Gone Away, Gone Ahead - 13. A New Weyr

It had been an easy Fall; not too many injuries and no fatalities. D’gar joined the rest of his Wing for the evening meal, sitting in the Wingsecond’s place to R’feem’s left.

‘Pity you missed that one,’ J’rud said, leaning across. ‘Nice and short. Good weather. No one hurt.’

He meant in their Wing, of course. D’gar had dropped his bloodstained clothes off at the laundry on the way in. Despite spending a fair amount of time in the bathing pool, it still felt like some of the blood might have somehow insinuated itself under his skin; as if he couldn’t scrub it all away.

‘And your lad’s fine, too.’

The initial relief he’d felt at seeing H’rek safe and well had faded. Presumably the opportunity hadn’t presented itself, this time. Or maybe he was just being too suspicious and there never had been any danger at all. Maybe F’drun's whole intention had just been to worry him?

‘You all right?’

‘Hmm? Yes. Fine. Just thinking.’

J’rud held up a cup. ‘You know the saying, “Get drinking, stop thinking”. Have some more wine.’

D’gar took a sip. Not too much. He didn’t want to end up drunk. He might overlook something important if he let that happen.

R’feem turned to him. ‘Did you manage to have a talk with F’drun today?’

He didn’t need reminding of that, either. Had it been just an attempt to rattle him, or some kind of threat? ‘Sort of,’ he said.

R’feem raised his eyebrows. ‘And?’

‘He didn’t exactly endear himself to me. But Ryth and Herebeth co-operated enough for a rescue.’

‘Well, that’s a step in the right direction, at least. Don’t know where he’s got to, do you?’

‘I don’t. No.’ He glanced over to the top table. He could see F’lar and Lessa but there was no sign of Kylara. He’d lay odds that wherever she was, F’drun would also be there.

‘Go and have a word with his colleagues, will you? See if they know. He should be here with the rest of the Wing, even if he wasn’t fighting today.’

‘Sure.’ D’gar stood and went over to the little cluster of riders from High Reaches. ‘Anyone seen F’drun.’

V’vil shook his head. ‘Probably with his new girlfriend, if I know F’drun.'

‘That’s what I thought. But I can’t exactly go to her weyr and have a look, can I?’ Still, while he was here, he might as well take the opportunity to do a little research. ‘Mind if I sit for a while?’

V’vil gestured toward the space at the end of the bench. ‘Go ahead. So, what is it you want to know?’

Was it so obvious? ‘I might just want to have a friendly chat. We’re in the same Wing, after all.’

‘True.’ V’vil glanced along the table. ‘Just I don’t see much mixing going on. Fort stays with Fort, Igen with Igen, us three on our own and Benden don’t talk to any of us.’

He’d summed it up fairly well. ‘The way I see it, we’re all going to be stuck here for a while. We might as well make new friends.’

‘Like you have with that Benden lad, eh?’ T’rai, the green rider said with a smirk. Trust him to notice.

‘That was chance as much as anything. Herebeth caught his dragon, second day we got here. Then we found out we liked each other.’ He shrugged. ‘It wasn’t deliberate.’

‘Mating flight leads to romance. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time.’ T’rai nodded sagely. ‘You don’t have anyone, back at Fort?’

He shook his head. ‘Not since the last Pass.’ He could see from their faces they understood his meaning. 'How about you?’

‘No one special,’ V’vil said.

‘What about Pilgra?’ T’rai put in. ‘Thought you had something going with her?’

V’vil shrugged. ‘Now I’m gone, she’ll find someone else. Probably whoever’s dragon catches Segrith next time.’

T’burrad spoke next. ‘I left my weyrmate back there. Bastard T’kul. At least he could have transferred us both.’

‘It’s how he works. Divide and conquer.’ T’rai spoke matter-of-factly. ‘Splits people up into different Wings, swaps riders around all the time. Sends them away when their dragons look a bit too likely to threaten his leadership.’

D’gar remembered the first time he’d spoken to these riders, when they’d told him he was F’drun’s next victim. High Reaches, it seemed, was not a happy Weyr. Living under such a regime must’ve made them suspicious of everyone’s motives. Yet despite that, they’d bothered to warn him and they seemed decent enough folk. ‘How about F’drun? Does he have anyone back there?’

