Anne McCaffrey - Pern 16 - Runners of Pern

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PERN

ANNE McCAFFREY

Dragonriders of Pern trilogy:

Dragonflight(1969)

Dragonquest(1971)

The White Dragon(1978)

Harper Hall trilogy:

Dragonsong(1976)

Dragonsinger(1977)

Dragondrums(1978)

Other Pern novels:

Moreta, Dragonlady of Pern(1983)

Nerilka's Story(1986)

Dragonsdawn(1988)

The Renegades of Pern(1989)

All the Weyrs of Pern(1991)

The Chronicles of Pern(1992)

The Dolphins of Pern(1994)

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Dragonseye(1996)

The Masterharper of Pern(1998)

Dissatisfied with life on technologically-advanced Earth, hundreds of colonists travelled through space to

the star Rukbat, which held six planets in orbit around it, five in stable trajectories, and one that looped

wildly around the others. The third planet was capable of sustaining life, and the spacefarers settled there,

naming it Pern. They cannibalized their spaceships for material and began building their homes.

Pern was ideal for settlement, except for one thing. At irregular intervals, the sixth planet of its

system would swing close to it and release swarms of deadly mycorrhizoid spores, which devoured

anything they touched and rendered the ground where they landed barren for years. The colonists

immediately began searching for a way to combat the Thread, as the spores were named. For defence,

they turned to the dragonets, small flying lizards that the colonists had tamed when they first landed. The

fire-breathing ability of these reptiles had been a great help in the first Threadfall. By genetically enhancing

and selectively breeding these reptiles through the generations, the colonists created a race of full-sized

dragons.

With the dragons and their riders working together, the Pern colonists were able to fight Thread

effectively and establish a firm hold on the planet. They settled into a quasi-feudal agricultural society,

building Holds for the administrators and field workers, Halls for the craftsmen, and Weyrs for the

dragons and riders to inhabit.

Many of the Pern novels detail the politics of the Holds and Weyrs between Threadfalls. The

entire line of books spans over 2,500 years, from the first landing of the settlers to their descendants'

discovery of the master ship's computer centuries later.

Dragonflight, the first of the Dragonriders of Pern books, tells of a time 2500 years after the

initial landing. The Thread has not been seen in four centuries, and people are starting to be sceptical of

the old warnings. Three dragonriders, Lessa, F'lar, and F'nor, believe that the Thread is coming back,

and try to mobilize the planetary defences. Lessa, knowing that there are not enough dragons to combat

the Thread effectively, time-travels back four hundred years to a point just after the last Threadfall, when

that era's Dragonriders are growing restless and bored from lack of activity. Lessa convinces most of

them to come back with her to combat Thread in her time. They arrive and fight off the Thread.

Dragonquest, the second book, picks up seven years after the end of the first book. Relations

between the Oldtimers, as the time-travelling dragonriders are called, and the current generation are

growing tense. After getting into a fight with one of the old dragonriders, F'nor is sent to Pern's southern

continent to recover from his wound. There he discovers a grub that neutralizes the Thread after it

burrows into the ground. Realizing they have discovered a powerful new weapon against Thread, F'nor

begins planning to seed the grubs over both continents.

Meanwhile, an unexpected Threadfall is the catalyst for a duel between F'lar, the Benden

Weyrleader, and T'ron, the leader of the Oldtimers. F'lar wins and banishes all dragonriders who will not

accept his role as overall Weyrleader. The banished go to the southern continent. The book ends with the

grubs being bred for distribution over Pern.

The third book,The White Dragon , chronicles the trials of young Jaxom as he raises the only

white dragon on Pern, a genetic anomaly. Jaxom encounters prejudice and scorn from other dragonriders

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because his dragon is smaller than the rest. He is also scheduled to take command of one of the oldest

Holds on Pern, and there are those who doubt his ability to govern. Both Jaxom and his dragon Ruth rise

to the challenges and succeed in proving that bigger is not necessarily better. Jaxom commands his Hold,

gets the girl, and all is set right with the world.

