Dragon Quest

by Anne McCaffrey

  "Think of this assignment then, N'ton, as the ultimate Thread catch."

  Brekke had insisted on taking over the care of the plants in the Rooms once she was stronger. She argued that she was farmcraftbred and capable of such duties. She preferred not to be present during the demonstrations. In fact she went out of her way to avoid seeing anyone but weyrfolk. She could abide their sympathy but the pity of outsiders was repugnant to her.

  This did not affect her curiosity and she would get F'nor to tell her every detail of what she termed the best-known Craft secret on Pern. When F'nor narrated the Telgar Lord's bitter repudiation of what the Weyrs were trying to accomplish, she was visibly disturbed.

  "Larad's wrong," she said in the slow deliberate way she'd adopted lately. "The grubs are the solution, the right one. But it's true that the best solution is not always easy to accept. And an expedition to the Red Star is not a solution, even if it's the one Pernese instinctively crave. It's obvious. Just as two thousand dragons over Telgar Hold was rather obvious seven Turns ago." She surprised F'nor with a little smile, the first since Wirenth's death. "I myself, like Robinton, would prefer to rely on grubs. They present fewer problems. But then I'm craftbred."

  "You use that phrase a lot lately," F'nor remarked, turning her face toward him, searching her green eyes. They were serious, as always, and clear in the candid gaze was the shadow of a sorrow that would never lift.

  She locked her fingers in his and smiled gently, a smile which did not disperse the sorrow. "I was craftbred," she corrected herself. "I'm weyrfolk now." Berd crooned approvingly and Grall added a trill of her own.

  "We could lose a few Holds this Turn around," F'nor said bitterly.

  "That would solve nothing," she said. "I'm relieved that F'lar is going to watch that Nabolese. He has a warped mind."

  Suddenly she gasped, gripping F'nor's fingers so tight that her fingernails broke the skin.

  "What's the matter?" He put both arms around her protectively.

  "He has a warped mind," Brekke said, staring at him with frightened eyes. "And he also has a fire lizard, a bronze, as old as Grall and Berd. Does anyone know if he's been training it? Training it to go between?"

  "All the Lords have been shown how, " F'nor broke off as he realized the trend of her thought. Berd and Grall reacted to Brekke's fright with nervous squeals and fanning wings. "No, no, Brekke. He can't," F'nor reassured her. "Asgenar has one a week or so younger and he was saying how difficult he found it to send his Rial about in his own hold."

  "But Meron's had his longer. It could be further along ..."

  "Nabol?" F'nor was sceptical. "That man has no conception of how to handle a fire lizard."

  "Then why is he so fascinated with the Red Star? What else could he have in mind but to send his bronze lizard there?"

  "But he knows that dragonmen won't attempt to send dragons. How can he imagine that a fire lizard could go?"

  "He doesn't trust dragonmen," Brekke pointed out, obviously obsessed with the idea. "Why should he trust that statement? You've got to tell F'lar!"

  He agreed to because it was the only way to reassure her. She was still so pathetically thin. Her eyelids looked transparent though there was soft flush of color in her lips and cheeks.

  "Promise you'll tell F'lar."

  "I'll tell him. I'll tell him, but not in the middle of the night."

  With a wing of riders to direct between time for larval sacks the next day, his promise slipped F'nor's mind until late that evening. Rather than distress her with his forgetfulness, he asked Canth to bespeak N'ton's Lioth to pass the theory on to N'ton. If the Fort Weyr bronze rider saw anything that gave Brekke's premise substance, then they'd tell F'lar.

  He had a chance to speak to N'ton the following day as they met in the isolated valley field which Larad of Telgar Hold had picked to be seeded by grubs. The field, F'nor noticed with some jaundice, was planted with a new hybrid vegetable, much in demand as a table luxury and grown successfully only in some upland areas of Telgar and the High Reaches Hold.

  "Brekke may have something, F'nor," N'ton admitted. "The watchriders have mentioned that Nabol will stare for a long time into the distance-viewer and then suddenly stare into his fire lizard's eyes until the creature becomes frantic and tries to rise. In fact, last night the poor thing went between screaming. Nabol stalked off in a bad mood, cursing all Dragonkind."

  "Did you check what he'd been looking at?"

  N'ton shrugged. "Wasn't too clear last night. Lots of clouds. Only thing visible was that one gray tail, the place that resembles Nerat but points east instead of west. It was visible only briefly."

