Nerilka's Story

Chapter XII

As I conclude this narrative, there has been no Thread to blot our skies for five marvelous Turns. Few signs remain of what Ruatha endured, for the burial mounds have been leveled and their sites are invisible in the luxurious grass.

And change, the change from unrelenting Thread, has benefited all. Kamiana is Weyrwoman at Fort, and G'drel, a genial, heavyset man originally of Telgar, is Weyrleader. His Dorianth flew Pelianth on her next mating flight.

No one hears much of Wingleader Sh'gall these days, but G'drel and Kamiana are often visitors here, and G'drel constantly teases Alessan about his runner. Squealer. He's about the only one, save Fergal, who dares, even though Alessan is generally easier to approach on most matters.

B'lerion's Nabeth outmaneuvered every bronze on Pern to fly Oklina's Hannath, not that anyone doubted the outcome of that flight. Her two sons now play with ours, for I have fulfilled the first half of my original bargain with Alessan five times: four strong sons and a daughter whom we have named Moreta. Alessan will not have me overbear, though I keep telling him that I am happiest pregnant and never suffer as others have from being in that condition.

He is even permitting himself to show affection to his children. At first he pretended total indifference, as if any tenderness would mark them as victims for disaster. To my delight, they have been incredibly healthy, less prone to catch the usual childhood maladies than any other children of the Hold, sturdily immune to cuts, bruises, and breaks that often occur in childhood. Our daughter, Moreta-and Desdra has told me quite sincerely that she is the most beautiful child she ever saw, so it is not only this doting mother who so describes her-has provided the sun to thaw the coldness in her father. He could not help but adore her, for she seems to blossom with joy whenever she sees him, and her delight is contagious. Alessan will never be as carefree, blithe, or gay as Suriana described him, but his smile is readier now, and he will laugh at Tuero's outrageous humor and smile at his sons' antics and boasts. He will cheer when Squealer wins yet another race and be a genial host when visitors are in the Hall.

We plan our first Gather, a very modest affair, when the spring has dressed the land with blossom and new growth. If occasionally when we make our plans, a shadow crosses Alessan's face, it is to be expected, and I ignore it.

If he does not love me as he did Suriana or Moreta, still he loves me in ways he would not have known with his first wild and tempestuous wife and different from his deep devotion to Moreta. We understand each other well, often starting the same sentence simultaneously. Certainly we are of similar mind in every matter concerning Ruatha Hold and our children. He is public in his appreciation of my efforts, though he cannot know that his ready acknowledgment of my efforts is the greatest of compliments he could pay me, the girl who was never praised or thanked by her own Blood.

And gradually, as his fear of losing yet again that which is precious to him abates, his regard has extended to all areas of our life together. At night it is not the shadow of Suriana or the dream of Moreta that he holds in his arms and loves-it is Nerilka, his wife, the mother of his children, and the Lady of his Hold.

It is time to end a story that began in sorrow and ordeal and has ended in a deep and lasting happiness. May it be so for others.