The Dolphins of Pern

CHAPTER VII

EARLY THE NEXT MORNING Persellan joined T’lion and Gadareth on the strand when the young dragonrider rang the Report peal He had spent an anxious night, worrying about Boojie, and was rather pleased to see that Persellan was also concerned.

No sooner had the last note of the ring echoed across the waters than two dolphins leaped above the surface, a distant squeeing audible.

“Hope that’s a happy sound,” T’lion murmured.

“Hmmmrn” was Persellan’s reply as he shielded his eyes and peered across the dawn-lightened waters.

“They feed at dawn, you know,” T’lion informed him conversationally. “Best time to get them.”

“Am I likely to be on call to dolphins, too, now?”

T’lion looked up to check the healer’s mood. He didn’t know the man well enough to judge whether or not his gruffness was genuine. Most people tended to be grumpy in the early hours of the day. Healers certainly had the right, called up at the most inconvenient of times.

“Would that bother you?” T’lion asked apprehensively.

“Hmmmm, Depends. I could see that the creature had to have that gash sutured. Are they often injured? How did that happen to it?”

“I don’t know about injuries in general. Most of the dolphins have scars here and there. I haven’t asked how they get them, though. We haven’t reached that sort of thing. Most of our conversations have been pretty basic. Maybe Master Alemi knows. I can ask him.”

“Who’s Master Alemi?” Persellan asked, his gaze still on the incoming dolphins’ progress.

“Master Fishman at Paradise River Hold. He got me interested in the dolphins. Aivas asked me to continue.”

“Did he?” Persellan shot a glance down at his young companion.

“Yes, yesterday wasn’t my first visit to report to Aivas,” T’lion said in a tone he hoped wasn’t boastful.

“Indeed! Hmmm, well.”

The squeeing was louder now and T’lion thought it sounded happy. Maybe because he wanted it to. He let out a sigh. Then, as the two dolphins neared the shore, he couldn’t wait any longer and ran out into the water until he was waist deep.

“Is Boojie okay?” he shouted through cupped hands.

“Squeeee yes. Squee yes!”

“Yes?”

“Yesssssss, squeee yessssss!” The two dolphins made it a chorus and seemed to speed up. Their final leap splashed T’lion thoroughly but he didn’t care, Natua pushed his face right up into the dragonrider’s, and his ever-grinning smile was deeper than ever. He dropped his jaw and squee’ed again.

“Boojie best grateful. Ate well.”

“Swims little, is better.”

“Tell them,” Persellan called from where he stood at the water’s edge, “Boojie must have the sutures removed—are dolphins aware of time? I mean I don’t want to leave those stitches in forever. They could tear the flesh.”

“When d’you want Boojie back?” T’lion asked.

“In a sevenday. Would they understand that?”

T’lion nodded vigorously even as he repeated the instructions to the two dolphins. “In seven”—T’lion held up sufficient fingers, tapping them in turn on Natua’s nose—“dawns, Boojie is to come back to the healer. Understood?”

“Squeeee! Understand. Seven dawns.”

“We tell!” Tana added, clicking affirmatively.

“Thanks for coming,” T’lion added.

“You ring. We come. We promise. Thank medic.” And Tana did her half stand, nodding her head vigorously before she gave a final tail swish and leaped sideways, over and under the water, and swam off, Natua squeeing after her.

“Did you hear, Persellan?” T’lion asked as he waded back out. “Boojie’s very grateful. He ate and they understand to bring him back in a sevenday.”

“I must say, I’m gratified, since I hadn’t a notion if I was doing the creature any good at all.”

“Oh, you did, Persellan, you did!”

“Amazing incident, actually. I must report … Now, who would I report to? Not the Masterfarmer, certainly, for the sea is not his province.”

“Master Alemi says that the Masterfishman, Idaro-lan, is interested in the dolphins.”

“Well, then, I shall report to him, and to T’gellan, as well as to Master Oldive. At least he will find this case interesting. Many wouldn’t, but Oldive will.” That seemed to please Persellan even more as they made their way back to the Weyr.

T’lion hoped he’d have a chance to tell Master Alemi all about yesterday and dolphin sonar. Well, maybe he shouldn’t talk about Minim’s baby yet, but he could tell about Persellan’s sewing up Boojie.

