Gone Away, Gone Ahead - 30. Trouble Brewing

‘Mark my words, there’s going to be trouble.’ R’feem refilled the cups with fresh klah. D’gar and B’lin were both in his weyr for a meeting. ‘No-one’s pleased about that mess-up in Southern, least of all the Weyrleader.’

B’lin picked up his cup. ’So what are they going to do? Abandon the place again?’

‘That’d be the most sensible course, but then Prideth would have to come back here and I’m told that both Ramoth and Lessa are very much against sharing their Hatching Sands with that one.’

The two dragons had risen to mate only a sevenday or so apart. They’d be laying their eggs at near enough the same time, meaning the Hatchings wouldn’t be far apart either.

‘I’ve seen queens share Hatching Grounds before,’ B’lin commented. ‘There’s enough room.’

‘So have I. But this is Benden. They’ve only had one queen dragon for so long they aren’t accustomed to it. Plus there’s all the animosity between the riders. No, Lessa won’t have Kylara back here, so they’ve got to make it work in Southern.’

‘What’s the plan, then?’ For a moment, D’gar had imagined H’rek safely back at Benden and everything back to how it was.

R’feem shrugged. ‘They’ve asked us - all the Wingleaders, that is - to come up with some ideas. I’ve already told them they can’t afford to deplete the Wings here any further by sending more riders south. So has W’lir. F’lar’s not an idiot. He can see that’s not an option. Some of the other bronzes disagree.’ He sipped his klah. ‘Easy for them. They don’t have to deal with Lessa. She’s a determined woman when she sets her mind on something.’

D’gar had heard the stories of how she’d set out to avenge her family in Ruatha. No, you wouldn’t want to upset someone like that. Or a queen dragon, for that matter. ‘What if they trained up the youngsters?’ he suggested. ‘Most of them had only done firestone deliveries before, then got dumped in the middle of a Fall with barely any warning. It wasn’t surprising they got flustered.’

R’feem considered that for a couple of seconds. ’But then who’s going to deliver firestone to the Wings?’

D’gar thought fast. ‘Well, you could swap out a couple of them each Fall with existing wing riders. That way they get experience with a Wing and there’s someone free to do their job. Or alternatively, you bring the other half of Prideth’s clutch back from Southern before each Fall here and get them to deliver firestone while the others fight with the Wings. Change them around each time so they all get their fair share of practice. Then whoever’s down south when Fall comes, they’ll be prepared.’

‘Or you could get some weyrlings from another Weyr to come over and help.’ B’lin suggested. ‘It’s not as if Benden’s the only Weyr on Pern any more, is it?’

‘Trouble is, there aren’t that many weyrlings going spare,’ R’feem pointed out. ‘I don’t know how it was at Igen, but our queens were winding down to their usual Interval clutching patterns. Loranth’s last clutch was almost two Turns ago and Suderoth’s longer than that.’

He was right. It was normal for queens to rise less frequently during an Interval, when far fewer dragons were needed to keep a Weyr populated.

‘That’s true,’ B’lin said. ‘Now you mention it, we’ve not got many youngsters at Igen either.’

‘Wonder how long it will be before the queens start rising more often again?’ D’gar mused.

‘Soon, let’s hope,’ R’feem said. ‘Otherwise Benden won’t be the only Weyr under strength. Still, that’s not a problem we can solve. Any more ideas I can put forward?’

‘Get some of the greens and blues to bring up firestone on shift changes?’ D’gar offered, glad that J’rud or V’chal wasn’t here. He could imagine the looks he’d get for suggesting that.

‘Don’t think they’d like that.’ B’lin voiced his own concerns.

‘Whatever they settle on, someone’s not going to like it. I’m more worried they might decide to take back some of our new wing riders. We could lose M’ten and N’bras when they’ve just started to fit in and be useful.’

‘If that happens we could bring M’rell back,’ D’gar suggested. ‘He said Toth was fine, although it was only a short Fall.’

