He was halfway around the tents a second time when Toric wondered who had been among those exiled so precipitously. If no one had given hold, hall, or name, who were they? On the other hand, Jaxom had been one of the judges. He would have known Dorse. So might N’ton. And Masterprinter Tagetarl.
“Lord Toric!”
His name was spoken softly and in a deep voice. Dorse had mentioned that Fifth had a most unusual one. A most eloquent speaker, Dorse had said, effective in rousing people.
“Yes?” Toric stepped into the shadows. He had very much wanted to meet Fifth. Dorse had told him about the man’s unusual obsession relating to the fact that the MasterHarper had been found dead in the Aivas chamber at the same approximate time that the Abomination had terminated itself. Was it possible that Master Robinton had indeed discovered some malign aspect of the Abomination and attempted to end its influence on Pern? Or had Aivas, suspecting that his evil designs to pollute and corrupt the planet had been divined by the human, killed the MasterHarper? It was well documented that Aivas had hidden defenses.
The conundrum had fascinated Toric from the moment Dorse had confided it in him. Now he could question the source.
Honshu Weyrhold—3.01.31
The moment Tai woke that morning, Sagassy appeared at her bedside.
“D’you need the necessary, Rider Tai?” she asked and whipped back the cover without waiting for an answer.
“Can’t I walk by myself?” Tai asked. She was determined to put weakness and dependency behind her as soon as possible. Sagassy had been so practical that her help had not given Tai any embarrassment.
“I’ll just put an arm about you in case.”
Tai did need help getting to her feet but she tried to do as much as she could without Sagassy’s help.
Her ankles and knees were still stiff; her calves felt more like blocks but they weren’t painful; the left leg would even bear weight without great discomfort. So that brief excursion went well enough and, leaning against the heavy sink top, Tai managed to wash hands and face. She ate all the breakfast that Sagassy brought and then asked, as she did every time someone came into the room, when she could see Zaranth, F’lessan, and Golanth.
Having been asked that question frequently, Sagassy put her hands on her hips and gave her head a little shake.
“Well, I’m one as says it don’t do you nor them any good not to. Leave it with me.”
Tai wanted to burst out in frustration because everyone responded with—“leave it with me.” So far it was left. She was surprised to see T’lion, bronze Gadareth’s rider, enter the room, Sagassy behind him, grinning with smug satisfaction.
“Sagassy says I’m strong enough, and long enough,” he said. “You look much better.”
“How do you know?” And answered herself. “Oh, Gadareth was there that morning, wasn’t he?”
“Indeed he was and has been extremely smug and glowing ever since. Now, put an arm around my neck.”
“I can walk, I can walk!”
“I doubt it and I came to carry you because seeing all the invalids—not that Zaranth really is anymore—would definitely be too far for you to walk today.” He had swooped her up in his arms before she could protest further and carried her out of the room. She’d had so many people moving her places that such intimacy no longer bothered her. “In reverse order of preference, perhaps, because I know you want to reassure yourself that Zaranth is fine, but F’lessan’s just in here, so it’s on your way to her.”
There was a sudden alteration of the cheerfulness in his voice as he angled her into the largest of the sleeping quarters, not the one she and F’lessan had shared so often. She blinked back tears as she saw F’lessan’s white face turning restlessly on the pillow, his lips twitching, his brows creasing, ricking the lines that now scored his cheeks. His body looked unusually bulky under the cover—bandages, she thought, snatching back the hand she had unconsciously extended toward him. He shouldn’t be allowed to thrash so. Manora had said his wounds were deep. He could do himself more injury with this tossing.
T’lion placed her in the chair by the bed. She saw that F’lessan’s dark hair had been cut back on the right side, clearly showing the stitches on his scalp. Holding her hand a scant few centimeters above his face, her fingers trembled as she followed the path of the other facial scars. They didn’t look that deep but they were terrible to see on his handsome face.
As if conscious of someone watching him, he moved his head more restlessly from side to side and tried to lift first one hand, and then the other: the left hand slid limply to dangle beside the narrow bed. She picked it up, returning it to his side, and lightly touched his shoulder.
