The Skies of Pern (30 page)

Let’s see where the fire is
.

Someone is waving a banner near the forest
, Golanth said, and picked up the beat of his wings, angling slightly over the summit.

Why were his binoculars in Benden when he needed it here? But he could make out quite a few figures, several waving what were probably the shirts from their backs. He hoped they’d saved more clothing when he remembered the full nets that had been conveyed to the cliff top.

She is there!
Golanth said and F’lessan looked about for a green dragon and her rider.
The old one. In her chair
.

And so she was, looking dry, her hair carefully plaited, her rocking motion reflective. It stopped at the sight of the incoming trio of dragons. They were cheered as they landed and would have been welcomed, but a barked command from Binness kept all at their chores. A circle of stones accommodated a brisk hot fire over which two huge kettles had been set on tripods. One was already steaming. At the forest edge, two men were skinning a
herdbeast, fallen fruit had been gathered and lay in nets to one side, and wood was stacked under an oilskin.

Binness, his arms bandaged where Golanth had seized him, came to meet them, limping a bit. He was still barefoot, curling his toes up from the coarse ground cover.

“Didn’t expect you back, dragonrider,” Lady Medda said.

“You didn’t think we’d check to be sure you’d survived, Lady Medda?” F’lessan asked, grinning.

Binness shrugged. “Mostly the only time we see dragonriders is Threadfall but you saved us from far worse today. And three boats.” He nodded solemnly to where the dories had been propped up on stout branches to provide shelter for sleeping children.

“Landing has sent water, bread, klah, glowbaskets, hand lights, medical supplies, and canvas for tenting,” F’lessan said cheerfully.

“It’s warm enough these nights,” Binness said, tilting his head back.

“I believe there’re wineskins, too, which we thought you might be in need of,” St’ven added, grinning.

“Did I hear him say ‘wine,’ Binness?” shouted Lady Medda.

“Grand dam you have, Binness,” F’lessan said.

“Bring him and the wine here, Binness. We’ve only herbal leaves to serve but it’s my own recipe. Puts heart in man or beast. Wine’ll increase its medicinal value.”

“Anyone wounded? Sick?” F’lessan asked Binness when he had dismounted with one wineskin in his free hand.

“More shocky than hurt. May I have your name, dragonrider?” Binness asked with a respectful bow. “I thought I was dead, between that wave and the cliff.”

“F’lessan, Golanth’s rider, Benden Wingleader.”

They had reached her in her chair which, F’lessan could now see, rocked on a square of worn rug, with a footstool to prop her swollen feet. The dragonrider bowed respectfully to the indomitable old woman.

“Lady Medda!”

“I’m no lady,” she replied with vigor but she smiled at him coquettishly. “Not but what I haven’t had a dragonrider or two warm my bed at night.”

“Granddam!” Binness was shocked. “That’s no way to speak to the man who saved us.”

“Did you thank him for saving you?” Her sharp blue eyes pinned her son before she turned on F’lessan. “He thanked you proper?”

“He did and Golanth and I were glad to be—in time.”

“In time?” She gave him a long startled glare. “Closest run thing I ever saw. An’ only a foolish dragonrider would’ve risked his neck and his dragon’s for my son. Though I’m glad you did. He’s my eldest.” Then she flicked her hand, dismissing Binness, and peered shrewdly up at F’lessan. “How’d they fare at Monaco? I remember it’s flattish there. Someone bring a cup for the dragonrider. For the others, too.”

“Monaco is flooded,” F’lessan said, quickly, sparing C’reel and St’ven the need to answer such a painful query. He waved away the cup that a girl offered. “There is much to do. We can’t stay long. I’m to ask what supplies you’ll need to rebuild.”

“Ach!” Lady Medda flipped her hand. “We’ll see what’s left us. There’ll be stone enough to rebuild. You saved some of the dories. S’all we need.”

F’lessan gave her another respectful bow.

