Memory

Writers: Yvonne
Date Posted: 31st December 2006

Characters: J'nus, V'danor
Description: J'nus escapes the Turn's End party for reasons of his own
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 1, day 1 of Turn 4

There was a party at Dragonsfall Weyr to celebrate Turn's End. There were strings of lights and music made the stone caverns shimmer and shake and dissolve into air. Dancers twirled, flashing silver bangles and brass buttons and hints of lace petticoats. Ribbons as bright as new moons, or blue as the sea, or as red as passion were tangled in hair and around wrists and gently shielding a rapid pulse at the throat.

And J'nus chose to miss it all.

He sat watching Beilor rise over the hills some ten miles away, his legs stretched out in front of him and his head pillowed on soft grass. Beside him, Kopth drowsed, his bronze hide bathed in starlight. The dragonman had stayed for a dance or two with friends, and to chat briefly with his Wingmates (Wingmates now that he was their Wingleader? or something else?) but had escaped before the wine had begun to flow too freely. But oh, it had been hard to leave. Too tempting to stay, to reacquaint himself with good wine and the intoxication of drink and good company, to be part of a _family_
again...

**But better for it,** he mused. His right hand sought out his left wrist and the now smooth triangular scar that nestled there. Too smooth to be natural, it was a reminder of a time that he didn't always wanted to be reminded of...

~*~

... J'nus grinned as he took another swig from the wineskin at his side. "To the New Turn!" he bellowed, and was rewarded with a lusty echo from the men and women around him. Not his weyr, although it could have been - barren, empty save for the riot of people in various states of dress and undress that lay draped across pillows and brightly woven rugs. V'danor staggered over and draped an arm around J'nus' shoulders. He wasn't a small man, and the friendly gesture felt vaguely like having a wherry's tail fall on him from out of the sky. "To the New Turn, cousin! May it be better than the last!"

"Hear hear!" J'nus put the wineskin to his lips again. The wine was cheap, slightly sour, and no doubt the worst in the cellar. It was before the Pass began and Weyrholds had to produce their own wine or find something that the Vintner Hall wanted. Regular riders like him
- bronze or not - had to pay for their drink just like everyone else.

"Know what I think?" V'danor grinned, his teeth a white slash beneath his bushy red beard. "I think that- that-" he burped loudly, his breath a wicked brew of stomach acids and ale, "-that we need t' get more _respect_ around here!"

"Hear hear!" J'nus raised his fist, and he and V'danor knocked knuckles. They both wore a white bandage, now slightly grubby, on their right wrists. Badges of honour.

"There won't be _anybody_ to stop us!" V'danor said, and belched again. "No stinkin' holder will be allowed to say no to us if we want somethin'. No pretty woman 's allowed to say no when we say, 'spread your legs!'" He glanced out over the assembled company to where a blond head bobbed and a woman with blue eyes laughed merrily. "No stinkin' holder, no woman, no Crafter or- or _anybody_ to say no to us," J'nus agreed drunkenly. "We're _dragonmen_ - we're the best.
Best of the best."

"Best of the best," V'danor said. "It's going to be a new Turn, cousin. A better one. I can feel it in my _bones_."

~*~

V'danor was dead, lost to the First Fall. They hadn't spoken in turns, not since J'nus had left Dolphin Cove Weyr for Dragonsfall and a new life. A new outlook on life. **Three sides to a triangle,** he thought, rubbing his thumb over the scar on his wrist as he watched the moon rise. **Where are you now?**

If he strained, he thought he could hear the faint beat of distant music from the Weyr. Or maybe it was just the wind in the trees.

Or maybe it was all in his head.

Last updated on the January 2nd 2007

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