Gone Away, Gone Ahead - 8. Working Things Out

‘I suppose we should go and get something to eat soon,’ D’gar said sleepily. The angle of the sun on the floor of his weyr indicated that the afternoon had turned to evening. Still, it was warm and comfortable here, lying next to H’rek. They’d spent a very pleasurable couple of hours; making love, dozing, relaxing. He realised that it had been so long since he felt this level of contentment, he’d almost forgotten the state existed.

H’rek propped himself up on one elbow. ‘I’m not that hungry yet.’

‘You had breakfast.’

‘Oh yes, I forgot.’

What does he see in me, D’gar wondered? I’m four hundred and twenty-three Turns old, I’m nothing special to look at and I puke up before every Threadfall.

‘What are you thinking about?’

‘How lucky I am to have found someone like you who’ll put up with someone like me.’

H’rek smiled. ‘Well, that makes two of us. I was just thinking about earlier.’

‘Mmm. Good, wasn’t it?’

‘Not that.’ He punched D’gar’s arm, softly. ‘You have a one-track mind. Before. Threadfall.’

D’gar had managed to forget that totally, like a dragon, only living in the here-and-now. ‘What about it?’

‘That pair who died. What you were saying about them panicking when they went between. The lecture you gave us.’

‘Hope I didn’t sound too much like a pompous old git.’

‘Not really. But it sort of ties in with other things I’ve been thinking about. Remember what I said that first time we met, about them sending us back in time?’

‘Yes?’ His brain was slowly starting to function again. ‘What about it?’

‘Well, if I tried to go between to Southern on Rioth, would I end up there now or back then?’

D’gar considered for a few seconds. ‘Well, we’d hope now. The place isn’t going to have changed that much in a few days, is it?’ As he spoke, a stray thought nagged at the back of his mind, like a half-recalled dream. He teased at it, trying to get it into some sort of shape.

‘That depends on how long we’ve been back, doesn’t it? We returned to Benden the day after we left, but for me, nearly two Turns had passed. For Bavi, it was nearer to four. But that doesn’t necessarily mean…’ He paused. ‘What I’m trying to get my head around is… how long ago did we actually leave the place?’

‘Right. And that matters how?’ That annoying thought was still there. Something about changes…

‘Things grow really quickly there. If it was abandoned for very long, everything would be overgrown, wouldn’t it? So, if I visualised it the way it was the day we left and it doesn’t look like that anymore, would we end up back in the past?’

Trees fall, rocks don’t. But sometimes rocks do fall. There had been a landslide at the far end of the Bowl at Fort, so long ago no one really remembered when. But if you visualised the Bowl without it… ‘Oh,’ he said, suddenly needing to find out more information. ‘Shells! I think I know what might have happened to C’don and Choliarth.’

‘What?’

He nodded. ‘Listen to this and tell me if it makes sense. Right? Now, let’s imagine that something really changes the way a place looks - there’s an earthquake, for example.’

‘Seas boil and mountains move…’ he quoted from the Teaching Ballad.

‘Exactly. So, something that you had fixed in your mind one way is now different. If you and your dragon used the old visual, where would you go?’

H’rek screwed up his eyes. ‘Well, back, I suppose. Like I was just saying.’

‘Yes, but in your case, only a couple of Turns at most. We came forward in twenty-five Turn jumps because they don’t take that much longer than a normal between places jump. So, I’m guessing that you lot probably didn’t get sent much further back than ten or twenty Turns. But C’don and Choliarth… If something had happened to change the way Igen Weyr looks at some point during the past four hundred Turns, then they could have gone back a long, long way. Lessa nearly died from her jump back to our time. Maybe they weren’t so lucky. Or maybe they’re lost somewhere in time and just can’t get back…’

‘Yes, but the dragons keened. They know, don’t they? They didn’t keen for Ramoth when she and Lessa disappeared, because they were still alive somewhen.’

The faint hope he’d held for a moment died. ‘Well, even if those two are gone maybe it could save a few others. I just need to ask one of the Igen riders - B’lin probably as he’s Wingsecond.’

‘He’s not the nasty one you were telling me about?’

‘No, that’s F’drun.’

‘Tell you what. We could try it ourselves,’ H’rek said excitedly. ‘Your theory. We could try going between to Southern. How about tomorrow? We’re on a routine patrol in the morning, but after that we’re free.’

D’gar sighed. ‘If only. We’ve got to get up at dawn for some stupid exercises - that’s thanks to F’drun again - and then have practice drills all afternoon.’ It would be much more pleasant to spend the afternoon on a tropical beach with H’rek.