‘Hmm.’ R’feem considered that. ‘But we only need him if we lose the others and if we can come up with some way to avoid that…’

He carried on bouncing ideas between them. Some of them might work; most probably wouldn’t, but at this stage, it didn’t do to discount anything. It was only when they paused for a moment that they realised B’lin was still there. ‘Anything else you can think of?’ R’feem asked him.

‘Not really. Well, nothing you two haven’t already come up with.’

‘Well, then, I think we’re done. If anything else strikes you, pass it along to me. We’re not meeting again until later this afternoon.’

D’gar and B’lin left him jotting down the ideas. ‘Well, that wasn’t what I expected,’ B’lin said, once they were back on the ledge waiting for their dragons. Both Herebeth and Ondiath had found themselves a sunny spot on the heights and were reluctant to leave, knowing that other dragons would take their choice spots as soon as they moved.

‘It’s a bit different from the way things used to be done,’ D’gar agreed. Still, it had been good to feel involved in some of the process, even if his ideas didn’t end up getting used.

‘You’re telling me. When I was Wingsecond before it was just about planning swap outs and firestone replacements.’

‘Well, I suppose the more people you ask, the more ideas you have to play with.’

‘And if it goes wrong you can blame the fellow who made the suggestion in the first place.’ Ondiath landed on the ledge, his talons scraping the stone. ‘See you later.’

‘Yes, all right.’ As soon as Ondiath had gone, Herebeth came in. I have lost my place now. It was nice and warm, he grumbled.

Never mind. We can head back down south again. It’s even sunnier and warmer there.

That sounds like a good idea.

There was nothing more that needed doing at Benden and if he thought of another idea, he could get Herebeth to tell Piroth, as long as it wasn’t too complicated. Southern would be safe enough for the time being; the Benden maps and his own experience told him that as Thread had fallen recently, it wouldn’t cover the same area again for at least a sevenday, particularly so early in the Pass.

They emerged from between over the familiar beach. People were still working busily, although a few dragons were already in the sea. It seemed as if recent events had prompted a clearance of the area immediately around the Weyrhall. They were starting to cover the roof with thick tiles, which would offer some protection at least, although the thought of sheltering from Thread in an open sided building didn’t hold much appeal. Still, if those inside were armed with flamethrowers, they could burn anything that slid down before it had a chance to do much harm.

D’gar left Herebeth to his own devices and made his way over. He realised he’d probably have to work for a couple of hours while he was here, but so long as he could spend some time with H’rek that wasn’t a problem. It was evident from the extra numbers of people around that quite a few Benden riders had had the same idea. The good weather and sandy beach would make this a popular place on rest days, he realised, particularly during the long northern winter.

He spotted F’nor chatting with T’bor and joined them, making his presence known.

‘Hello,’ F’nor said. ‘Back again?’

‘Can’t keep me away.’ He addressed T’bor. ‘If I can help with anything while I’m here…?’

‘There’s plenty to do. The roof, clearing paths, cutting back those vines. Take your pick.’

‘I imagine you’d prefer to be with your weyrmate,’ F’nor said. ‘Where did you send Prideth’s lads this morning?’ he asked T’bor.

‘Firestone duties.’ He glanced at D’gar. ‘Bit beneath you as a Wingsecond, isn’t it?’

Grading and bagging firestone was traditionally carried out by weyrlings, or given as punishment duties to wing riders. ‘It’s been a while, but I said I’d do anything, so why not.’

‘They’re over near the Hatching Grounds.’

‘Thanks.’ It was already getting hot. On the way, he took off his heavy flying gear, then his shirt. He spotted the firestone dump from a way off. The youngsters were taking a break, sitting around on the sacks they’d already filled. As he approached, someone must have spotted him. A few got up and started working again. If they’d been his own wingmates he’d have probably made some humorous comment about them shirking, but he guessed that wouldn’t go down well with this lot. When he was close enough to be recognised he heard L’cal say, ‘It’s all right. It’s no-one important, just that old timer of H’rek’s.’

