All the Weyrs of Pern (44 page)

“Aivas knows what he’s doing, even if he doesn’t devote much time to explanations,” he told Sharra on more than one occasion. “He’s done so much for us already, we simply have to take the enigmatic on faith and follow his instructions.” Jaxom reminded himself to take his own advice.

To the chagrin of Lessa and F’lar, Aivas had insisted that Jaxom and Ruth be involved in every aspect of training the dragons and riders in extravehicular activity. According to Aivas, Jaxom and Ruth would also be the ones to guide all future excursions to the surface of the Red Star.

“Ruth is the younger dragon,” Aivas said at its most diplomatic, “and has not suffered the strains and stresses of Threadfall—”

“I ride Fall with Fort Weyr all the time,” Jaxom protested, as much to soothe Lessa as to make clear that he and Ruth did not fail of their primary obligation.

“No offense intended,” Aivas said deferentially. “Be all as it is, it is not recommended that such a long journey be made without good reason.”

“It’s certainly no gather site,” Lessa said.

“I do propose one more investigative trip,” F’lar said, “taking along an observer to record the abyss in a permanent form. Every dragon and rider who is to help bring those engines there must have a vivid picture in his mind of where he’s going.”

“Apart from that necessary contingency,” Aivas went on smoothly, “this undertaking should be recorded. There is nothing to match this endeavor of yours in the annals of any other world.”

“Not that any other world is interested in our feats,” Master Robinton said in a droll murmur.

“Mankind needs heroes,” Aivas replied. “This project is of heroic stature.”

F’lar gestured in disclaimer. “What has to be done can scarcely be termed heroic!”

Master Robinton shot the Weyrleader along, thoughtful look.

“We have three engines to place,” F’lar went on, ignoring the Harper’s stare, “so the leaders of each group need to visit the place. I lead one . . .”

“Jaxom leads another,” Aivas said crisply.

“All right,” F’lar allowed.

“And I lead the third,” Lessa said.

F’lar immediately objected. “You’ve risked yourself and Ramoth enough already.”

Lessa’s expression hardened. “If you go, I go. Ramoth’s scarcely the only queen on Pern these days.”

Suddenly F’lar’s resistance dissolved, which surprised Jaxom but not Ruth.

Why not?
Jaxom asked his dragon very privately.

Lessa would not risk Ramoth if she is in clutch, would she?

Jaxom hurriedly covered his mouth with his hand and turned a guffaw into a cough. No wonder F’lar hadn’t pressed the point of Lessa’s involvement in the event—and Mnementh would cooperate by getting Ramoth in clutch. F’lar had learned subtlety in handling his weyrmate!

“On this one admissible expedition,” Jaxon said, “I think F’nor ought to be included.”

F’lar gave Jaxom a friendly clout, grinning broadly. “I was about to insist that F’nor and Canth deserve to see the place.”

“It’s only fair,” Robinton said, nodding wisely. “And Canth won’t object to taking Perschar, who’s got the best eye for detail. D’ram must be allowed this opportunity. And Tiroth can easily convey me,” he added, daring protest.

“You can’t be put at risk,” Lessa said, rising to the bait.

“There’d be no risk involved, would there, Aivas?” Robinton said, shamelessly appealing to the one authority that Lessa would respect.

“The Harper would not be at risk.”

“Tiroth’s too old!” Lessa declared, glowering at Robinton.

“Tiroth is sturdier than most beasts his age, and the insight of both his rider and Master Robinton might prove invaluable,” Aivas said.

It took a few moments for Lessa’s irritation to subside, but the matter was soon settled. One more exploratory jump would be made to the Red Star’s surface. The group would include D’ram, F’nor, N’ton, and Jaxom, with the dragons carrying Master Robinton, Fandarel, Perschar, and Sebell as observers. The discretion of these few was unassailable, so there would be no chance of careless talk generating more rumor and misconception than already abounded.

Lord Larad of Telgar and Lord Asgenar of Lemos asked Masterharper Sebell to meet them at Telgar Hold at his convenience.

Since Sebell appreciated the diplomatic tone, he dispatched his fire-lizard, Kimi, with a message that he would attend them an hour after the evening meal at Telgar.

“What do you suppose is bothering them?” Menolly asked when Sebell told her of the meeting.

“Rumors have abounded lately, pet,” Sebell said with a sigh.