‘What’s up with this F’drun? Can’t you talk to him and find out?’

‘My wingmates said the same. Well, they wanted me to talk to R’feem about him. But dropping my shirt in a puddle isn’t exactly serious stuff, is it?’

‘What?’

D’gar shrugged. ‘He did it to try and provoke me, I think. Like yesterday…’ Seeing H’rek’s puzzled expression, he explained what had happened the previous afternoon.

‘Sounds like he’s got some real problems. If I were you, I’d definitely have a talk with him. On his own though. Then he won’t feel like his authority’s being threatened.’

‘Why should he feel threatened by me? He’s a Wingsecond and a bronze rider at that. I’m just a wing rider.’

‘But you’ve got a brain and you use it. That bothers some people. Like my clutchmates. Especially the bronzes. I know - and they do - they’re meant be good leaders and sensible and all that, but most of them aren’t even particularly bright.’ H’rek smiled ruefully. ‘According to the stereotypes I should be nearly as forgetful as my dragon and only interested in gossip and sex. And you should definitely not be in bed with me.’

It was his turn to be puzzled. ‘Why not?’

‘Well, brown and bronze riders are supposed to only like women. At least, that’s what I’ve always been told.’

‘People are a bit more complicated than that. I’ll agree with you that the majority of bronze riders - and quite a few browns - are attracted to women. Although if their dragon catches a green, they don’t have much choice in the matter. But back at Fort there were at least two bronze riders who had male partners. R’feem’s weyrmates with a woman now - one of the Healers at Fort - but he used to be with a blue rider.’ Had things changed so much over the Turns, he wondered. Or was it just down to H’rek not being Weyrbred and missing the nuances?

H’rek seemed to be thinking all that over. ‘I did sort of wonder. I mean, all these hints you’ve been dropping about whether we should be together. I thought you might be… well, keeping your options open.’

‘Don’t be daft. I’ve just been trying to make you realise it might not last because, well…’

H’rek rolled his eyes. ‘Someone might die. I know.’

‘But while we’re both alive, I don’t want to be with anyone else.’ There. He’d said it. Impulsively, he pulled H’rek closer, rolling over so that he ended up on his back with H’rek on top of him.

H’rek smiled slowly. ‘Think you can wait a while longer for dinner?’

The sun had moved quite a bit further around before they finally left the weyr. The Bowl was already in shadow and H’rek shivered as they made their way to the dining hall. ‘I still haven’t got used to how cold it is here.’

‘Be thankful you’re not at High Reaches, then.’

It was warm and welcoming in the dining hall. As they queued for food, D’gar spotted B’lin with the other Igen riders at their usual table. They had evidently got through most of a wineskin already, toasting the memory of their lost wingmate.

‘I’m going to talk to B’lin, if he’s not too drunk,’ D’gar said.

‘Do you want me to come along too?’

‘Better not.’ He wasn’t in their Wing or from their time. ‘You don’t mind, do you? I’ll join you in a while.’ He hoped H’rek would understand.

‘No, that’s fine. I’ll go and find my clutchmates.’

D’gar made his way over to the Igen table. ‘Mind if I sit with you?’

B’lin shrugged. ‘If you want. Wine?’ he asked, picking up the skin.

‘No thanks. Better eat something first.’

‘Suit yourself.’ He refilled his cup with a slightly unsteady hand so that it slopped over the edge onto the table. ‘So, what brings you over here?’

‘Well, I wanted to have a word with you.’ He dipped some bread in his bowl of stew and took a bite. ‘Hope you don’t mind, but I’ve been having some thoughts about what might have happened earlier on today.’

B’lin swigged some wine. ‘He panicked. Got it wrong. Very sad.’

‘Well, yes. But what I’ve been wondering is why did he get it wrong. They were a seasoned pair. You’d not expect them to make a weyrling mistake, would you?’

B’lin nodded in agreement. ‘Not normally. But we’re all unsettled. C’don more than most. Too many moves in too few days.’

‘I know. Can I just ask you something? Has your Weyr changed much over the last four hundred Turns? I mean the structure, the surroundings. The way things look.’

‘You ever been to Igen?’

‘We flew over it once or twice when we were training.’ Igen Weyr was surrounded by desert. They were probably still digging out all the sand that must have accumulated over so many abandoned Turns.

‘Igen changes more than most places. Sand scours the rocks all the time. Makes ‘em different shapes. When we arrived, these big dunes had piled up on the eastern side and the Star Stones were almost buried.’

