Threadfall - 47. Meetings

D’gar had been hearing all kinds of rumours during the past sevenday. T’ron had fallen madly in love with Lessa. She was going to challenge Mardra to be senior Weyrwoman. Mardra wanted her away from Fort as soon as she was well enough. He preferred to listen to the nearest reliable source of information; R’feem’s weyrmate, Hebiri. According to her, Lessa was sitting up, had started to eat properly and was talking readily. She’d even managed to walk out to the ledge, with some help, to see Ramoth.

R’feem knew nothing more than what he heard from Hebiri. ‘I’ve not talked to the weyrwoman myself. T’ron and Mardra don’t want lots of people crowding her and asking questions until she’s completely well again.’

That was understandable. People who had been so seriously ill could suffer a relapse if they didn’t take it slowly.

‘However, I can tell you about our meeting earlier today.’

The Wingleaders had been summoned yet again by T’ron. They seemed to have been attending more meetings in the last few days than they’d had in all the months since Fall ended. D’gar had wondered if they would be discussing promotions and had been trying not to get his hopes up.

’T’ron told us there will be a few changes to the plans we made just after Turn’s End. He’s decided we should hold off re-forming “G” and “I” Wings for the time being.’

D’gar nodded. It made sense not to spread the existing pairs too thinly. T’ron had probably realised it would be best to wait until a few more weyrlings were ready to graduate to the Wings. He sipped his klah.

‘He’s also said there’ll be no more promotions confirmed for another month or so. Sorry, lads. I did speak up for you.’

D’gar had no doubt he was telling the truth. ‘It’s fine. We can wait a while longer.’

‘No more transfers to be approved, either, although that doesn’t affect anyone in our Wing.’

‘Did he say anything about the Spring Games?’ M’rell asked. He’d been getting quite enthusiastic about the prospect. ‘I mean, we’ll need plenty of time to get ready, won’t we?’

R’feem shook his head. ‘That’s been put off until the next meeting too.’

D’gar found that slightly odd. The other measures could be put down to caution, but not the Games. The first heats would be between the Wings, then the winners would go on to compete in the final against the other Weyrs. To delay practice might be the difference between success and failure. ‘Has something changed?’ he ventured.

R’feem gave him a pointed look. ‘Not at all.’

D’gar sensed he was holding something back and if that was the case, nothing he could say would make any difference.

‘I’m sure we’ll all find out something more in the next few days,’ R’feem said. ‘Until then, we just have to be patient.’

‘Something’s going on,’ he said to M’rell after the meeting ended. He’d got Herebeth to bespeak Toth and M’rell had come up to his weyr rather than going straight back to his own.

‘How do you mean?’

‘R’feem usually keeps us well informed. Now he’s being very cagey. I reckon he knows something more, but he’s not allowed to talk about it. All these sudden changes, too. It’s not normal.’

‘You’re right. I mean, how are we going to do well in the Games when we don’t even know what the competitions are yet?’

‘Exactly. It’s as if something more important has suddenly cropped up.’

M’rell scratched his head. ‘Like what?’

‘That’s anyone’s guess.’

‘You think T’ron’s really fallen for Lessa? Maybe she’s turned his head and he can’t think straight?’

‘I don’t know.’ Surely if the Weyrleader was preoccupied with personal affairs - albeit ones that might ultimately affect the Weyr - he’d be less likely to be holding meetings and making changes to previously agreed plans. ‘But I don’t reckon that’s it. We can’t do anything about it, anyway. Like R’feem said, we have to be patient.’

‘Don’t know if I can wait.’ M’rell sounded glum. ‘Well, not me so much as Nissadni. She’s been complaining about the weyr I have now. I told her I’d be getting made permanent after Turn’s End. She wants a bathing pool and a service shaft.’

‘Plenty more wherries to catch if she’s going to be like that. Isn’t that what you usually say?’

‘I thought she really liked me.’ He scuffed his boot on the mat. Dust rose from it.

How had he not noticed how filthy it was in here until now? ‘Well, maybe it was just your knots she was after. You know how some of those Lower Cavern woman are.’

‘I suppose so.’ M’rell sighed. ‘I think she’s got her eye on some bronze rider in “H” Wing.’

