Gone Away, Gone Ahead - 20. Fort Weyr

Herebeth came out of between over the familiar terrain of Fort Weyr; Tooth Crag far below them. Late afternoon sunshine bathed the Weyr in a soft, golden light. By contrast, Benden was leaden grey and black rock amid sharp peaks. Fort looked - gentler - beige, pale brown and amber. Home, he thought, as Herebeth circled slowly, seeming to take as much enjoyment as he did in savouring the view. It helped too, to get the cold of between - and before that, the chill of the records room at High Reaches - from his bones. The chill, also, of what he’d been told.

Let’s hope we never get transferred to High Reaches, he told Herebeth.

It is cold there, Herebeth agreed. And I prefer Benden. Rioth is at Benden.

The Bowl had been cleared of all the unwanted and dangerous greenery that had sprung up during the many Turns of disuse. Piles of silt and debris were piled up next to the lake, which was already beginning to look more as he remembered it from the old days. Dragons sunned themselves on the fire heights and beside the Star Stones a lone blue dragon and his rider were perched on watch duty.

Shuth sends greetings and tells us we can land, Herebeth informed him, banking slightly in the thermals rising above the warmed rock before descending in a spiralling glide towards the landing area. D’gar glanced toward his old weyr, a dark opening in the south-east face of the Bowl. Empty still, of course, waiting for his return, whenever that may be.

We have a better weyr at Benden.

Herebeth was right, of course. But this is our home. This is where you hatched.

That was a very long time ago.

Trust his dragon to be cryptic. Or maybe it was just that Herebeth lived in the here and now, untroubled by human notions of attachment or nostalgia.

Would Rioth come with us to Fort?

I’d hope so. Once again, he was reminded that coming home, for him, would be to take H’rek from his clutchmates and all that he found familiar. But H’rek had grown up in Southern Boll and Fort’s climate was closer to what he’d been used to. Maybe it wouldn’t be so difficult?

Herebeth landed, sending up a puff of dust. Spring was well under way here, while Benden was still cold and muddy. The air was warm and had that particular smell he always associated with the place; something herbal combined with freshly brewed klah. Even with his eyes shut, he’d know where he was.

He slid down from Herebeth’s neck ridge, removed his gloves and stuffed them into the top of his satchel. The pleasing warmth wrapped around him like a comfortable old blanket.

I shall go and join the others on the heights and find out what has been happening.

You do that. Herebeth waited until he was clear before powering upwards, churning up more dust in his wake. D’gar walked towards the kitchen entrance, smiling and nodding a greeting to a few familiar faces who had seen him arrive. He was hungry, he realised, despite the biscuits earlier. At Benden, it would be late; well past dinner time by now.

As soon as he stepped inside the kitchen, it felt as if he had gone back in time. Agarra was kneading a huge lump of dough on one of the broad tables, flour up to her elbows. She was so engrossed in her task she didn’t notice him until he was closer and spoke. ‘Mum.’

She looked up, breaking into a broad grin, then stepped away from the table and pulled him into a soft, floury embrace. Her hair smelled like the spiced buns that were served up every lunch time at Fort.

‘Look at you,’ she said, releasing him slightly. ‘Have you been eating properly?’

‘Of course. They do feed us at Benden, you know.’

She scanned him with a mother’s eye. ‘When did you get scored?’

He’d forgotten about his face. ‘Last Fall. It’s nothing really. Doesn’t even hurt now.’

‘You weren’t taking any silly chances again, were you?’

‘No, mum. Look,’ he pointed out his shoulder knots. ‘I’m Wingsecond now. I’ve settled down.’

‘Well,’ she said, ‘That’s no bad thing. Now sit yourself down. I’ll be done with this shortly, then we can have a proper chat over a mug of klah.’

He sat on the well-worn bench. The heat of the kitchen soon forced him to remove his jacket. Agarra wiped her hands, then carried on with her task, glancing over at him with a little smile every now and then as if to reassure herself he was actually there and not some figment of her imagination.

