The Dolphins of Pern (32 page)

“He’s so certain that we’re holding out the best lots for ourselves,” Lessa began, giving vent to her outrage. “Just because he wasn’t at the Council when the Lords asked the Weyrleaders to officiate, he refuses to believe that we did not want anything to do with land settlements, that we protested about taking on such responsibilities!”

F’lar regarded his diminutive weyrmate with more amusement than choler. “We didn’t protest that strongly, love, now did we?”

“Only because it was all too plain what would happen if someone with some claim to impartiality didn’t take charge. And it was we who insisted that all Weyrleaders take part, not just Benden, which was the intention of Larad and Asgenar, who proposed the notion. And we also insisted that the Harper Hall keep records of all transactions.”

“I know Toric’s certain that dragonriders will get preference,” K’van began.

“And shouldn’t we?” Lessa demanded of the young Weyrleader.

“I certainly feel we should,” K’van answered firmly, all too aware of the Weyrwoman’s temper and determined not to fall afoul of it, “since it’s the last concession we’ll expect of Pern. Adrea and I found a
place that we feel we’d be very happy in. Found it on my very first mapping sweep.”

“Adrea likes it?” Lessa asked, momentarily diverted from her castigation of Toric.

“Oh, yes, we’ve been down half a dozen times … to make sure, and”—K’van grinned—“it looks better every time we see it. It’s what we want but I don’t think many people would find it so perfect.”

“That’s what I mean,” Lessa went on, gesturing emphatically with one hand as if sweeping Toric’s exceptions aside. “Our needs and tastes are very individual and there’s so much land out there …” She made another expansive gesture. “And he has the unmitigated gall to take marks …” She was speechless for such presumption. “The man has tried my patience for the last time.”

“I do believe you’re right, my love,” F’lar said, still grinning. “And since he isn’t even on his own Hold grounds, I think we have him just where we need him. And where he can do us the favor of becoming a lesson for anyone with similar inclinations. A lesson that will last until the end of this Pass.”

“I’m with you there, F’lar.” K’van lifted his glass. “Exactly how did you mean to set the lesson?” he asked then. “Mind you, you have Southern Weyr’s total cooperation. There have been times when it was all I could do to keep a civil tongue in my head with the great and greedy Lord Toric. And I’m not the only one in the Weyr to find him a bit too highhanded and arrogant”

F’lar’s amber eyes were sparkling with such orange lights that for a moment K’van wondered if some of Mnementh’s fighting characteristics had
transferred to his rider. His slowly widening smile was both sinister and amused. “I think I’ll borrow a moment from Benden Weyr’s past. How long do you think it will be before the storm damage to Toric’s fleet is repaired and he’s ready to move out?”

“Oooh, I couldn’t say, F’lar, but I can sure find out,” K’van said. “How much leeway time do you need—to prepare this lesson of yours?”

F’lar laughed, rising from the table. “No more than I did the first time.” He took a roll of maps from those stored in a container and, motioning Lessa and K’van to clear the table, spread it out with a practiced hand. “Now, can you show me the exact locations of each site?”

“Yes, I can.” K’van took some notes from his inner pocket. “I checked them out myself against our chart of the area.” Referring to his notes from time to time, he used F’lar’s stylus to make small x’s, all on land east of the river that the Ancient maps called Island River. One was where a river branched off to the old stakehold of Thessaly and a second well east of Drakeslake. There were three in coves along the coast, and three well inland.

“That Toric!” Lessa said in exasperation. “He’s—he’s grasping, avaricious, covetous, and unrepentant-ly rapacious! He’s like … like
Fax!”

“Is there anyone in any of these sites now?”

“Half a dozen at the most—builders.”

“Have they prepared any fields?”

K’van shook his head. “We’d’ve noticed that a lot sooner, I can assure you.”

“Yes, I suppose you would. Is he doing anything at all on his own Hold?”

K’van shook his head again, grinning. “He’s had all his crews where they’ve no right to be.” He tapped the encroachments on the map.

