Initially, humans from Beltrae who had been “touched” were regarded with great suspicion, of course, but as soon as their remarkable empathic powers with animals and other people were realized, the technique became widespread. Many groups eventually had valued healers whose abilities had been amplified that way. Luckily, that all happened well before the Pure Human group became powerful.
From their studies of the tunnel snakes and wherries, Bay and Pol had come to an appreciation of the potential of the charming and useful dragonets. It had taken many experiments with dragonet tissues, and with several generations of the little tunnel snakes, to incorporate the mentasynth system successfully, but longtime’ experience with such species as dolphins—and, of course, man—paid off.
Everyone in Landing had come to have a working knowledge of the habits of the dragonets, biological as well as psychological, for there was good cause to be grateful to the creatures and to tolerate their few natural excesses. Theoretically, Bay had known that some of the owners seemed to feel the “primitive urges” of the creatures: hunger, fear, anger, and an intense mating imperative. She had simply never thought that she would be as vulnerable as her younger colleagues. It had been an exceedingly delightful surprise.
Red and Mairi Hanrahan were thankful that Sorka and Sean had impressed—the word, meaning the act of imprinting a dragonet, had somehow crept into the language—dragonets that would not want to mate with each other. They still did not approve of Sorka’s close attachment to the boy and felt that she was too young to be subject to irresistible sensual urges.
On that morning, nearly twelve months after Landing, the mare Sean had chosen to produce his promised foal was laboring to give birth, there was no doubt that Sorka, who had turned thirteen, and Sean, two years older, were in rapport with their eagerly anticipating dragonets. The two browns and the bronze had perched on the top rail of the stable partition, their eyes whirling with growing excitement as they crooned their birth song. The little chestnut mare dropped to the straw to deliver the forelegs and head of her foal. Above, the rafters of the barn seemed to ripple with its temporary adornment of the dragonet population of Landing, crooning and chirping continual encouragement.
Dragonets were sentimental about births and missed none in Landing, bugling in high-pitched tenor voices at each new arrival. Fortunately, they discreetly remained outside human habitations. The colony’s obstetricians had lately been working nonstop and had drafted the nurses and taken on apprentices. An array of dragonets on a roof became an irrefutable sign of impending birth: the dragonets were never wrong. The obstetricians could gauge the labor’s progress by the growing intensity of the dragonets’ welcoming song. The chorus might deprive neighbors of sleep, but most of the community took it in good humor. Even the most jaundiced had seen the dragonets protecting the flocks and herds, and had to appreciate their value.
The chestnut mare heaved again, extruding the foal farther. Since its legs, head, and forequarters were wet with birth fluids, Sean could not distinguish the animal’s color. Then the rest of the body emerged, followed, with a final push, by the hindquarters. There was no doubt that he was not only darkly dappled but male. With a crow of incredulous joy, Sean dropped to the little fellow’s head to mop it dry, even before the mare could form her bond. Tears streaming down her dusty face, Sorka hugged herself in joy. Dimly she heard the excited comments of the other animal midwives sharing the large barn.
“He’s the only colt,” her father said, returning to Sean and Sorka. “As ordered.” Though the colony actually needed as many female animals as it could breed, Sean’s preference for a colt had been duly considered. And one local stallion would be a safeguard, though there were more than enough varied sperms in reserve. “Grand fellow, though,” Red remarked, nodding his head approvingly. “Make a good sixteen hands, if I’m any judge. A sturdy nine stone, I’d say. Fine good fellow, and she bore him like a trooper.” He stroked the neck of the little mare, who was licking the colt as he suckled her with vigor “Come now, Sorka,” he went on, seeing her tear-streaked face. “I’ll keep my promise that you’ll have a horse, too.” He gave her a reassuring hug.
“I know you will, Da,” she said, burrowing into his chest. “I’m crying because I’m so happy for Sean. He didn’t believe Bay, you know. Not for one moment.”
Red Hanrahan laughed softly, for it wouldn’t do for Sean to hear. Not that the boy was aware of anything but the colt, twisting its stump of a tail as if that would speed its suckling. For once, Sean’s customary wary, often cynical expression had softened with amazed tenderness as he devoured the colt with his eyes.
After Sorka gave her father a hug for his assurances, she stepped away from him, and her bronze glided down to her shoulder, chattering in a happy social tone as he wrapped his tail possessively about her neck. Then Duke leaned down Sorka’s chest, his eyes sparkling blue and green as he, too, examined the new arrival closely. Encouraged, Sean’s brown pair dropped to the lower rail of the foaling box, exchanging cheeps and chirps with Duke.
“You approve?” Sean asked them, grinning despite the challenge in his tone.
Bobbing their heads up and down vigorously, they extended wings, each complaining that the other’s wing was in the way, then they flicked their wings to their backs and assured Sean volubly that they approved. He grinned back at them.
“He’s a real beauty, Sean. Just what you wanted,” Sorka said.
Unaccountably Sean shook his head, looking dubious. “Too young to tell if he’ll match Cricket.”
“Oh, you are the utter limit!” Sorka snapped angrily. She left the box, nearly jamming the door rail as she closed it with considerable vehemence.
“What’d I say?” Sean demanded of Red Hanrahan.
“I think you’ll have to figure that one out yourself, boyo!” Red clapped him on the shoulder, torn between amusement and a certain concern for his daughter. “Give the mare her feed before you leave, will you, Sean?”
As Red Hanrahan walked down the aisle, checking on the other new arrivals, he considered Sorka’s behavior. She was thirteen but a well-developed girl who had been menstruating for nearly a year. That she doted on Sean was patent to everyone but Sean. He tolerated her. As did Sean’s family. Mairi and Red had talked it over, wary of the boy’s background though both Hanrahans acknowledged that it was time to discard old attitudes and opinions.
Sean, too, had made several notable concessions. Whether spurred by competition with Sorka or mere male arrogance, he had improved his reading and writing skills and frequently used a viewer to scan veterinary tests in Red’s office. Red had carefully cultivated the boy’s interest and encouraged him to help with the breeding stock. The boy unquestionably had a way with animals, not just horses, though he ignored sheep altogether.
“Sean says sheep are for stealing, trading, and eating,” Sorka told her father when he had remarked on that exception.
Mairi did worry occasionally that Sorka was inevitably partnered with Sean when they were assigned together to the zoological expeditions. But, as Sorka blithely explained, she got along with Sean, and they were both more used to handling animals and wildlife than urban-bred young people. As long as they did their obligatory share of work for the colony, and enjoyed it, they were ahead of the game. Sean was also making more of a contribution to Landing’s efforts than most of his people. It was just that Sean and Sorka were becoming linked together in the collective Landing mind, Mairi wistfully remarked one evening to Red. To his surprise, Red found himself in the position of devil’s advocate. But then, like Sorka, he had grown accustomed to Sean’s ways and knew what to ignore.