For his part, he watched the purposeful work going on all around him. He’d sat in this spot countless times over the Turns. Over to the right, one of the bakers put the finishing touches to the pastry lids of several large pies. A couple of weyrbrats prepared tubers at the sinks, flicking bits of peel at each other when they thought no-one was looking. Drudges were loading plates and bowls onto the wheeled trolleys that they’d be taking through to the dining hall. It was a scene of easy familiarity.

‘There. Done for now. Just needs to rise for a while.’ Agarra placed a cloth over the dough, wiped her floury hands on her apron then made her way over to the klah pot. ‘Shall we go and sit outside?’

He nodded agreement and followed her. She always preferred to be outdoors on her breaks, even when the weather wasn’t as fine as today. When they’d finally settled down in a sunny spot, she took a sip of her klah. ‘What’s it like at Benden, then?’

‘Good. Not the same as being here, of course.’

‘I spoke to R’feem yesterday,’ she went on. ‘He said you were fine. But I never thought you’d be so much… so like your old self again. Not with Threadfall and all.’

‘I’ve… I’ve met someone, mum.’

‘Ah.’ She beamed. ‘That would be the reason, then. How did that happen?’

Thinking about H’rek made him smile. ‘It was the first day we arrived. I was sitting by the hearth and he came over. He thought I looked lonely, he said later. We chatted. I found out his dragon was due to rise and he was scared about it…’

‘He’s younger than you, then?’

‘Nearly five Turns.’

‘And which Weyr did he come from?’

‘Southern.’ He realised she wouldn’t understand the reference. ‘Benden sent a load of young dragons back in time to the southern continent. It was the only way they could think of to increase their numbers ready to meet Thread, before Lessa brought the Weyrs forward.’

‘So, he’s from Benden? Not one of us.’

D’gar was mildly surprised that the whole ‘them and us’ thing was even an issue at Fort. ‘He was born in this time, if that’s what you mean. In Southern Boll.’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘Not Weyrbred? Is that another one of these modern notions they have at Benden?’

‘What have you been hearing, mum?’

‘Well, all sorts, really. Their dragons are three times the size of ours. The Weyrleader asks for advice from Hold and Craft, rather than other weyrfolk. They don’t let queens fly except to mate. I’ve even heard they allow fights between dragons.’

He could guess where that last one had come from. The rest were simply exaggeration or misinterpretation of facts. He felt he should point that out. ‘The dragons are larger, yes. You saw that for yourself when Ramoth was here.’

She nodded. ‘True,’ she agreed reluctantly.

He went on. ’The Weyrleader didn’t have much choice about consulting with Hold and Craft before we arrived. He didn’t have anyone else. And if queens don’t fly, then explain how Ramoth jumped between four hundred Turns.’

‘Well…’

‘And as for dragons fighting, that was Herebeth and Ryth, who’s from High Reaches. Herebeth only did it because he thought I was in danger.’ Best not to tell her too much about that particular incident. ‘They’re not that different from us, really. And where they are it’s mostly through necessity. Pern changed a lot in four hundred Turns without Thread.’

She looked sceptical. ‘Well, I’m not sure as I like it.’ Seeing his expression, she added quickly, ‘Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad you’re happy. But remember where you come from.’

He wasn’t sure if she meant Fort Weyr or the past. ’I do. Only we’re here now. We can’t turn the world back to the way it was.’ It would be harder for her to understand, he supposed. She was older and she hadn’t been anywhere outside of the Weyr to see the changes for herself. ‘Anyway, next time I come over, I’ll bring H’rek too. Then you can find out all about him.’

It seemed to appease her. ‘I’d like that.’

He steered the conversation to safer subjects, such as his promotion and his new weyr. He told her about the day-to-day routine at Benden Weyr, to illustrate the similarities rather than to highlight the differences.

‘No idea as to when you’ll all be coming home?’

‘No, mum. They need to breed quite a few more dragons first. Then those dragons have to mature sufficiently to join the Wings. It’s not going to happen overnight.’ It would be Turns, rather than months, he knew.

‘Well, you try and get back here more often, now you’ve settled down. And while you’re here, you’d best have something to eat.’