T’burrad laughed. ‘Who’d want to spend any more time with him than they had to?’

‘Well, he might not always be so unpleasant,’ D’gar said.

‘Oh, he is. Trust me,’ T’rai said. ‘My Hinarth let herself get caught by Ryth once. I was in the infirmary for two days afterwards. Most of the Lower Cavern women went out of their way to avoid him, too.’

D’gar wondered what attracted Kylara to him if that was the case. Of course, he’d not get away with mistreating a weyrwoman, even a junior. Failing everything else, her dragon wouldn’t allow it.

‘It was good to see someone stand up to him,’ T’rai went on. ‘Even if you did end up the worse for wear.’

‘Well, he was going to pick on me anyway. I couldn’t just stand by and watch someone else get hurt.’

‘Seen him since?’ T’burrad asked.

‘This afternoon.’ The less said about that the better.

‘Watch out for him. After what you did…’ V’vil shook his head sadly. ‘I wouldn’t want to be in your boots.’

‘I’d sort of figured that out for myself.’ Should he try to dig a little deeper? It had to be worth a try. ‘So, has he always been like that? I mean, people aren’t generally born nasty.’ T’burrad looked to be a similar age. He might have known F’drun as a boy.

‘That one was,’ T’burrad said. ‘His foster mother never understood it. All the rest of the kids she brought up were sweet as nuts. Not him. Used to bully the younger kids no end. Everyone hoped he wouldn’t Impress. He stood on the Sands five times before he got lucky and even then, I reckon it was purely through lack of choice. There’d been several clutches close together and not too many boys of the right age were left. Course, when he got a bronze, that was it.’

D’gar could imagine. Bronze riders were at the top of the Weyr hierarchy and could even become Weyrleader one day if their dragon flew the senior queen. A lot of them were arrogant; some downright insufferable, pulling rank whenever they could. Others, like R’feem, used their position responsibly. It wasn’t difficult to imagine which group F’drun fell into. ‘How long was he a Wingleader at High Reaches?’

V’vil answered. ‘Three Turns, give or take. Worst three Turns of my life. He was Wingsecond for a few before that, but B’vret kept a tight control over him. Didn’t let him get away with too much.’

‘Poor old B’vret,’ T’burrad mused. ‘He was a good Wingleader. Your R’feem reminds me of him a bit.’

‘So, did he retire, or what?’

V’vil pulled a face. ‘Nasty accident did for him. Had a flamethrower blow up in his face when he was testing it. That was when F’drun took over the Wing.’

‘An accident?’ D’gar’s suspicions were roused, especially as F’drun had stood to gain from it.

T’burrad just looked at him knowingly. ‘I can guess what you’re thinking. Lots of folk wondered, at the time.’

‘You know how it is during a Pass,’ V’vil added. ’T’kul was more concerned with getting a new Wingleader in place for the next Fall than in finding out the whys and wherefores.’

‘Far as I know, B’vret was always very careful, very thorough.’ T’burrad said. ‘Mind you, it only takes one mistake…’

What he’d heard hadn’t done anything to lessen his fears. If anything, they’d confirmed that he was right to be very careful where F’drun was concerned. Rumour and speculation it might be, but there was often a grain of truth in every story. Still, it seemed that if he wanted to find out more, a trip to High Reaches might be in order. He needed to check their records anyway; none of the hides he had been given contained any information about T’burrad or T’rai. Of course, it was out of the question while he couldn’t fly between, so would have to wait for the time being.

The following morning, he made a trip to the infirmary to get his wounds checked.

‘Another day or so and you should be all right,’ the healer said. ‘It’s not looking too bad, although a couple of the deeper cuts have opened up again. You could probably have done without the heroics yesterday.’

‘Heroics?’

‘Climbing up on that dragon to get the rider down.’

‘Not much choice, was there?’ He’d reacted instinctively, not really taking the time to think about consequences. ‘How is he?’

‘Doing better than expected, considering how much blood he lost.’

‘Good.’

‘I think his weyrmate wants to thank you. He’s over there.’ The healer gestured to a bed further down the cavern. ‘Go and see him, while you’re here.’

A few more of the beds had been filled, thanks to Threadfall. The antiseptic smell of redwort caught in his throat. Unless he was injured, he preferred to spend as little time in the infirmary as possible.

