Gone Away, Gone Ahead - 21. Concerns

Back in their weyr, later that evening, D’gar told H’rek what he’d unearthed at High Reaches. He felt very tired by then and longed get some sleep, but H’rek kept asking questions.

‘How can you be certain all this is true? If it’s not in the records…’

‘Firstly, not everything gets written down. Secondly, even if it does, records can decay. And even if they don’t the writer may have his or her own bias. Thirdly, V’vil and Pilgra both seem to me to be trustworthy. She’s a gold rider, after all.’

‘So’s Kylara and I wouldn’t go believing everything she says.’ H’rek paused to take another bite of the spiced bun D’gar had brought back from Fort. ‘These are good. Reminds me of what my mother used to make.’ He chewed thoughtfully. ‘Look, it’s not that I don’t believe you. I’m just trying to think through reasons why others might be doubtful. I mean, let’s face it, you said yourself that Pilgra doesn’t like F’drun much and neither does V’vil.’

‘But it all fits, doesn’t it? I can see how he’d torment that poor rider until he drank himself to death. I’ve watched him play about with flamethrowers.’ H’rek hadn’t been there that day he’d been on support duty, listening to F’drun’s grim stories and veiled threats. ‘The accident that killed his former Wingleader was in the records.’

‘Set down as an accident, no doubt.’

‘Well, yes. But they would say that, wouldn’t they?’ His tired brain was getting muddled. Had he really discovered anything worthwhile? Maybe he should have stayed for a meal and spoken to more folk at High Reaches Weyr? Only he’d had the feeling others might not have been as forthcoming as V’vil and Pilgra. The whole place had a sense of secrets being kept close; people who learned to keep their opinions to themselves from an early age.

‘You need more evidence,’ H’rek said. ‘I think you should speak to your Wingleader and tell him what you’ve found out so far. But I reckon he’ll come to the same conclusions; it all has a grain of truth but it’s basically Weyr gossip. People assuming nasty things about an unpopular character.’

‘F’drun threatened me. He had no qualms about setting Ryth on me in that lake. You said yourself I could have drowned. If I had, would that have been recorded as another unfortunate accident?’ It was so frustrating. D’gar knew, deep down, that F’drun was potentially dangerous. Surely others had to see that too. If he couldn’t convince them and then something happened, he’d never be able to forgive himself.

‘I know what he’s like. I don’t need convincing. I’m just saying that there’s no real proof.’ H’rek sighed. ‘I don’t really know what else you can do about it, either.’

‘Me neither. I’m going to tell R’feem what I’ve found out anyway. At least then he’s had warning. It’s about all I can do.’

The following morning presented the ideal opportunity. R’feem asked D’gar and B’lin to attend a meeting after breakfast. They adjourned from the dining hall to his weyr. It had the advantage of catching the morning sun and once their dragons had dropped them off, Piroth sprawled across the wide ledge to catch the benefit.

R’feem’s weyr had a large circular table with matching chairs in the main room, plus two comfortable armchairs D’gar remembered from Fort. He noticed there was also a service shaft and a bathing pool and felt relieved that his own weyr wasn’t better equipped than his Wingleader’s.

‘Sit down. Make yourselves at home. Klah, anyone?’ He called the order down to the kitchen and within a minute or so the rather noisy mechanism delivered three steaming mugs.

‘Right. Just a quick meeting really.’ R’feem pulled a slate from one of the niches and read through his notes. ‘This afternoon we’ll be overflying the northern part of Benden Hold. Tomorrow’s Fall starts out at sea, late afternoon, then crosses the mountain range and passes over the Hold itself. We’ll be handing over to Igen Weyr for the second half. The Weyrleader’s charts estimate roughly three hours flying time, so nothing too strenuous for our dragons. We’ll use the greens and blues who stayed in reserve last Fall.’

‘What’s the terrain?’ B’lin asked. ‘Benden end, I mean. I know the Igen part from Fork Hold onwards.’

‘More vineyards of course and general agricultural land. The Hold itself should be fine; they’ll all be safely shut inside. R’gul’s Wing is flying sweep to check everyone’s indoors before it starts and to give us a weather report. D’gar, can you make sure all the dragons and men are fit for duty? As far as I know, no-one suffered unduly in the mating flight and they’ve had a clear day to recover.’

