Dragonquest

“Not me. It’s Fandarel. Between fire lizards, Threads and T’ron, I can’t face him.”

“Oh, him!” Lessa pulled the door open, gri

“Robinton?”

“Yes. He’d composed the most marvelous ballad and teaching songs and now there’s no reason to play them.”

Whether Lessa had deliberately saved that until now, F’lar didn’t know, but they crossed the courtyard, laughing, though it hurt his side.

Their passage would have been noted anyhow, but their smiling faces subtly reassured the diners seated at the make-shift tables about the yard. And suddenly F’lar felt there was indeed something to celebrate.

CHAPTER XI

Early Morning at Benden Weyr

.

“I WISH you’d give me fair warning the next time you rearrange the social and political structure of this planet,” F’nor told his half-brother when he strode into the queen’s weyr at Benden the next morning. There wasn’t, of course, a trace of resentment on his ta

“T’bor is Weyrleader at the High Reaches with Kylara as Weyrwoman . . .”

“Kylara at High Reaches?” F’nor looked dubious but F’lar waved aside his half-born protest.

“Yes, there are disadvantages to that, of course. All but fourteen of the folk at High Reaches Weyr went with T’kul and Merika. Most of the Fort Weyr people wanted to stay . . .”

F’nor chuckled nastily. “Bet that was hard for Mardra to swallow.” He looked expectantly at Lessa, knowing how often his Weyrwoman had mastered resentment and indignation at Mardra’s hands. Lessa returned his gaze with polite unconcern.

“So P’zar is acting Weyrleader until a queen rises . . .”

“Any chance of making that an open flight for any bronze?”

“That is my intention,” F’lar replied. “However, I think the biggest of the modern bronzes had better be conspicuous by their absence.”

“Then why have you assigned N’ton there as Wing-second?” demanded Lessa in surprise.

F’lar gri

Lessa wrinkled her nose. “He doesn’t have much choice at Fort Weyr.”

“He is quite capable of taking care of himself,” F’lar replied with a wicked grin.

“Well, you seem to have arranged everything to your satisfaction,” F’nor remarked. “I, however, resent having been yanked out of Southern. I’d spotted a very promising clutch of fire-lizard eggs in a certain Southern cove. Not quite hard enough to move with impunity. If you had held off a few more days, I’d – ” He broke off, sliding into the chair Lessa motioned him to. “Say, F’lar, what’s the matter with you? You been time – betweening or something?”

“No, he’s been knifed between his top and bottom,” Lessa answered with a sour glance at her Weyrmate. “And it is with exceptional difficulty that I can keep him in a chair. He belongs in a bed.”

F’lar waved her recriminations aside good-humoredly.

“If you’re – ” F’nor half-rose, his face concerned.

“If you’re – ” mocked F’lar, his look indicating a growing irritation with his disability and their protectiveness.

F’nor laughed, reseating himself. “And Brekke said I was a cantankerous patient. Ha! How bad is it? I heard various tales about that duel, well embroidered already, but not that you’d been clipped. Must it always be belt knives – for our Blood? And the other man armed with a wherry-skewer?”

“And dressed in wher-hide,” Lessa added.

“Look, F’lar, Brekke has pronounced me fit to fly between,” and F’nor flexed his arm, fully but carefully. “I can appreciate your wanting to keep quiet about your injury, so I’ll do all your popping about.”

F’lar chuckled at his half-brother’s eagerness. “Back a-neck and ready to go, huh? Well, resume your responsibilities then. They’ve changed.”

“Noticeably, o exalted one.”

F’lar frowned at that and brushed his forelock back irritably.

“Not that much. Did you see T’kul when he arrived from High Reaches at Southern?”

“No, nor did I want to. I heard him.” F’nor’s right hand clenched. The fighting wings had already gone to join you at Igen for the Threadfall. T’kul ordered everyone, including the wounded, out of Southern in an hour’s time. What they couldn’t pack and take, he confiscated. He made it clear that the southern continent was his to have and hold. That his Sweepriders were challenging any dragon and would flame them down like Thread if they didn’t get the proper response. Some of those Oldtimer dragons are stupid enough to do it, too.” F’nor paused. “You know, I’ve been noticing lately . . .”

“Did the Fort Weyr people arrive?”

“Yes, and Brekke checked T’ron to be sure he’d survived the trip.” F’nor scowled.

“He’ll live?”

“Yes, but . . .”

“Good. Now, I rather suspected that T’kul would react in that fashion To be sure we’ve all of Igen, Ista and Southern Boll as breeding ground for fire lizards, but I want you to get Manora to rig you something for those other lizard eggs you found and bring them back here. We need every one we can find. Where’s your little queen? They go back to their first feeding place, you know . . .”

“Grall? She’s with Canth, of course. She heard Ramoth grumbling on the Hatching Ground.”

“Hmm, yes. Fortunately, those eggs’ll hatch soon.”

“Going to invite all Pern’s notables as you did before the Oldtimers got stuffy?”

“Yes,” F’lar replied so emphatically that F’nor pretended alarm. “That courtesy did more good than harm. It’ll be standard procedure at all the Weyrs now.”

“And you’ve talked the Leaders into assigning riders to Hold and Hall?” F’nor’s eyes gleamed when F’lar nodded.

Can you slip through whatever patrol T’kul has mounted in Southern?” F’lar asked.

“No problem. There isn’t a bronze there that Canth can’t out fly. Which reminds me . . .”

“Good. I’ve two errands for you. Pick up those fire-lizard eggs and, do you remember the coordinates for the Threadfall in the western swamp?”

“Of course, but I wanted to ask you . . .”

“You saw the grub life in the soil there?”

“Yes . . .”

“Ask Manora for a tightly covered pot. I want you to bring me back as many of those grubs as you can. Not a pleasant job, I know, but I can’t go myself and I don’t want this – ah – project discussed.”

“Grubs? A project?”

Mnementh bellowed a welcome.

“I’ll explain later,” F’lar said, gesturing toward the weyr entrance.

F’nor shrugged as he rose. “I’ll fly the hazard, O inscrutable one!” Then he laughed as F’lar glared at him in angry reproach. “Sorry. Like the rest of Pern – the north, that is – I trust you.” He gave them both a jaunty salute and left.

“The day F’nor doesn’t tease you I’ll start to worry,” Lessa said, encircling his neck with her arms. She laid her cheek against his for an instant. “It’s T’bor,” she added, moving away just as the new High Reaches Weyrleader strode in.

The man looked as if he hadn’t slept enough but he carried his shoulders back and his head high which made the Benden Weyrleader more aware of the worried and wary expression on his face.

“Kylara’s – ” F’lar began, remembering that she and Meron had been gabbling together all the last night.

“Not Kylara. It’s that T’kul who thought himself such a great Weyrleader,” T’bor said with utter disgust. “As soon as we brought our people up from Southern, I had the wings do a sweep check, really more to familiarize themselves with the coordinates than anything else. By the first Egg, I don’t like seeing anyone run from dragonmen. Run. And hide!” T’bor sat down, automatically taking the cup of klah Lessa handed him. “There wasn’t a watch fire or a watchman. But plenty of burn sign I don’t see how that much Thread could have got through. Not even if smokeless weyrlings were riding the sweep. So I dropped down to Tillek Hold and asked to see Lord Oterel.” T’bor gave a low whistle. “That was some greeting I got, I want to tell you. I nearly had an arrow through my belly before I convinced the guard captain that I wasn’t T’kul. That I was T’bor and there’d been a change of Leaders at the Weyr.”