“Easy, F’lessan, lie still.” She pushed behind his ear the strand of hair that had fallen across the stitched cheek. “Lie still. Golanth lives!”
“Golly?” The question was more breath than word, his brows creased slightly, halted when he felt the pull of skin. “Golly?”
His eyes opened, blinked, strained to focus on her face. He seemed puzzled by her presence. “Where’ve you been?” It was almost a complaint.
“They wouldn’t let me come.”
“She got clawed, too, F’lessan,” T’lion said, leaning over the other side of the bed. “But I said I’d bring her and I have.”
F’lessan’s eyelids seemed too heavy to keep open but the corner of his mouth turned up.
“So you did. Don’t go ’way, my very dear green. Don’t go ’way.”
His endearment caught at her heart and she had to wait a moment before she could speak.
“I’ll see Golanth and then I’ll be right back. You can rest now.”
“Hmmm, yes. I can, can’t I?” He turned his head to one side and, exhaling a deep breath, sank into a stillness that scared her until she saw his chest rise again.
“I’ll convey you to bronze Golanth,” T’lion said, picking her up and carrying her from the room.
“Why, just look at him, bronze rider,” Sagassy remarked, pausing to look back at F’lessan. “He’s much less restless already.”
It was as well Tai had seen F’lessan before Golanth because the sight of the terribly wounded bronze made her weep.
“Now, now, he looks a lot worse than he is,” the Monaco rider said, tightening his arms about her.
He is much better, Tai. He is much better, and Zaranth rose from where she was lying on the sunny terrace beyond Golanth’s supine bulk.
“Oh, Zaranth! How can you say that?” Tai was sobbing. Because it’s true.
“Hey, now, Tai, don’t go to pieces on me,” T’lion said in a rallying tone. “He was badly injured, it’s true. Flesh gouged out of him, bits gnawed off him, but they got the tail mended. That’s what’s in the splint affair. And he’s not in any pain because we don’t let him be.”
That was when Tai noticed all the other people on the terrace and valiantly controlled her sobs.
“Ah, Green Rider Tai,” and through the tear haze in her eyes, Tai recognized Persellan’s familiar face. “I know the extent of Golanth’s injuries seems appalling,” he went on, “but we keep him comfortable.” He gestured to the large gray pots in which numbweed was stored. “Having Zaranth here makes it certain that he is relieved before he can twitch a muscle in pain. She’s been as close to him as a pulse.”
Golanth’s prostrate body made the terrace seem smaller than she knew it was. There was room for people to move around him. Near the main entrance, there were supplies, like numbweed pots and chests of dressings or other medications, chairs where carers could relax, a table for dining, like the ones that had been set out when half of Monaco had been staying here.
Golanth’s body was cushioned from the rock of the terrace by many pads: an awning had been rigged above him—a sail, Tai thought, by the look of it. He seemed smaller somehow, diminished by the absence of his characteristic vitality: like rider, like dragon. She pushed that thought away.
There were marks all over the near side
of him, where claws had torn and teeth had snagged. The patch over his left eye was most prominent and the casing around the end of his tail, which was positioned by his body. He lay with his head between his front legs but she could see his nostrils flaring slightly with every breath he took.
He is much better, Tai, Zaranth said with the heartiness of someone who has watched recovery. Much better. Touch him. You will feel the strength in him.
Zaranth had not moved from her position behind Golanth but now she cocked her head at her rider.
“I’ll take you round,” T’lion offered. “There’s a place for you to sit and be private with Zaranth. Let me tell you, despite her own injuries, she has been conscientious in helping us tend Golanth.”
T’lion deftly maneuvered her behind him and Tai nearly burst into tears again to see the slashes, hidden behind Golanth’s body, that marred Zaranth’s green hide. T’lion put her on the bench and stepped back, giving Tai’s shoulder a firm reassuring grip before he left them. Zaranth took the small step that separated rider and dragon and put her nose down to Tai’s knees.
