Anne McCaffrey - Pern06 White Dragon

by Pern06 White Dragon(lit)

  We are to hunt singly. F'nor asks that we get a large wherry. They will try for a buck apiece. That should be enough for today.

  "If it isn't," Jaxom replied, "we can always go af- ter one of the big fish."

  In fact, Jaxom quite looked forward to the oppor- tunity. He had never had occasion to use a spear- headed rope but... He spotted a wherry, a fine big one, fanning its tail spines as it stalked majestically after the wherry-fens. Jaxom tightened his legs on Ruth's neck, tested the weighted loop end of the rope in his hands. He pictured the wherry-male to Ruth, who turned his head obediently to point. Then Ruth dove, his wings back to give Jaxom room to throw, his tucked-up legs nearly touching the meadow grass. Jaxom leaned forward over Ruth's near side and threw the loop deftly about the wherry's big ugly head. The creature reared back, helpfully tightening the noose. As Jaxom dug his heels into Ruth, the dragon soared upward. With a deft yank, Jaxom neatly broke the wherry's neck.

  It was a heavy bird, Jaxom realized as the dead weight pulled his arms almost from the sockets. Ruth took some of the strain as he caught the rope with his forepaw. - F'nor says good catch. He hopes he can do as well!

  Jaxom guided Ruth to the edge of the meadow furthest from the other hunters. Then, letting the car- cass down lightly, Ruth landed and Jaxom began to secure the snatch across Ruth's back. They were air- borne again in time to see T'gellan valiantly pursuing the buck he'd missed on his first throw. F'nor and N'ton had their beasts neatly dangling. F'nor pumped his arm in triumph as he and N'ton circled back to the cove. As Ruth followed, Jaxom saw T'gellan suc- ceed in his second throw; none too soon for they'd had to soar to miss the edge of the forest and nearly entangled the depending buck in the trees. A good quick hunt, though, which meant the quarry would forget quickly the small excitement. Undoubtedly they'd have to hunt again tomorrow. Jaxom couldn't see even that enormous work force finishing the Harper's new hold in a day! Maybe tomorrow they could go after the big fish.

  They had not been gone long, although their return trip took slightly more time, burdened as they were. A massive clearing had been made in the center of the grove. Just as Jaxom wondered how on earth even that many men had been able to fell the neces- sary trees, he saw a dragon lift one out of the ground by the roots, and carry it to the beach of the next cove east where the tree was neatly stacked on others. As Ruth and he neared the site, Jaxom saw that pil- lars of black reef rock were in place and sev- eral crossbeams of the treated, seasoned hardwoods Master Bendarek had brought were being secured in position. A wide avenue in a graceful curve had also been cleared and sand dumped from firestone sacks transported on dragonback. Other workmen on the edges of the clearing were involved in a variety of tasks—sawing, planing, nailing, fitting—while an- other file of men carried black reef rock from piles on the cove edge.

  On the eastern tip, Jaxom could see that pits had been dug for roasting, metal spits erected and fires started. Tables had been placed in the shade on which Jaxom could see the piled mounds of red, orange and green fruits.

  Ruth hovered over the clearing, gently landing. Two men by the fire-pits leaped to Jaxom's assistance as he offloaded the wherry. Ruth immediately vaulted out of the way so that Jaxom could guide the other carcasses dangling from the hunting ropes of the bigger dragons.

  F'nor, stripping off his flying gear, walked slowly up to Jaxom, squinting against the brilliant glare from the sands as he surveyed the activity in the once peaceful cove. He sighed deeply but began to nod his head as if unexpectedly satisfied by something.

  "Yes, it'll work out all right," he said, more to him- self than to Jaxom because he turned then, smiling, and gripped Jaxom by the shoulder. "Yes, they'll make the transition easily."

  "Transition?"

  F'nor clearly didn't mean the present building frenzy.

  "Dragonfolk going back to the land, the hold. How much exploring have you been able to do around here?"

  "The coves, as far back as those river meadows, and some of the immediate interior the day before yesterday with Piemur."