It was several days before T’lion had a chance to stop off at Paradise River Hold. He was on his way back from conveying Master Fandarel to Telgar Smithcrafthall and saw no harm in stopping off that evening to see Alemi. The big yawl, the Fair Winds, was not at anchor, nor was the other sloop, or the ketch that fished from Paradise River. T’lion was about to tell Gadareth to go on to the Weyr when he saw a ship sailing into the next cove. The northern coast of the Southern Continent had many inlets. He thought it very odd that the ship didn’t put into the Paradise River anchorage. Could they have mistaken their port of call? That cove also had a river, but a small one, feeding into the sea. Could the captain have mistaken this one for the true Hold? Puzzled, he asked Gadareth to glide over that way. What he saw on the beach did nothing to reassure him. For people were hurriedly unloading small boats: quite a mound of crates and stuff already on the beach. Was Paradise River opening new holdings on its land? He’d heard remarks at dinner in the Weyr that more and more people were heading to the Southern Continent after what had been an extremely cold winter.

Gaddie, let’s just check with Holder Jayge, T’lion said, and his dragon obliged, winking into between—before, he hoped, those on the beach had seen him. They’d had the sun at their backs and wouldn’t have been all that visible. There had been something furtive about the beaching.

“Holder Jayge, were you expecting more new settlers?” T’lion asked, presenting himself and apologizing for interrupting their supper.

“No.” Jayge frowned, rising. “Why?”

“Well, there’s a ship anchored next cove over and stuff’s all over the beach. I thought you should know.”

“Indeed I should, T’lion.” Angry sparks lit his eyes. “Did you happen to see the Fair Winds on her way in?”

“No, sir, we came out of between above the pier and no sign of any of your ships.”

“I know that dragonriders are not supposed to intervene in Hold matters,” Jayge said, beckoning T’lion to follow him to the front porch, “but if Alemi knew about this … intrusion, he could assist us.” He glanced west where the tip of the setting sun was just visible. “Could you estimate how many are on that beach?”

T’lion shook his head. “They were unloading two small boats, coming and going.”

“Did they see you?”

“No, I was coming in from the west. Sun behind me.

“Good.” Jayge emphasized that by gripping T’lion’s arm in approval “Possibly eight, ten men, if they had two boats. Well, if we start now, we should reach the cove by moonrise! But I’d want Alemi’s reinforcement.” He waited for T’lion’s response.

“I’d never find Alemi at sea,” T’lion began, half of him wanting to help Jayge and the other half most loath to get into further trouble with T’gellan. Which he would if he interfered even in a minor way. Someone would drop the word that a dragonrider had told Alemi.

Dolphins find Alemi faster, Gadareth said slyly from the shadow where he waited.

“Dolphins! They could find Alemi and tell him to come,” T’lion cried.

“Good lad!” Jayge clapped him on the back now. “Those critters really are good for something.”

While T’lion knew that this was not the moment to mention the dolphins’ latest skill, he had no reservations about using them.

“I’ll just go ring the bell on the pier,” T’lion said, running back to his dragon.

“My gratitude, dragonrider,” Jayge called after him.

As Gadareth lifted into the night and angled himself toward the head of the bay, T’lion heard Jayge hammering on the alarm triangle.

The pier was long enough to accommodate the bronze dragon, so Gadareth set T’lion down right by the bell tower. He clanged it as vigorously as Jayge had been plying the iron. Dusk was always a good time to get a quick response from dolphins, who would be looking for a game to play. In his head, T’lion sorted out the words to use to convey the message to Alemi.

Kib, Temp, and Afo answered the summons.

“You must find Alemi, Kib,” T’lion said, holding the dolphin’s head at an angle so the eye was on him.

“Can do easy. Not far now.”

“Then tell him Jayge needs his help immediately at the next cove. Over there.” T’lion jabbed his hand in the appropriate direction.

“Where ship is?”

“You saw them?”

“Northern ship smelly. In wrong place?”

“You bet your safety straps they are,” T’lion said. “They are invading Paradise River Hold.”

“Invade no good?”

“That’s right. Those men do no good to Alemi, Jayge, and Readis.”

T’lion was amazed by the hostile notes in the clicking and squeeing, which came out in a deeper, almost menacing, tone and tempo.

“Go. Find Alemi. Tell him trouble comes here. Be at next cove by moonrise to help Jayge and his men.”

Kib wriggled himself on his tail, waving his flippers. “Find Alemi. Tell him trouble. Moonrise. We know where! We go!”

In one of their incredible maneuvers, the three dolphins simultaneously launched themselves high above the water and, turning their agile bodies, dove back. T’lion saw them emerge briefly, traveling at great speed out to sea, as if they knew exactly where they were going.

They probably do know exactly where they’re going, T’lion told Gadareth. “Well, we’d better get back home as fast as we can or someone might wonder how long it took us to get Master Fandarel home.”

You were given food when you arrived, Gadareth remarked as T’lion settled himself again between his neck ridges.

T’lion chortled as he slapped the dragon’s neck. “That’s right, and a good meal it was. I had seconds! Let’s go home!”

Several days later at dinner in the Weyr Hall, T’lion heard that a group of northerners had been forcefully expelled from Paradise River Hold. The master of the ship that had brought them would be severely disciplined by Master Idarolan and deprived of his command. Ingenuously T’lion asked for details.