The Harper Hall trilogy (Dragonsong, Dragonsinger, Dragondrums) is aimed at young

readers, and deals with a girl named Menolly and her rise from unappreciated daughter to Journeywoman

Harper and keeper of fire-lizards.

In many subsequent novels, and in the short novel published here, McCaffrey has examined

various other aspects of life on Pern from the earliest days of its colonization by humans.

RUNNER OF PERN

BY ANNE McCAFFREY

Tenna topped the rise and paused to catch her breath, leaning forward, hands on her knees to ease her

back muscles. Then, as she had been taught, she walked along the top on what flat space there was,

kicking out her legs and shaking the thigh muscles, breathing through her mouth until she stopped panting.

Taking her water bottle from her belt, she allowed herself a swig, swishing it around in her mouth to

moisturize the dry tissues. She spat out that mouthful and took another, letting this one slowly trickle

down her throat. The night was cool enough to keep her from sweating too heavily. But she wouldn't be

standing around long enough to get a chill.

It didn't take long for her breath to return to normal and she was pleased by that. She was in

good shape. She kicked out her legs to ease the strain she had put on them to make the height. Then,

settling her belt and checking the message pouch, she started down the hill at a rapid walking pace. It

was too dark - Belior had not yet risen above the plain to give her full light for the down side of the hill -

to be safe to run in shadows. She only knew this part of the trace by word of mouth, not actually footing

it. She'd done well so far this, her second Turn of running, and had made most of her first Cross by the

suggested easy laps. Runners watched out for each other and no station manager would overtax a

novice. With any luck, she'd've made it all the way to the Western Sea in the next sevenday. This was the

first big test of her apprenticeship as an express runner. And really she'd only the Western Range left to

cross once she got to Fort Hold.

Halfway down from the top of the rise, she met the ridge crest she'd been told about and, with

the usual check of the pouch she carried, she picked up her knees and started the ground-eating lope that

was the pride of a Pernese runner.

Of course, the legendary 'lopers' - the ones who had been able to do a hundred miles in a day -

had perished ages ago but their memory was kept alive. Their endurance and dedication were examples

to everyone who ran the traces of Pern. There hadn't been many of them, according to the legend, but

they had started the runner stations when the need for the rapid delivery of messages occurred, during the

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First Fall of Thread. Lopers had been able to put themselves in some sort of trance which allowed them

not only to run extended distances but kept them warm during snowstorms and freezing temperatures.

They had also planted the original traces which now were a network crisscrossing the entire continent.

While Lord Holders and CraftMasters could afford to keep runnerbeasts for their couriers, the

average person, wanting to contact crafthalls, relatives, or friends across Pern, could easily afford to

express a letter across the continent in runner pouches, carried from station to station. Others might call

them 'holds' but runners had always had 'stations' and station agents, as part oftheir craft history. Drum

messages were great for short messages, if the weather was right and the winds didn't interrupt the beat,

but as long as folks wanted to send a written message, there'd be runners to take them.

Tenna often thought proudly of the tradition she was carrying on. It was a comfort on long

solitary journeys. Right now, the running was good: the ground was firm but springy, a surface that had

been assiduously maintained since the ancient runners had planted it. Not only did the mossy stuff make

running easier but it identified a runner's path. A runner would instantly feel the difference in the surface, if

he, or she, strayed off the trace.

Slowly, as full Belior rose behind her, her way became illuminated by the moon's light and she

picked up her pace, running easily, breathing freely, her hands carried high, chest height, with elbows

tucked in. No need to leave a 'handle', as her father called it, to catch the wind and slow the pace. At

times like these, with good footing, a fair light, and a cool evening, you felt like you could run for ever. If

there weren't a sea to stop you.

She ran on, able to see the flow of the ridge and, by the time the trace started to descend again,

Belior was high enough to light her way. She saw the stream ahead and slowed cautiously - though she'd

been told that the ford had a good pebbly surface - and splashed through the ankle-high cold water, up

on to the bank, veering slightly south, picking up the trace again by its springy surface.

