The egg had been returned. Robinton clung to the comforting fact that it was apparently unharmed de- spite its ageing in that elapsed subjective time. Lessa could choose to make its condition an issue. And, if the egg did not hatch an unimpaired queen, there was no doubt in Robinton's mind that Lessa would insist on retribution.
But the egg had been returned! He must drum in that fact, must emphasize that obviously not all Southerners had been party to this heinous action. Some Oldtimers still honored the old codes of con- duct. No doubt one of them had been perceptive enough to guess what punitive action would be launched against the criminals and wished, as fervently as Robinton, to avoid such a confrontation.
"This is indeed a black moment," someone with a deep sad voice said. The Harper turned, grateful for the sane support of the Mastersmith. Fandarel's heavy features were etched with worry and, for the first time, Robinton noticed the puffiness of age blur- ring the man's features, yellowing his eyes. "Such perfidy must be punished—and yet it cannot be!"
The thought of dragon fighting dragon again seared Robinton's mind with terror. "Too much would be lost!" he said to Fandarel.
"They have already lost all they had, being sent into exile. I often wondered why they didn't rebel be- fore."
"They have now. With a vengeance."
"To be met with more vengeance. My friend, we must keep our wits today as never before. I fear Lessa may be unreasonable and unthinking. Al- ready she has let emotion dominate common sense." The Smith indicated the leather patch on Robinton's shoulder where his fire-lizard, Zair, customarily perched. "Where is your little friend now?"
"Brekke's weyr with Grail and Berd. I wanted him to return to the Harpercrafthall with Menolly, but he refused."
The Smith shook his great head again in sad slow sweeps as the two men entered the Council Cham- ber.
"I do not have a fire-lizard myself but I know only good of the little creatures. I never occurred to me that they constituted any threat for anyone."
"You will support me in this then, Fandarel?" asked Brekke, who had entered behind them with F'nor. "Lessa is not herself. I do really understand her anxiety but she cannot be allowed to damn all fire-lizards for the mischief of a few."
"Mischief?" F'nor was perturbed. "Don't let Lessa hear you call what happened mischief. Mischief? Stealing a queen egg?"
"The fire-lizard's part was only mischief... pop- ping in to Ramoth's cave like how many others have been doing since the eggs were laid." Brekke spoke more sharply than she usually did, and a tightness about F'nor's eyes and mouth indicated to Robinton that this couple were not in accord. "Fire-lizards have no sense of wrong or right."
"They'll have to leam..." P'nor began with more heat than discretion.
"I fear that we, who have no dragons," said Robinton, quickly intervening—lest today's event fracture the bond between the two lovers—"have been making too much of our little friends, carting them about with us wherever we go, doting as par- ents of a late child, permitting too many liberties of conduct. But a more restrained attitude toward fire- lizards in our midst is a very minor consideration in today's affair."
F'nor had dampened his aggravation. He nodded now at the Harper. "Suppose that egg hadn't been returned, Robinton..." His shoulders jerked in a convulsive shake and he pushed at his forehead as if trying to eliminate all memory of that scene.
"If the egg hadn't been returned," Robinton said implacably, "dragon would have fought dragon!" He spaced out his words, putting as much force and dis- taste as he could in his tone.
F'nor quickly shook his head, denying that out- come. "No, it would not have come to that, Robin- ton. You were wise..."
"Wise?" Spat out by the infuriated Weyrwoman, the word cut like a knife. Lessa stood at the entrance to the Council Room, her slender frame taut with the emotions of the morning, her face livid with her an- ger. "Wise? To let them get away with such a crime? To let them plot even more base treacheries? Why did I ever think it necessary to bring them forward? When I remember that I pleaded with that excres- cence T'ron to come and help us? Help us? He helps himself! To my queen's egg. If I could only undo my stupidity..."
