The Dolphins of Pern (35 page)

“That is what some of us will certainly be doing,” F’lar said, equably, “when, as, and
if”
—he paused significantly—“such overseeing is needed.”

“And who decides the
when, as, and if
, might I ask?”

“You may, and—”

“There will be guidelines for that, too,” Larad interrupted.

“Which
we”
Groghe said, “in the Council will decide and refer to the special Gathers that will let everyone, Hold, Hall, and dragonrider, have a vote in the matter. Or will you absent yourself from that meeting as well?”

“The Pass is not over. Are you not interfering before time?” Toric acidly asked F’lar.

“We have not, I repeat, Lord Toric, interfered with
Hold
matters,” F’lar said with a slight bow. “We have explained the difference.”

“A united show of the difference, I might add,” Groghe said, while the other Lord Holders murmured agreement. “You have more than a generous share of the southern lands, Toric. Stick to them and there
shall be no further need for disagreements or misunderstandings.”

“Don’t be so easy on him,” Oterel of Tillek said in a harsh voice. “He knew exactly what he was doing. And he now knows exactly what can be done to curtail these incursions of his.”

“One Fax in a lifetime is quite enough,” Groghe said bluntly.

“You’re absolutely correct,” Sangel of Boll said with a shudder of dismay. “You won’t find
us
permitting that sort of thing to happen again! Not in my lifetime.”

Toric gave the elderly and not too effective Lord of Boll a measuring look, which suggested that he would have found Boll an easy target.

“And you’ve three, four times as much land as Fax overran,” Sangel continued. “Take my advice and be grateful.”

Toric snorted contemptuously. “If you have finished handing out today’s dos and don’ts?”

“Since you have been gracious enough,” Larad said with studied courtesy, “to hear what we had to say, we can leave.”

“But you have been
warned,”
Laudey of Igen said sternly. “You will voice any complaints in the next Council of Lords and you will abide by the decisions.”

“Or?”

“I don’t think you want to know,” R’mart of Telgar said, with a malicious smile on his face. “I really don’t think you want to know.” And he turned on his heel and strode out, followed by his Weyrwoman and the other queen and bronze riders.

“K’van!”
Toric bellowed, and when the young Weyrleader turned in the doorway to face him, Toric raised his fist. “If I see a single one of your riders
anywhere
near this Hold …”

“Ah, but you see, you won’t, Lord Toric,” K’van said with a soft smile. “But then you have been too busy to notice that the Weyr is empty and we have settled in a much more congenial location, heretofore unoccupied.”

“With the full consent of the Council of Lord Holders,” Larad added. “Good day, Lord Toric of Southern Hold.”

O
NCE
R
EADIS FOUND
the seaside caves that he had once seen from the decks of the
Fair Winds
, he chose the one most suitable to his purposes, making it as comfortable as he could. Some of the water and wind-worn openings would be half-flooded with higher tides, but these would also be extremely handy for a Dolphin Hall. This series of caves and hollows were at the base of the rocky slope that led up to the deep gorge and the river shown on the Ancients’ charts as the Rubicon. Most of the caves were shallow or accessible only by a treacherous climb over tumbled boulders. There was really only one that could be made into a human living accommodation, with a sea-eroded maw through which he could lead Delky to the space on a wide ledge where he could stable her adequately. Past that point, the ledge led to two interior, water-hollowed chambers, one of them large enough to make a respectably sized hold, and both now high above the full-tide marks.

They’d had to spend their first Threadfall, on their way to these caves, crammed under a barely adequate
overhang, with Delky shivering with fear as Thread hissed just a finger’s thickness from her hide.

There was plenty of time, too, for Readis to regret the precipitousness of his departure and bemoan the useful items that he should have packed that would have made his new life considerably easier. But then his exodus had not been planned. He steeled himself against other regrets, like forgoing the studies he had begun to enjoy for the challenge and mental stimulation they had provided. And the tantalizing prospect of things that could be when the Pass was over. He regretted not having access to the wealth of information in the Aivas files—and the chance to copy Persellan’s damaged pages, as much for his own information as to make amends to the healer. He worried how T’lion had gotten on with the healer and how he’d been disciplined by his Weyrleader. He worried most about Cori and Angie: had T’lion’s stitches held? Were they healing? Who was tending them? How was he going to get in touch with the pod in these waters? And would the dolphins feel the need to tell other humans where he was? He
was
doing this for them, finding sea caves, accessible by water: The quieter pools that were flushed out with the tides would be perfect for tending the injured, and the great ledge outside couldn’t be better for talking to a whole pod with no crowding. There was deep water beneath the ledge—or as deep as he could dive.