“You know, I used to go there a lot,” T’lion remarked. “Nice folk.”

He was told about the clever way in which Holder Jayge and his small force of men had emerged from the forest, caught the intruders asleep in their hastily set-up camp, and tied them up. The Paradise River Fishmaster Alemi and his fishmen had boarded their transport ship and, with a crew from his own fish-hold, had sailed it and the unwelcome immigrants into Ista Harbor, where the vessel was impounded and its crew and passengers transported back to their point of departure in Igen. Lord Holder Laudey of Igen was not best pleased by this escapade, and the men and women were sentenced to work in the mines. The episode was well spread by harpers, with the moral that those who wished to settle on the Southern Continent had to obtain permission.

“There’ll be more of such occurrences,” V’line remarked. “Paradise River Hold’s already had a couple of problems along that line.”

“You mean when that self-styled Lady Holdless Thella attacked the hold a couple of Turns back?” one of the Wingleaders asked.

“That was the worst,” V’line replied.

“The Weyrs can’t involve themselves in hold matters,” the brown rider M’sur said, frowning, “It’s enough that we have to convey people in and out of Landing all the time.” He nodded at T’lion. “Not to mention having to survey every inch of this continent to prepare for the day Threadfall stops forever.”

T’lion shrugged and grinned when several other riders glanced in his direction. No one had even noticed his return after full dark on the night in question. And after all, he hadn’t really been involved. The dolphins had! And who would know that?

Lord Toric heard about the attempted intrusion and smiled. So long as they kept away from his zealously guarded holding, it amused him that more people were illegally attempting to invade the South and ignoring the Benden Weyrleaders’ edict that immigration must be to sites they had approved. That only verified Toric’s suspicions that the Weyrleaders were indeed keeping the best sites for the dragonriders. He was hoping that some of the tries would succeed, if only to prove that people could survive very well, thank you, wherever they were willing to work hard enough to “hold.” It didn’t matter to Toric that these would-be settlers could die from sampling exotic-looking and sweet-smelling tree fruits, that there were hungry and feral beasts quite able to take down a full-grown adult, that there were the most insidious dangers from thorn-poisoning and fevers. Toric’s notion was that the strong survived—and if the unfit died, they merited no mourning. What irked him most was that the Benden Weyrleaders felt they had the right to apportion the South where they wished to bestow it. Just because they’d found some document that told how the Ancients had dealt with settling? Land was held by those strong enough to hang on to it and improve it.

And then there was that infamous meeting of Weyrleaders and Lord Holders—which he had been unable to attend while he was involved with ousting the renegade Denol from Ierne Island. That’s when all those old-womanish Lords had actually established that the dragonriders had the right to control the Southern Continent land grabbings, “Out of respect for the services dragonriders have given Hold and Hall over the centuries of Threadfall.” As if tithing to support the indolent riders hadn’t been reward enough for dragons doing what they had been bred to do. Much less the gratuities that had always been lavished on dragonriders.

When Toric had heard of that decision, he had been infuriated, especially as it had been voted on behind his back. He’d have stopped the whole notion right then if he’d been able to come. The first insult to him had been that the northern Lords hadn’t waited until he could come to a meeting that, when all was said and deplorably done, affected him more than any of them, since he was the only confirmed Lord Holder in the South. And lord of a Hold so much larger than anything in the North, including Telgar, that it had been ludicrous to hold such a meeting without him. Of course, the Weyrleaders had planned it that way, knowing he would protest. Knowing he would have been able to sway some of the indecisive idiots who had their titles by default and certainly wouldn’t have been able to survive a season in the South. He’d’ve seen that the Southern Continent would be wide open for those with the guts to work to hold any land—and apply for confirmation to a full Council of Lord Holders and no Weyrleaders present, for it wasn’t up to dragonriders who held and where! Not in Toric’s lexicon.

On his bedroom and office walls were outsized maps of the Southern Continent: several aspects, including one that had cost him a sack of marks, a spatial view of the south, its terrain stretching out and out to the curve of the horizon. That view caused him the most irritation, since it was proof positive that he had been cheated. The Weyrwoman had shown him only a small section of the continent when she and F’lar had tricked him into settling for only the land between the two rivers. He had been deceived into settling for a tiny portion when he could have had more, much more. And those two Weyrleaders had known it. Although his wife had tried to convince him that they couldn’t have known the extent of Southern: not until Master Idarolan and Master Rampesi had sailed, one west and one east, until they had met, was the size of the Southern Continent truly discovered. Toric could not be convinced otherwise. He had wanted more, and since the Weyrleaders had thwarted him in that devious meeting, he would have more. Especially when the dragonriders had not helped him regain the big island from Denol’s clutches. He was especially bitter about that.