He stopped at the bedside. The green rider was semi-conscious. It looked as though he was heavily drugged. His weyrmate was kneeling on the floor beside the bed, holding his hand. They were both young; barely out of their teens, D’gar reckoned. He’d not had time to notice much in the way of details yesterday. ‘Hello,’ he said. ‘The, ah, healer said to come over.’

‘Are you the rider who saved him?’

‘Hardly. You can thank the professionals for that. I just helped out.’

‘You’re the one who climbed up on Miluth, though?’

D’gar nodded.

‘Then you did save him. If you’d not got him down so fast, he wouldn’t be here now.’ He stood, letting his weyrmate’s hand drop gently and hugged D’gar with genuine feeling. ‘Thank you, from both of us.’

‘How is he?’

D’gar heard a voice behind him, oddly familiar, although when he turned, he didn’t recognise the man. He must be around thirty, with black hair and the same kind of deep tan the other two - and H’rek - had. Which must mean all of them had been in the south until recently.

The youngster stood back. ‘Still alive, thanks to this one. Sorry, I didn’t get your name?’

‘D’gar, Herebeth’s rider.’

‘From Fort, is that right?’ The older man asked. ‘You look a lot better than the last time I saw you.’

‘Eh?’ D’gar was puzzled. He didn’t remember meeting this rider before. From his knots, he was also a Benden Wingsecond and rode a brown dragon.

‘By the lake, a couple of days ago?’

‘Ah.’ Was he never going to live that down? The whole Weyr must know by now.

‘Are you the one who nearly drowned? And your dragon rescued you?’ The youngster looked impressed.

D’gar felt his face start to flush. It was best to leave before someone mentioned dragons fighting and the whole mess got dredged up again. ‘Well, er, give my regards to your weyrmate, when he wakes. I’d better get on.’

‘No, wait,’ said the older man. ‘I owe you my thanks as well. C’vash here,’ and he gestured to the injured man, ‘is in our Wing. I’m F’nor, by the way. Canth’s rider.’

It was all becoming clear now. This was the Weyrleader’s brother, who’d seen the whole thing. H’rek had spoken of him a few times and seemed to hold him in high regard. ‘I’m sorry about all that,’ D’gar said. ‘It shouldn’t have happened.’

‘Nonsense, man. It wasn’t your fault. Besides, if you’d not been grounded, you wouldn’t have been around to help C’vash yesterday. Sometimes, good things come from bad.’

That was true enough, he supposed. It still felt unwarranted, though. ‘I was just a bit quicker to get moving than anyone else. I’m sure they would have done the same.’

‘Well, I expect you’ve more experience than the rest of us. We’re still new to all this.’

D’gar could see why H’rek liked F’nor. He had a way of making you feel at ease. Plus, although he was related to the Weyrleader, he obviously wasn’t one to abuse that privileged position. ‘You’ll get used to it pretty quickly,’ he said. In a Turn or two, it would feel as if they had been fighting Thread forever.

F’nor smiled and started chatting to C’vash’s weyrmate. D’gar left them to it and went in search of Manora. He still had to see about upgrading his weyr. It didn’t really bother him being up in the higher levels of the Bowl and now that H’rek had changed everything around, the place was fairly homely. However, a Wingsecond was expected to have a better appointed weyr befitting his rank and they could do with a bit more room.

So early in the day, it was quiet in the dining hall. Breakfast had finished and lunch was still a long way off. Towards the back of the main cavern, well out of any draughts, a few elderly folks had pulled up comfortable chairs around the hearth. D’gar had never paid them much attention previously. Back at Fort, he’d often chatted with the old uncles and aunties, but that was because they’d been a part of his life since growing up as a weyrbrat. These people had lived their lives in a time and place where he still didn’t feel quite at home. Mind you, they’d be likely to know where Manora could be found at this time of the day.

He poured a mug of klah and made his way across. One of them - a retired blue rider with a face full of wrinkles and silver hair - looked up as he approached. He nudged the one sitting next to him and this seemed to follow along so that by the time he was close enough to speak, all of them were alert and watching. Well, they probably didn’t get much excitement in their day.

‘Morning,’ he said, trying to sound cheerful and friendly. ‘I wonder if any of you know where I could find Manora.’