"Your stupidity is in carrying on in this fashion," the Harper said coldly, knowing that what he had to say before the Weyrieaders and Craftmasters assem- bled in the Council Room might well alienate them all. "The egg has been returned—" "Yes, and when I—"
"That was what you wanted half an hour, an hour ago, was it not?" Robinton demanded, raising his voice commandingly. "You wanted the egg returned. To achieve that end you were within your rights to send dragon against dragon, and no one to fault you. But the egg has been returned. To set dragon against dragon for revenge? Oh, no, Lessa. That you have no right to do. Not in revenge.
"And if you must have revenge to satisfy your queen and your angry self, just think: They failed! They don't have that egg. Their actions have put all the Weyrs on guard so they could never succeed a second time. They have lost their one chance, Lessa. Their one hope of reviving their dying bronzes has failed. They have been thwarted. And they face... nothing. No future, no hope.
"You can do nothing worse to them, Lessa. So with the return of that egg, you have no right in the eyes of the rest of Pem to do anything more."
"I have the right to revenge that insult to me, to my queen, and to my Weyr!"
"Insult?" Robinton gave a short bark of laughter. "My dear Lessa, that was no insult. That was a com- pliment of the highest order!"
His unexpected laughter as well as his startling in- terpretation stunned Lessa into silence.
"How many queen eggs have been laid this past Turn?" Robinton demanded of the other Weyriead- ers. "And in Weyrs the Oldtimers would know more intimately than Benden. No, they wanted a queen of Ramoth's clutch! Nothing but the best that Pern could produce for the Oldtimers!" Adroitly Robinton left that argument. "Come, Lessa," he said with great sympathy and compassion, "we're all overwrought by this terrible event. None of us is thinking clearly..."
He passed his hand across his face, no sham gesture for he was perspiring with the effort to redirect the mood of so many. "Emotions are running far too high. And you've borne the brunt of it, Lessa." He took her by the arm and led the shocked but unresist- ing Weyrwoman to her chair, seating her with great concern and deference. "You must have been half- crazed by Ramoth's distress. She is calmer now, isn't she?"
Lessa's jaw dropped in amazement and she contin- ued to stare at Robinton with wide-open eyes. Then she nodded, closing her mouth and moistening her lips.
"So you'll be more yourself then, too." Robinton poured a cup of wine and passed it to her. Still bemused by his startling attitude, she even sipped it. "And able to realize that the worst catastrophe that could happen to this world would be for dragon to fight dragon."
Lessa set the cup down then, spilling wine on the stone table. "You... with your clever words..." and she pointed at Robinton, rising from the chair like an uncoiling spring. "You..."
"He was right, Lessa," F'lar said from the en- trance where he'd been watching the scene. He walked into the room, toward the table where Lessa sat. "We only had cause to invade Southern to search for our egg. Once it was returned, we would be damned by all Pern to pursue venegeance." He spoke to her but his eyes had gone to each Weyr- leader and Craftsmaster to judge their reactions. "Once dragon fights dragon, for whatever reason," his gesture wiped away any possible consideration, "we, the dragonriders of Pern, lose the rest of Pem!"
He gave Lessa a long hard look which she re- turned with frozen implacability. Squarely he faced the room. "I wish with all my heart that there'd been some other solution that day at Telgar for T'ron and T'kul. Sending them to the Southern Continent seemed to be the answer. There they could do the rest of Pern scant harm..."
"No, just us—just Benden!" Lessa spoke with palpable bitterness. "It's T'ron and Mardra, trying to get back at you and me!"
"Mardra would not favor a queen to depose her," said B
rekke, who did not turn aside when Lessa whirled on her.
"Brekke's right, Lessa," F'lar said, putting his hand on Lessa's shoulder with apparent casualness. "Mardra wouldn't like competition."
Robinton could see the pressure of the Weyrlead- er's fingers whitening his knuckles, although Lessa gave no sign.
"Neither would Merika, T'kul's Weyrwoman," said D'ram, the Istan Weyrleader, "and I knew her well enough to speak with surety now."