Right now, of course, with everyone scurrying about following the orders of that machine, Aivas, he had to bide his time. It was as essential to his future plans as everyone else’s that Thread be stopped from ever falling on Pern again. He had even allowed his brother Hamian, the Hold’s Mastersmith, to spend full time experimenting and contriving the new machines and equipment needed to end the airborne menace. He had informants in place so that anything of any significance occurring at Landing was reported to him. He appeared when vital decisions were being discussed. He also tagged those who would be of use to him later on. If, and Toric entertained some doubts, Aivas managed to do as it had promised: rid the planet of Thread.

He had already started to make his plans—spurred by his animosity for the Benden Weyrleaders. He still had the notes that young Piemur had made of his explorations along the coast. He himself had taken short trips—no absences long enough to arouse suspicion, and never where dragonriders might inconveniently overfly him. He would personally select those he placed where he wanted them, and sufficient numbers on large enough holdings so that, after Threadfall, there would be enough Lord Holders grateful to him, Toric, to vote a majority over the northern idiots. When the time was ripe … And he smiled again. The domination of the Weyrs over the Southern Continent would suffer a major curtailment. He had no doubt he would find support among the Lord Holders, especially since he could use that Ancient document to justify the actions. Ah, yes, when the time was ripe …

The next morning was the seventh day, when Boojie was supposed to report to Persellan. Healer and dragonrider arrived at first light on the beach and saw dolphins cavorting in the water on a shoreward course.

“I do hope Boojie isn’t one of those leapers,” Persellan said in a grouchy tone. “He’ll pull his stitches and I won’t sew him up again.”

T’lion gave the bell a few pulls to be sure their presence was noticed. Then he and Persellan, who was dressed in short-legged pants and had put what he needed out of his healer’s bag in a small pouch slung over one shoulder, waded out to meet the incoming sea creatures.

The one who glided in across their path stopped right in front of them and eased over onto his back. The long gash was visible, just under the water.

“Gaddie, we may need you again …” T’lion began.

“No, I don’t think we need trouble, Gadareth,” Persellan said. The dolphin was holding steady, presenting the injury well enough for the purpose of removing the sutures. “Here, hold this for me.” He had removed a blunt-ended pair of scissors from his pack and now pushed them at T’lion.

Running skilled fingers along the injury, Persellan gave one of his meditative hums, his expression registering approval and satisfaction. “It’s well closed, not a single suture torn or pulled. Really, if I’d known they heal so quickly, I could have removed the stitches earlier. Remarkable recovery.”

“The saltwater?”

“Could be, and the excellent state of health these wild creatures enjoy. Now, tell him not to move. I don’t want to inadvertently puncture him at this stage of his recovery.”

T’lion bent close to Boojie’s head, noticed the brightness of the eye regarding him, and patted the melon. “Hold as still as you can, Boojie. Won’t hurt.”

Boojie dropped his jaw in token of understanding. T’lion nearly fell backward, though, as the tip of another dolphin snout protruded from the water just beyond Boojie’s head. He hadn’t been aware that another dolphin lurked that close–Tana probably.

“Hold your hand out, please, T’lion. I need to be sure I’ve removed all the stitches.”

T’lion obeyed, and the procedure was very quickly accomplished. Persellan bent his head to peer at the closed wound.

“Hmmmm. Yes, remarkable. I really should encourage patients to swim. Or at least to immerse themselves in the water here for its curative powers. Good fellow, Boojie. You’ve been a grand patient, Where do I scratch?”

“Not there,” T’lion said hastily and grabbed Persellan’s hand away from what was indecently close to dolphin privates. “Here, under the chin. They love it.”

Persellan caressed Boojie. “You’ve been a good patient. I could wish humans were as well behaved. But then I didn’t have to oversee you in your watery ward, did I?” Persellan’s hum turned into a chuckle. “Dragonriders do not take kindly to having to remain in bed. Shards!” The healer backed away in surprise as Boojie suddenly loomed up out of the water until he was on eye level with him.

“Thank you, Peerrssss-lan,” Boojie said with an enthusiastic squee to emphasize his statement.

“You are very welcome, Boojie. Very welcome in-deed,” Persellan said, executing a few short bows at the dolphin. “Hmmm. I don’t always get thanked by my human patients either. You know, T’lion, I don’t think I’d mind being healer to the dolphins after all. D’you think I should see what other information Aivas has on sea-mammal ailments and cures?”

T’lion grinned as he handed the healer back his pouch and they both waded out of the sea.

“I don’t see why not. The more we learn from Aivas the better. Have you heard anything from Master Oldive?” T’lion asked.