Lessa was refilling their glasses when she suddenly looked at F’lar and burst out laughing. The wine began to spill.

“Figured it out, have you?” he said. He took the wineskin from hands shaking with laughter as well as malicious anticipation. “Now, now, Lessa love, that’s good Benden red you’re pouring. In the memory of our good Robinton, have a care of it.”

“Robinton would be howling with laughter over this, F’lar, and you know it,” she said.

“Honestly, F’lar, I wouldn’t tell anyone. You know how discreet I can be,” K’van said, not quite pleading.

F’lar gave him an affectionate slap on the arm. “You’ll know. Just be sure we know when Toric’s about to move, will you?”

“I can do that. He sets some of his fire-lizards to watch the Weyr Hall and doesn’t even realize that two can play the game of See and Say.” Reluctantly K’van rose, realizing he wasn’t going to get any more out of the two Benden Weyrleaders. Considering how annoyed they had been about Toric’s territorial aggressiveness, they were in remarkably good spirits now. “Do let me know when, and how, Southern Weyr may assist you.”

“Oh, you’ll know,” F’lar said, laying a companionable hand on K’van’s shoulder as he escorted the young Weyrleader to the weyr’s entrance. “In fact, you’ll be the first,” he added, chuckling at whatever scheme he had in mind.

On the third day after T’lion and Readis had treated the injured dolphins, Jayge, Temma, and Alemi arrived at the anchorage. Alemi had left a din-ghy
in
the water, since there had been no time to replace the float previously used for human and dolphin conferences. Jayge was certain that his son would reappear, if only to see for himself that the two calves were healing properly. The last three days had weighed heavily on Jayge. He wished that Aramina had not been so didactic about issuing that ultimatum to Readis. Although he understood her panic, and certainly agreed with her that Readis had acted disgracefully, he also understood his son well enough to know that forcing the boy to promise against his conscience would make him rebel The boy was of the right age to resent a mother’s restrictions. Jayge earnestly hoped that the three anxious days would be enough for Readis to have made his point and make an honorable return. By this morning, Aramina had been beside herself with remorse at driving her oldest child away. Jayge doubted that she’d renew her demand that Readis stop seeing the dolphins, but he was equally certain she would never cease blaming the creatures for the trouble they’d caused her and hers.

T’gellan had sent an adroit message to Jayge by fire-lizard, asking for confirmation that T’lion had treated injured dolphins at Paradise River. Jayge had succinctly replied that that was true.

Jayge was not surprised to see one dragon in the sky, but he was when a second bronze appeared. One was Gadareth, carrying T’lion, and the other was
Monarth, with T’gellan and a passenger. When they landed, the stranger was introduced as Persellan, Eastern’s healer. From the moment he dismounted Monarth, the healer did not look at T’lion and addressed all his questions about the dolphins’ welfare to the air in front of him—though they were patently meant for T’lion, who answered in humble and subdued tones. Not that Jayge blamed Persellan for his coldness to the young rider. T’lion was lucky to get off with just that when he had borrowed the precious manual without permission and ruined it in the bargain. Well, replacing the damaged portions would be part of Readis’s reparation,

“It was made plain, was it not,” Persellan was saying in that purse-mouthed pose he adopted when “not addressing” T’lion, “that they should return in three suns?” He was staring straight ahead at the sea.

“It was. Afo understood.”

Persellan shielded his eyes, peering out to where the
Fair Winds
rode at anchor. Some of her rigging was restored, and the waterline hole had been repaired with delphinic help; some dolphins were still to be seen, working with crewmen in the water.

“And they knew to come to the beach?”

“Yes.”

Alemi suddenly pointed to the west. “There’re dorsal fins just clearing the head now. I’d say they were smack on time. Wouldn’t you, T’lion? Wasn’t this about the time when you and Readis got here? I remember seeing you on the shore.”