  As one, the two men turned toward the cone of the volcano that lay, cloud clad, in the distance.

  "Yes, it does sort of draw your eye, doesn't it?" F'nor grinned. "You'll get there first, Jaxom. In fact, I'd prefer it if you and Piemur began some serious explorations with that as your goal. Yes, that pleases you, doesn't it? Better for you, too, and Piemur. Now, before I forget it again, where's that fire-lizard clutch you reported?"

  "There're twenty-one eggs and I'd like to have five of them, if I may..."

  "Of course!"

  "To be taken to Ruatha!"

  "By evening."

  "You know, that's curious." Jaxom craned his body about, looking everywhere.

  "What?"

  "Usually there're a lot more fire-lizards around. I don't count more than a double handful. And they're all banded."

  Chapter XVII

  Fort Hold, Benden Weyr, at Cove Hold, and at Sea aboard the Dawn Sister, 15.10.1-15.10.2

  WHEN THE THREE fire-lizards had made the first overtures of greeting, the three men, grinning at the enthusiasm shown by their friends, made themselves comfortable around the table in the small room at Fort Hold where Lord Groghe held his private meetings. Sebell had been there frequently, but never as spokes- man for his Crafthall and never when Lord Groghe had summoned the Fort Weyrleader as well, in what was obviously a matter of some importance.

  "Not sure how to begin," Lord Groghe said as he poured the wine. Sebell thought that was a very good way to begin, especially since the Lord Holder had honored them with Benden wine. "Might as well plunge. Problem's this... I backed F'lar when he fought T'ron," Groghe nodded at the current Fort Weyrleader, "because I knew he was right. Right to exile those misfits where they'd do no one any harm. While the Oldtimers were in the Southern Weyr, made sense to leave them alone, just as long as they left us alone—which they mostly did." Lord Groghe peered from under his heavy brows first at N'ton and then at Sebell.

  Since both men were aware that there had been oc- casional depredations in Fort Hold which could only be attributed to the dissident Oldtimers, they nodded acknowledgment of that point. Lord Groghe cleared his throat, and folded his hands across his thick middle.

  "Point is, they're mostly dead, or waiting to die. No trouble anymore. D'ram, being sort of F'lar's repre- sentative, is bringing in dragonfolk from other Weyrs, to make it a proper Weyr again, fighting Thread and all that! I approve!" He favored the Harpercraftmaster and then the Weyrleader with long meaningful glances. "Hmmm. Well, that's all to the good, isn't it? Protect- ing the South against Thread! Thing of it is, with the Southern Weyr working again, as it were, that Southern land is safe. Now I know there's a hold established there. Young Toric. Wouldn't want to in- terfere with his Holding. No way! He's earned it. But a working Weyr can protect more than one small hold, now, can't it?" He pinned his gimlet stare on N'ton, who contrived to maintain an attitude of courteous interest, forcing Lord Groghe to continue without any help.

  "Well, hmmm. Trouble is, you bring up a fair of young 'uns to know how to hold proper and that's what they want to do. Hold! Terrible fights they get into. Terrible quarrels. Fostering 'em don't help much. Just got to foster others and they quarrel and fight. Scorch it! They all need holds of their own." Lord Groghe banged his fist on the table emphasizing this point. "I can't split my land more'n it is and I'm Holding every square length that isn't bare rock. Can't put out men who're beholden to me as their fathers and grandfathers and greats were? That's not proper Holding on my side. And I won't turn 'em out to please my kin. Not that it would.

  "Thing of it is, while the Oldtimers were south, wouldn't have dreamed of suggesting it. But they aren't in command anymore. D'ram is and he's F'lar's man and he'll make it a proper Weyr so there could be more holdings, couldn't there?"

  Lord Groghe glanced from Harper to Weyrleader, daring them to contradict him. "There's plenty of un- held land in the South, isn't there? No one really
knows how much. But I heard Masterfisherman Idarolan say one of his ships cruised for days along a coastline. Hmmm yes, well." Then he started to chuckle, a mirth that increased into a wheeze that shook the large well- fleshed frame of the Lord Holder. He was reduced to speechlessness and impotently pointed his thick fore- finger first at one and then the other, trying to indicate something by gesture which his laughter kept him from explaining by word.