She'd be over halfway now to Fort Hold and should make it by dawn. This was a well-travelled

route, southwest along the coast to the farther Holds. All of what she carried right now was destined for

Fort Holders, so it was the end of the line for both the pouch and herself. She'd heard so much about the

facilities at Fort that she didn't quite believe them. Runners tended to understatement, rather than

exaggeration. If a runner told you a trace was dangerous, you believed it! But what they said about Fort

was truly amazing.

Tenna came from a running family: father, uncles, cousins, grandfathers, brothers, sisters and two

aunts were all out and about the traces that crisscrossed Pern from Nerat Tip to High Reaches Hook,

from Benden to Boll.

'It's bred in us,' her mother had said, answering the queries of her younger children. Cesila

managed a large runner station, just at the northern Lemos end of the Keroon plains where the immense

sky-broom trees began. Strange trees that flourished only in that region of Pern. Trees, which a much

younger Tenna had been sure, were where the Benden Weyr dragons took a rest in their flights across

the continent. Cesila had laughed at Tenna's notion.

'The Dragons of Pern don't need to rest anywhere, dear. They just gobetween to wherever they

need to go. You probably saw some of them out hunting their weekly meal.'

In her running days, Cesila had completed nine full Crosses a Turn until she'd married another

runner and started producing her own bag of runners-to-be.

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'Lean we are in the breeding, and leggy, most of us, with big lungs and strong bones. Ah, there

now, a few come out who're more for speed than distance but they're handy enough at Gathers, passing

the winning line before the others have left the starting ribbon. We have our place on the world same as

holders and even weyrfolk. Each to his, or her, own. Weaver and tanner, and farmer, and fisher, and

smith and runner and all.'

'That's not the way we was taught to sing the Duty Song,' Tenna's younger brother had

remarked.

'Maybe,' Cesila had said with a grin, 'but it's the way I sing it and you can, too. I must have a

word with the next harper through here. He can change his words if he wants us to take his messages.'

And she gave her head one of her emphatic shakes to end that conversation.

As soon as a runner-bred child had reached full growth, he or she was tested to see if they'd the

right Blood for the job. Tenna's legs had stopped growing by the time she'd reached her fifteenth full

Turn. That was when she was assessed by a senior runner of another Bloodline. Tenna had been very

nervous but her mother, in her usual off-handed way, had given her lanky daughter a long knowing look.

'Nine children I've given your father, Fedri, and four are already runners. You'll be one, too,

never fear.'

`But Sedra's -'

Cesila held up her hand. 'I know your sister's mated and breeding but she did two Crosses

before she found a man she had to have. So she counts, too. Gotta have proper Bloodlines to breed

proper runners and it's us who do that.' Cesila paused to be sure Tenna would not interrupt again. 'I

came from a hold with twelve, all of them runners. And all breeding runners. You'll run, girl. Put your

mind at ease. You'll run.' Then she'd laughed. 'It's for how long, not will you, for a female.'

Tenna had decided a long time ago - when she had first been considered old enough to mind her

younger siblings -that she'd prefer running to raising runners. She'd run until she could no longer lift her

knees. She'd an aunt who'd never mated: ran until she was older than Cesila was now and then took over

the management of a connecting station down Igen way. Should something happen and she couldn't run

any more, Tenna wouldn't mind managing a station. Her mother ran hers proper, always had hot water

ready to ease a runner's aching limbs: good food, comfortable beds, and healing skills that rivalled what

you could find in any hold. And it was always exciting, for you never knew who might run in that day, or

where they'd be going. Runners crossed the continent regularly, bringing with them news from other parts

of Pern. Many had interesting tales to tell of problems on the trace and how to cope with them. You

heard of all other holds and halls, and the one dragonweyr, as well as what interested runners most

specifically: what conditions were like and where traces might need maintenance after a heavy rain or

landslide.