Menolly leaned back from the lectern on which she composed much of her music and, grinning slyly, cocked her head at her husband. “You mean the ones about Sharra and Jaxom, the ones about G’lanar and Lamoth, the latest Abomination mischief, or why the bronze dragons are looking so inordinately pleased with themselves?”

“I’d rather not have so much choice.” He carefully tucked a vagrant strand of her long hair back into its clasp before bending to kiss her neck. “I hadn’t heard of either Telgar or Lemos having any problems with vandalism, so it can’t be that.”

“Those who approve do so wholeheartedly, while those who are fearful, apprehensive, or downright skeptical scuttle around the edges and ruin what they haven’t the wit to understand.”

“It’s our task to see that they do understand,” Sebell said, gently remonstrating.

“But some don’t
want
to,” she replied in a rebellious tone, stretching both arms well above her head to ease her back. “I know the breed. Oh, how I know the breed! It’s just too bad we can’t leave them alone with their closed minds, but they’re standing in our way forward.”

“We are altering the fabric of their lives. That frightens people. It always has; it always will. Lytol’s sent me some fascinating excerpts from Aivas’s historical data. Fascinating. People don’t change, love. React first, think later, regret at leisure.”

He bent to kiss her cheek. “I’ve time to tell Robse and Olos a story before I go.”

Menolly snaked an arm around his neck before he could straighten. “You are such a loving man,” she said, and then kissed him again deeply before releasing her hold.

When he paused at the threshold to look back at her fondly, she was already bent to her composition. He smiled at the concentrated pose of her back, one shoulder angled up. She did love him, but he accepted the fact that he would have always two rivals—music and the Master. He had the same loves. With that thought, he went down the corridor to sing to his sons and to admire his daughter, Lemsia, who was too young for more than adoration.

Laradian, Larad’s oldest son, was waiting for Sebell in the well-lit court when the obliging Fort Hold dragon deposited the harper at Telgar.

“My father and Lord Asgenar are in the small study, Masterharper,” Laradian said formally, and then, relaxing, grinned a welcome at Sebell.

A fine fire was burning on the hearth angled in the corner of the pleasant room, the walls of which were hung with rich tapestries and framed sketches—probably by Perschar, if Sebell didn’t mistake the skill—of the current Holder’s offspring. Several heavy old wherry-hide chairs, sagging from the comfort they had given several generations of weary bodies, and the huge desk and table where the Lord Holders of Telgar had done their accounts for centuries, furnished the room adequately. Sebell immediately noticed the latest addition: a very good rendering, though considerably reduced in scale, of the Honshu mural.

“Hmmm, yes,” Larad said, noticing his glance. “My daughter, Bonna, went along with Perschar’s group and brought that back. Of course, she was under Master Perschar’s eye all the time, but it’s judged to be a fair representation.”

“You’d be welcome to see the original,” Sebell said, nodding to Asgenar, who was ensconced in one of the armchairs.

“What?” Larad asked, his pleasant face affecting a horrified expression. “And let rumor have it that I wanted the place for one of my sons?” He gestured for Sebell to take a chair and held up a wine bottle. “It’s Benden.” His grin was for the allusion to a harper preference for that wine; but his reference to rumor told Sebell that he was seriously concerned.

“I follow many of Master Robinton’s traditions,” Sebell said, accepting the generous goblet. He sipped judiciously and raised his brows in appreciation. “A ‘sixteen?”

“Indeed, and it was Master Robinton who urged me to acquire as many skins as I could wheedle.”

“So?” Sebell turned politely to the two Lord Holders. “Rumor bites?”

“I wish it were only rumor, Sebell,” Larad said. He took a small message roll from his sleeve cuff and handed it to the harper. “This is far more serious and demands your urgent consideration. I know the sender well enough to heed his words.”

After a glance at the message, Sebell shot out of the comfortable chair, seething with anger and swearing blackly. “ ‘I have good reason to believe that Masterharper Robinton may be abducted to force those at Landing to destroy what they call the Abomination.’ ” Sebell was consumed with outrage. “Hazard the Masterharper! Ransom him for the destruction of Aivas!” Outrage gave way to panic. “Who is this Brestolli who signs the note?”

“He’s a wagonmaster. We both know him.” Larad gestured toward Asgenar, who nodded earnestly. “He wouldn’t send a false alarm. Actually, it was delivered by his fire-lizard to his employer, Trader Nurevin, who’s here now. Nurevin brought it straight to me, leaving his train a day’s trip out. He said that he’d had to leave Brestolli at Bitra with a broken leg and cracked ribs from a wagon accident.”