  Helplessly, N'ton and Sebell exchanged grins and shrugs, unable to perceive what amused Lord Groghe or what he wanted to convey to them. The monu- mental mirth subsided, leaving Lord Groghe weak to the point of wiping tears from his eyes.

  "Well trained! That's what you pair are! Well trained!" he gasped, pounding his chest with his fist to stop his wheezing. He coughed long and then, as abruptly as the laughter had seized him, he turned solemn. "Can't fault either of you. Won't. Shouldn't give up Weyr secrets easily anyhow. Appreciate that. Do me one favor. Tell F'lar. Remind him that it's bet- ter to attack than defend. Not but what he doesn't al- ready know that! I think," Lord Groghe stabbed at his chest with his thumb, "he'd better be prepared... soon. Trouble is, everyone in Pern knows that the Masterharper is going south to get well. Everyone wishes Master Robinton the best of luck. Yet everyone is beginning to wonder about that Southern Continent now it's not closed anymore."

  "Southern is too big to be adequately protected against Thread which still falls there," N'ton said.

  Lord Groghe nodded, mumbling that he was aware of that. "Point is, people know you can live without hold and survive Threadfall!" The Lord Holder's eyes narrowed as he glanced at Sebell. "That Menolly girl of yours did it! Hear tell Toric in Southern got little help from those Oldtimers during Falls."

  "Tell me, Lord Groghe," Sebell asked in his quiet way, "have you ever been out in Fall?"

  Lord Groghe shuddered a bit. "Once. Ohhh, well, yes, I take your point, Harper. I take your point. Still, one way to separate boys from men!" He gave a sharp nod of his head. "That's my notion. Separate boys from men!" He gazed up at N'ton, a sly look in his eyes though his expression continued bland. "Or don't the Weyrs want the boys separated?"

  N'ton laughed, to the Lord's surprise. "It's time we separated more than the boys. Lord Groghe."

  "Huh?"

  "We will convey your message to F'lar today." The Fort Weyrieader raised his cup to the Lord Holder as a seal on that promise.

  "Can't ask fairer than that! What news, Master Sebell, of Master Robinton?"

  Sebell's eyes lit with amusement. "He's four days out of Ista Hold, resting comfortably."

  "Ha!" Lord Groghe begged to disbelieve that.

  "Well, I'm told he's comfortable," Sebell replied. "Whether he is of the same opinion or not."

  "Going to that pretty place where young Jaxom's trapped, huh?"

  "Trapped?" Sebell regarded Lord Groghe with mock horror. "He's not trapped, only restricted from flying between for a while longer."

  "Been at that cove. Beautiful. Whereabouts is it ex- actly?"

  "In the South," Sebell answered.

  "Humph. All right, you won't tell? You won't tell! Don't blame you. Beautiful place. Now, off with the pair of you and tell F'lar what I've said. Don't think I'll be the last but it'd be a help to be the first. Help to him. Help to me! Dratted sons of mine drive me to drinking!" The Lord Holder rose and so did the two younger men. "Tell your Master I was asking for him when you see him next, Sebell."

  "I will, sir!"

  Lord Groghe's little queen, Merga, chirped brightly at Sebell's Kimi and N'ton's Tris as the three men walked to the Hall door. To Sebell, it indicated that Lord Groghe was well pleased with the interview.

  Neither man made any comment until they were well down the wide ramp that led from the courtyard of Fort Hold to the main paved roadway of the com- plex Hold.

  Then N'ton heard Sebell's soft and satisfied chuckle. "It worked, N'ton, it worked."

  "What worked?"

  "The Lord Holder's asking the Weyrleaders' per- mission to go south!"

  "Why shouldn't they?" N'ton seemed perplexed.

  'Sebell grinned broadly at his friend. "By the Shell, it worked with you, too! Do you have time to take me to Benden Weyr? Lord Groghe's right. He might be the first though I doubt it, knowing Lord Corman's ways, but he won't be the last."