The Great Current was far out, too far to be visible, and that’s where the dolphins would swim, riding the westward flow. They wouldn’t know a human was in this area. And Readis had no bell and no way of obtaining one. If only T’lion were here, Gadareth
could attract them with his bugle. No doubt the bronze rider had been restricted to official duties and the Weyr. Readis hoped that T’lion wouldn’t be denied access to the dolphins. Surely T’gellan would have understood how important it was … His parents hadn’t, Readis interrupted himself; why would he think a Weyrleader would care? Except that the dolphins had warned Path’s rider about a pregnancy and Mirrim had had a fine son. Was that enough?

Probably not. His parents didn’t care to remember that dolphins had rescued him and Alemi from the squall. That had been a long time ago now.

Readis had little time for much reflection: he had to find food, which in this season meant long and sometimes futile searchings, the main growing season being now over. What he could find he had to save, so he hunted until he discovered a supply of clay along a creek and made utensils, which he fire-hardened. It took him several tries to get a mug and a bowl that didn’t leak. He knew more theory than he had had a chance to put into practice. He could and did make himself a frond mattress, which gave him comfort at night, and he wove fine grasses into a covering. The tougher ones supplied him with stout rope to secure Delky when he didn’t want her straying from the cave. He’d twisted threads from her tail for a fishing line and braided more for a longer line, splicing it to a good length, thanks to those lessons he’d learned from Unclemi. He kept his belt knife honed sharp and hoped the steel blade would last until he could replace it, as the daily honings were visibly narrowing the good blade. He sought the biggest tree nuts and chiseled a hole in the tops so that once
he had drunk off the juices, he could store fresh drinking water in them. While the nut juice was considered by many to be very tasty and he knew that Swacky fermented it for his sevenday night’s drinking, he didn’t like the almost sickly sweetness of it. Besides fresh fish and shoreline shellfish, he’d find the occasional fowl nest, so he had sufficient protein in his diet. No fire-lizard clutches yet, though he’d searched every sandy cove on his way here. It was really the wrong season for fire-lizards to clutch. He’d never particularly wanted one, but he could have used one now. Delky wasn’t that companionable. And, until he made contact with dolphins, he had only himself to talk to.

He was generally too busy to be lonely and too tired not to sleep at night, when doubts would have tended to assail him. If he wanted to communicate with dolphins, he’d have to swim out far enough, and he wasn’t so foolish as to venture out that far without the safeguard a vest would provide. Once he had finally located a stand of the fibrous plant from which life vests were made, he spent several days designing and making one.

From small fish bones he fashioned needles and, with clumsy but firm stitches, constructed a passable garment. He gave it a long test the morning he finished it, floating about until the local fishes were comfortable enough with his presence to come nibble his toes. That was brave of them, since he’d already caught so many. But he was as buoyant in the water at the end of the morning as at the beginning, so he felt confident enough in its efficiency. He made sure that Delky had enough fodder and fresh water in her
clay pot—though he hadn’t been able to make it completely watertight and moisture oozed out slowly—before he donned the vest again.

Today the sea was calm, only wind ripples marring its surface. He might not get another such day in this stormy season. So he tested the ties on his vest one last time and then waded out until he reached the deeper water. Straight out from the shore he swam with good firm strokes. If his luck was in, he’d get a ride back.