“Yes, I have. Most gratifying. Oddly enough, it was the Harper Hall—Master Menolly, in particular—which supported my suggestion.” Persellan glanced quizzically at T’lion.

“She was at Paradise River Hold and Alemi is her brother. He might have told her what he was doing with the dolphins,”

“Which is?”

“Much what I’m doing, getting to know them and teach them our words.”

“But they know them …”

“No, they know the words people used to use,” T’lion said, mastering an urge to grin at the healer’s confusion. “Our language has shifted slightly from what the dolphins learned long ago from us.”

“Language shifted?” Persellan was indignant.

“Aivas told me.”

“For a rider who hasn’t even flown Thread yet, you seem to be remarkably well connected.”

“Me? Shards, no, Persellan, I just have to convey a lot of people here and there,” T’lion said in an earnestly self-deprecating tone. He didn’t wish to give Persellan the impression that he was boasting or anything. “I was conveying Master Alemi when he rang that old bell they dredged up from Monaco Bay and summoned the dolphins. That’s how I got involved.”

“But you’ve put up a bell here.”

“Aivas asked me to. I’m supposed to help count how many dolphins there are these days.”

“Doing well, I see. Hmmm. What does Gadareth think about all this?”

“You saw for yourself, Healer. He was quite ready to help with Boojie.”

“So he was.” They had entered the clearing around the Weyr Hall. “Well, let me know if they need any more stitching or something. Like dragons, they are appreciative!” He sniffed once disparagingly and made for his quarters.

At Fort Hold, Menolly, Sebell, Master Oldive, and two of his journeymen had made their way to the Fort harbor.

“I find it most fascinating that no one”—Master Oldive paused to emphasize the negative—“ever bothered to ask why that bell was known as the ‘doll-fins’ bell.’”

Menolly laughed, enjoying this outing from the Healer Hall now that the weather was more element with an early spring warming. It was good to be on runnerback and especially to have something that could pry Sebell loose from his increasingly heavy duties as Masterharper. They scarcely seemed to have any time together these days with all the activity and industry connected with Aivas’s plan to rid Pern of Threadfall. “Surely you’ve come across enigmas in your Healer Hall records.”

“Oh, indeed,” Master Oldive said with a laugh. “Even the most legible entries contain references to procedures the authors were familiar with but which we lost over the centuries. Thankfully, Aivas is explaining more and more.” He sighed, his expression thoughtful. Then he shook off whatever reflection troubled him and spoke more briskly. “And you’ll be able to communicate with the dolphins? If any come in response.”

“My brother assures me that they assured him that all dolphins have maintained their traditions. And we know that there are dolphins in these waters. So we shall ring the peal and see what happens.”

“I do so hope they come,” Oldive said, sighing heavily. “If they can, as Weyr Healer Persellan said, pinpoint irregularities in a human body with this sonar ability of theirs, I might just be able to treat three puzzling cases that have worried me excessively.”

Menolly lowered her voice so it would not carry to the journeymen riding behind them. “You’re having trouble convincing your Craft of the ‘surgical’ treatments the old records recommend.”

“Indeed!” Oldive’s comment was heartfelt. “The Cesarian to release a womb-held baby is permitted, and the one to remove the pendicks, but not the lengthy repairs or deep delving that Aivas reports were last measures even then. But we don’t have the medicines that the Ancients did that would dissolve or shrink other conditions to which occasionally people are subject.”

They had reached the pier and were welcomed by Masterfishman Curran, who delegated men to take the runnerbeasts from their riders. Menolly noticed that all five vessels of the Fort fishing fleet were in port. She grimaced. She hadn’t anticipated an audience, but they had had to inform Curran of their intentions for the day’s excursion.

Master Idarolan had, of course, informed him of dolphin intelligence. Sebell, also spreading such news, had met with considerable skepticism, especially from those inland who had never seen dolphins escorting ships.

“A long cold ride, you will need at least a cup of klah before you ring any bells,” Curran said jovially, gesturing them to enter his hold, situated on the height above the sea. There was another, smaller cot built on the T-bar of the pier itself for the harbormaster.

Menolly, always conscious of being away from her children, would have preferred not to dally, but courtesy required the grateful acceptance of hospitality. And hot klah would be welcome. She was somewhat stiff after the long ride, having had little occasion to exercise of late. She almost resented the ease with which Sebell, who was constantly riding both runners and dragons, dismounted.

More than klah was offered, which was very nice of Curran and his wife, Robina, and actually very welcome: small fish rolls that were delectably spiced, the cold roe of fish spread on tiny bread rounds, hot spiced klah, and a cup of a chowder that was also highly seasoned. Masters and journeymen alike, as hungry as any ever born, tucked into the food with a good will. Even Master Oldive made a good meal.