‘F’drun and Ryth will obviously be out, but I’ll need to check on Toth. He got a tail across his eye.’

R’feem nodded. ‘B’lin, if you could co-ordinate the firestone deliveries pre-Fall and inform the greens and blues who’ll be needed. Others to stay on standby, just in case, back here at the Weyr.’

‘Fine. I’ll sort that out.’ B’lin raised his mug and blew some of the steam away.

‘Let’s hope it’s a better Fall than the last. The Benden Wingleaders are still trying to work out what went wrong, even though W’lir and I keep telling them there’s nothing they could have done to prevent those deaths.’ R’feem sighed.

‘I reckon they’re starting to realise that’s just how it goes,’ D’gar said. ‘Well, some of them, at least.’ He wondered how it had been at the beginning of their own Pass - the Eighth - when suddenly Spring Games skills had been tested in deadly earnest. No better, probably. It was one thing to read about tactics in old records or flame harmless strands of fibre, quite another when you found yourself up against stuff that could eat you and your dragon to the bone.

‘Igen’s doing pretty well so far,’ B’lin put in. ‘They’re getting the Weyr back into shape and have only lost two pairs so far. Well, three if you include C’don and Choliarth, of course.’ He paused briefly for a sip of klah. ‘That was something I was meaning to ask about. Are we counted as being from our home Weyrs, or as Benden riders these days? I’m still wearing my Igen knots, you folk are still identifying as Fort, but none of us will be going home for a while, will we?’

R’feem made a face. ‘It’s a good question. There’s not been much said about it. Back in the past, anything over three months was usually treated as a transfer. We’re definitely going to be here longer than that. I’ll bring it up at the next meeting.’

That reminded D’gar of something else he’d wanted to know. ‘Did they say anything about mixing the Wings? Getting a few of the Benden youngsters proper Thread fighting experience would be good for everyone.’

‘I remember talking about that with you, and yes, I have mentioned it but there’s a certain degree of reluctance. They’re still set on creating a new Wing with one of their young bronzes as Wingleader.’ R’feem looked at him kindly. ‘I know you’d like to have H’rek in our Wing and I’ve no objection to that. As I’ve said before, we can always use more blues and greens but I’m afraid it’s up to Benden as to whether they want to allow that degree of integration.’

‘Well, the more mating flights there are, the more of that they’re going to get, whether they want it or not. So they might as well accept it.’ B’lin sounded as cheerful as ever. ‘Benden had better get used to not being the only Weyr on Pern any more.’

‘Well, if there’s nothing else…’ R’feem said.

D’gar paused for just a moment. ‘Actually, there is. You know I went over to High Reaches yesterday. I’ve found out some more of F’drun’s history.’

‘From reliable sources?’ R’feem asked cautiously.

‘Most of what I learned came from a junior gold rider. Unfortunately their records are a bit of a mess from neglect over four hundred Turns, but the facts can all be verified.’ That was pushing it slightly but no need to give that away. He outlined briefly what he’d been told; the suspicious accident to F’drun’s Wingleader, his bullying which resulted in the death of a rider and lastly, the ground crew incident. ‘Now, even if there is some exaggeration, I think it’s sufficient evidence for us all to be very careful around him.’

‘I’d agree with that,’ B’lin said. ‘Even since coming here, he’s done some fairly questionable things. Setting Ryth on you, for one. And if you’d not stepped in, he’d have forced K’fol to carry on running on an injured ankle. Plus, he let his dragon go after a queen when it clearly wasn’t an open flight.’

R’feem hesitated for a while before speaking. ‘F’drun is an unpleasant man, I’ll give you that. But as his Wingleader, I have a duty to give everyone a fair chance, whether I like them or not. He’s been punished for what he did to you and his dragon’s suffered from that mating flight. Ryth won’t be fit enough to fly Fall again for a few sevendays, so I’m told -‘

‘But -‘ D’gar started to protest when R’feem held up a hand to stop him.