That made sense and added support for his theory. ’What I’ve been wondering is if C’don was still using old coordinates. When he saw that clump coming down, he’d have acted instinctively. Used his “get home fast” visual. But it didn’t match any longer.’

Even through the alcoholic haze, B’lin evidently got it. ‘You mean he went back. To how it used to be.’ He shut his eyes briefly. ‘Shells!’

One or two of the others were starting to take an interest. ‘What’s that?’ asked a green rider.

‘D’gar here has a theory. Thinks C’don might have gone between on an old visual.’

‘That’s right.’ He outlined the idea again.

People nodded. ‘That could have happened to any of us,’ said one of the blues.

‘That’s why I thought I should mention it. Guess it could apply - ’

‘What are you gossiping about?’ A large hand thudded down on the table. ‘Spreading rumours, I don’t doubt.’

D’gar knew who it was without looking up. He steadied his bowl of stew.

B’lin’s wine spilled before he could grab the cup. ‘Watch it, F’drun,’ he said.

‘I wasn’t talking to you.’ He seemed, as always, on the verge of an angry outburst.

D’gar met his gaze evenly. ‘Just getting to know some of my new wingmates better,’ he said pleasantly.

‘No harm in that.’ B’lin spoke with the care of one who has drunk a bit too much and knows it. ‘He might just have figured out something important, for your information.’ He turned to D’gar. ‘You should tell the Wingleader, too.’

‘I was going to.’

‘Tell him what?’ F’drun demanded. ‘Is it something about me?’

D’gar was fed up with this game. ‘Actually, F’drun, I’m glad you’re here. I wanted to have a word with you. Can you spare a moment?’

F’drun glared at him. ‘Well?’

‘In private would be best.’

‘You can say it in front of your new friends, can’t you?’

D’gar forced himself to stay calm and reasonable. ‘I could. But I’d rather not.’ He stood up. ‘Shall we take a walk outside?’ He was aware of the Igen riders looking at him with new interest. Probably wondering if they’d see him in one piece again. For a moment he wasn’t sure if F’drun would follow at all, but a glance behind reassured him on that.

The light was starting to fade in the Bowl. Dragons were dropping their riders off and the entrance to the dining hall was busy as people congregated to chat with friends. D’gar walked far enough away for them to have some privacy, ducking just inside the entrance of one of the empty ground level weyrs. He turned to face F’drun.

‘So, what’s all this about?’ He was still full of bluster.

D’gar forced himself to smile in what he hoped was a friendly, open and unthreatening way. ‘I just wanted to talk, that’s all. Without an audience. I thought that maybe like this, just the two of us, we could talk sensibly. Be reasonable.’ He paused, letting that sink in, giving F’drun a chance to speak if he wanted to. But he just leaned against the wall, arms folded, his lips set in a thin line.

D’gar went on. ‘I don’t know why you’ve taken a dislike to me. If I’ve done anything - inadvertently - to upset you, I’ll apologise. Then we can start off on a fresh footing.’

F’drun still said nothing.

‘Well, have I done anything?’ he prompted.

F’drun stifled a yawn.

D’gar started to feel annoyed. ‘I’ll take that as a “no”, then.’ Having given him the benefit of the doubt to start with, he decided it was time to get to the point. ‘Look, I’ve heard you like to pick on someone and based on what’s happened today and yesterday, I suspect it’s me. I’m not happy about that.’

F’drun spoke at last. ‘i don’t care if you’re happy or not. None of us are here to be happy. We’re here to do a job.’

‘I get that. No one likes everyone they have to fly with, but we can all try to be civil to each other.’

He laughed. ’You’re just pissed off you didn’t get the job. That’s your problem.’

This wasn’t going well. ‘You’re wrong. I wouldn’t expect to be made Wingsecond over someone with Turns more experience than I have. But I’m not going to let you treat me like I’m a piece of shit on your boot, either.’ Shards! He was sinking to the same level.

‘Don’t like taking orders, is that what you’re saying?’

Time to call it a day before he said anything else he might regret later. ‘It’s obvious there’s no reasoning with you, so I might as well save my breath.’

He started to leave, but F’drun moved quick as a tunnel snake and grabbed his arm. ‘I can do a lot worse, laddie. I can make you wish you’d never been born.’ His tone was full of menace.

‘Is that a threat?’ D’gar’s annoyance was beginning to disturb Herebeth. Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm his thoughts. Last thing he needed was an angry dragon deciding to interfere. This was the reason dragonriders shouldn’t fight, but it was clear F’drun didn’t care. He looked down at F’drun’s hand wrapped around his upper arm. ‘Let me go.’