Finally, they were able to go to the long pier, accompanied by a throng of interested fishers and cotholders. Menolly should have known that this would become an occasion, especially after a long and sequestering winter. Everyone took what excuses for diversion they could find. This would certainly be a more interesting one. No sooner had she stepped out of the hold than Beauty, Diver, and Rocky launched themselves from the roof, Beauty settling to her shoulder while Diver and Rocky swanned about in the air above. Other fire-lizards joined them, uttering glad cries, though Menolly knew they could hardly appreciate the reason for the day’s activities.

The dolphins’ bell had been given a new housing, the wood preservative still rank enough to catch a person in the back of the throat despite the light breeze. The bell itself had been shined to a high polish.

“We added a new clapper,” Curran said proudly. “Made Master Fandarel hold up some other work to get it done in time.”

“I could wish to know how you did that, Master Curran,” Oldive said with a wry smile.

“How long has the bell been without a clapper then?” Sebell asked in that quiet way of his that was so good at extracting information.

Curran threw up arms thick from years of hauling nets and sails. “Oh, it had none when I became Master here.”

“Did your Master not notice?” Sebell asked, his eyes twinkling,

“I suppose he did, but he must have taken it on in that condition.” Curran looked a trifle embarrassed.

“The Monaco Bell had no clapper either,” Sebell said to pacify the man, but Menolly noticed her mate did not mention that the Monaco Bell had been at the bottom of the sea for centuries. “But it has one now and can be put to its original use again. Will you do the honors, Menolly?”

“Delighted,” she said, and seized the rope by the end. “I think, Curran, the purpose of the dolphins’ bell is for them to be able to ring it, too, to summon men to hear their reports.”

“I didn’t know that” Curran said, surprised. “But what would I do if they should ring it?”

Menolly smiled reassuringly at him. “Ask why they rang it, of course. This is to let them know the bell’s back in service.” She gave the pull a hefty yank, and then settled into the Report sequence that Alemi had taught her. She sincerely hoped it would be effective, or Curran would think he had wasted time and effort—not to mention badgering the Mastersmith for no purpose. So, pretending that the sequence was longer than it actually was, she pealed off the Report a second time. “Alemi’s had very good fishing since he’s listened to the dolphin reports. He’s also been able to avoid some of those appalling squalls the southern waters spawn.”

“Look!” cried one of the fishmen who had followed them to the pier. On her shoulder, Beauty let out a piercing cry. Rocky and Diver swooped off to investigate.

Distance viewers appeared from pockets to aid the naked eye.

“Fins!” cried Curran’s first mate. “Half a dozen—no, more than that. Coming from all directions. Heading here!”

Curran reached for the distance viewer from his mate and peered out to sea. Beauty spread her wings, tangling them in Menolly’s winter cap so that she had to grab it before it fell into the sea.

“Easy there, now, Beauty. You’ve seen dolphins before.”

Beauty chittered, but obediently folded her wings and blinked bright blue eyes.

“Quite a display they’re making,” Curran remarked, and politely passed the viewer to Menolly. She grinned and gestured for him to give it to Sebell, who had not yet had a chance to see a dolphin pod arriving in answer to the age-old summons.

How had the creatures remembered for such a long time? Maybe there were dolphin equivalents to harpers? The pod leaders?

Sebell sucked in his breath as he watched. “They are moving at an incredible rate and doing all those leaps and ah … one just somersaulted midair.”

“I’d say they were delighted to hear the bell rung again,” Menolly said with a nostalgic little smile and a catch in her chest. To be ignored, to have one’s abilities neglected must have been hard, and yet the dolphins had continued to do what they could to aid humans all these long centuries. She must write a special song for them. A very special song of loyalty and joy.

The squeeing was soon audible to the watchers on the dock.

“How can they speak?” Curran asked.

“They do,” Menolly said, “if you listen.” She glanced up at Sebell, standing straight and tall beside her, and grinned impishly. “Despite all we harpers did, the language shifted, but the dolphins are adapting to the new words.”

Sebell gave her a jaundiced stare for that familiar tease, and she chuckled at harper discomfiture over the “purity of speech” that the Craft had tried so hard to preserve.

“But I thought …” Curran began, and then stopped, clearing his throat The vanguard was now closing the gap, and the watchers were unable to count the number of dolphin bodies in their leaping and plunging.

“Where’s the boat we need to be close to them?” Menolly asked. Curran pointed to a ladder at the side, and peering over the edge, Menolly saw the long boat bobbing at its painter. Curran led the way and carefully guided her feet to the rungs and safely into the tossing boat. It was one of the offshore fishers and accommodated a fair number of folk; an orderly descent was made by those whom Curran had apparently chosen as audience to this momentous occasion.

They were barely settled when the first dolphin raised its head above the waters.