He left Fort with another food parcel. Some of those spiced buns, fresh from the oven, a few jars of pickles and a couple of smoked fish. Meat rolls, flavoured with local herbs. He wondered if they’d taste like home for H’rek too. Food in Southern Boll wasn’t so different from Fort, after all and many of those same herbs grew in the vicinity. Herebeth swooped down to fetch him, his hide sun-warmed and eager to share the dragon gossip he’d found out.

They flew higher than usual before going between. D’gar worked out that with the time difference it would be well after dark at Benden and most riders would have retired to bed by now. Maybe he could get some of that time back. He’d had a full day and wanted a few hours just to relax, have a meal with friends and tell H’rek what he’d discovered. He sent a visual to Herebeth showing the Weyr in early evening.

That is not now, Herebeth said, sounding slightly confused.

I know. But can we go to then? We’ve done it before, after all.

Herebeth seemed to consider it for a few moments. Yes. It is good enough.

Then let’s do it.

The time between was longer, colder. He felt a brief clutch of panic around his heart just before they emerged into overcast daylight. The air was noticeably chillier than they’d left behind at Fort.

We did it. Well, you did.

I checked the weather conditions with Rioth, Herebeth admitted. But it was no more difficult than going between places.

All of a sudden, D’gar felt very tired. All that time spent in the archives, no doubt. Still, nothing a mug of klah wouldn’t cure. He dropped off the food in his weyr first. It was empty; H’rek must be down in the dining hall already. He noticed the newly mended straps hanging from the peg.

Rioth is feeding. I will drop you off, then join her. I fancy a wherry or two.

Herebeth’s hunger sharpened his own appetite. He’d not had a chance to eat anything more than a quick snack at Fort and the biscuits at High Reaches had been a long time ago. He strolled into the dining hall, noting that Kylara and T’bor were at the top table together with Lessa and F’lar. No sign of F’drun, although the rest of the Wing were in their usual places. H’rek was sitting next to J’rud and the Benden blue rider whose dragon had caught Zurinth, on their usual table. Interesting to see that one aftermath of the mating flight had been to mix up the usual seating arrangements.

‘Move up a bit,’ he said, leaning on H’rek’s shoulder briefly.

H’rek looked up and gave him a quick smile. ’I thought you were going to be late back?’

‘So did I. But look, I’m here for dinner.’ He stifled a yawn.

‘Not bored of the company already?’

‘No, just tired. All that squinting over old records hurts your eyes.’ He sat down between H’rek and the blue rider, wishing he could remember the man’s name. His dragon was called Izaeth; he’d no problem recalling that.

‘Have you met Sh’ran?’ H’rek rescued him.

‘Not exactly. I mean, we’ve obviously seen each other around the place. Just not talked before. So, you were down south as well?’

‘That’s right. Lazing on the beaches. It was a good life. Still, we might be back there again soon.’

‘Really?’ D’gar turned to H’rek. ‘Have you heard anything?’

‘Nothing official. It’s all just rumours right now. But there’s going to be some sort of announcement later. I reckon they’ll be sending working parties to clear the place and make it fit for habitation again.’

Sh’ran looked puzzled. ‘It’s only been a few sevendays since we returned. Not going to need that much clearing, is it?’

Of course. He’d not been back. ‘H’rek took me there. It’s very overgrown. Reckon you’ve all been gone a good few Turns.’

Sh’ran turned to H’rek. ‘You were always on about us being sent back in time, weren’t you? Even before we returned just two days after we left, you’d figured it out.’

‘He’s clever like that.’ D’gar put an arm around H’rek. He felt slightly possessive all of a sudden and wasn’t entirely sure why. Then his stomach grumbled, reminding him why he’d decided to come back early. ‘Anyone know what’s for dinner tonight?’

‘Herdbeast again,’ J’rud said. ‘They’re still getting through those carcasses left behind after the flight.’

That reminded him of the participants. ’I see Kylara’s joined us. She doesn’t look too happy, does she?’ Indeed, she was glaring at Lessa rather pointedly while trying to ignore T’bor, who was attempting to converse with her.

‘That’s because she’ll be going back down south too,’ Sh’ran said. ‘Back into exile.’