F’drun stared at him for a few more moments, then released his grip. D’gar walked away, keeping half an eye on him, just in case he turned violent after all. No sensible person would, of course, but it was very clear now that F’drun was about as far from that as a person could be. He had a bad feeling he’d just made the situation worse.

Back in the dining hall, he went to finish his meal. B’lin looked at him quizzically. ‘What did you say to him?’

‘That man is…’ he could think of quite a few epithets to describe F’drun, but eventually settled for the least offensive. ‘Unreasonable.’

‘I could have told you that.’ B’lin took another swig of wine. ‘Want a drink now?’

‘Better not. Don’t forget we’ve got early morning exercises with that bastard tomorrow.’

‘I wouldn’t worry about it too much. Most of the Wing are going to get hammered tonight.’ He looked down the table. ‘Aren’t we, boys?’ The rest of the Igen riders lifted cups and drank deeply.

It was what happened, after Threadfall. After death. He couldn’t - and wouldn’t want to - stop them. But he needed a clear head tomorrow to deal with whatever might get thrown at him. ‘See you in the morning, then.’ He picked up his bowl and went to find H’rek.

The Fort riders were in their usual spot, sharing part of the table with H’rek’s clutchmates. Most of his Wing as well as the riders from Telgar and Ista were seated in the same area. As D’gar made his way over, it was obvious that there was far more noisy conversation, laughter and drinking going on at those tables than in the rest of the dining hall. He noticed a few disapproving glances from some of the Benden riders. It was yet another example of the differences between them.

Most had finished their dinner already, not having had any interruptions. T’garrin was starting a game of Dragon Poker and encouraging some of the youngsters to join in. It was good to see some mixing going on, but he guessed that was due to their not having been assimilated into the Benden Wings yet.

Due to the game starting, a space had opened up next to H’rek. ‘Mind if I squeeze in here?’

‘You can squeeze in anytime,’ he smiled. ‘What happened?’

‘Well, B’lin confirmed what we’d already worked out, that Igen has changed a lot in the past four hundred Turns. He was glad for the information. F’drun was a different matter. Didn’t want to listen at all.’ He decided it was best not to mention the threats. It was probably all bluff anyway. All F’drun could ever really do was to try and aggravate him. As long as he managed to stay calm and not rise to the bait, he’d tire of it after a while. Maybe even move on to another victim.

‘Oh well, you tried.’ H’rek looked around. ‘Did you know you lot are getting some dirty looks from the rest of the tables?’

‘I noticed, yes.’

’N’ton came over a few minutes ago. Said they could make room for us with some of the Benden Wings at their tables if we wanted to move.’

‘Who’s N’ton?’

‘One of the bronze riders from Ramoth’s clutch. He’s going to get his own Wing soon. Might pick a few of us to be in it.’

‘Maybe you should keep on his good side, then. Did anyone go?’

‘Some of the bronzes.’

D’gar scraped the last morsels out of the bowl with a piece of bread. ‘If you want to get in a Wing sooner rather than later, maybe you should do the same.’

‘I’d rather stay here. With you. And I like your wingmates too. You seem a lot more… relaxed than the Benden folk. Although L’cal said it wasn’t proper, the way you’re all drinking and laughing when someone died today.’

D’gar sighed. ‘It’s just we’re more used to it, I think. Not that we don’t care, or anything. Those guys over there…’ he gestured towards the Igen riders. ‘They’ll be remembering all the funny stories about him and giving him a good send off.’

‘I can see the sense in that.’

‘Folk from here will do the same, give them a few Turns. So don’t feel bad about having some fun if you want to.’ He got up to return his empty bowl, one of the things his mother had always insisted on. It made life easier for the Lower Caverns workers if they didn’t have to go round all the tables to collect the pots for washing. On the way back he dropped by to talk to R’feem, who was at the far end of the table, staring into a cup of wine.

D’gar wondered if he was missing his weyrmate. As she didn’t have a dragon, they had no contact with each other. Bit sad, really. ‘Um, could I just run something by you?’

‘What is it?’

He spent a couple of minutes explaining what he’d already told B’lin.

‘That’s a very good point, lad. Well done for figuring it out.’

‘It wasn’t just me. H’rek helped.’ It wasn’t right to take all the credit.

‘That’s your green rider friend, is it?’

‘Er, yes.’

‘More than just a mating flight fling, then?’

‘I hope so.’

‘Good.’ R’feem put a hand on his shoulder. ‘I’ll have a word with the rest of the Wing tomorrow.’