  F'nor remembered that feature well. A mass of grayness formed like a thick dragon tail, pointing in the opposite direction from the planet's rotation.

  "Sometimes," N'ton chuckled, "the clouds above the star are clearer than anything we can see below. The other night, for instance, there was a cloud drift that looked like a girl," N'ton made passes with his hands to describe a head, and a few to one side of the air-drawn circle, "braiding her hair. I could see her head, tilted to the left, the half-finished braid and then the stream of free hair. Fascinating."

  F'nor did not dismiss that conversation entirely for he'd noticed the variety of recognizable patterns in the clouds around the Red Star and often had been more absorbed in that show than in what he was supposed to be watching for.

  N'ton's report of the fire lizard's behavior was very interesting. The little creatures were not as dependent on their handlers as dragons. They were quite apt to disappear between when bored or asked to do something they didn't feel like doing. They reappeared after an interlude, usually near dinnertime, evidently assuming people forgot quickly.

  Grall and Berd had apparently matured beyond such behavior. Certainly they had a nice sense of responsibility toward Brekke. One was always near her. F'nor was willing to wager that Grall and Berd were the most reliable pair of fire lizards on Pern.

  Nevertheless, Meron would be watched closely. It was just possible that he could dominate his fire lizard. His mind, as Brekke said, was warped.

  As F'nor entered the passageway to his weyr that evening, he heard a spirited conversation going on although he couldn't distinguish the words.

  "Lessa is worried," Canth told him, shaking his wings flat against his back as he followed his rider.

  "When you've lived with a man for seven Turns, you know what's on his mind," Lessa was saying urgently as F'nor entered. She turned, an almost guilty expression on her face replaced by relief when she recognized F'nor.

  He looked past her to Brekke whose expression was suspiciously blank. She didn't summon even a welcoming smile for him.

  "Know what's on whose mind, Lessa? F'nor asked, unbelting his riding tunic. He tossed his gloves to the table and accepted the wine which Brekke poured him.

  Lessa sank awkwardly into the chair beside her, her eyes darting everywhere but toward him.

  "Lessa is afraid that F'lar may attempt to go to the Red Star himself," Brekke said, watching him.

  F'nor considered that as he drank his wine. "F'lar's not a fool, my dear girls. A dragon has to know where he's going. And we don't know what to tell them. Mnementh's no fool either." But as F'nor passed his cup to Brekke to be refilled, he had a sudden flash of N'ton's hair-braiding cloud lady.

  "He can't go," Lessa said, her voice harsh. "He's what holds Pern together. He's the only one who can consolidate the Lord Holders, the Craftmasters and the Dragonriders. Even the Oldtimers trust him now. Him. No one else!"

  Lessa was unusually upset, F nor realized. Grall and Berd came gliding in to perch on the posts of Brekke's chair, chirping softly and preening their wings.

  Lessa ignored their antics, leaning across the table, one hand on F'nor's to hold his attention. "I heard what the Harper said about miracles. Salvation in three days!" Her eyes were bitter.

  "Going to the Red Star is salvation for no one, Lessa!"

  "Yes, but we
don't know that for certain. We've only assumed that we can't because the ancients didn't. And until we prove to the Lords what the actual conditions there are, they will not accept the alternative!"

  "More trouble from Larad?" F'nor asked sympathetically, rubbing the back of his neck. His muscles felt unaccountably tight.

  "Larad is bad enough," she said bitterly, "but I'd rather him than Raid and Sifer. They've somehow got hold of rumors and they're demanding instant action."

  "Show 'em the grubs!"

  Lessa abruptly released F'nor's hand, pursing her lips with exasperation. "If grubs didn't reassure Larad of Telgar, they'll have less effect on those old blow-hards! No, they," and in emphasizing the pronoun she underscored her contempt for the old Lord Holders, "are of the opinion that Meron of Nabol has found coordinates after nights of watching and is maliciously withholding them from the rest of Pern."

  F'nor grinned and shook his head. "N'ton is watching Meron of Nabol. The man has found nothing. He couldn't do anything without our knowledge. And he certainly isn't having any luck with his fire lizard."

  Lessa blinked, looking at him without comprehension.

  "With his fire lizard?"

  "Brekke thinks Meron might attempt to send his fire lizard to the Red Star."