‘It’s hardly that, is it, when she can go anywhere she wants on Prideth in an instant. And she’ll be Weyrwoman too, instead of just a junior under Lessa.’ D’gar couldn’t understand what Kylara’s problem was. From what he’d seen of the south during the afternoon he and H’rek had spent there, it wasn’t an unpleasant place to live. He’d rather be sent there, than, for example, High Reaches.

Sh’ran looked amused. ‘You don’t know Kylara very well. She wants a “proper” Weyr. And her own choice of bedmates. Being stuck there with T’bor isn’t her idea of a good time.’

Personally, D’gar thought Kylara just seemed rather spoilt. Thankfully, she wasn’t his problem, though. And with her out of the way, he’d not have any more worries about H’rek flying with the Queens’ Wing.

Just then, J’rud reached across to nudge him. ‘Look who’s here as well.’

D’gar followed the direction his eyes were pointing and saw F’drun strolling in. He’d certainly recovered most of his composure by the look of him; the usual grim expression fixed on his face as he made his way over to their table. D’gar noticed that F’drun didn’t look toward the top table at all, although Kylara had certainly spotted his arrival. All at once she gave a forced little laugh and snuggled closer to T’bor. He didn’t look at all unhappy for the attention.

R’feem got up and greeted F’drun, then made a space for him to sit down. Well, he’d obviously had a word with the man and was doing his best to make him feel welcome. That was R’feem all over. Yet D’gar’s head was still full of all he’d learned earlier. A tunnel snake was at its most dangerous when cornered and people didn’t change overnight, he thought. F’drun would bear careful watching. He’d need to report back to R’feem anyway; make him aware of just what they were dealing with. It was a pity F’drun couldn’t be shunted off down south, too. Ryth would need time to recover, after all and would be no good to the Wing until he was fully fit again. It might even be worthwhile suggesting that. Yes, getting F’drun out of the way and in enforced proximity to Kylara would be as much as they both deserved.

‘You look like you’re deep in thought?’ H’rek said.

‘Er, yes. I was.’

‘Did you find out anything useful?’

‘A few bits and pieces, yes.’ He certainly wasn’t going to talk about any of it here, in front of the whole Wing. And he didn’t want F’drun to get wind he knew any more about the man’s past. ‘Food’s on the way,’ he said quickly, diverting attention.

Drudges were wheeling out the trolleys and several riders were already on their feet, eager to get the choice cuts. D’gar joined the queue and managed to get a decent sized herdbeast steak with vegetables and fried tubers. By the time he’d returned to the table, the queue snaked half way round the room. H’rek was still sitting down, chatting with Sh’ran.

‘Aren’t you hungry?’

‘I had some meat rolls delivered to the weyr. I can wait until the mad rush is over.’

‘Then you’ll not get anything as good as this.’ He sliced off a juicy piece of meat and held it up on the point of his knife.

H’rek quickly snatched it and stuck it in his mouth. ‘Delicious.’

‘Get off. It’s mine.’ He tried to shield his plate, but H’rek kept sneaking the odd fried tuber off it. ‘Go and get your own. You’d best not do that when we go to Fort to meet my mum. She said she’d love to see you, but she already has a bad opinion of modern riders.’

‘You went to Fort as well as High Reaches? How did you have the time to do all that and get back here…’ H’rek trailed off as D’gar smiled smugly. ‘You didn’t time it?’

‘I might have done.’

Sh’ran leaned forward, evidently having overheard. ’We aren’t supposed to do that, you know. My Wingleader said so.’

‘Well, no one’s said anything about it to me. Besides, what’s a couple of hours when you’ve done four hundred Turns?’ He stifled another yawn.

‘That’s why. Timing it makes you tired all the time. We always wondered about that too, when we were down south, but it wasn’t until we got back I had it explained properly to me. That’s why it’s not allowed.’

D’gar thought about that. It made sense, really. Living through the same hours in two different places must have some effect on your body. And if you went back to the same place…’Hmm. Wonder what would happen if you met yourself?’

‘Don’t even think about it,’ H’rek said. ‘It sounds dangerous. Come on Sh’ran, let’s get some food.’ J’rud joined them as they made their way to the end of the queue.