“Bellill ring. Oo-ee come! Bellill not ring long long.” The creature squeeed, and was joined by other importunate heads, all of them jostling for a view of those in the boat.

“Your name? I’m Nolly,” Menolly said, leaning over the side of the boat and extending a hand to scratch a bottlenose chin.

Almost ecstatically the dolphin allowed the caress; the jaw dropped into the water in its excess of delight.

“Inka! Inka! Pod leader. Inka!”

“By the first Egg,” Curran cried, and there was excited muttering from the other fishmen.

“Here is Curran,” Menolly said. “Fishmaster.”

“Oo-ee know,” Inka said.

“Flip me,” another dolphin said, raising itself well above the water to reach an eye level that startled the Fishmaster.

“Flipme?” Curran asked.

“Flip! Flip! ‘On-ra-bul naym,”

“On-ra-bul?” Curran repeated, amazed.

“Maybe he means honorable?” Sebell suggested, and held out a hand, hoping to entice a dolphin to him. One immediately raised up and offered fins in his direction. “Your name?” he asked.

“Ajay, Ajay. Man’s name?” The interrogatory lift to the word was unmistakable.

“Sebell. Sebell, Ajay!”

“Sebell.” “Sebell, Nolly, Cur-ran,” chorused dolphins in their high funny voices.

“Oldive,” Menolly said, putting her arm about the Masterhealer. “Healer. Medic,” she added.

“Me-dick! Meddick!” The dolphins passed this information back and forth among themselves; the gray bodies thronged the waters above the boat and great pier bollards that rose above the surface and supported the T-shaped facility. “Oll-deeve, medick!” Excited squees and clicks followed this introduction, and the immediate waters seethed with dolphins changing position as so many attempted to inspect the healer simultaneously. “Ooooo heal? Oooo skraabbb blufisss?”

“How remarkable!” Oldive said, surprised to be the focus of such attention from so many cheerful faces. “Oooo heal?” he asked, turning to Menolly for a translation. “Skraaabbb blufiss?”

“Bloodfish. It’s a parasite and has to be cut off,” Menolly said. “Alemi did it for his pod. Something they are unable to do for themselves.”

“I shouldn’t wonder with just flippers and no fingers. How would I …”

“Who has blufiss?” Menolly asked, and four dolphins squee’ed and pushed in toward her. She’d had a chance to study Aivas’s tapes on the dolphins and now gave the signal for them to lie on their sides.

“Oh I say,” Oldive remarked with great sympathy. “They must be very painful. One would have to use a sharp knife.”

“Niggghhhff, nigghhhfff” was repeated back to him from those nearest with exposed bellies. They waggled themselves from side to side. “Skraaabbb blufiss.”

“Well, I suppose they’d know …” Oldive said. He took out his belt knife and tested its edge. “Sharp enough, I’ll hope.”

He leaned over the side of the boat. Before any of the seamen could warn them, the harpers and healers leaned over to watch the operation. The boat, of course, rocked and spilled Master Oldive and Menolly into the water.

“No, no, leave me, I’m fine. I swim quite competently,” Oldive said, batting at the hands stretched out to retrieve him.

“Ooooo, it’s cold,” Menolly said, but she also declined offers to drag her back into the boat. She did, however, slip off her boots and pass them up to Sebell. Then she took out her belt knife. “Ah, is that how you do it?” she commented as Oldive deftly sliced the head off the fish, removed the clinging body, and then pried out the head’s sucker, leaving only a tiny hole. The sucker was of remarkable length, since it had had to penetrate through the layers of blubber to tap a vein.

Just as Oldive dealt with his first patient, another dolphin nosed through its fellows, clicking in such an authoritative tone that the others parted for it.

“You really should wait your turn,” Oldive said in a gently chiding tone.

The dolphin smiled and turned its head this way and that as the bright black eyes fixed themselves on the healer.

“Bad back!” the creature said quite plainly.

There was a brief, appalled silence. “My goodness!” Oldive held out his hand to the creature’s nose as if absolving it from mentioning what few did. “How could you know?” he asked. Despite his wetting, the hump was not that apparent under his carefully contrived shirt, and the creature had only observed him from the front.

“Seeee. Seee. I Bit, Oll-deeeve medick.”

“I don’t really believe what I’m hearing,” Curran murmured to Menolly. “And it knew about …” He closed his lips. “How could it see?”

“Perhaps what Persellan said about the creatures’—” Oldive looked at Menolly for the word.

“Sonar,” she supplied.

“—Is very true. Proof positive!” Because Oldive appeared cheerful about the matter, everyone began to relax. “What is it, this sonar?”

Menolly recollected the exact phrasing she’d had from Alemi. “Sonar. Dolphins can emit high-frequency sounds and register the vibrations coming back to their ears. That’s how they navigate in the sea and send messages long distance to other dolphins. Somehow they can use it on human bodies as well.”

