The Dolphins of Pern (26 page)

“Did you find any more ruins? Like F’lessan did?”

T’lion gave a snort. “Ruins, I found. But nothing half so well preserved as Honshu.
That
is really spectacular. In fact, that’s the only place that was properly built. The others are all smack dab in wide-open spaces.”

Readis mirrored his consternation at such stupidity. The Ancients had known so much: why had they been so silly to build out in the open?

“Of course,” T’lion went on in a slightly patronizing tone, “the first few years they didn’t have Thread so they didn’t build proper.”

“Oh, yes, that’s right,” Readis agreed. “So, where have you seen places?”

“Gaddie wants a lake and there are quite a few and also some wide rivers, which are nearly better than lakes. That big inland sea, the one the Ancients called the Caspian, has some lovely islands. They’d be perfect.” He sighed. “But I’d be low on the list for a prime site like that. Another place I like a lot is not far from the old mines that Master Hamian is working now. Place the Ancients called Karachi. Pretty name, isn’t it? They had lots of unusual names. And there’s a cliff in the Southern Range which has a fairly decent-sized cave. View is fabulous and the ledge is wide enough for Gad to snooze on.” T’lion shot a fond look at his sleeping dragon. “Trouble would be having a weyrmate and family. They’d have to wait on Gaddie to get up or down.”

“That would be a disadvantage, but couldn’t you make stairs, the way they did at Honshu?”

“I suppose so …” T’lion paused, deep in thought. “Rather high up so it’d take a lot of stone carving. Then, too, I’d have to find work somewhere else. At the mines, we could always convey …” At Readis’s gasp of surprise, he said, “Well, transporting isn’t a bad way to make a living for a dragon and his rider. Particularly a big strong bronze like Gaddie. It’s a lot less dangerous to hide and health than Thread-fighting.”

“Yes, I suppose it is. But if you went that far inland, you’d be too far from the sea and the dolphins. They can’t swim in fresh water, you know. They don’t float well and they get sores.”

“Hmmm.” T’lion once again retreated into thought.

“Haven’t you found any place nice along the shore?”

“Oh, there’re coves left, right, and center.” T’lion dismissed them. “But you’re right. I’d miss Boojie and Natua and Tana. It’s a case of wanting what you get, I suppose. Then, too, other teams are searching east of here. I suppose I could ask to switch but the land I’ve been overflying is magnificent. You wouldn’t believe how much space there is!”

“Tell me,” Readis urged.

By the time darkness was falling, Readis was relieved to realize that Paradise River Hold had a great many advantages. His parents had been very lucky to be granted hold of it. And it was rather nice to have neighbors farther down the river. There might even be some new ones along the coast, if they could find a decent supply of stone to build their cotholds.

“Why do the Weyrleaders decide who gets what
land?” he asked as he changed into his clothes for the trip back to Landing,

“Not just the Weyrleaders, Readis,” T’lion said with a grin. “The Lord Holders and the Craftmasters’ll have a say, too. But this time, the Weyrs get first choice.”

“They do deserve it. If they can hold what they want. The pod warned us just last week of another group trying to land, west of the river.”

“Really?”

“Dad sailed out with Alemi and they left. We outnumbered them,” Readis said with Hold pride. “One day, we might not,” he added ruefully.

“There’s a lot of decisions to be made, aren’t there?” T’lion said with a sigh.

Gadareth and T’lion brought Readis back to Landing. Seeing the area from a height, buildings lit, and people walking up and down the paths, Readis felt a surge of pride to be part of this place, which had had a glorious past and was now preparing for a future: the future that, in fact, had been planned a long time ago for this planet.

T’lion said he’d find time in the next sevenday to get to the Mastersmithhall in Telgar and he’d let Readis know the outcome.

“You may not have any marks to spend at a Gather for some time to come,” he said. “But then, neither will I!”

T’lion was back three days later, looking highly amused as he sauntered into Readis’s quarters.

“We’re not the only ones,” he announced.

“Only ones who what?” Readis asked, half of his mind still on the mathematics he was figuring.

“Who found the aqua-lung and want the Master-smith to make ’em. And I was right.”

“About what?”

“The face mask. There isn’t any sort of elastic material that will keep a mask comfortably tight and seal it against a face.”