There was no answer to that. D’gar gave him a sympathetic smile.

M’rell looked around the weyr. ‘Been a while since I was in here. Remember the parties you two used to have? They were wild.’

‘Some of them,’ D’gar agreed. It felt as if that life had belonged to someone else.

‘Got any wine?’

‘I don’t keep it up here. Anyway, it’s a bit early to be drinking, isn’t it?’

‘I can drink any time,’ M’rell said. ‘Not as if there’s much else to do these days. That’s why I’m looking forward to these Games. Not just me, either. Quite a few folk are feeling bored since the end of the Pass.’

If M’rell wanted thrills, surely he could go flying with some of the crazy greens. Or take a ride up to the ice lake for dragon shunt?

‘Don’t you feel like that, too?’

‘No. I’m glad it’s all over. We’re lucky to have made it through in one piece.’

‘They were good times, though.’ He sounded wistful.

‘No they weren’t. People died. Dragons died. We lived from Fall to Fall, not knowing who might be next.’

‘Yeah, but it was exciting. The sound of crunching firestone. Charring clumps to ash. That jolt when you had a near miss, but you got away with it.’

‘Dragons keening after a death. The awful smell in the infirmary. Empty spaces at the Wing tables,’ he countered. ‘I don’t miss any of that.’

‘Well, I guess you would feel differently, after what happened to S’brin.’

‘I felt the same before. I did it because we had to, not because I enjoyed it.’ Surely most riders didn’t regret the Pass ending? Dragons were hatched instinctively wanting to sear Thread, but they could live a perfectly enjoyable life without it.

‘Well, I suppose it takes all sorts…’ M’rell got up. ‘Toth’s restless,’ he said. ‘Think we’ll go and fly off some of his energy. Want to join us?’

D’gar checked. Herebeth was dozing, although not so deeply that he couldn’t hear. Fancy flying with Toth?

Not unless we are going to catch more wherries.

‘If we can hunt, then yes.’

‘He can’t be hungry again?’

‘Afraid so.’

‘Well, all right. But we’ll do some aerobatics on the way. It’ll stop your dragon getting fat.’

D’gar felt invigorated when they returned. Herebeth had enjoyed his workout, competing against Toth in a series of manoeuvres. The two dragons were fairly evenly matched, so both won a few and lost a few. Hard flying had made D’gar realise how his own fitness had deteriorated. He’d not been running for months. Perhaps the new Turn was a good time to start afresh? Then there was his weyr to sort out. There was no point in hanging on to S’brin’s stuff. It only served as a reminder he was gone.

He quickly gathered up the pile of clothes and before Herebeth settled, asked him to fly down to the stores, where he dropped them off. He thought he might offer J’rud a choice of the other bits and pieces before he let the rest of the Wing take their pick.

R’feem didn’t mention his meeting to everyone else at dinner time. That was interesting, too. Evidently what he’d told M’rell and D’gar earlier wasn’t to be passed on. Well, most of it didn’t affect them anyway and he guessed that any decision to postpone practice for the Games might be unpopular. Looking around the table, D’gar wondered how many other riders, like M’rell, were feeling bored. It was hard to tell from their behaviour. Everyone seemed in good spirits.

Nothing much happened over the next few days. They went out on routine patrols twice, then R’feem took the Wing up on another afternoon to practice changing formations, as they’d had to in Fall.

‘It doesn’t do to get sloppy,’ he said. ‘Keeps everyone on their toes.’

D’gar began exercising again, running around the Bowl on the cleared paths. It brought back memories, of course. Thinking about the times he’d run the same routes with S’brin made him work harder. Back in the weyr, he did push ups and sit ups, making him realise yet again how dirty the floor and mats had become without regular cleaning. He needed to do something about that.

‘Didn’t I see you out running earlier?’ J’rud asked at breakfast.

‘Er, yes. I thought I should start to get fit again.’ Maybe J’rud wanted to join him, even though he’d usually stayed in bed back when he and S’brin went for their daily run.

‘You wouldn’t get me out there in this weather.’

‘It’s not so bad. And you feel great afterwards.’