“We’ll be back in a day or so,” C’reel said. St’ven reinforced the promise with a quick nod.

“And you, young F’lessan?” the old lady asked, pointing her stick at him and rocking her chair forward so that it nearly touched him.

“Would that I could match you, Lady Medda,” he said with his most charming smile and backed away. As he strode to Golanth and vaulted astride, he could hear her laughter, a genuine rippling laugh, not an auntie’s cackle. He gave a final wave to all before asking Golanth to launch.
Properly, not over the cliff edge
, he added.

T
hey reported the particulars of Sunrise Cliff Seahold to a harried archivist who had set up a temporary office in a tent on the
edge of Landing’s Gather square. When they were done, the archivist waved them in the direction of the tables on the other side where food was being served and remarked that they would doubtless hear from their Weyr queen when and where they would be needed.

“You wouldn’t happen to know where what’s left of Monaco Weyr is being accommodated?” C’reel asked.

“No, no, over there. She’ll know.” The man waved his pen vaguely.

“Well, I could use clean clothes,” C’reel said, noticing that clothing was being stacked at the north side of the square.

“Me, too,” St’ven said. Although F’lessan kept extra clothing at Honshu, he wouldn’t be able to supply more than a few.

All at once, the heat of the square, the noise of those thronging about, the day’s exigencies seemed too much to endure a moment longer.

“You get clothing, C’reel, St’ven,” he said. “Find out where the rest of your Weyr is quartered. I’ll get to Honshu and make ready for you.”

T
o F’lessan’s dismay, Mirrim was already there, and had organized the couples who were holding a little north of the Weyrhold. He had thought her safely stuck at Landing. He should have known better. He should also be grateful to her—or try to act as if he were—though she still tended to give orders to him. Very soon after his arrival, he was genuinely glad she had come. She was the one who had organized food and there was succulent meat grilling on the main terrace for the many Monaco Weyr riders who had taken up his invitation. Tai was one of them. He would have liked to be able to show her around Honshu, especially the observatory and the telescope … one of his most treasured possessions.

He had found it when he and Golanth had been repairing solar panels on the Cliffside and discovered the thin, straight seams on what appeared to be solid rock, but were instead halves
of an observatory dome. Getting in had been another problem, but the telescope, covered in that thin film that the Ancients had used—vacuum packing, Aivas had called it—was still on its U-shaped mounting. Wansor and Erragon had been excited about its existence but warned F’lessan that awakening the scope would require a great deal of preparation: it required a computer to direct and focus it, and a screen to show what it observed.

Tonight he didn’t have the energy to climb that long spiral staircase and he was reasonably certain Tai didn’t either.

Honshu’s sprawling precipice, its two terraces and ledges, were so covered with dragons that soon others had to find space on the rocky terraces down by the river. Their numbers would be sufficient to keep away both the herdbeasts who often came for shelter in the lower cave as well as the felines who hunted them. Even in the early days of its discovery, Honshu had never had so many human guests.

Sitting on one of the few chairs on the main terrace, F’lessan airily advised each new arrival to dump his or her flying gear on any unoccupied space and come back for food. T’gellan had brought four wineskins and St’ven and C’reel added two kegs of the light beer Landing brewed. From Honshu’s deep cellars, F’lessan sacrificed some of the good Benden he had put aside for a special occasion; surviving this day could be considered in that category. There was enough for everyone to have at least a cup of beer or wine. That would be sufficient for men and women who had served double the hours a day usually spanned.

Unaccustomed to having “his” space at Honshu so overly populated, F’lessan took his wine up to the second terrace and was delighted to find Tai there.

“I suppose we’ll need time to wind down,” he said, coming up behind her. “Sorry,” he added as she whirled around, spilling some of her wine. “Don’t waste it.”

“You startled me.”

“So I see. Again, my apologies.”

She flicked her hand in dismissal and seemed hesitant.

“So you noticed it, too,” he said, gesturing to the northeast where a silvery glow arched in the general direction of Monaco.