She was mightily relieved, however, when her father said he had asked Mallum of the Telgar

station to do her assessment. At least Tenna had met the man on those occasions when he'd been

through to their place on the edge of Keroon's plains. Like other runners, he was a lanky length of man,

with a long face and greying hair that he tied back with his sweatband as most runners did.

Her parents didn't tell her when Mallum was expected, but he turned up one bright morning,

handing in a pouch to be logged on the board by the door and then limping to the nearest seat.

'Bruised the heel. We'll have to rock that south trace again. I swear it grows new ones every

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Turn or two,' he said, mopping his forehead with his orange sweatband and thanking Tenna for the cup of

water. 'Cesila, got some of that sheer magic poultice of yours?'

'I do. Put the kettle to heat the moment I saw you struggling up the trace.'

'Was not struggling,' Mallum said in jovial denial. 'Was careful not to put the heel down was all.'

'Don't try to fool me, you spavined gimper,' Cesila replied as she was dipping a poultice sack into

the heated water, testing it with a finger.

'Who's to run on? Some orders in that need to be got south smartly.'

'I'm taking it on,' Fedri said, coming out of his room and tying on his sweatband. 'How urgent?'

His runner's belt was draped over his shoulder. 'I've others to add from the morning's eastern run.'

'Hmmm. They want to make the Igen Gather.'

'Ha! It'll be there betimes,' Fedri said, reaching for the pouch and carefully adding the other

messages to it before he put it through the belt loops. Settling it in the small of his back with one hand, he

chalked up the exchange time with the other. 'See you.'

Then he was out the door and turning south, settling into his long-distance stride almost as soon

as his foot hit the moss of the trace.

Tenna, knowing what was needed, had already pulled a footstool over to Mallum. She looked up

at him for permission and, with his nod, unlaced the right shoe, feeling the fine quality of the leather.

Mallum made his own footwear and he had set the stitching fine and tight.

Cesila knelt beside her daughter, craning her head to see the bruise.

'Hmmm. Hit it early on, didn't cha?'

'I did,' Mallum said, drawing his breath in with a hiss as Cesila slapped the poultice on. 'Oooooh!

Shards . . . you didn't get it too hot, didja?'

Cesila sniffed denial in reply as she neatly and deftly tied the packet to his foot.

'And is this the lass of yours as is to be taken for a run?' he asked, relaxing his expression from

the grimace he'd made when the poultice was first applied. 'Prettiest of the bunch.' And he grinned at

Tenna.

'Handsome is as handsome does,' Cesila said. 'Looks is all right but long legs is better. Tenna's

her name.'

'Handsome's not a bad thing to be, Cesila, and it's obvious your daughter takes after you.'

Cesila sniffed again but Tenna could see that her mother didn't mind Mallum's remarks. And

Cesila was a handsome woman: lithe still and slender, with graceful hands and feet. Tenna wished she

were more like her mother.

'Nice long line of leg,' Mallum went on approvingly. He beckoned for Tenna to come closer and

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had a good look at the lean muscles, then asked to see her bare feet. Runners tended to walk

bare-footed a lot. Some even ran bare-footed. 'Good bone. Hmmm. Nice lean frame. Hmm. Not a pick

on you, girl. Hope you can keep warm enough in winter like that.' That was such an old runner comment,

but his jollity was encouraging and Tenna was ever so glad that Mallum was her assessor. He was always

pleasant on his short stops at Station 97. `We'll take a short one tomorrow when this foot's eased.'

More runners came in so Cesila and Tenna were busy, checking in messages, sorting the packets

for the change-overs, serving food, heating water for baths, tending scratched legs. It was spring of the

year and most runners only used leggings during the coldest months.

Enough stayed the night so there was good chatter and gossip to entertain. And prevent Tenna

from worrying about satisfying her assessor in the morning.

A runner had come in late that night, on her way north, with some messages to be transferred to

an eastern route. His heel bruise much eased, Mallum thought he could take those on.