  As if a string in her back had been pulled, Lessa jerked up in her chair, her eyes huge and black as she stared first at him, then at Brekke.

  "Yes, that would be like him. He wouldn't mind sacrificing his fire lizard for that, would he? And it's as old as yours." Her hand flew to her mouth. "If he ..."

  F'nor laughed with an assurance he suddenly didn't honestly feel. Lessa had reacted far too positively to a notion he privately considered unlikely. Of course, she didn't have a fire lizard and might not appreciate their limitations. "He may be trying," he felt obliged to say. "N'ton's been watching him. But he's not succeeding. I don't think Meron can. He doesn't have the temperament to handle fire lizards. You simply can't order them about the way you do drudges."

  Lessa clenched her fists in an excess of frustration.

  "There's got to be something we can do. I tell you, F'nor, I know what F'lar has on his mind. I know he's trying to find some way to get to the Red Star if only to prove to the Lord Holders that there is no other alternative but the grubs!"

  "He may be willing to risk his neck, my dear Lessa, but is Mnementh willing?"

  Lessa flashed F'nor a look of pure dislike. "And put the notion in the poor beast's head that this is what F'lar wants? I could throttle Robinton. Him and his three-day salvation! F'lar can't stop thinking about that. But F'lar is not the one to go," and she broke off, biting her lip, her eyes sliding toward Brekke.

  "I understand, Lessa," Brekke said very slowly, her eyes unwinking as she held Lessa's. "Yes, I understand you.

  F'nor began to massage his right shoulder. He must have been between too much lately.

  "Never mind," Lessa said suddenly, with unusual force. "I'm just overwrought with all this uncertainty. Forget what I said. I'm only imagining things. I'm as tired as, as we all are "

  "You're right there, Lessa," F'nor agreed. "We're all seeing problems which don't exist. After all, no Lord Holder has come to Benden Weyr and thrown down any ultimatum. What could they do? F'lar certainly has been forthright, explained the project of grub protection so often I'll be ill if I have to listen to it once more. Certainly he's been open with the other Weyrleaders, the Craftmasters, being sure that everyone knows exactly what the over-all plan is. Nothing will go wrong this time. This is one Craft secret that won't get lost because someone can't read a Record skin!"

  Lessa rose, her body taut. She licked her lips. "I think," she said in a low voice, "that's what scares me most. He's taking such precautions to be sure everyone knows. Just in case ..."

  She broke off and rushed out of the Weyr.

  F'nor stared after her. That interpretation of F'lar's overtness began to assume frightening significance. Disturbed, he turned to Brekke, surprised to see tears in the girl's eyes. He took her in his arms.

  "Look, I'll get some rest, we'll eat, and then I'll go to Fort Weyr. See Meron myself. Better still," and he hugged her reassuringly, "I'll bring Grall along. She's the oldest we've got. I'll see if she'd take the trip. If any of the fire lizards would go, she'd be the one. There now! How's that for a good idea?" She clung to him, kissing him so urgently that he forgot Lessa's disturbing idea, forgot he was hungry and tired, and responded with eager surprise to her ardent demands.

  Grall hadn't wanted to leave Berd where the bronze fire lizard was cuddled on the cushion by Brekke's head. But then, F'nor didn't much want to leave Brekke. She'd reminded him, after they'd loved each other deeply, that they had obligations. If Lessa had been worried enough about F'lar to confide in Brekke and F'nor, she was more deeply concerned than she'd admit. Brekke and F'nor must assume such responsibility as they could.

  Brekke was a great one for assuming responsibility, F'nor thought with affectionate tolerance as he roused Canth. Well, it wouldn't take long to check on Meron. Or to see if Grall would consider going to the Red Star. That certainly was a better alternative than F'lar making the trip. If the little queen lizard would consider it.

  Canth was in high good humor as they wheeled first above Benden Weyr, then burst out of between above Fort Weyr's Star Stones. There were glows along the crown of the Weyr rim and, beyond the Star Stones, the silhouettes of several dragons.

  "Canth and F'nor of Benden Weyr," the brown dragon announced in answer to the watchrider's query. "Lioth is here and the green dragon who must stay at Nabol," Canth added as he backwinged to a light landing. Grall swooped above F'nor's head, waiting until Canth had taken off to join the other beasts before she took her shoulder perch.