‘I can see why you’re concerned, but let’s look at this logically. If he really did engineer that accident to his Wingleader, then it was for personal gain. Doing the same to me wouldn’t get him anywhere; he’s not Wingsecond now, so if I was injured - or worse - then you or B’lin would take over my duties. He’s in no position to bully anyone in the Wing. Any influence he hoped to gain within this Weyr vanished when Ryth failed to catch Prideth. However things might work at High Reaches - and V’vil’s told me some stories about that place that’s made me glad not to be there - it’s not like that here. He’s powerless.’

D’gar knew that what R’feem was saying was based on perfectly good reasoning but in the back of his mind he knew that he could never trust F’drun. Even a toothless old watch wher could be dangerous. ‘I can see your point, but I still think we need to be careful.’

‘And we will be.’ R’feem smiled. ‘I appreciate your concern but I think you’re worrying yourself unnecessarily. Now, if that’s all, we’d best finish. I’ve a Wingleaders meeting shortly.’

As they waited for their dragons, B’lin turned to D’gar. ‘You’re right,’ he said quietly, glancing back to make sure R’feem was out of earshot. ‘I wouldn’t trust F’drun as far as I could throw him. It’s bad enough watching out for Thread without having to wonder what tricks someone in your own Wing might pull.’ He stopped as Piroth got up and shook himself a moment before R’feem joined them.

‘One thing I forgot to mention, D’gar,’ the Wingleader said. ‘Now you’re fit again, maybe you could carry on with that exercise program I asked F’drun to take charge of. I know I can trust you to be sensible and not hurt anyone.’

‘Of course. I’ll start the day after Fall.’

‘Excellent.’ He climbed up onto his dragon and they glided away. Almost as soon as the ledge was free, the pair of brown dragons landed to collect their riders.

‘As long as you don’t have us swimming that shaffing lake, I’ll be happy,’ B’lin said.

‘No chance of that.’

He’d gone back to his weyr and unrolled the record hides, ready to do some admin work when Herebeth nudged his mind. Canth’s rider asks if we are free to fly with him.

D’gar stared at the hides. He should really catch up and put in all the new information he’d gleaned from High Reaches but it was a fine morning and the prospect of flying held far more appeal. Plus, it would give him a chance to speak to F’nor about some of the ideas he’d had. F’nor would be bound to pass them along to the Weyrleader and something might actually get done. Tell him yes.

After a short pause Herebeth replied. He says he will meet us beside the Star Stones shortly. And you will need our fighting straps.

Some serious flying, then. Even better.

By the time he was ready, F’nor was already there, chatting to the watch rider. Herebeth landed neatly alongside and D’gar slid down. ‘So, what’s the plan?’

‘Just a few experiments, that’s all. There are plenty of people theorising about the differences in performance between our dragons and yours, but no one’s actually tried them out. I thought it might be instructive for both of us, if you’ve no objection.’

‘Not at all.’ It would be something of a challenge.

‘Now, if you could just ask Herebeth to move alongside Canth, we can start by comparing the two of them, conformation-wise.’

There were always variations in size and build between dragons of the same colour. Toth, for example, was longer from nose to tail than Herebeth but Herebeth had a greater wingspan. Canth was a large brown even by Benden standards. Examining him this closely, D’gar thought Canth was probably similar in stature to bronze Piroth; certainly much larger than any brown from the past.

Herebeth had the stocky, short-legged build typical of the dragons from his time. He had a broader chest and denser muscle than Canth, but then he’d been fighting Thread regularly for five Turns, so some of that might be down to the sheer amount of work he’d done. He tried to cast his mind back to the way Herebeth had looked when he’d reached his full growth after Hatching, but before they’d joined a Wing. He’d probably resembled a smaller version of Canth back then, sleeker and with less bulk.

F’nor studied the two dragons for some time. ‘Interesting,’ he said. ‘It’s not just down to size, is it? They look quite different, side to side.’

‘My thoughts, too. You should probably check out some of the dragons from other Weyrs as well, if you want to be thorough.’ Although, as he’d often thought before, it was the Benden dragons who were the anomalies. Put Herebeth next to Ondiath as they’d been just a short while ago and there were far more similarities than between either of them and a modern brown.