“Oh.”

T’lion did not appear to be concerned about that lack. “Seems as if that sort of flexible material is needed for a lot of things the Ancients used. So Master Hamian and one or two of that Hall over in Southern Hold are experimenting.”

“Who else wants the aqua-lung?”

“Idarolan, for one. He’s really quite an advocate of dolphins. Master Fandarel told me …”

“You saw Master Fandarel himself?”

T’lion grinned. “I think I shall miss the courtesies accorded dragonriders.” He sighed wistfully. “I did see him but only after I’d talked to half a dozen journeymen and masters. Evidently Idarolan is mad because he’s too old to do too much with dolphins—too old and too busy as Masterfishman.”

Readis was beset with conflicting emotions: that someone as prestigious as a Craftmaster wanted to be with dolphins and would have more authority than he, Readis, ever could; that someone else might usurp his connection, tenuous as it was, with a pod; and fury at his mother’s prejudice, which kept him from openly associating with these marvelous creatures.

“Don’t look so bereft, Readis,” T’lion said. “It’s not the end of the world. Look how many pods we’ve
already contacted—and how many more there are out there. Yours’ll be yours. And you already share it with Alemi, don’t you? Besides, you’re going to be Holder at Paradise River.”

“Which is a Sea Hold, too, so the dolphins are important to us. And who knows when, or
if”
—and Readis slapped the knee of his withered leg—“I get to
be
Holder. My father’s a healthy man …” F’lessan’s words at Honshu came back to him: “What are you going to do in the time between?” Then there was his younger brother, Anskono, with both legs in good working order and growing stronger and taller every year. Readis could be passed over in favor of his unimpaired younger brother.

“Paradise River’s a big place, Readis,” T’lion went on. “Big enough for you to hold on your own, separate from your parents. Your father’s barely touched the heart of it, even with all the folks he’s taken in over the last Turns. With a lot of seacoast.”

That prospect hadn’t occurred to Readis, though it had been standard practice for most northern Lord Holders to establish smaller holds for their sons whenever possible. That was another reason so many northerners looked enviously at all the space available on the Southern Continent: every accessible and workable site in the major northern holds was already long established. Readis knew from conversations at Gathers that Lord Toric had let some younger sons run Holds in Southern, but not every candidate met the high standards that Lord Toric expected or wanted to work under that taskmaster’s total authority.

“You could establish a dolphin base of your own and be a dolphineer. Wouldn’t hurt.”

“No, it wouldn’t,” Readis agreed absently, thinking about his mother and cringing a bit at having deceived her, and his father. They’d no idea that he’d spent so much time with the Paradise River pod—unless Alemi had told them.

“And Lord Toric’s another one who wants aqualungs,” T’lion said. “That man!” And he shook his head. “He’s not going to let a chance pass him by. He’s ordered ten breathers.”

“He’s going to start a Dolphineer Hall?”

“No,” T’lion said with a wry grin. “That would require him to allow others to join.” His grin faded. “Not that he’d have the chance with Master Idarolan on the dolphins’ side.”

Readis gave a sigh of relief.

“Don’t worry, Readis,” T’lion went on. “I’ve already put in a good word for you.”

“You did?” Readis was torn between relief and the fear that now his mother would learn how he had disobeyed her.

“Never fear. Master Idarolan only asked me how many people were truly interested in dolphins. I said you were because you’d been rescued that time and had learned all the bell peals and hand signals out of gratitude.”

Readis wasn’t sure that was subtle enough.

“Don’t worry, now, Readis. It’s all come right. You’ll see.”

Readis’s response was a noncommittal sound deep in his throat. “Thanks anyway, T’lion. Did Master
Fandarel have any idea when we might get an aqualung?”

“Soon, he hoped, but he couldn’t give a time. He’s got a whole hall doing nothing but assembling terminals. Do your folks have one yet? No? Well, they should. Fandarel says they have to find the sealer material. If you don’t have that, you get water inside the mask and that defeats the purpose. At that, we’re lucky because the sea here is so clear. Gets pretty murky in the northern waters. I’ll keep you informed, Readis.”

“I’d appreciate that, T’lion, and thanks.”

“Any time.” With a cheerful wave, T’lion left.