'It's a good testing trot,' he said and gestured for Tenna to slip the message pouch on her belt. 'I'll

travel light, girl.' His grin was teasing, for the pouch weighed little more than the wherhide it was made

from. 'First, lemme see what you wear on your feet.'

She showed him her shoes, the most important part of a runner's gear. She'd used her family's

special oils to soften the wherhide and then formed it on the lasts that had been carved for her feet by her

uncle who did them for her Bloodline. Her stitches were neat but not as fine as Mallum's. She intended to

improve. Meanwhile, this pair wasn't a bad effort and fitted her feet like gloves. The spikes were medium

length as fit for the present dry trace conditions. Most long-distance runners carried an extra pair with

shorter spikes for harder ground, especially during spring and summer. She was working on her winter

footwear, hoping she'd need it, for those boots came up to mid-calf and required a lot more conditioning.

Even they were lighter weight than the footgear holders would use. But then most holders plodded and

the thicker leather was suitable for their tasks as fine soft hide was right for a runner's foot.

Mallum nodded in approval as he handed back her shoes. Now he checked the fit of her belt to

be sure it was snug enough not to rub against the small of her back as she ran: that her short trunks would

not pull against her legs and that her sleeveless top covered her backside well below her waist to help

prevent her getting a kidney chill. Stopping often from a need to relieve one's self ruined the rhythm of a

run.

'We'll go now,' Mallum said, having assured himself she was properly accoutred.

Cesila stood in the door, gave her daughter a reassuring nod, and saw them off, up the eastern

trace. Before they were out of sight, she gave the particular runner yodel that stopped them in their

tracks. They saw her pointing skyward: at the arrow formation of dragons in the sky, a most unusual sight

these days when the Dragons of Benden Weyr were so rarely seen.

To see dragons in the sky was the best sort of omen. They were there . . . and then they weren't!

She smiled. Too bad runners couldn't justthink themselves to their destinations the way dragons could.

As if he had shared her thought, Mallum grinned back at her and then turned to face the direction in

which they were headed and any nervousness Tenna had felt disappeared. When he sprang off again, she

was in step with him by the third stride. He nodded again approvingly.

'Running's not just picking up your heels and showing them to those behind you,' Mallum said, his

eyes watching the trace ahead, though he must have known it as well as Tenna did. 'A good bit of proper

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running is learning to pace yourself and your stride. It's knowing the surfaces of the traces you have to

traverse. It's knowing how to save your strength so you'll last the longer hauls. When to ease back to a

walk, when and how to drink and eat so's you're not too gutty to run right. It's learning the routes of the

various Crosses and what sort of weather you might have to run through . . . and learning to manoeuvre

on snowrunners on the northern Crosses. And, most important, when to take cover and just let the

weather have its way with the world and you safe out of it. So's the messages and the packets you carry

will get through as soon as possible.'

She had responded with a nod of appreciation. Not that she hadn't heard the same lecture time

and again in the station from every relative and runner. But this time it was for her benefit and she owed

Mallum the courtesy of listening closely. She did watch Mallum's stride though, to be sure his heel wasn't

bothering him. He caught her glance once and gave her a grin.

'Be sure you carry a wedge of that poultice on any long laps, girl. You never know, you know,

when you might need it. As I just did.' And he grimaced, reminding Tenna that even the best runner can

put a foot wrong.

While no runner carries much, the long-tailed orange sweatband runners invariably wore could be

used to strap a strain or sprain. An oiled packet, no larger than the palm of a hand, had a cloth soaked in

numbweed which both cleansed and eased the scratches one can acquire from time to time. Simple

remedies for the most common problems. A wedge of poultice could be added to such travel gear and

be well worth its weight.

Tenna had no trouble making that lap with Mallum even when he picked up the pace on the flat

section.

'Running with a pretty girl's not hard to do,' he told her when they took one brief pause.

She wished he didn't make so much of her looks. They wouldn't help her run any better and

that's what she wanted to be: a top runner.