‘Hmm.’ He seemed dubious. ‘Got anything planned for today?’

‘Well, I was going to sort out and clean my weyr.’

‘Want a hand?’ J’rud offered.

It would be a lot less daunting with someone to help. ‘If you don’t mind.’

Zurinth landed on the ledge just a short while after breakfast. It was a bright morning, as was often the case in first month. D’gar had already pulled back the curtain to let in as much light as possible and hung his bed furs out to air.

J’rud looked around. He must be remembering other times he’d been here.

‘It’s a bit of a mess,’ D’gar said. Actually, it wasn’t anywhere as near as bad as it had been, but it was probably best J’rud didn’t know that.

‘You’re right there,’ J’rud agreed. ‘Let’s start with those mats, eh?’

It turned out he had an unusual, but clever method to get the dust out. He and D’gar held either side, out at the front of the ledge, while Zurinth used her tail as a beater. Herebeth had a go, too, but he hit the mat too hard. D’gar felt it wrenched from his hands and saw it go flying over the edge.

‘Oops,’ J’rud said.

They watched it float gently down to the ground. Better go and fetch it, D’gar told Herebeth. He swooped down to pick it up, while Zurinth watched in amusement.

J’rud laughed abruptly.

‘What’s so funny?’

‘Zurinth wants Herebeth to do that again so she can try and catch it before it reaches the ground.’

‘Well…’ D’gar checked his mat. It didn’t seem any the worse for its adventure. ‘All right, then.’

They stood slightly to one side, giving Zurinth a bit more room. Herebeth whacked the mat a second time. As it descended, Zurinth launched herself after it, snatching it between her jaws. She carried on down almost to the ground before she managed to pull out of the dive and power back up to join them.

D’gar clapped. Can I try that? Herebeth asked.

I don’t think you should. It seemed like one of those moves only a green could successfully pull off, or maybe a smaller blue.

Herebeth gave a whuff of annoyance. Zurinth made a scolding noise and obviously talked him out of it.

She says I would make a big hole in the ground, Herebeth explained.

They used the same method to get the dust out of two other mats and the tapestries. Zurinth was far more gentle with those.

‘Let’s leave them out here for a while to get some air. They still smell a bit fusty.’ Jrud arranged the mats side by side. ‘Then we can start cleaning the rest of the weyr.’

Just as he finished speaking, D’gar’s attention was drawn by a bronze dragon coming in to land, shortly followed by another, then a third he recognised as R’mart’s Branth. ‘Looks like there’s a Weyrleaders’ meeting today.’

‘Another one? Maybe they’re going to be discussing the Games at last?’

‘Maybe.’ D’gar wasn’t so sure. He watched as the riders dismounted to be greeted by Mardra and led inside the Senior Queen’s Weyr. Their dragons took off for the heights, where Ramoth perched as usual beside the Star Stones. They were drawn to her like moths to a glow basket.

I think we will get some sun too, Herebeth announced, before he and Zurinth side-slipped off the ledge and winged their way up to their own favoured spot. As they ascended, another two bronzes arrived.

‘Wonder if there’s any truth in the rumour Mardra’s trying to get rid of her?’ J’rud tilted his head in the direction of Ramoth. ‘And her rider, of course.’

‘There’s definitely something going on.’ No one would know until it was made public. If it was made public, of course. Lessa and Ramoth might get transferred off to another Weyr and the first they’d know was when she flew off one day. It seemed odd, though, that Lessa hadn’t been seen yet. Even after her health began to improve, she had stayed ensconced in Mardra’s weyr and the adjoining rooms. It was almost as if they might be keeping her away from the rest of the Weyr’s inhabitants. Why should that be?

They carried on with the cleaning, using water to damp down the dust before sweeping and mopping the floor. It took a while, after which they both felt as if they needed a hot drink. D’gar caught a lift with one of the weyrlings and went to the kitchen to fetch klah and some sweet treats.

‘Might have known you’d only be here to feed your stomach. Mind you, you could do with putting on some weight.’ Agarra was the same as ever.

‘J’rud and I are cleaning my weyr.’

‘J’rud, eh? I’ve seen you two together a few times lately. Hope you’re going to get back with him. He’s a nice lad.’