The Masterfishman was sensitive to more than the rhythms of the sea of his beloved schooner and was doing his best to ease the tension in the air. Now he
looked in the opposite direction, down the shoreline, to the spit of land at the eastern end of the cove, and then back over his shoulder at the jungle.

“I’d have thought Readis would be here already,” T’gellan said, looking at Jayge for some explanation.

“I expect him to be here” was Jayge’s terse reply. He realized then how desperately he was counting on Readis’s appearance. Three days was more than long enough to prove his point. It was certainly long enough to throw Aramina into a complete panic of anxieties that Readis had injured himself, had been thrown from Delky, had suffered any number of misfortunes. Worry conflicted with a rising and righteous anger that Readis, who had always been treated with respect, would repay their kindness in this fashion!

The dolphins had escorted the two calves into the shallows by then, and T’lion, who had stripped down to his clout when Alemi spied them approaching, now waded out to meet them, Gadareth following him.

Muttering under his breath, Persellan also discarded his clothing, while T’gellan only removed his boots and rolled up his pants. As Jayge, Temma, and Alemi were already down to the minimum of apparel, they merely kicked off sandals and strode in.

“We come three suns,” Afo said, clicking and blowing water. She bumped into Persellan. “You healer. I hear all about you. Good man. T’ank you.”

“You’re welcome, I’m sure,” Persellan said. “Now which—ah,…” Angie had swum into the talons that Gadareth had splayed just under the surface.

Jayge was briefly surprised at Gadareth’s initiative, but then realized that T’lion had probably mentally
asked for his cooperation. Dragons could surprise their riders now and then, but there was no expression at all on T’lion’s face as he stood to one side so he wouldn’t impede Persellan’s examination.

Angie had tilted her sleek little body to expose the stitching. Persellan’s hands gently moved across the flesh on either side of the sutured wound.

Now that Jayge saw the wound, he had to admit that Readis had acted properly. No one at the Hold had been so severely wounded: a few broken bones, quite a few gashes from flying debris, muscle strains that numbweed immediately eased. Of course, Tem-ma had also had to decide which herdbeasts would have to be destroyed, but that had been done with a minimum of fuss and no prolonged suffering. Jayge gave an involuntary shudder over the terrific wound the calf had endured.

“A little tight here,” Persellan said with asperity, prodding the point. “I think I will release it. There is good healing, and this might soon tear skin.” He reached into his sack and pulled out scissors, making the cut and pulling the suture carefully through the skin. He wasn’t the only one to hold his breath as the flesh relaxed but did not split. “Hmmm. There is much to be said about saltwater healing.” Then he turned to Afo, who was watching him carefully with one bright black eye. “Does she hurt when I touch here?”

“Ask her,” Afo said with a soft squee. “Her name is Angie.”

“Angie, can you tell me if my fingers hurt you?” Persellan asked, raising his voice. Angie, who had been holding her head out of the water and craning so
she could keep one eye on Persellan, let water out of her blowhole.

“Just like a kid not so sure he believes his healer,” Temma murmured to Jayge and Alemi, standing beside her.

Persellan poked, gently enough, testing the length of the wound. “How do I ask this? Angie, are you regular?”

Temma cleared her throat, suppressing a chuckle. Then Angie squeeed in a tone that was so clearly “Repeat that, I don’t understand” that Temma did give an amused snort.

“Are you eating all right?” Persellan asked.

“I hungry. I eat.”

Persellan turned now, in his perplexity even willing to address T’lion. “How do I get across to her that she also has to evacuate what she eats?”

“Her guts work,” Afo said in a tone that bordered on disgust with his periphrasis. “Come back sooner if not.”

“Well, that’s good to know,” Persellan murmured. “I think I’ll remove a few more sutures to ease her flesh. But she is healing well” That begrudged compliment seemed to release the tension in the taut young bronze rider. “There now, Angie, you come back in three more days and the other stitches can be removed.” He turned to Temma, who nodded that she would attend to that.

Angie wriggled free of Gadareth’s claws, and obediently the smaller Cori replaced her.