I do not hurt, Tai. They tend me as well as Golanth but only I can hear to help him. He grieves for F’lessan’s hurts. And that pain is the worst. Zaranth emphasized that with a little push of her nose.
It would be. And you’ve needed me!
In deep apology for her absence, Tai put her arms carefully around her dragon’s nose, rested her face against Zaranth’s cheek, aware of the dragon’s warmth and the particular smell of her sun-warmed hide mixed with the astringency of numbweed. Then, tenderly, lightly, she placed her right hand on the scored chest and felt the beat of the powerful heart, letting herself relax against her beloved. Reassured by the essential strong rhythm, she felt tension draining out of her body, softening her muscles, and giving her back the sense of rightness that was the bond between dragon and rider. They remained in this silent communion until Tai was restored to serenity. And had renewed the strength in them both.
Caringly, she stroked Zaranth’s nose, her cheekbones, was able to touch the deep gashes with gently inquiring fingers. She could see that they were shallow, worse than scratches but not as deep as the troughs that scored Golanth. Zaranth looked as if she were wearing stripes.
How did you do it, my heart? the rider asked the dragon. How did you save us?
I called. Ramoth and the others came quickly. I told Ramoth. The dragon’s tone was squeaky with self-satisfaction. She did what I told her to do. She saw how to do it and told the others. They did more than me. There were more of them. Zaranth sighed gustily into her rider’s lap. And the felines threatened our lives: all four of us. But we were too much for them. I was very glad to see the other dragons arrive: especially Ramoth.
I’m sure you were. So was I! Tai admitted, letting tears well up in her eyes, tears of exquisite relief now that she was physically close to her brave and clever Zaranth.
F’lessan has been anxious, Zaranth said with great concern. He will not rest. Golanth sleeps a lot. I tell F’lessan not to worry but I don’t think he believes me.
He will believe me! Tai caressed Zaranth’s sensitive eye ridges soothingly, just the way her green dragon preferred. Zaranth leaned her head more and more on Tai’s knees until she became aware that this pressure was causing her rider pain. Zaranth opened her eyes and lifted her head.
I have called him.
Called who?
The bronze rider. The one who carried you. I thought about bringing you here myself, and Zaranth’s eyelids lowered apologetically, but it’s one thing to do it because it’s the only thing to DO but I couldn’t risk dropping you and I’m not quite that good at it as I should be—to try lifting you carefully. So, first he will let you touch Golanth; this side isn’t as bad. Golanth knows that you are here. You will touch Golanth and tell him that you have seen F’lessan. He will believe you!
When T’lion duly returned, he supported Tai while she placed her hands on the bronze’s side, carefully avoiding the grooves in Golanth’s right shoulder that might, had they been a little higher, a little deeper, have ended the bronze dragon’s life. And F’lessan’s, too.
She blinked back more tears. This time death had not robbed her again of those she loved. She wasn’t certain just how Golanth had escaped: the feline had been leaping in exactly the right arc/trajectory to land on Golanth’s spine, teeth bared, talons extended. But somehow it had missed and she was profoundly grateful.
She spread her fingers on uninjured parts of Golanth’s sun-warmed hide. She found a place where she could lean her forehead on his rib cage. She felt a rumble from Golanth and then a thought.
You have come.
F’lessan is weaker than you are, Golanth, so they will not bring him to you. But I have held his hand, I have spoken with him. Now I will tell him that I have touched you. And you will both start feeling better and healing as fast as possible. Do you hear me?
I hear you. The body beneath her hands heaved slightly and she felt him sigh. I hear F’lessan. He wants to know if you are coming back. Now that I have seen you and Zaranth, I’ll be right back.
“This may have been too much for you, Tai,” T’lion said, picking her up. “I swear you feel lighter.”
“That’s as well for you then,” she said.
“I’m stronger than I look, you know,” he replied firmly as he carried her back into the weyrhold and down the hall.
“I must go back to F’lessan.”
“Oh, I’m taking you there as fast as I can. And you must drink what Sagassy has concocted for you. Maybe even get F’lessan to sip some.”