He decided not to let that slip. ‘I may be just an old timer, but I’m also a Wingsecond. I’m assuming they still teach you to respect Wingseconds these days?’

He heard a few muttered ‘sorrys’. L’cal didn’t meet his eyes.

‘And, for your information, the Weyrleader sent me over.’ He didn’t say why, but they evidently thought he was there to make sure they weren’t slacking, as his comment prompted most of them to put slightly more energy into their shovelling. H’rek glanced towards him uncertainly. He gave a quick wink, then draped his gear over a nearby rock, picked up a shovel and joined in. That got some funny looks.

‘I thought you were supposed to be checking on us,’ L’cal said.

‘That doesn’t mean I can’t work as well. Good exercise, this.’ His shoulder was still slightly sore and he knew the bruising was colouring up nicely by now, but he wouldn’t let that stop him. He started filling a bag, feeling eyes on him as he worked.

‘Er, what happened to your shoulder?’ It was a short, dark haired lad who’d spoken.

Probably not a bronze, D’gar decided as he didn’t have the arrogant attitude. ‘Just a mid-air collision with another dragon during Fall.’

‘The one we just had?’

He shook his head. ‘No, a couple of days before. Although I rode in your recent Fall, too.’

‘D’gar led the reinforcements down here,’ H’rek said. ‘I didn’t hear anyone moaning about “old timers” that day.’

‘Yeah. We were pretty relieved when you all turned up.’

Another of the bronzes glared at the lad. ‘Shut it, Av’rar.’

‘Well, it’s true. Isn’t it H’rek?’

H’rek nodded. ‘And don’t tell him to shut up, M’shol.’ He addressed the bronze rider. ‘No-one put you in charge.’

‘I’m a bronze. We’re meant to be leaders.’ He gave D’gar a dirty look. ‘Not to take orders from browns.’

D’gar snorted. ‘You won’t be leading anything or anyone if you carry on like that. Whatever colour dragon you ride, respect needs to be earned.’ They’d find that out sooner or later. ‘Face it, lads, you aren’t all going to be Wingleaders because there aren’t enough Wings to lead. The best you can do is to keep your mouth shut and learn from someone who knows what they’re doing.’

‘Like you?’ L’cal stood next to his clutch mate, backing him up.

‘I’ve only been in a Wing five Turns so I don’t consider myself an expert. However, I’ve managed to survive this long and kept myself and my dragon more or less intact. If you get through your first few Turns in the Wings alive, then you’ll be in a better position to talk.’

That sobered them slightly. They’d already lost one of the bronzes, after all. He decided to drive the lesson home. ‘We had twelve in my clutch. Not many, true, but Kadoth was an old dragon. Four of them are dead now. One dragon can’t fly Fall any more. Well, can barely fly at all, to be honest. And one rider has lost his foot.’ He saw a few winces at that. Funny how the thought of disability often hit folk harder than death.

Av’rar spoke up. ‘It all happened so fast the other day, I didn’t have time to feel scared. But it was really confusing up there. Is it always like that?’

‘The first few times, yes, until you get a feel for it. Main thing to remember is that your dragon’s instincts are better than yours, so trust him or her.’

‘We did all right,’ M’shol said in a slightly defensive manner. ‘My Kurmianth flamed lots of Thread.’

‘I’ve no doubt. You all did pretty well for a first time. If you hadn’t, some of you wouldn’t be here now.’ He still got the feeling that some of them felt like fighting Thread was just a variation on the Spring Games. The first nasty deaths would cure them of that. ‘Hopefully you’ll all have had a bit more practice before you need to fight Thread again. Right. Shall we get the rest of these sacks filled before it gets too hot?’

By the time they’d done, all the sacks were stacked in colour order, ready for distribution. No-one would be caught out without sufficient firestone in future. They made their way back to the Weyrhall, where the support staff had lunch all ready. D’gar took some bread, cheese and fruit and sat next to H’rek to eat. It was noticeable that after the morning’s work, many of his clutchmates were more friendly towards him, although most of the bronze riders chose to sit on a separate table. Ah well, not much he could do about that.

