Dragonquest

Lessa had to stand on tiptoe to reach the eyepiece, silently wishing someone had taken into account that not all the viewers this evening were tall. The instant the image of the Red Star reached her brain, such trivial a

Involuntarily Lessa moved her head, to glance up at the round marks of redness in the night sky that was this child’s toy through the magic of the distance-viewer. Then, before anyone might think she’d relinquished the instrument she looked back through the eyepiece. Incredible. Unsettling. If the gray was land – how could they possibly rid it of Thread? If the darker masses were land . . . Disturbed, and suddenly all too willing that someone else be exposed to their ancient enemy at such close range, she stepped back.

Lord Groghe stepped forward importantly. “Sangel, if you please?”

How like the Fort Lord, Lessa thought, to play host when P’zar who was after all, acting Weyrleader at Fort Weyr, did not act quickly enough to exert his rights. Lessa wished fervently that F’lar had been able to attend this viewing. Well, perhaps P’zar was merely being diplomatic with the Fort Lord Holder. Still, Lord Groghe would need to be kept . . .

She retreated and knew it for a retreat – to Robinton. The Harper’s presence was always reassuring. He was eager to have his turn but resigned to waiting. Groghe naturally would give the other Lord Holders precedence over a Harper, even the Masterharper of Pern.

“I wish he’d go,” Lessa said, glancing sideways at Meron. The Nabolese had made no attempt to re-enter the group from which he had been so precipitously expelled. The offensive stubbor

Why must it appear so – so i

“I don’t see anything,” Sangel of Boll was complaining.

“A moment, sir.” Wansor came forward and began adjusting a small knob. “Tell me when the view clarifies for you.”

“What am I supposed to be seeing?” Sangel demanded irritably. “Nothing there but a bright – ah! Oh!” Sangel backed away from the eyepiece as if Thread had burned him. But he was again in position before Groghe could call another Lord to his place.

Lessa felt somewhat relieved, and a little smug, at Sangel’s reaction. If the fearless Lords also got a taste of honest dread, perhaps . . .

“Why does it glow? Where does it get light? It’s dark here,” the Lord Holder of Boll babbled.

“It is the light of the sun, my Lord,” Fandarel replied, his deep, matter-of-fact voice reducing that miracle to common knowledge.

“How can that be?” Sangel protested. “The sun’s on the other side of us now. Any child knows that – ”

“Of course, but we are not obstructing the Star from that light. We are below it in the skies, if you will, so that the sun’s light reaches it directly.”

Sangel seemed likely to monopolize the viewer, too.

“That’s enough, Sangel,” Groghe said testily. “Let Oterel have a chance.”

“But I’ve barely looked, and there was trouble adjusting the mechanism,” Sangel complained. Between Oterel’s glare and Groghe trying to shoulder him out of the way, Sangel reluctantly stepped aside.

“Let me adjust the focus for you, Lord Oterel,” Wansor murmured politely.

“Yes, do. I’m not half blind like Sangol there, the Lord of Tillek said.

“Now, see here, Oterel . . .”

“Fascinating, isn’t it, Lord Sangel?” said Lessa, wondering what reaction the man’s blathering had concealed.

He harumphed irritably, but his eyes were restless and he frowned.

“Wouldn’t call it fascinating, but then I had barely a moment’s look.”

“We’ve an entire night, Lord Sangel.”

The man shivered, pulling his cloak around him though the night air was not more than mildly cool for spring.

“It’s nothing more than a child’s miggsy,” exclaimed the Lord of Tillek. “Fuzzy. Or is it supposed to be?” He glanced away from the eyepiece at Lessa.

“No, my Lord,” Wansor said. “It should be bright and clear, so you can see cloud formations.”

“How would you know?” Sangel asked testily.

“Wansor set the instrument up for this evening’s viewing,” Fandarel pointed out.

“Clouds?” Tillek asked. “Yes, I see them. But what’s the land? The dark stuff or the gray?”

“We don’t know yet,” Fandarel told him.

“Land masses don’t look that way as high as dragons can fly a man,” said P’zar the Fort Weyrleader, speaking for the first time.

“And objects seen at a far greater distance change even more,” Wansor said in the dry tone of someone who does know what he’s talking about. “For example, the very mountains of Fort which surround us change drastically if seen from Ruatha Heights or the plains of Crom.”

“Then all that dark stuff is land?” Lord Oterel had difficulty not being impressed. And discouraged, Lessa thought. Tillek’s Lord Holder must have been hoping to press the extermination of Thread on the Red Star.

“Of that we are not sure, replied Wansor with no lessening of the authority in his ma

The Lord of Tillek did not want to leave the instrument. Almost as if he hoped, Lessa thought, that if he looked long enough, he’d discover a good argument for mounting an expedition.

Tillek finally responded to Nessel of Crom’s acid remarks and stepped aside.

“What do you think is the land, Sangel? Or did you really see anything?

“Of course I did. Saw the clouds plain as I see you right now.”

Oterel of Tillek snorted contemptuously. “Which doesn’t say much, considering the darkness.”

“I saw as much as you did, Oterel. Gray masses, and black masses and those clouds. A star having clouds! Doesn’t make sense. Pern has clouds!”

Hastily Lessa changed her laugh at the man’s indignation to a cough, but she caught the Harper’s amused look and wondered what his reaction to the Red Star would be. Would he be for, or against this expedition? And which attitude did she want him to express?

“Yes, Pern has clouds,” Oterel was saying, somewhat surprised at that observation. “And if Pern has clouds, and more water surface than land, then so does the Red Star . . .”

“You can’t be sure of that,” Sangel protested.

“And there’ll be a way of distinguishing land from water too,” Oterel went on, ignoring the Boll Lord. “Let me have another look, there, Nessel,” he said, pushing the Crom Lord out of the way.

“Now, wait a minute there, Tillek.” And Nessel put a proprietary hand on the instrument. As Tillek jostled him, the tripod tottered and the distance-viewer, on its hastily rigged swivel, assumed a new direction.

“Now you’ve done it,” Oterel cried. “I only wanted to see if you could distinguish the land from the water.”

Wansor tried to get between the two Lords so that he could adjust his precious instrument.

“I didn’t get my full turn,” Nessel complained, trying to keep physical possession of the distance-viewer.

“You’ll not see anything, Lord Nessel, if Wansor ca