More than any of the others in this room, Robinton thought that the Oldtimer felt this turn of events most keenly. D'ram was an honest, loyal, fair-minded man. He had felt compelled to support F'lar against those of his own Time. By such backing, he had influenced R'mart and G'narish, the other Oldtime Weyrleaders, to side with the Benden Weyr at Telgar Hold. So many undercurrents and subtle pressures abounded in this chamber, Robinton thought. Whoever had con- ceived of kidnapping the queen egg might not have succeeded in that stratagem, but they had effectively shattered the solidarity of the dragonriders.
"I can't tell you how badly I feel about this, Lessa," D'ram continued, shaking his head. "When I heard, I couldn't believe. I just don't understand what good such an action would do them. T'kul's older than I. His Salth couldn't hope to fly a Benden queen. For that matter, none of the dragons in the South could fly a Benden queen!"
D'ram's puzzled comment did as much as Robin- ton's pointed remarks to ease the multiple strains in the Council Room. Unconsciously D'ram had sup- ported Robinton's contention that an oblique compli- ment had been paid Benden Weyr.
"Why, for that matter, by the time the new queen was old enough to fly to mate," D'ram added as if he'd just realized it, "their bronzes would likely be dead. Eight Southern dragons have died this past Turn. We all know that. So they tried to steal an egg for nothing... for nothing." His face was lined with tragic re- gret.
"Not for nothing," Fandarel said, his voice heavy with sadness. "For just look at what has happened to us who have been friends and allies for how many Turns? You dragonriders," his great forefinger stabbed at them, "were a fingernail away from setting your beasts against the old ones at Southern." Fandarel shook his head slowly from side to side. "This has been a terrible, terrible day! I am sorry for all of you." His gaze rested longest on Lessa. "But I think I am sorrier for myself and Pern if your anger doesn't cool and your good sense return. I will leave you now."
With great dignity he bowed to each of the Weyr- leaders and their women, to Brekke and last to Lessa, trying to catch her eyes. Failing, he gave a little sigh and left the room.
Fandarel had clearly stated what Robinton wanted to be sure Lessa heard and understood—that the dragonriders stood in grave peril of losing control over Hold and Craft if they permitted their outrage and indignation to control them. Enough had been said, in the heat of the moment, in front of those Holders summoned to the Weyr during the crisis. If no further action was to be taken now that the egg had been returned, no Holder or Craftmaster could fault Benden.
But how was anyone to get through to that stubborn Lessa, sitting there wallowing in fury and determined on a disastrous course of revenge? For the first time in his long Turn as Masterharper of Pern, Robinton was at a loss for words. Enough that he had lost Lessa's goodwill already! How could he make her see reason?
"Fandarel has reminded me that dragonriders can have no private quarrels without far-reaching effect,"
F'lar Said. "I permitted insult to overcome sanity once. Today is the result."
D'ram's bowed head came up and he stared fiercely at F'lar, then shook his head vigorously. There were ' murmured disclaimers from other dragonriders, that F'lar had acted in all honor at Telgar.
"Nonsense, F'lar," Lessa said, roused from her im- mobility. "That wasn't a personal fight. You had to fight T'ron that day to keep Pem together."
"And today I cannot fight T'ron, or the other Southerners, or I won't keep Pem together!"
Lessa stared back at F'lar for another long moment and then her shoulders sagged as she reluctantly ac- cepted that distinction.
"But... if that egg does not hatch, or if the little queen is in any way damaged..."
"If that should happen, we will certainly review the situation," F'lar promised her, raising his right hand to honor the condition.
Fervently Robinton hoped that the little hatchling would prove healthy and vigorous, not a whit the worse for its adventuring. By the Hatching, he ought to have some information that might appease Lessa and save F'lar's now pledged honor.
"I must return to Ramoth," Lessa announced. "She needs me." She strode from the room, past dragon- riders who deferentially moved aside.
Robinton looked at the cup of wine he had poured for her and, taking it up, downed the contents in one gulp. His hand was trembling as he lowered the cup and met F'lar's gaze.