‘Give it time, mum.’

She poured the klah into a sealed flask and packed a few buns and sweet rolls into a small basket. ‘There you are. That should keep you going until lunch. I should expect all those Weyrleaders will want something to eat, too. And the Masterharper.’

‘Is he here too?’

Agarra nodded. ‘Got here last night, late. Must be something important happening if he’s here as well as all the rest.’

‘Hmm.’ Probably not just a discussion about the Games, then. ‘Well, thanks for these. See you later.’

He hitched a lift back and they sat down for a while, sipping klah and munching their way through the food. ‘Agarra said the Masterharper’s here too.’ D’gar wondered if J’rud might have any thoughts about it.

‘Really?’ J’rud paused as he was about to take another bite. ‘Wonder why?’

‘Like I said earlier, something’s going on.’

‘You think R’feem might be able to find out?’

‘Perhaps.’ If it got as far as Wingleaders, that was. ‘I reckon it’s to do with Lessa and Ramoth.’

J’rud carried on eating. ‘But why summon all of the Weyrleaders, if it’s Fort business?’

‘I was thinking about that earlier. Maybe there is a grain of truth in the rumours. Maybe Mardra doesn’t want another queen rider here, after all. They could be negotiating a transfer.’

‘Bit tough on those two, after all they’ve been through. Wouldn’t put it past her, though.’

‘No.’ D’gar remembered how Zalna had been treated as a weyrling. Mardra wasn’t a sympathetic person by any means and she certainly wouldn’t tolerate keeping another weyrwoman around if she considered her a threat.

Once they’d finished their snack, J’rud began to clean the shelves and niches. He picked up some of the ornaments S’brin had collected and wiped each in turn with a damp cloth.

‘I was going to say that if you’d like any of those, you’re welcome.’

‘Don’t you want to keep them?’ J’rud turned the little carved dragon so it was sitting in the palm of his hand.

‘I’ve never been one for collecting things. I know you do.’

‘Well, I’ll have a think about it. Although I do rather like this one.’

‘Take it, then. S’brin would want you to.’

Just then he heard a noise on the ledge. Maybe Herebeth returning, although he’d not been gone for long. But then he heard footsteps and a female voice calling, ‘Hello. Anyone there?’

She could have just come in, as the curtain was drawn back, but Zalna would never be so intrusive. It wasn’t polite to walk straight into anyone’s weyr without announcing your presence and Zalna was far too well-mannered for that.

‘Come on in,’ D’gar replied.

‘Just give us a moment to get our clothes back on,’ J’rud said, with a giggle.

D’gar aimed a blow at him, deliberately missing. ‘Take no notice of him. We’re just cleaning.’

Zalna appeared a moment later. D’gar went over to give her a hug. ‘Good to see you again.’

‘We’ve just been to the beach, so I thought I’d drop in on the way back to Benden. Sorry I didn’t get over to see you again before before Turn’s End…’

‘It’s fine. I know how time can fly past.’

‘We’re having an early spring clean,’ J’rud offered. ‘It gets so dusty here, as you probably remember.’

‘He got Zurinth to beat the dust out of the mats and tapestries with her tail. Then the dragons decided to make a game of it. It was quite a sight.’

‘I shall have to remember to call on you when my weyr needs a clean,’ she said to J’rud. ‘Are you still moving furniture for people?’

He nodded. ‘Mostly in the better weather. Although M’rell and D’gar might be moving soon, when they’re confirmed as permanent Wingseconds.’

‘My congratulations.’ Zalna smiled.

‘It’s more of an “if” than “when.” I’m not holding my breath.’ After what R’feem had said, he wasn’t sure if it would happen at all.

‘Still, I’m sure you’ve made a good job of it.’

‘We were in the right place at the right time. No special skills involved. And with I’grast getting a Wing of his own it was bound to happen.’

‘You’re too modest,’ she said. ‘So, I was wondering. Is that huge golden dragon on the heights the one everyone’s been talking about?’

‘Ramoth? Yes. We’re still no wiser as to her origins. Apparently her rider - Lessa - is on the mend now, so I’m guessing we’ll find out soon.’ D’gar wondered if Zalna, as a gold rider herself, might know more. Was her visit just to see old friends, or had she arrived for some other reason?