They all glanced at each other. ‘Well, she’ll most probably be in her office, this time of the morning,’ one offered

‘Unless she’s checking the stores. Tithe came in last sevenday, didn’t it?’ said another.

The others nodded at this, sucked at toothless gums and made noises of assent.

‘What do you want her for anyway?’ The first asked.

‘Well, I need to see about changing my weyr.’ It wasn’t any of their business, really, but there was no harm in being polite.

‘What’s up? Plumbing not working again?’

An elderly woman cackled. ‘Your plumbing’s not been working for years, Z’bril.’ The others joined in. When it finally subsided, she fixed D’gar with a sharp look. ‘You’re one of those new ones, aren’t you?’

‘Er, yes. From Fort Weyr.’ He gestured to his shoulder knots.

‘Fancy that. So, you came forward through time, did you? With young Lessa?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Well, sit yourself down. Tell us about it.’

‘Um, well…’ It wasn’t as if he had anything pressing to do. He pulled up a stool and gave them the whole story; how Lessa and Ramoth had arrived in the past and how she had told them they were needed to fight Thread in her own, far distant time. He drew on his memories of the night they’d journeyed forward and how the Weyrs had come together to meet Thread at Telgar. ‘And then, as we were needed, some of us transferred here. Just until Benden’s numbers are up again, of course.’

‘Well, that was quite a tale,’ the silver-haired uncle said. ‘Quite a tale. I thought I’d seen a few things in my life but that tops them all.’

D’gar smiled. ‘It’s been good talking, but I’d best get on.’ If he didn’t get away soon, they might keep him here all morning. They probably didn’t get much chance to speak with new people very often. ‘Where did you say the Headwoman’s office was?’

‘Down that tunnel, third door on the right.’

‘Thanks.’

It was a main tunnel, well-lit with glows. He passed a few other entrances on the way, leading who knows where. Benden was almost as old as Fort, so there must be the same maze of ancient tunnels leading into the depths of the Weyr. Doubtless the weyrbrats here dared each other to explore as he and his friends had done, braving the unseen rustling of tunnel snakes and frightening each other with ghost stories told in the darkness.

The third door was propped ajar and soft voices came from within. One male, one female. D’gar knocked cautiously, not wishing to intrude on anything. ‘Hello,’ he called.

‘Come in.’ Manora sat behind a large desk. F’nor perched on the edge, opposite her. They seemed very much at ease in each other’s company.

‘Sorry. I’m not disturbing, er, anything am I?’ Manora was a lot older than F’nor, but that didn’t necessarily figure when it came to attraction.

A smile curved Manora’s lips. ‘Not at all. Just catching up with my son.’

Ah, so that was it. He could see the resemblance now that they were together. Another disadvantage of not belonging; you had no idea who was related, who were lovers or who hated each other. ‘It’s about my weyr.’

Manora rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t tell me. It’s the plumbing?’

‘No, no, everything works fine. It’s just, well, I’ve been promoted to Wingsecond recently and I’ve got a weyrmate now so I could do with a bit more space.’

‘Let me have a look.’ She stood and took a slate down from one of the well-organised shelves, scanning it swiftly.

F’nor looked over her shoulder, then pointed. ‘What about F’lar’s old weyr?’

‘Well…’

‘He’s not going to need it again is he? Ramoth won’t let any dragon other than Mnementh fly her.’

‘It’s a Wingleaders weyr, though. For a bronze.’

‘Yes, but it’s not as if we’re running out of space round here. Anyway, he deserves it. He saved one of our wingmen yesterday.’

‘Hmm.’ Manora looked him up and down as if judging whether he was worthy of such an honour.

‘Really, it’s fine. Anywhere with room for two dragons will do.’ He didn’t want to attract any more unwarranted attention.

‘Who is your weyrmate?’

‘H’rek, green Rioth.’

‘One of Prideth’s clutch,’ F’nor said. ‘He was with us down in Southern. Good lad.’

That seemed to clinch it. ‘I wouldn’t do this for just anyone, but as F’nor seems to think you’re worth it…’

‘I really appreciate it.’

‘Let’s hope so.’ She made a mark on the slate and returned it to its allocated space. ‘F’nor can show you where it is.’

‘Yes, mother,’ he sighed. ‘Come on, then.’