‘Would you mind asking him to open his wings?’

D’gar did so. While he had the opportunity he checked the old scores on the underside of the left wing. They’d healed long ago and he’d been scrupulous about oiling the scar tissue. There was barely any difference in the profile of the two wings now. It was only when you knew where to look that the damage became obvious.

F’nor noticed too. ‘That must have been a nasty injury.’

‘He was out of action for two months. The healers did a good job patching it up though. It’s made no difference in the air.’ Herebeth must be considerably younger than Canth, yet his hide bore the scars of fighting Thread over several Turns.

‘You don’t mind me doing this, do you?’

‘If I did, I’d say something about it.’

‘I thought you might take it better than some of the other riders. There’s still a bit of a “them and us” atmosphere around the place.’

D’gar nodded. ‘Inevitable really. Mind you, being called “old timers” doesn’t help. Or all the jokes about being four hundred Turns old. We do need to integrate more, though, don’t you think? I mean, we’re all fighting the same enemy when it comes down to it.’

‘My thoughts exactly. And the Weyrleader’s. Some of the other bronze riders feel differently.’ He gave a small smile. ‘They don’t like change.’

‘R’gul, huh?’

‘Among others. Still, having Orth fly Prideth reassured a lot of them. If Ryth had succeeded…’

He felt a need to set F’nor’s mind at rest on that possibility. ‘Apparently, Ryth’s never flown a gold, although I only found that out yesterday. Still, it’s not to say another bronze from the five Weyrs mightn’t catch a Benden queen some time. After all, a few of our dragons have caught your greens now.’

‘True enough.’ F’nor smiled. ‘And all of that helps with folk getting to know each other better. Right, think I’m done on the ground. Shall we fly?’

‘Sounds good.’ D’gar couldn’t help feeling as if he and Herebeth were about to become an example of ‘old’ dragon kind and the weight of responsibility made him feel just a little nervous as he clipped and tightened the straps. The two dragons took off.

Canth asks me to keep alongside and match his moves.

Go ahead, then. Show him what we can do. Remember that we have to fly again this afternoon, though and it’s Fall tomorrow. Don’t strain yourself.

Never.

Canth started by powering up in a steep ascent; the move that Benden always used when meeting the leading edge of Fall. Herebeth kept up all the way. D’gar sensed that his dragon also felt the need to show off his capabilities. When they were so high that the Weyr was almost lost among the mountains of the Benden range and the air became thin and cold, he levelled out briefly before swooping into a steep dive.

Canth says we pull out of the dive on his count, Herebeth warned. Three, two, one… now.

D’gar’s stomach almost got left behind on that move. Canth’s broader wingspan gave him a slight advantage, but Herebeth’s strength made up for any deficiency. They went on to try a variety of turns. Unsurprisingly, Herebeth’s more compact size meant that he could change direction more sharply than Canth, while Canth was able to hold a glide for longer without having to use his wings. D’gar reckoned that Canth’s larger frame meant he would probably be able to flame more Thread in a single blast - maybe as much as a bronze - although that would need to be tested as well. Eventually, they flew level again and F’nor shouted across to him. ‘We’ll land over there, all right?’

He agreed and Canth banked right to lead the way. It was an enviable perch with spectacular views across the mountains. In the far distance, sea and sky met on the eastern horizon. It felt strange to be looking in that direction without straining to see the silver-grey curtain of oncoming Thread.

‘How’s Herebeth feeling?’ F’nor asked.

‘Fine. Although I don’t want to over stretch him. We’ve a patrol this afternoon and of course, tomorrow…’

‘Threadfall again,’ F’nor finished. ‘We’ve got it easy at the moment, according to all the old records. In a few Turns it’ll become heavier and there’ll be less time to recover between Falls.’

‘That’s right. I remember how frequent they were when I was growing up. By the time I Impressed it was already beginning to tail off.’ Thinking of the last Pass, D’gar suddenly remembered something. ‘When Lessa went back, I heard she got the co-ordinates from an old tapestry.’

‘Yes. It was commissioned to celebrate the last ever Fall of the Eighth Pass, over Ruatha.’