  N'ton stepped out of the shadows, his welcoming grin distorted by the path glows. He jerked his head back, toward the distance-viewer.

  "He's here and his lizard's in a fine state. Glad you came. I was about to ask Lioth to bespeak Canth."

  The bronze Nabol lizard began to screech with a distress which Grall echoed nervously. Her wings extended. F'nor stroked them down to her back, emitting the human version of a lizard croon which usually calmed her. She tightened her wings but started to hop from one foot to the other, he eyes whirling restlessly.

  "Who's that?" demanded Meron of Nabol peremptorily. Meron's shadow detached itself from the larger one of the rock on which the distance-viewer was mounted.

  "F'nor, Wing-second of Benden Weyr," the brown rider answered coldly.

  "You've no business in Fort Weyr," Meron said, his tone rasping. "Get out of here!"

  "Lord Meron," N'ton said, stepping in front of F'nor. "F'nor of Benden has as much right in Fort Weyr as you."

  "How dare you speak to a Lord Holder in that fashion?"

  "Can he have found something?" F'nor asked N'ton in a low voice.

  N'ton shrugged and moved toward the Nabolese. The little lizard began to shriek. Grall extended her wings again. Her thoughts were a combination of dislike and annoyance, tinged with fear.

  "Lord Nabol, you have had the use of the distance-viewer since full dark."

  "I'll have the use of the distance-viewer as long as I choose, dragonman. Go away. Leave me!"

  Far too accustomed to instant compliance with his orders, Nabol turned back to the viewer. F'nor's eyes were used to the darkness by now and he could see the Lord Holder bend to place his eye to the viewer. He also saw that the man held tight to his fire lizard though the creature was twisting and writhing to escape. Its agitated screeching rose to a nerve-twitting pitch.

  "The little one is terrified," Canth told his rider.

  "Grall terrified?" F'nor asked the brown dragon, startled. He could see that Grall was upset but he didn't read terror in her thoughts.

  "Not Grall. The little brother. He is terrified. The man is cruel."

  F'nor had never heard such condemnation from his dragon.

  Suddenly Canth let out an incred
ible bellow. It startled the riders, the other two dragons, and put Grall into flight. Before half the dragons of Fort Weyr roused to bugle a query, Canth's tactic had achieved the effect he'd wanted. Meron had lost his hold on the fire lizard and it had sprung free and gone between.

  With a cry of rage for such interference, Meron sprang toward the Dragonriders, to find his way blocked by the menacing obstacle of Canth's head.

  "Your assigned rider will take you back to your Hold, Lord Meron," N'ton informed the Lord Holder. "Do not return to Fort Weyr."

  "You've no right! You can't deny me access to that distance-viewer. You're not the Weyrleader. I'll call a Conclave. I'll tell them what you're doing. You'll be forced to act. You can't fool me! You can't deceive Nabol with your evasions and temporizing. Cowards! You're cowards, the pack of you! Always knew it. Anyone can get to the Red Star. Anyone! I'll call your bluff, you neutered perverts!"

  The green dragon, her eyes redly malevolent, dipped her shoulder to Meron. Without a break in his ranting denunciation, the Lord of Nabol climbed the riding straps and took his place on her neck. She had not cleared the Star Stones before F'nor was at the distance-viewer, peering at the Red Star.

  What could Meron have seen? Or was he merely bellowing baseless accusations to unsettle them?

  As often as he had seen the Red Star with its boiling cover of reddish-gray clouds, F'nor still experienced a primitive stab of fear. Tonight the fear was like an extra-cold spine from his balls to his throat. The distance-viewer revealed the westward-pointing tail of the gray mass which resembled a featureless, backward Nerat. The jutting edge of the swirling clouds obscured it. Clouds that swirled to form a pattern, no lady braiding her hair tonight. Rather, a massive fist, thumb of darker gray curling slowly, menacingly over the clenched fingers as if the clouds themselves were grabbing the tip of the gray mass. The fist closed and lost its definition, resembling now a single facet of a dragon's complete eye, half-lidded for sleep.

  "What could he have seen?" N'ton demanded urgently, tapping F'nor's shoulder to get his attention.

  "Clouds," F'nor said, stepping back to let N'ton in. "Like a fist. Which turned into a dragon's eye. Clouds, that's all he could have seen, over backward Nerat!"