As they walked back through the dining cavern, D’gar felt he ought to say something. ‘Er, thanks for that.’

‘Don’t mention it. Mother… Manora can be a bit of a stickler for the rules. But I’ve taken over one of the junior queens weyrs since I got back and there are plenty of empty weyrs so it's not as if you’re depriving someone else.’

They emerged into the light of the Bowl. F’nor pointed. ‘That one up there, third along. It’s got a service shaft and a bathing pool. No stairs down, but you’ve both got dragons, so that won’t be a problem.’

F’nor left him to go off on his own business, which D’gar sensed encompassed more than just the normal duties of a Wingsecond in the Weyrleader’s Wing. H’rek had given him the impression that F’nor had been the one in charge at Southern, despite bronze rider T’bor holding the title of Weyrleader. It wasn’t entirely surprising; the brothers were evidently close (unlike some siblings, who hated each other’s guts) and F’lar would have wanted to have someone reliable reporting back on such an important project. Having learned from Gr’lon that there was no love lost between F’lar and R’gul, the former Weyrleader, that gave even more reason to have someone he could trust watching his back.

Want to have a look at your new weyr, he asked Herebeth. Let Rioth know, as well. The Southern riders had gone off on a patrol first thing this morning, but H’rek would be able to join him later. They’d also need to rustle up some volunteers to move all their bits and pieces across. Best bet would be to invite all the helpers round for drinks afterwards; that generally worked.

Herebeth had been sunning himself up on the rim, near the watch dragon. He glided down and landed close by then flew D’gar up to the ledge of the new weyr, its rocky lip scarred by countless landings over the Turns.

Well, how do you like it?

Herebeth snuffled around then tried out the sizeable couch. It is warmer here. There is also a better view.

Plenty of room for two dragons, as well. Leaving Herebeth to settle, he carried on through to the sleeping chamber. It was a little dusty from disuse but much larger than the room in his existing weyr. Everything had been cleared out, as was usual with empty weyrs; all that had been left was the bed and a clothes chest. He lay down, trying out the mattress for comfort. Better than what was in his current weyr, or H’rek’s for that matter. The ceiling above was high and arched, giving a sense of spaciousness. The natural striations of the rock made pleasing patterns, good for daydreaming and letting your imagination make pictures. He wondered how many Turns F’lar had occupied the place and whether he’d regretted leaving it. Of course, the Weyrwoman’s apartment was a step up even from this.

He stood and explored further. At the back, the bathing pool burbled gently as water circulated. It was pleasantly warm and looked to be deep enough to swim over on the far side where it met the rock face. D’gar had never known the luxury of having a private pool; he’d always had to be content with the communal bathing facilities. He wondered if R’feem’s weyr was similarly equipped. It wouldn’t look good to have a better appointed weyr than his Wingleader. Still, F’nor had reckoned he deserved it and he supposed that as had been said, some good things did come from bad. If F’drun had not been so ready to victimise him, he’d not have become Wingsecond at all and would have gone unnoticed by the Benden leadership. Maybe he should thank F’drun for his good fortune. That would really rile the man.

The sound of another dragon landing on the ledge brought him out of his musing. In a few moments, H’rek rushed in. He looked all around, his eyes widening. ‘Is this really going to be your weyr?’

‘Our weyr,’ D’gar corrected him. ‘If you’re happy with it as well, then yes.’

‘Happy? It’s amazing. And is that a pool at the back?’

‘Mmm.’ D’gar let himself be dragged over to inspect it.

‘Wow.’ H’rek splashed the water. He looked so enthusiastic, D’gar thought he might rip off his clothes and leap in. Come to think of it, that wasn’t a bad idea. There were plenty of things, apart from bathing, that a private pool would be good for.

However, after a few more splashes, H’rek carried on with his examination of the weyr, wrinkling his nose when he found the necessary. ‘Needs a good clean.’

‘The whole place does. It’s not been used for a few months.’

‘Oh?’

‘F’nor said it was his brother’s weyr, before -‘

‘Shards! This is F’lar’s old weyr? Do you know how lucky you are to end up with something like this?’

‘It’s thanks to F’nor I got it. He put in a good word with Manora. I never knew she was his mother.’

‘I thought everyone knew that.’