She sighed and then looked up, where the light from other stars was undiminished.

“Yes, but Rigel’s still there.” She pointed at the first magnitude star above them.

“Hard to miss,” he said, laughing softly. “And Betelgeuse,” he said, subtly testing her knowledge of the southern night sky. She looked in the appropriate direction and he chuckled.

“Also Acrux, and Becrux,” she quickly added, taking up his challenge. “The one forty degrees away is Gacrux. Erragon said there was a fourth star in what the Ancients called the Southern Cross but you can’t find it with the naked eye.”

“I’ll match those with Shaula and Antares,” and he lightly touched her shoulder to turn her toward Adhara.

“I am glad that you retained Honshu’s old name,” she said softly, her voice rough with fatigue. “I think it is honorable that we use the names the Ancients had for their places, and their stars.”

“Why not? They brought the names with them. The stars haven’t moved that much and there are bright ones in our skies that the Ancients saw from old Earth only as dim ones.”

“It isn’t the stars we have to worry about,” Tai said, her voice as weary as the sudden slump in her shoulders.

“No, it isn’t,” he agreed tiredly, “but it’s good to see they don’t change. I’ve a pair of binoculars, you know, if you’d like to use them tomorrow night.”

“You do?” Excitement briefly sparkled in tired eyes and then she sighed. “Tomorrow, if you’d trust me with them. They’re … hard to come by.”

F’lessan managed a wry grin. “I’ve known Piemur and Jancis a long time, you see, so I snuck to the top of the list. Besides, they’re very keen to get the Honshu instrument working. A bit of extortion!”

“Extortion?” That startled her.

“It’s all friendly. A dare and challenge situation,” he assured
her. “Tomorrow night then. We both need the sleep tonight.” He put his hand lightly on the small of her back and gave a push.

Quietly they left the upper terrace and separated in the hall inside. For this one night, fire-lizards would stand watch. F’lessan shared his room with the last to arrive: T’lion, bronze Gadareth’s rider, and his brother, K’drin, brown Buleth’s rider. Fortunately, neither snored.

AFTERMATH

F
’lessan found himself awake at Benden’s usual dawn hour though night lingered at Honshu.

Ramoth says we must come back to Benden
, Golanth told him.
The brown riders will visit your seaholders. They are Monaco’s people, not Benden’s
.

F’lessan quietly gathered his clothing, hoping to have a chance to bathe and change, and left his room without waking the others. He took a quick shower; there’d be many people wanting one. He was glad he’d fixed the cisterns. As he padded down the stairs, past many sleepers, the pungent and irresistible odor of fresh klah told him someone else was awake. He heard voices, arguing quietly but intensely. Well, that was their problem, whoever it was. He needed klah.

He slid open the panel into the kitchen and nearly ducked out again when he saw that it was Mirrim and Tai who were bickering. Or rather, Mirrim was ranting at Tai, who kept saying “No, I didn’t,” “No, the children came first,” and “I don’t know how.”

Zaranth says
, Golanth told him,
that Mirrim thinks Tai deserted the Weyr’s children to save her skins
.

Skins?

Her pelts from the Cardiff felines
.

She saved the children. I sent you with her
.

Zaranth says she got the skins
.

How could she?
F’lessan looked from Mirrim’s angry face to Tai’s pale one.
You were with her. She came and went with you
.

“Golanth says Zaranth was with him all the time, transporting children,” F’lessan said and strode across the counter to the huge urn of klah. He’d have a cup no matter what the argument was.

Mirrim whirled toward him. “She didn’t have the skins when she got to the Weyr. She did have them when she left.”

“I didn’t get them.”

She’s telling the truth
, Golanth said.

“Golanth says Tai’s telling the truth, Mirrim, so leave her alone.”

“Then how did she get them?” Mirrim demanded.

“I didn’t!” Tai was taut with anger and frustration. “If I’d had time to get to my place, I’d’ve saved my books and notes. Not sharding pelts.”