"We could all use a cup," F'lar said, gesturing the others to gather about while Brekke, rising quickly to her feet, began to serve them.
"We will wait until the Hatching," the Benden Weyrleader went on. "I don't think I have to suggest that you all take precautions against a similar occur- rence."
"None of us have any clutches hardening right now, Flar," said R'mart of Telgar Weyr. "And none of us have Benden queens!" He had a sly twinkle in his eye as he glanced toward the Harper. "So, if eight of their beasts died this past Turn, I make it that there are now two hundred and forty-eight dragonriders left, and only five bronzes. Who brought the egg back?"
"The egg is back: that's all that matters," F'lar said then half-emptied his cup at the first swallow.
"Though I am deeply grateful to that rider." "We could find out," N'ton said quietly. F'lar shook his head. "I'm not sure I want to know.
I'm not sure we need to know—just as long as that egg hatches a live and kicking queen."
"Fandarel has his finger in the sore," Brekke said, moving gracefully to refill cups. "Just look what has happened to those of us who have been friends and allies for many Turns. I resent that more than any- thing else. And," she looked at everyone in turn, "I also resent the antagonism for all fire-lizards because some few, who were only being loyal to their friends, had a part in this hideous affair. I know I'm prej- udiced," she smiled sadly, "but I have so much reason to be grateful to our little friends. I would like to see sense prevail as regards them, too."
"We'll have to go softly on that score, Brekke," F'lar said, "but I have taken your point. Much was said this morning in the heat and confusion that was not meant to stand!"
"I hope so. I sincerely hope so," said Brekke. "Berd keeps telling me that dragons have flamed fire- lizards!"
Robinton let out a startled exclamation. "I got that wild notion from Zair, too, before I sent him to stay in your weyr, Brekke. But no dragon flamed here..." He looked about at the other Weyrleaders, some of whom were agreeing with Brekke's remark, others ex- pressing concern over such an unlikely occurrence. "Not yet..." Brekke said, nodding significantly toward Ramoth's weyr.
"Then we must make sure that the queen is not further upset by any sight of fire-lizards," F'lar said, his glance sweeping around the room for agreement. "For the time being," he added, raising his hand to stop the half-formed protests. "It is the better part of wisdom for them not to be seen or heard right now. I know they've been useful, and some are proving to be very reliable messengers. I know many of you have them. But direct them to Brekke if it is absolutely necessary to send them here." He looked directly at Robinton.
"Fire-lizards do not go where they are not wel- come," Brekke said. Then she added with a wry smile to take the sting out of her comment: "They're scared out of their hides right now anyway."
"So we do nothing until the egg has Hatched?" N'ton asked.
"Except to assemble the girls found on Search. Lessa will want them here as soon as possible, to ac- custom Ramoth to their presence. We'll all assemble again for the Hatching, Weyrleaders."
"A good Hatching," D'ram said with a fervor that was sincerely seconded by everyo
ne.
Robinton half-hoped that F'lar might hold him back as the others dispersed. But F'lar was in conver- sation with D'ram, and Robinton sadly decided that his absence would be appreciated. It grieved Robin- ton to be at odds with the Benden Weyrleaders and he felt weary as he made his way back to the weyr en- trance. Still, F'lar had supported Robinton's plea for deliberation. As he reached the last turning of the corridor, he saw Mnementh's bronze bulk on the ledge, and he hesitated, suddenly reluctant to ap- proach Ramoth's mate.
"Don't fret so, Robinton," N'ton said, stepping to his side and touching his arm. "You were so right and wise to speak out as you did, and probably the only one who could stop Lessa's madness. F'lar knows it." N'ton grinned. "But he does still have to contend with Lessa."
"Master Robinton," F'nor's voice was low as if he didn't wish to be overheard, "please join Brekke and me in my weyr. N'ton, too, if you're not pressed to re- turn to Fort Weyr."
Anne McCaffrey - Pern06 White Dragon Page 11