M
ASTER
F
ANDAREL COMES
with M
ASTER
N
ICAT
,
Mnementh informed both Lessa and F’lar.

“I wonder what the Mastersmith wants,” Lessa said, sharing the report of the new arrivals with R’mart of Telgar Weyr, G’dened of Ista, and Journeyman Harper Talmor, who was the Benden Weyr-leaders’ main assistant with relocations.

Talmor indicated the council table, spread with maps and reports that the meeting was discussing.

F’lar shrugged. “Leave it. Not efficient to bundle it all up, after all,” the Weyrleader said, and won smiles for the Mastersmith’s oft-voiced criterion. He and Aivas had had much in common on the score of “efficiency.” Perhaps, of them all, Master Fandarel missed the voice-address intelligence the most.

“Maybe he has this ‘radio’ he’s been so eager to produce,” Lessa said, her smile partly for the many attempts the huge Smith had made to initiate some sort of instant communications system for those who had neither dragon nor fire-lizard. He’d been at it
ever since that half-successful attempt at the beginning of the Pass.

“That would account for Master Nicat’s appearance,” F’lar said. The Masterminer had collaborated with the Mastersmith to find the raw elements, like metals, crystal, and some of the plastics that Aivas had listed as necessary to the production of “electronic” devices.

As large as Benden’s Council Room was, Master Fandarel seemed to dwarf its dimensions, as he did the other tall and well-built men in the room. Even the harper was tall, and while R’mart had put on some flesh over the past few Turns, he was certainly not as massively built as the Smith.

Fandarel stood in the doorway, noticed the table strewn with paper, the complement of the meeting, and frowned. “I dislike saying this but you are simply going to have to go more slowly settling people in the South,” he said.

“What?” Lessa exclaimed, staring at the Master-smith. It was the last thing she had expected him to say, and certainly he had never been against the relocations. Her reaction was mirrored by everyone else in the room. Talmor left his hand suspended over the latest Smithcrafthall reports, which had recently been delivered.

“This is the first time we’ve been asked to slow down,” F’lar exclaimed. “And good day to you, Master Fandarel. D’you know how many people complain that we’re dragging our heels over settlings?”

“I hear that, too,” Fandarel said, nodding his big head and looking as solemn as ever. He had visibly aged since he had helped remove the engines from
the three colony ships, and Lessa had noticed that the slow way in which he now moved was due more to the debilities of age than deliberate movements. “But I know it is not the truth and say so. I also hear, and know, that journeymen and women as well as Masters are being offered heavy purses of marks to leave their positions and go south.”

“I thought Master Nicat was with you,” Lessa said, looking around the big man’s figure in the doorway to see if it hid the smaller, rotund figure of the Masterminer.

“Ah,” and Master Fandarel’s brows drew together as he held up an object, almost lost in his huge hand. “Master Nicat, can you hear me?”

“Of course I can. I’m only at the foot of the stairs.” The unmistakable tones of the miner sounded clearly, if reduced, from the instrument, which Fandarel had turned to face the assembled.

“Ah! You’ve produced the radio!” Lessa cried.

“I have produced an electronic device,” Fandarel corrected her. “An improvement on the radios that were mentioned in the history files, and more nearly what the Ancients used to communicate when they were setting up their stakeholds. The old weather satellite that has been giving us accurate predictions is also able to bounce signals, as is the Yokohama. With such hand units as these, we may communicate across long distances—once we’ve made them a little more efficient.”

“Oh, may I try?” Lessa said, slipping to Fandarel’s side and holding out her hand for the device. “Oh, it’s lightweight.” She hefted it, and turned to show the oblong balancing in her hand.

“Press the red button and hold it down to speak. Later you will need to key in the code number you wish to reach but as the only other unit is with Master Nicat, that step is not necessary. Press and speak into this end.”

“Master Nicat?” Lessa pressed so hard that her knuckle turned white and she spoke loudly into the appropriate end.

“There is no need to shout,” Nicat said, with some asperity in the small clear manifestation of his voice.

“A whisper will be heard,” Fandarel said with an understandable degree of pride.

“Where are you now, Master Nicat?” Lessa asked in a conversational tone.

“Right where I was two minutes ago.”

“Remarkable,” F’lar said, coming to the side of his weyrmate and taking the device from her. He pressed the button. “May I?”