D’gar scanned the room again as he carried on eating. Kylara was still playing up to T’bor, glancing occasionally towards F’drun, clearly looking for a reaction. F’drun, for his part, kept his eyes fixed firmly on his plate. It was noticeable that the riders to either side of him made no effort to include him in any chat and that they had left a wider space around him than would normally be the case at mealtimes. If you didn’t know his history, you might even feel sorry for him. D’gar thought again of the rider who’d drunk himself to death and those lads burned to a crisp in the Thread burrow. Plus all the other incidents Pilgra and V’vil had alluded to but not fleshed out. What made someone like that, he wondered? Folk like F’drun, or that Lord who’d slaughtered families and taken over their Holds. Although Fax at least had some motivation, even it was just greed and a desire for conquest. F’drun had nothing to gain from his behaviour.

His thoughts were interrupted as the others returned. He even stole back some meat from H’rek’s plate, although it wasn’t as juicy and tender as the piece he’d had earlier. Several riders went up for seconds. D’gar supposed they didn’t get food like this very often at Benden, judging by the comments he’d heard about rationing and stingy tithes. He didn’t bother - he’d eaten plenty and there was still the food package to dig into once they got back to the weyr.

Everyone had finished and were starting to fetch fruit and mugs of klah when F’lar stood up at the top table and T’bor bashed a tin plate several times to get everyone’s attention. Kylara looked pained and covered her ears. Lessa glared at her fiercely.

‘It’s come to my notice that there have been a few rumours going around concerning our intention to re-open Southern Weyr, so I thought it was time I put some substance to them.’ F’lar’s voice carried well through the cavern. Even the drudges stopped loading dirty plates on the trolleys.

‘I’m glad to tell you all the rumours are true. Yes, we will be going back to the southern continent. As those of you who were there before know, it has many advantages over the north of Pern, not least the abundance of good, fresh produce. We mean to encourage both Weyrfolk and Holders to settle there. There’s plenty of land for everyone. We can import supplies of the best food, rather than having to rely only on tithes.’

There were a few mutters at that. D’gar could understand why. It was the Holders duty to supply the Weyrs. It had worked that way for thousands of Turns.

F’lar held up a hand. ‘I know, I know. It’s not what we should need to do, but for those of you who remember the shortages we had, it does provide an alternative source of supply. Yes, the Holds are tithing generously now that Thread has begun to fall again, but we shouldn’t be complacent. Crops can fail, illness can decimate herds. And although it’s a long way off, when this Pass ends, do we want to be reliant on the whims of Holders? I certainly don’t. Weyrfolk can do far better than that.’

He argued his case well, D’gar thought. Plus, he did have a point. With the expansion of the Holds, there were far more people and beasts to be fed than ever had been in the past. There was no harm at all in planning for the end of the Pass.

‘Over the next few sevendays we’ll be sending working parties to make ready for the move. I’m pleased to be able to announce that T’bor will be resuming his role as Weyrleader at Southern and alongside him, Kylara as Weyrwoman.’

She looked even sulkier at that, D’gar noticed. Most junior weyrwomen would be beside themselves at being given the chance to take charge at a new Weyr. The weather was good there; she had no predecessor for comparison and he was sure that once Prideth laid a gold egg or two, she’d enjoy lording it over her own juniors.

‘As you’ll appreciate, we can’t afford to deplete the Wings too much, so we’ll need to work out schedules regarding the establishment of Southern Weyr. There will be more announcements over the next few days once all the details have been worked out. Thank you.’ He sat down again to a smattering of applause, but mostly to a renewed buzz of conversation as the inevitable speculation began.

‘Well, that’s put the wherry among the dragons,’ J’rud said. ‘How are they going to manage to keep two Weyrs running with scarcely enough dragons for one?’

It was a gamble, to be sure. But there was so much to be gained from it that it would be foolish not to take the opportunity. He’d seen for himself how much planning Benden had put in place when they’d thought they were the only Weyr left to fight Thread. ‘I’ve no doubt they’ll find a way,’ he said.