‘I’d like to see that. I was there, you know.’ Although the designer would obviously have concentrated on the golden queens and bronzes, maybe somewhere in the picture was a brown dragon the same shade as Herebeth.

‘It’s back at Ruatha Hold now, where it belongs. But I’m sure they wouldn’t mind you taking a look. It’s an impressive piece.’

‘I expect half the riders from Fort have been gawping at it trying to find themselves and their dragons. I’ll get to see it some time, I suppose.’

‘Must feel slightly odd to see yourself depicted in something that ancient,’ F’nor mused. ‘No offence meant,’ he added hastily.

‘None taken. I know when I’m from. But we’re all here now and have to make the best of it.’ He wondered if this was the time to mention his idea. ‘I’ve been thinking about this southern expedition,’ he ventured.

‘Oh yes?’

‘Well, it’s going to be stretching resources sending enough men and dragons to start a new Weyr as well as fighting Fall over Benden’s territory. I mean, I expect the Weyrleader’s got some ideas about how to get it done, but I wondered if he’d thought about using some of the walking wounded.’

F’nor looked interested.

‘There must be quite a few riders who are recovering from scores; not up to rejoining the fighting Wings but who are sitting around getting bored. Or men who are uninjured themselves, but whose dragons aren’t yet fit enough for Fall. How about sending a few of those to swell the numbers?’

He considered it for a moment. ‘That’s not a bad idea. We’ve already considered a few different options although nothing’s set in stone as yet. So, you don’t think re-opening Southern's a distraction from what we should be doing?’

‘No. You’ve been there before, so you know it’s a viable place to live. We were always told the southern continent was barren and Thread bared but that’s obviously not the case. It’s there, so why not use it?’

He laughed. ‘You’re less hidebound than some of the folk who were born this end of time, do you know that?’

D’gar shrugged. ‘Just practical, that’s all.’

‘Talking of which, are you ready to fly again?’

‘Sure.’

They had another session comparing the performance of the two dragons before returning to the Weyr. Herebeth had enjoyed the workout as much as he had. But the admin was still waiting to be done and after ordering klah, he settled down at the desk while Herebeth curled up on his warm couch for a nap. As he started to copy information onto a new hide, he found his mind wandering. Towards the end, he’d shown F’nor and Canth a few manoeuvres he’d not seen the Benden riders using; practical Thread dodging moves rather than anything fancy such as might be used when competing in the Spring Games. It would be useful to pass on skills and knowledge such as those to the modern riders and dragons. Maybe he could organise some unofficial sessions. Surely that would foster a spirit of co-operation and help break down the ‘them and us’ barriers? However, even as the thought took shape, he knew that not everyone would appreciate the intervention and that although some would take it well, others might deem it interfering or even patronising. It would have to be handled carefully.

He sipped his klah and stared at the hide on his desk. Wrote a couple of lines, then found his thoughts drifting once more. This afternoon, they’d be in the air again, over a different part of Benden Hold. How many Turns would it be before he knew this part of the northern continent as well as his home turf; Fort, Boll, Ruatha? Might he, one day, consider this his home?

Herebeth’s voice drew him from his musings. You should come out here. Something is happening.

He placed his pen carefully in the well and pushed past the heavy curtain. Herebeth had moved forward to the ledge and was watching keenly. As he joined his dragon, he heard an angry voice rising up from the Bowl.

‘Just get out! Get out of my life, you useless man.’ It was Kylara he heard. Kylara, who was standing in the mouth of her weyr throwing things out. Throwing them at F’drun, who ducked as a boot narrowly missed the side of his head.

‘Please, Kylara.’ His voice was low but carried well. ‘Give me another chance.’

‘Don’t be stupid.’ She balled up a couple of shirts and hurled them his way. They fell short, onto the muddy ground. ‘You’re no use to me any more.’

F’drun stooped to pick up his clothing, wincing as the other boot caught him in the back.

‘I never want to see you again!’ She turned briskly, her full skirt swirling. As she disappeared back inside her weyr, Prideth shifted so that the dragon formed an impassable gold barrier.

D’gar watched as F’drun carefully gathered up his belongings, gave one last, lingering look towards the weyr and walked slowly away.