‘Everyone from Benden, maybe. Don’t forget, I’ve only been here a couple of sevendays. I’m still finding my feet.’

‘Well, you’ve found them pretty well so far.’ He scanned the rest of the weyr. ‘Oh. You’ve got a service shaft too.’

‘Handy, isn’t it? We can order hot klah and snacks without having to go down to the dining hall. It’ll be useful for when I’m working on reports and such. Breakfast in bed, too, if we want.’

H’rek peered down the shaft. ‘Hmm. There are other uses for these, too.’ His voice sounded hollow in the enclosed space.

‘Really. Like what?’

He turned slightly. ‘Well, Bavi told me you can hear what people are saying inside a weyr if you hold your head at just the right angle. After all, the thing’s designed to amplify voices, so they can hear your order. It works both ways.’

D’gar was slightly sceptical. ‘Are you sure she wasn’t kidding you?’

‘No. It’s how the Lower Caverns staff found out about all you lot coming forward to help us, well before it was made public.’ He moved around, seemingly experimenting with the idea. Suddenly he was still. ‘That’s it. Ssh.’ After a few seconds he emerged. ‘Have a go yourself if you don’t believe me.’

D’gar went over and peered inside the shaft. He wasn’t all that keen on sticking his head inside the dark and slightly claustrophobic opening. Imagination provided all sorts of horrible things that might result; a tunnel snake jumping onto him, or the mechanism suddenly starting up and taking his head off before he could get out of its way.

‘Go on, then,’ H’rek said. ‘It’s quite safe.’

D’gar leaned inside cautiously, listening for any sounds that might indicate impending doom. It was echoey. He fancied he could hear faint whisperings that might be distant voices and tilted his head first one way, then the other until they became clearer.

‘…just get those wherries gutted, my girl and less of your cheek…’ The voice sounded as if it was coming from the end of a long tunnel, which it was, of course.

D’gar pulled back, almost hitting his head on the edge of the aperture. ‘I just heard someone.’

‘Well, there you go, then.’

‘I wonder how much they can overhear? I’m not sure I like the idea of Lower Cavern staff getting off listening in on whatever we’re doing.’

‘You could always put a curtain - or a tapestry - over it. That should muffle the sound. Anyway, I doubt they have the time to listen in that often, just when they want to find out something important.’

D’gar wasn’t so sure about that, although the information set him thinking. ‘How many weyrs have these?’

‘Bavi would know. But I expect it’s all of the bronze weyrs, plus the queens’ weyrs of course. Why?’

‘Well, it might be a way to check up on whatever F’drun’s plotting with Kylara. If she’s got one of these in her weyr, then maybe I could listen in.’

H’rek frowned. ‘And you’re concerned about people invading your privacy?’

He was right, of course. ‘I know. But I keep wondering what he’s up to. Not knowing bothers me.’

‘They’re probably just doing what people usually get up to in their weyrs.’

‘They can’t be doing that all the time. He must be eating with her as well. We hardly ever see him in the dining hall these days. Who knows what lies he’s telling her?’

‘Kylara’s not a fool,’ H’rek said, shaking his head. ‘She’s a bit spoilt and she enjoys stirring things up, but she wouldn’t believe just anything.’

Presumably he knew her better than most, having spent all that time down south with her. ‘Maybe not,’ D’gar conceded. ‘But I don’t trust F’drun. There’s got to be some reason he’s spending so much time with her, beyond just sex. Some ulterior motive.’

H’rek was quiet for a few moments. ‘I can see why you feel like that. But it’s much more likely she’s just using him like she uses everyone. Prideth’s going to rise soon. She’ll be courting half the bronzes in the Weyr, if I know Kylara.'

‘Bavi said that too.’

‘There you go, then. F’drun can say whatever he wants about you. Doesn’t mean he can hurt you.’

D’gar wished he could believe it. ‘That’s a change of tune, isn’t it? You were accusing him of trying to drown me the other day and then trying to work out what he had against me.’

‘Yes, but what can he actually do? You outrank him now. And even if he is with Kylara, she’s got nowhere near the amount of influence as, say, F’nor. Keep an eye on him, by all means, but don’t let yourself get obsessed. I’d say he’s doing a pretty good job of winding you up right now and he’s not had to lift a finger.’