  "What worked with me, Sebell?"

  Sebell's grin deepened and his brown eyes danced. "Now I'm well trained not to give away craft secrets, my friend."

  N'ton made a noise of disgusted impatience and stopped in the middle of the dusty pavement. "Explain or you don't go."

  "It should be so obvious, N'ton. Do think on it. While you take me to Benden. If you haven't figured out what I mean, I'll tell you there. I'll have to inform F'lar what's been done anyhow."

  "Lord Groghe, too, eh?" F'lar regarded the two younger men thoughtfully.

  He'd just returned from fighting Thread over Keroon and a surprising after-Fall interview with Lord Corman, punctuated with much honking of the Lord's large and perpetually runny nose.

  "Threadfall over Keroon today?" Sebell asked and when F'lar grimaced sourly, the young Craftmaster grinned at N'ton. "Lord Groghe wasn't first!"

  Giving vent to the irritation he felt, F'lar slapped his riding gauntlets down on the table.

  "I apologize for barging in when you must wish to rest, Weyrieader," Sebell said, "but if Lord Groghe has thought of those empty lands to the south, others have, too. He suggested that you'd better be warned."

  "Warned, huh?" F'lar brushed the forelock out of his eyes and grimly poured a cup of wine for himself. Recalling courtesy, he poured wine for N'ton and Sebell.

  "Sir, the matter's not yet out of hand."

  "Hordes of holdless men wanting to swarm south, and it's not out of hand?"

  "They have to ask Benden's permission first!"

  F'lar was in the act of swallowing wine and nearly choked in surprise.

  "Ask Benden's permission? How does that come about?"

  "Master Robinton's doing," N'ton said, grinning from ear to ear.

  "Excuse me, I don't seem to be following you," F'lar said, sitting down. He dabbed the splattered wine from his lips. "What has Master Robinton, who is, I trust, safely at sea, to do with Groghe, Corman and who knows who else wanting Southern lands for their many sons?"

  "Sir, you know that I've been sent about Pern—north and south—by the Masterharper? Lately I've had two important tasks to accomplish above and beyond my normal duties. First I was to take the temper of every small Hold as regarded duty to Hold and Weyr. Sec- ondly I was to reinforce the belief that it is to Benden Weyr everyone on Pern must look!"

  F'lar blinked, shook his head as if to clear his mind and then leaned forward to Sebell.

  "Go on. This is very interesting."

  "Benden Weyr only could appreciate the changes that had occurred to Hold and Craft during the Long Interval, because only Benden had changed with the Turns. You, as Benden Weyrleader, saved Pern from Thread when no one else felt Thread would ever fall again. You also protected your Time from the excesses of those Oldtimers, who could not accept the gradual changes of Hold and Craft. You upheld the rights of

  Hold and Craft against your own kind and exiled those who would not look to you for leadership.

  "Hmm. I hadn't ever heard it put quite like that," F'lar said.

  To N'ton's amusement, Benden's Weyrleader squirm- ed, partly embarrassed but mostly gratified by the sum- mation.

  "And so the South became closed off!"

  "Not precisely closed off," F'lar said. "Tone's people always came and went." He grimaced at the present regercussions of that liberty.

  "They came north, true, but traders or anyone else only went south with the permission of Benden Weyr."

  "I don't remember saying that at Telgar Hold the day I fought T'ron!" F'lar struggled to recall clearly what had happened that day other than a wedding, a fight and a Threadfall.

  "You didn't actually say
so in so many words," Sebell replied, "but you asked for and received the sup- port of three other Weyrieaders, and every Lord Holder and Craftmaster..."

  "And Master Robinton construed that to mean Ben- den gives all orders regarding Southern?"

  "More or less." Sebell made that admission cau- tiously.

  "But not in so many words, eh, Sebell?" F'lar asked, appreciating afresh the devious mind of the Harper.

  "Yes, sir. It seemed the course to take, sir, con- sidering your own wish to secure some part of the Southern Continent for the dragonfolk during the next Interval."