‘You can come swimming with us this afternoon if you like,’ Av’rar said. ‘We found this amazing waterfall with a pool underneath. It’s deep enough to dive from the rocks.’

‘Sounds like fun,’ D’gar replied. ‘Although I think H’rek and I would like to have a bit of time together as well.’ The one thing a wallow didn’t provide that a weyr did was privacy.

‘Oh, don’t worry. There are plenty of places you can sneak off alone. J’tir and B’dor are always doing that.’

‘It’s a good place,’H’rek said. ‘Loads of fruit trees. Some of them I’ve never even seen before but they taste good.’

D’gar was horrified. ‘You’ve eaten fruit you didn’t recognise. Didn’t your mother ever explain to you about getting poisoned?’

H’rek laughed and the others looked amused. ‘Everyone down here does it. You eat a small piece and if you feel all right, later on you try a bit more. We did it the last time we were here and we’re all still alive.’

‘Some things grow here that don’t in the north,’ Av’rar explained. ‘Don’t worry. We wouldn’t let you eat anything dangerous.’

‘And all of it’s better than what’s available at Benden. I saw you take a load of redfruit back last time you were here.’

‘Oh, that wasn’t for me,’ D’gar explained. ‘That was for J’rud.’

‘Can’t he come and pick his own?’

All of a sudden, D’gar realised that H’rek didn’t know what had happened. So much else had been going on, he’d not thought to tell him. ‘He’s in the infirmary. He’s the one I mentioned who’d lost a foot.’

‘Shards! When did that happen?’

‘That Fall over Telgar. Zurinth was scored too.’ Some of the others leaned closer, trying to pick up the gory details, no doubt. ‘Anyway, he got back to the Weyr quickly enough but they couldn’t save his foot. He’s doing well, though. Once they’ve both healed enough to fly between they’ll be back with the Wing again.’

H’rek looked shocked. ‘J’rud and Zurinth. I never thought anything would happen to them.’ He looked down at his food as if it had suddenly lost flavour.

‘It can happen to anyone,’ D’gar said gently. ‘Don’t worry. They’ll be fine.’

‘But he’s lost his foot. He’s only, what, twenty-three?’

‘Same age as me,’ D’gar affirmed. ‘It’s not that bad, really. You can ride a dragon with only one foot. Anyway, if you promise he won’t get poisoned, I’ll take him back a whole selection of your southern fruits.’

It was a good afternoon. They flew to the waterfall on their dragons. Herebeth insisted on sitting under the cascade for a while, enjoying the novelty of watching it pour off his wings. However, the pool wasn’t really large enough for several full-sized dragons as well as all their riders, so he soon followed the others back to the sea.

All of H’rek’s clutchmates were excellent swimmers. D’gar supposed that even if they’d not been when they first arrived, living here for a Turn or two with easy access to the warm ocean would have encouraged them to learn. The pool - and waterfall - were cooler than the sea, but in the afternoon heat, it was very refreshing.

Once everyone had splashed around for a while, most took an afternoon nap. J’tir and B’dor went off together and D’gar let H’rek lead the way through the jungle until they found a shady place that gave them both the privacy they’d wanted.

‘When do you have to get back?’ H’rek lay in a bed of crushed ferns, arms behind his head.

‘Whenever I want. It’s a rest day, after all. Why?’

‘They’re having a bonfire on the beach this evening. It’ll be fun. Music, dancing, food. T’bor told us last night. Think it’s to improve morale and to try and persuade some of the support staff to stay.’

‘How many of them want to leave?’ D’gar took a bite out of a purple fruit H’rek had said was all right to eat. It was sweet and juicy.

‘Quite a few.’

‘You can’t blame them after what happened.’

‘Makes me wonder if anyone other than dragonriders will want to live here. There aren’t many natural caves, at least not as far as we’ve seen.’