By the time the shoreline was well behind him, he began to have second thoughts. His arms were beginning to tire and his breath was getting ragged. So he stopped swimming and assumed a floating position, letting his head go back until the top of his vest cushioned his neck. He closed his eyes against the glare of the sun, though he could not escape the whiteness of its rays behind his eyelids. His breathing slowly dropped to normal. He had never been afraid of the water and wasn’t now. The light waves occasionally splashed over his face, but he only snorted the water out of his nostrils without changing his position. This was very restful, rocking only lightly from time to time. He could almost fall asleep, mesmerized by the watery rhythms. Arms extended, he stopped even a cursory movement of his hands. He’d give himself a good rest before he started off again.

He felt motion in the water beneath him. As he flipped himself perpendicular, his legs encountered something slithery, and he caught sight of the large body aiming at the surface. Then he became aware of the dolphin fins nearby. Abruptly a smiling dolphin face emerged in front of him.

“Save man? No storm. No good far from land?”

“I was looking for you.”

“Looking for Cal?” The dolphin squee’ed loudly in surprise and swam past Readis with one bright black eye never leaving his face. “Who you?”

“I’m Readis, Cal.”

Abruptly the dolphin came back, stopping in front of him. “Pods looking for Readisssss.”

“Are they?”

“All pods looking for Readis,” Cal repeated and then flipped into a dive.

Startled, because Readis didn’t want to be found, he ducked under the water and hauled hard on Cal’s near flipper to prevent her from sounding a message through the water.

“Don’t tell the other pods you’ve found me,” he said urgently, his face inches from Cal’s bottlenose.

“Don’t tell?” The dolphin turned her head so her bright eye was fixed on Readis and her whole expression conveyed an air of total surprise. “You lost You found.”

“I’m not lost. I don’t want to be found. By humans.”

“You are human. Humans stay together. Live in pods on the land. Only visit dolphins in sea. Not
live
in sea. Dolphins
live
in sea.” Cal’s response was long for a dolphin and, if the squeaky, pinched tones dolphins used for human speech also conveyed emotions, this time she spoke in shocked amazement.

“I want to live with dolphins, heal dolphins when they’re hurt, be a dolphineer!”

Cal’s loud squee broke off when she spouted an unusually high fountain of water from her blowhole.
“You be dolphineer?” The pinched tone rose to a shrill note. “You be Cal’s dolphineer?”

“Well, we’ve just met. You don’t know much about me …”

“Dolphineer! Dolphineer!” Cal’s response was ecstatic! “Will more mans be dolphineers again? Swim with pods, hunt with pods, go see where coast has changed? New reefs, new channels, new stuff? Visit subsidence and meet the Tillek?”

Cal’s brief, earlier submergence must have been sufficient to send for the rest of the pod. Dolphins were homing in on her from all directions, leaping in and out of the water, squeeing and clicking so enthusiastically that Readis came very close to being drowned by their attentions. But he caught a dorsal fin as he was tumbled underwater and hung on until he and—it was Cal he’d got hold of—the dolphin surfaced again. Readis had got a noseful of seawater and had to cling to Cal while he snorted his nasal passages clear and got breathing properly again. Somehow Readis would have to get an aqua-lung. Without it, he was likely to be a liability to any pod, not the helping partner he hoped to be.

“Cal, listen to me,” he said, catching hold of both flippers and pulling at first one, then the other to get Cal’s attention. “I want to stay here. Don’t tell humans.”

“Why?” Cal was plainly puzzled, and others poked their heads up to listen to the conversation.

“I want to be alone with the pod. Learn to be a dolphineer.”

“No long-feets,” another dolphin said. “Dolphineers had long-feets.”

“Your name please?” Readis asked, catching one of the speaker’s flippers.

“I Delfi.”

Then others started squeeing out their names: Tursi, Loki, Sandi, Tini, Rena, Leta, Josi. They poked their faces at him, or walked toward him with flippers extended. He was splashed with the waters of their enthusiasm.

“Hey, hey!” He held up his arms and waved his hands to get them to calm down. “Take it easy. You’ll drown me.”

“No drown in middle of dolphins!” Delfi cried, and squee’ed as she dropped back into the water.

“Yes, you will. I’ve no blowhole!”

There was a good deal of clicking and squeeing over that. The dolphins evidently thought it was very funny. Readis began to feel as if his great idea of being a dolphineer might not be such a childish one. At least the dolphins approved. What did he care if every other human on the planet didn’t!