‘All I can say is I’m glad Gemalth isn’t that size. It would be a real struggle to climb up to those neck ridges.’

J’rud laughed. ‘Yes, I’m always glad to get back on Zurinth if I’ve hitched a ride on Herebeth. So, how’s Benden?’

‘Cold. Damp. That’s why we went to the beach, to get some sun. I actually dropped by to ask if you’d like to meet me at the cove in Southern Boll some time in the next sevenday.’ She turned to J’rud. ‘You too, of course. And any other of our old friends who’d like to come along.’

‘Funnily enough, I was thinking the same, just the other day,’ D’gar said. ‘I’ve not really been out of the Weyr except on patrols lately.’

‘A day on the beach would do you good,’ J’rud said to him. ‘And you know how much Herebeth likes to swim.’

It was true. Even though Fort’s winter was far less dismal than Benden’s, a day in the warm sunshine would be welcome. ‘Let’s make that a date,’ he agreed.

‘I’ll let you know which day is best for us.’ Zalna’s eyes suddenly unfocussed as Gemalth spoke to her. After a few seconds she continued. ‘I’m sorry, but I have to go now. We’ll meet again soon.’

‘You take care, Zalna.’ D’gar smiled.

‘Yes, see you on the beach,’ J’rud added.

‘Good bye for now.’

D’gar heard Gemalth land briefly, then take off again. ‘Wonder what happened there? I got the feeling she wanted to stay longer.’ He made his way back out to the ledge as one of the bronzes flew down to pick up his rider. ‘Looks like that meeting’s over, too.’

J’rud joined him. ‘They’ve been in there all morning. Surprised they didn’t stay for lunch.’

‘Busy folk, Weyrleaders.’ He watched as the bronze joined Gemalth. They ascended above the Bowl together, then both winked between simultaneously. Within the next few minutes, the others left as well. Finally, N’gol and Lailiarth landed just in front of Mardra’s Weyr, picked up Creline, the Masterharper and flew off, presumably to return him to the Harper Hall.

‘Let’s finish this, then go down to the dining hall.’ After the snacks, D’gar wasn’t very hungry, but he hoped they’d find out some news.

Piroth’s rider asks you to let the Wing know he will be along later. He would like you all to stay after lunch until he gets there.

All right.

‘What was that?’ J’rud asked.

‘R’feem’s going to be late for lunch. I imagine they’re having a Wingleaders’ meeting right now.’ That must mean whatever had been discussed earlier was being passed down. Also that it affected the Weyr as a whole.

Once the whole Wing had assembled, D’gar stood and rapped the table. ‘R’feem’s asked us to stay after we finish eating. He wants to speak to us all.’

‘What about?’ V’chal called out.

‘I’m afraid I don’t know. Like I said, R’feem will be telling us.’ He hoped that would stop any questions.

It did, but not the speculation. Everyone - or their dragons - had noticed the Weyrleaders’ bronzes on the heights and had their own theories as to the reason for the meeting. D’gar had several mugs of klah and managed a couple of meat rolls as they waited. He hoped R’feem wouldn’t be too long. Some of the riders were getting impatient. A couple of the greens wandered over to another table to chat with friends.

‘Wish he’d hurry up,’ D’gar said quietly to J’rud.

Just then the door opened. Everyone swivelled to see the Wingleaders returning. As R’feem strolled over, the stray green riders went back to their places.

R’feem stayed standing as his wingriders settled down. ‘I expect you’ve all been waiting for news. So here it is. As you probably noticed, the Weyrleader held a meeting this morning with his colleagues from the other five Weyrs. Following that meeting, I have some important instructions to pass on.’ He paused for a moment, scanning all the faces around the table. ‘As from this moment, there will be no leaving the Weyr, except as part of routine patrols, or if a Wingleader specifically asks you to go somewhere for him.’

Questions started up immediately and R’feem had to quieten them. ‘I know you must be wondering why this is happening, but you won’t have long to wait and find out. T’ron will be addressing the entire Weyr tomorrow evening. Until then, I can tell you no more. Neither can anyone else. Now, carry on with whatever you were about.’