‘How big is this place?’ D’gar had wondered about that.

‘We don’t really know. When we were here before we rode patrols, but only to around an hour’s flying distance. You can’t go between when you don’t know what somewhere looks like.’

‘That’s true.’ D’gar picked another one of the fruits. ‘These are good.’

‘See. I told you. This land has some advantages.’

‘Don’t think I’d ever get used to it.’ He’d grown up with the safety of stone around him. Even when you knew Thread wouldn’t fall for another few days, the thought of sleeping outdoors felt wrong.

‘Well, you don’t have to. Once the Weyr is up and running again, I’ll be back at Benden full time. In the mean time, let’s enjoy everything the south has to offer.’

As the fierce heat mellowed, they made their way back to the waterfall, calling the dragons on the way. The sea was calm, reflecting the last of the daylight as the sun slipped down to meet the western horizon. The air had cooled sufficiently for it to be pleasant flying weather.

Did you have a good swim? he asked Herebeth.

We did. And we caught fish. They are tasty. Not very filling, though.

D’gar smiled. It was typical of Herebeth to be thinking about food.

Back at the Weyr, preparations were already under way. Workers were piling wood together on the beach to make a large bonfire and tables had been set up for the food. As the sun finally disappeared, stars began to appear, twinkling in the blue. Belior was just rising, sending a path of pale light across the waves. A couple of musicians, one with a pipe, the other with a gitar, began to play.

Many of the dragons settled themselves in the still-warm sand. They seemed to be enjoying the music as much as the people, D’gar noticed. Or maybe it was just that everyone seemed relaxed and happy and they were picking up on these emotions.

A smaller fire must have been made earlier and meat was roasting over it on a spit. ‘Shall we get some of that?’ H’rek suggested.

‘Sounds good.’

Wine and ale was on offer as well as a variety of cooked and raw vegetable dishes, some tasting as unfamiliar to him as the fruit had been. They settled beside the dragons and ate. ‘This is the life,’ D’gar said. Gentle warmth, music and a plentiful supply of good food, sitting with someone you loved on a beautiful beach. It didn’t get much better.

The evening wore on. Once everyone had eaten and had a few drinks, some started dancing. D’gar noticed Kylara, wearing a low-cut white dress and flirting with several of the young riders. It was obvious she was doing it to annoy T’bor. He pretended not to notice, talking with some of the riders from his Wing, but every now and then he couldn’t help himself from glancing her way.

’T’bor’s got it bad for her, hasn’t he?’

‘He always has done,’ H’rek commented. ‘No matter how badly she treats him. It’s a shame, really.’

The tempo of the music quickened into one of those dances where everyone changed partners. Kylara whirled her way through the crowd, her pale, unbound hair and light-coloured dress making her the focal point. It was as if she was weaving some kind of complicated spell, D’gar thought, making everyone dance to her tune whether they wished to or not. She shook her hair and laughed loudly, then looked pointedly over toward the trees where a small group of riders had gathered. Still leading the dancers - not unlike a queen dragon flirting with her potential mates - she drew closer, leaving the circle of firelight yet still visible as the moon illuminated her dress. Reaching out, she beckoned to one of the riders; a dark, looming figure who detached himself from his companions and willingly took her hand. The pair headed the chain of dancers as they came back within the circle of dragons and people and as the fire flared brighter, D’gar recognised F’drun.

He nudged H’rek. ‘Look who she’s picked out.’

H’rek glanced over. ‘Not really surprised, to be honest.’

‘Last time I saw them, she was chucking him out of her weyr and calling him a failure.’

‘That was then. Now she’s after someone who’ll annoy T’bor the most.’ He seemed unconcerned. ‘Why? You’re not still worried about him, are you?’

‘I don’t trust the man. You shouldn’t either.’

H’rek smiled. ‘He can’t do anything to you. Or me, for that matter. Let them play their game. It’ll keep them both occupied.’

D’gar hoped he was right.