Which Tai did, after she had assured him of Golanth’s condition. Most of the time he slept, his fingers twined in hers in a grip which alternately made her weep or feel intense pride that, of all the humans he knew, it was she whom he wanted by him.
Interim at Benden and elsewhere
Despite F’lar’s assurance to the Council, despite Ramoth’s assurances to Lessa, not all the dragons were able to imitate Zaranth and the dragons who came to her assistance in Honshu that terrible morning. Although Ramoth had told Lessa that she had understood how Zaranth had managed telekinesis, anger, fear, and outrage had had a lot to do with the process. Cool thought, or gradually, more ardent wishes, were not as successful. And nowhere near as safe.
First, the path between the original position and the destination of an object being moved by a dragon’s mind had to be clear of any impediment. The distance did not seem to be an obstacle, for inanimate objects. Even for smaller living creatures, like wherries or herdbeasts. But there could be nothing in the way. While stones didn’t suffer from being moved telekinetically, they might be broken if they collided with anything; so might what they collided with. The speed was another problem. The transfer was instantaneous—which could, and did, affect what was kinetically moved.
“A case of all or nothing,” F’lar said after the first few hours of imperfect results with Mnementh.
“Control,” Lessa suggested cryptically, having had no better performance from her queen.
With the felines, there hadn’t been a problem of safe transit or landing. Pieces had done very well. Ramoth disapproved of challenging more felines for practice or in groups large enough to provide the stimulus that Zaranth had had: sheer terror at seeing her weyrmate and the two riders attacked.
The dragons could send things straight up in the open air— and out of sight. To move an object telekinetically in a horizontal direction had taken a lot of control and required Mnementh and Ramoth working together, one slowing the other down. Ramoth and Mnementh practiced daily, slowly lifting small rocks vertically from the ground and putting them back down without crushing them into dust or pebbles. They could probably have thrown one all the way to the Yokohama, also not the desired destination, but one that was causing considerable speculation by Lessa and F’lar. That had been a significant forward step.
When queried by Ramoth, Zaranth recommended that dragons e
xperience trundlebugs. If there were many riders who found that a bizarre way to awaken telekinetic ability, it proved to be the one that worked—on trundlebugs. Ramoth and Mnementh earnestly suggested that the experiment be carried out in pairs, female and male dragons, and preferably a good distance from any holdings and close to a stream, lake, or ocean.
Then, when Ramoth and Mnementh worked together, one controlling the other, kinesis became more practical, less hazardous to what was being moved without physical contact.
What purpose, other than repelling—and destroying—felines or disciplining trundlebugs was not immediately apparent to many, though the ability provoked deep thought and theorizing in many quarters. Meanwhile, the dragons and their riders continued to practice this counter-balancing of kinetic energy.
Master Esselin—who now complained bitterly about all the tasks set him—was supposed to see what records were available on early dragon training: going between and using firestone. Nothing legible remained from the old Record Aivas had transcribed and those who owned fire-lizards insisted that the dragons had learned from these smaller cousins.
No one had ever observed fire-lizards telekinetically moving something, unless the speed with which fire-lizards could gobble food from a plate could be considered a form of telekinesis.
Many other matters were being set in place, the most important of which was siting the Western Continent observatory. This so-called continent was two landmasses, a wide inlet almost completely separating them except for a straggle of boulders making a bridge at the northern end. Erragon had the plans Aivas had printed out for Cove Hold and, apart from a different telescope mount (he recommended the fork type), these would suffice: especially when those who had worked on Cove Hold volunteered their services to erect the new one. Lord Ranrel was as good as his promise and three ships were loaded with material and volunteers to sail, with Master Idarolan in nominal charge of the expedition, to the southernmost cape of the larger landmass. A pod of dolphins assigned by the dolphins’ venerable leader, the Tillek herself, were to accompany the small fleet to a harbor she could recommend. Green and blue dragons were to precede the ships, setting up a base camp.
The Skies of Pern Page 42