By the time they reached Irma's station at midday, she was not even breathing very hard. But the

moment Mallum slowed, he limped slightly with his full weight on the heel.

'Hmm. Well, I can wait out the day here with more poultice,' he said, pulling the little wedge from

one of the pockets of his belt. 'See,' and he displayed it to Tenna, 'handy enough.'

She tapped her aid pocket and smiled.

Old Irma came out with a grin on her sun-dried face for them.

'Will she do, Mallum?' the old woman asked, handing each a cup.

'Oh, aye, she'll do. A credit to her Bloodline and not a bother to run with!' Mallum said with a

twinkle in his eyes.

'I pass, do I, Mallum?' Tenna asked, needing to have a direct answer.

'Oh, aye,' and he laughed, walking about and shaking his legs to get the kinks out even as she

was doing. 'No fear on that. Any hot water for m'poultice, Irm?'

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'Coming up,' and she ducked back into her station and came out with a bowl of steaming water

which she set down on the long bench that was an inevitable fixture of every station. The overhang of the

roof provided a shelter from sun and rain. Most runners were obsessed with watching the traces to see

who was coming and going. The long bench, its surface smoothed by generations of bums sliding across

it, was placed so that it commanded a good view of the four traces linking at Irma's.

Automatically, Tenna pulled a footstool from under the bench and held out her hand to receive

Mallum's right foot. She untied the shoe, placed the now moistened poultice on the bruise while Irma

handed her a bandage to fix it in place, taking a good look at the injury in the process.

'Nother day'll do it. Shoulda stayed off it this mornin', too.'

'Not when I'd a chance to run with such a pretty girl,' Mallum said.

'Just like a man,' Irma said dismissively.

Tenna felt herself blushing, although she was beginning to believe he wasn't just teasing. No one

else had ever commented on her looks.

'It wasn't a taxing leg, Irma. It's level most of the way and a good surface,' she said, grinning

shyly at Mallum as she tried to divert Irma's criticism.

'Humph! Well, a hill run would've been downright foolish and it is flat this-a-way.'

'Anything for Tenna to take back?' Mallum asked, getting back to business, 'to make her first

round trip as a runner?'

'Should be,' Irma said, winking at Tenna for this informal inclusion into the ranks of Pern Runner.

'You could eat now . . . soup's ready and so's the bread.'

'Wouldn't mind a bit myself,' Mallum said, carefully shifting his position as if easing the heat from

the poultice, since the heat probably penetrated even the toughened sole of his foot.

By the time Tenna had eaten the light meal, two runners came in, a man she didn't know by sight

on a long leg from Bitra with a pouch to go farther west and one of Irma's sons.

'I can run it to 97,' she said, the official designation of her family's station.

'That'll do,' the man said, panting and heaving from his long haul. 'That'll do fine.' He gasped for

more breath. 'It's an urgent,' he got out. 'Your name?'

'Tenna.'

'One . . . of . . . Fedri's?' he asked and she nodded. 'That's good . . . enough for me. Ready to . .

. hit the trace?'

'Sure,' and she held out her hand for the pouch that he slipped off his belt, pausing only to mark

the pass-over time on the flap as he gave it into her keeping. 'You are?' she asked, sliding the pouch on

to her own belt and settling it in the small of her back.

'Masso,' he said, reaching now for the cup of water Irma had hastened to bring him. He

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摘要：

PERN ANNEMcCAFFREY DragonridersofPerntrilogy: Dragonflight(1969)Dragonquest(1971)TheWhiteDragon(1978) HarperHalltrilogy: Dragonsong(1976)Dragonsinger(1977)Dragondrums(1978) OtherPernnovels: Moreta,DragonladyofPern(1983)Nerilka'sStory(1986)Dragonsdawn(1988)TheRenegadesofPern(1989)AlltheWeyrsofPern(19...

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Anne McCaffrey - Pern 16 - Runners of Pern

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