It was definitely serious, then, although at least T’ron had the sense not to keep folk waiting too long. Why he couldn’t have spoken tonight, D’gar had no idea. He knew better than to press R’feem for answers. If he knew any more, he wasn’t allowed to say.

After he’d finished eating, R’feem left, along with the other Wingleaders, to carry on with their discussions.

The afternoon dragged. D’gar previously had no intention of leaving the Weyr, but now it was forbidden, he found himself wanting to fly somewhere. Anywhere, just to pass the time. Instead, he had to be content with re-hanging the tapestries, replacing his bed furs and taking some dirty clothes down to the laundry. Even there, the air was abuzz with rumours.

For something else to do, he checked and cleaned all of Herebeth’s straps as afternoon sunlight blazed into his weyr, reflecting from the snow below. He wondered if the prohibition on leaving would be lifted once T’ron had made his announcement. If not, then the meeting with Zalna would have to be postponed. That would be a pity.

The winter dusk fell early. Glow baskets began to be uncovered around the Bowl. Light spilled out from weyrs. Dragons returned from the heights as the sun sank, silhouettes against the sky. Herebeth settled back on his couch. It is getting nippy outside, he said.

Could he feel the atmosphere too? D’gar asked him.

It feels a little bit like tickly air, Herebeth replied. Although I do not think a storm is on the way. Other dragons feel it, too.

R’feem wasn’t at dinner. Neither were the other Wingleaders. T’ron and Mardra, along with Tirelle and Margatta, were absent too. It made the place feel adrift, with none of the leaders present.

D’gar and M’rell, together with many of the Wingseconds, had to try and quieten down their wingriders, many of whom were impatient for news and resentful at the restrictions. It wasn’t a pleasant or relaxing evening.

The next day was no better. The whole Weyr felt tense and expectant; almost akin to the feeling when one of the queens was about to rise, but without the dragonlust. In the Weyr, strong emotions were picked up by dragons. They then reinforced the feelings by projecting them back to the riders. Even the more sensitive weyrfolk would become affected. He wouldn’t be surprised if it ended up in arguments or even fights.

Bored and ill-at-ease, he spent the morning in M’rell’s weyr, where they drank some of the rough Tillek he always kept around. M’rell preferred quantity to quality. It took the edge off his tension, although he didn’t want to get too drunk. If S’brin had still been alive, they would have probably gone to bed for the afternoon. He was tempted to ask Herebeth to bespeak Zurinth and invite J’rud over, but that would be unfair. He didn’t want to mess with J’rud’s emotions.

At last it was time to go down to the dining hall. No one would be late to dinner tonight. Even though he got there early, others had beaten him to it.

When Mardra and T’ron arrived, together with Lessa, it was as if everyone held their breath. She was a slight woman, pale, with long dark hair. Although she’d never be the sort to carry much weight, she looked as if she’d lost what little roundness she might have had through her illness. Her wrists were painfully thin and the dress she wore, obviously borrowed from one of the other women, hung loose on her small frame.

If she was nervous at meeting the whole Weyr for the first time, she didn’t show it. She settled herself at the top table, then made polite conversation with T’ron to one side and Sh’viel on the other throughout the meal.

‘We met her earlier today,’ R’feem confided in D’gar and M’rell. ‘Very personable woman. Articulate and obviously intelligent.’

‘Will she be she staying at Fort?’ M’rell asked.

R’feem gave him a look. ‘That, I can’t say. You’ll find out, soon enough.’

Even the slowest eaters hurried to finish. Then T’ron beckoned everyone closer, so that all the weyrfolk could fit in, too. D’gar found himself separated from the others in his Wing, save for M’rell standing next to him. A hush fell over the room as everyone waited to hear what the Weyrleader had to say.

‘Riders and weyrfolk,’ T’ron began, in customary fashion. ‘I’m aware that there has been a lot of speculation over what has been happening here during the past month…’

Somewhere, near the back, a small child began to cry and was hurried out. T’ron waited for everyone to settle again. ‘I’m glad to say that we’re now in a position to tell you everything.’