** He stood back, watching as the harpers moved smoothly into a new ballad, slower yet. The dancers relaxed into each others' arms, and on the stage one of the harpers, a woman, set down her pipes and joined her voice to the man's, low and sultry. The lamps dimmed, and the scent of night blooms filled the air. In the arms of a trader from a time not her own, Nirzhaya swayed, with a softness in her dark eyes that he'd never seen in them before.

M'gan turned and walked away back to where the dragons waited, passing the traders packing up their stalls and drudges carrying off trays of half-eaten food and glasses drained to the dregs. Wishing, with all his heart, that he'd never so much as mentioned /between/ times.

*** 37 Turns ago ***

Despite the bitter herbal tea he'd been sipping, M'gan's dull headache was getting worse, not better. Their return trip from the past had seemed swift - perhaps knowing they were homeward bound helped - but even since they'd got back he'd felt lethargic and drained of his usual energy.

"...a more systematic survey," Nirzhaya was saying. She didn't seem to have suffered any ill effects - if anything she was more animated, leaning across the table, gesturing with her hands. "The next Gather on Isemon's route is in a month. If we get there the night before and camp out, we could spend the whole day there, count the different trader groups and the visitors, and their home bases..."

"Nirzha, wait." She went on, and he had to raise his voice a little. "Wait!"

"What?"

"I don't think we should go back." The words spilled out before he could think better of it. "It's dangerous. There's a reason why it's a secret."

She rolled her eyes. "To hide important information from lowly greenriders, you mean."

"No - not that." He'd not thought about it before. "It's just that the fewer know about it, the less likely it is there'll be an accident, and it's easier for a stronger dragon..."

"Lixanth managed quite well the other day." Nirzhaya controlled her annoyance with an effort. "Don't you see how momentous this is, M'gan? We could find out so much! Not just about healing - think of the benefit to the harpers, the other Crafts. So much knowledge was lost in the plagues. We could recover it."

"We could lose dragons trying!" M'gan saw heads turning in the group of riders at the end of the table, and hastily lowered his voice. "We have to be so careful. If we try to do anything which might change the past, even a little, then we'd be stopped, because it's already happened."

"Or maybe the past would find a way round it."

"Even if you did make this survey of yours," he went on, "how could you ever share it? We can't let this get out of the Weyr."

"Why not?"

"Because the Weyrleader would tear off our hides!"

"Oh, I see." Her lip curled. "That wouldn't suit Perfect M'gan. You'll get into a little trouble to show you're human, but not so much as to ruin your chance of a wingsecond's knots."

"That's not true! I..." I want you to be safe, he thought, but instead he struck back. "You don't care about your healer project either. You just want to see that trader again."

Nirzhaya drew in a breath, then changed her mind and glared at him. "So what if I do? He wants to see me! It's perfectly safe. I can't possibly meet myself if there's a month between Gathers."

"Nirzha..." He felt as though he'd been struck hard in the belly by a firestone sack. Desperation replaced anger. "Where is this all going? How many times can you meet this man before it's too late?"

"Before the plague hits?" She stared at him, defiant. "You think I should leave him to die."

"What else can we do?" M'gan lowered his voice. "We can't go back to the plague Turns. We might catch it. Nirzhaya, whatever happened to him already has."

"Not necessarily."

"What do you mean?" A sudden chill formed in the pit of his belly. "Wait, Nirzha, you can't. You can't bring someone back with you."

"Why not?" she demanded. "We went back! Why can't he come forward?"

"What would you tell him? You're from the future and a deadly plague is coming?" He threw up his hands. "He'll think you've lost your mind. How could he understand? He's not even a dragonrider!"

"He was a _real person_ and he's going to die!" The faint shimmer in her eyes spilled over into a tear, running down her cheek. "I won't let that happen."

"Well, _I_ won't let you risk yourself."

"What are you going to do?" she shot back, now in open contempt. "Tell the Weyrleader?"

There was a long silence, and he stared at her, his mouth open, lost for words. She was right. If he told the Weyrleader then he'd be in more trouble than he'd ever been in his life. He could forget any prospect of promotion. He and Isarth would be standing night watches until they were old and grey.

"I would," he said quietly. "I would tell him a hundred times before I'd let you endanger yourself again."

Nirzhaya looked at him, her anger ebbing, replaced by what was worse - pity.

"Regardless, I'm the one with the star charts," he said, pushing on stubbornly despite the sense of all his hopes collapsing around him. "I won't make any more. We should both forget this ever happened."

For a moment it looked as though she was going to plead with him again, for just one more visit, but then she pushed back her chair and stood. "Perhaps we should." Then she turned and walked, head high and spine straight, across the Dining Cavern, never once looking back.

** Present day **

}:What happened to her?:{ Isarth asked, though he didn't really need to. He could see the answer in his rider's mind.

**We didn't speak again, not in any way that mattered. And then, a few months after, there was an accident. It was at a Hatching. She was supposed to be going to collect some holders. She and Lixanth were seen leaving, going /between/, but they never made it out.** Now he thought about it, he remembered the dragons hadn't mourned; it had been put down to the distraction of the Hatching. They'd only known she was gone afterwards.

}:You think she's there? In that old time?:{

"I don't know," M'gan said aloud. He looked down at the faded star chart in his hand, then walked out on to the ledge, resting a hand against the bronze's warm hide. "But there's one way to find out."

Last updated on the December 16th 2024

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The Old Time (3/3)