“Nurevin’s just outside. I’ll ask him in,” Asgenar said, and slipped out of the room.

Larad gave a wry smile. “Nurevin felt you would heed this message more if we presented it to you.”

“He’d need no one vouching for him to me,” Sebell said, rereading the message. “This has the ring of truth. Nothing Bitra initiates surprises me.”

“Then you also know that your harpers at Bitra Hold have been put in quarantine for a virulent disease?”

“The Bitran euphemism for ‘reporting truth’?” Sebell asked. He ran his fingers through his hair, a gesture of exasperation. “We haven’t heard from them recently by the usual route. I should have sent at least one who had a fire-lizard.”

“Our Master Celewis can mount a rescue mission, if you’d like,” Larad suggested.

“If that can be done without jeopardizing Brestolli,” Sebell replied.

Larad raised his eyebrows and grinned slyly. “Surely you know Celewis’s abilities . . .”

“Indeed I do,” Sebell said with an answering grin.

“Then you may be certain that he’ll be adroit in the matter.”

Nurevin came in just then, preceding Asgenar.

“I’ve not had occasion to pass time with you, Trader Nurevin,” Sebell said, smiling as he extended his hand and returned the strong pressure given. “But I can tell you that the Harper Hall is more than grateful to you for passing this message.”

“Brestolli’s not the sort makes things up for mischief, Masterharper,” Nurevin said, cocking his head to emphasize his opinion. He was a swarthy man of medium height, with grizzled hair worn in a long plait that had recently been neatly redone. His clothing was of excellent quality but road-worn. “So I knew I’d best get it to someone who could see it was handled proper. I hated to leave him in Bitra Hold, but he’d broke his leg in three places, mangled his arm, and cracked some ribs when a cart overturned. Caught a wheel on uneven flags in Bitra Court. Healer said he couldn’t be moved, so I paid the brewer both good marks and trade goods to tend him. Brestolli’s one to keep his eyes and ears open, despite he talks such a streak you wouldn’t think he’d hear for the constant sound of his own voice. But if he’s heard what that message says he heard, then he’s heard it. Make no mistake about that. I wouldn’t want it said we didn’t give warning when there’re them what’d harm good Master Robinton. No, I wouldn’t.”

Larad offered him a goblet of Benden wine, and Nurevin’s eyes lit up with appreciation after his first sip.

“You honor me, Lord Larad.”

“Telgar is in your debt, Trader Nurevin.”

“Not just Telgar, Trader Nurevin,” Sebell added solemnly as he tilted his glass to him and drank ceremoniously. Nurevin flushed at such courtesy.

Sebell called to Kimi, who had been visiting outside with Telgar Hold’s fair. Silently, Larad proferred writing materials and a message tube.

“I’m sending this to Lytol, who will take appropriate measures,” Sebell said after penning some quick lines. Kimi extended her leg for him to attach the capsule, knowing exactly what was required of her. “Kimi, take this to Lytol, in Cove Hold, where our Master lives! Where Zair lives. Yes?”

Kimi had listened intently, cocking her head this way and that, her eyes whirling with noticeable increase in speed. She gave one chirp and disappeared.

“Forewarned is forearmed, Trader Nurevin. Has Brestolli’s fire-lizard returned to him?”

“Yes. It’s only a blue, but he’s got it well trained. I can send my queen if you need more information. I’ve been keeping in touch with Brestolli to be sure he’s well tended.” Nurevin winked and grinned. “Bitrans need me more’n I need them, since they’re so hard to deal with. I’m the only trader who does their route in these parlous times. So I’ve an edge on ’em, so to speak.” He paused, his expression grim. “Did Lord Larad tell you about your harpers?” When Sebell nodded he went on. “That was done a-purpose, or I’ll be scored next Fall!”

“When a harper is silenced, all men should listen harder,” Sebell said.

Nurevin nodded solemnly. “I heard some other stuff whilst I was at Bitra . . .” He hesitated.

“Be easy, man,” Larad encouraged him. “There’s not much a harper doesn’t hear sooner or later. And, if it’s along the lines of Brestolli’s message, perhaps Master Sebell’d better hear it from you.”

“Well, it’s them rumors.” Nurevin paused again, obviously not happy to utter them, but by gesture and expression, all three men encouraged him to speak. “It’s said that Lord Jaxom and that white dragon of his killed G’lanar and Lamoth—deliberate.”

“Shards! How could anyone repeat such a foul slander?” Asgenar asked, incensed.