“If this Bit could see my hump through all my clothes, I’m willing to believe. Bit, do you wish me to skraabbb your blufisss?”

“Now, see here, Master Oldive,” began one of the medics who had been upset to see his master in the water, “there are more and more coming. You had better come out of the water. There are too many for you to do them.”

“I’ve counted forty so far,” Sebell said.

“Pleeesss, Ol-deeve. Many many blufiss.”

“Skraabbb blufisss,” the cry went up from the crowding dolphins.

“I can really only do one more today,” Oldive said. “The water is very cold.” His teeth were beginning to chatter, and the others kept begging him to come back into the boat and be dried off.

Menolly’s teeth began to chatter, too. “Look, we are humans, not dolphins. But there are enough in this boat to remove any more parasites those dolphins have. Those we don’t do today, we can do tomorrow. All right?”

“Rigggh. Rigggh” was the enthusiastic delphinic response. The humans were not quite as pleased by her offer. But when she insisted that Oldive reenter the boat with her, and blankets were brought for them, she found willing enough hands to assist.

Over the next few hours, most of the humans in the boat had gotten wet—but still they were unable to attend to all the dolphins who asked to have bloodfish removed. When Sebell remarked that I Bit and Inka, who had a dark splotch like a cap on her head, seemed to have some authority over the pods, he, Menolly, and Oldive managed to explain to the newcomers that they should return the next day.

“When the sun comes up,” Menolly said, using the hand signals for “next day.” “More blufiss cull. Understand?”

Squeeings and clickings, as well as some happy acrobatics, answered her, and the press of dolphin bodies about the boat eased. They were later to learn that I Bit was one of the oldest dolphins in the nearby seas. Certainly she seemed to understand more and certainly appeared to be the most respected member of the pod. I Bit taught the young calves and sent the smartest ones to the Great Whirlpool to the Tillek. At first the use of that name confused the two harpers. Gradually they realized that the Tillek meant the oldest and wisest dolphin, who was evidently the repository of all marine knowledge, the way harpers preserved knowledge for humans.

When Sebell and Menolly asked if they would ever meet the Tillek, I Bit said she would ask. The Tillek was known to be very pleased with the mans.

“The Tillek is wo-mans,” I Bit said, giving them a long stare with her very bright and intelligent eyes. “Best, biggest, wisest.”

“I’m sure she is,” Menolly said, and proceeded to ask I Bit detailed questions of what dolphins learned from the Tillek.

“T’e Tillek sing too,” I Bit remarked, her lower jaw dropped in what was the most expansive dolphin grin they had yet seen.

“I guess that settles me,” Menolly told Sebell, grinning. About then she noticed that most of the people on the boat were holding what looked like two-way conversations with individual dolphins.

The cold of twilight, augmented by a sharp southern wind, finally forced the humans out of the boat—but with many promises to continue the contact the next day, and every day.

“Oooo ring bell. Oo-ee come. Oo-ee promise. ’Member! Oooo ’member! Next sun more blufisss skraaabss.” Though, by the fall of night, the dolphin numbers had shrunk from the nearly one hundred that had swum into the pier in response to the Report peal to twenty, those last were as loath to leave as the humans.

Curran urged all back into the warmth of his hold, where the hot mulled wine that was passed around was very welcome indeed. The first mate, Texur, and three of the other skippers then took folks back to their cotholds where they could dry their clothing. Robina clucked about, handing out fur rugs and fussing over Master Oldive.

“You’ll be treating yourself if you don’t have more of a care for your own health, Master,” she said, scowling fiercely. “And then where will the rest of us be?”

“Ringing the dolphin bell,” Oldive murmured in a whisper that only Menolly and Sebell heard. “There is so much, so much more than we could have ever anticipated,” he went on in a slightly louder but still reflective tone of voice, “and we must learn all we can. All we can.” His voice fell again and his hand nearly let go of the cup of mulled wine. Menolly rescued it with a smile, which he returned. “Goodness, I don’t think I’ve had this much outdoor activity in decades.”

“We should have had you conveyed a-dragonback,” Menolly said anxiously.

“No, no, my dear,” Oldive said, sitting up straighten “I’m always after my patients to exercise and get fresh air and I never listen to my own advice. This has been a truly remarkable day.”

“As soon as you’re dried out enough, I’ll send Beauty to Fort Weyr and we’ll get you home safe, sound, and unwet,” Menolly said firmly, and gave him a stern look.

“Oh, no, not today. I must wait over and speak with I Bit again. But let us send back Worlain and Fabry. I have a particular patient in the Hall at the moment. I Bit might just be able to see what ails her, for without some help, I fear she will die. There is so much we don’t know,” he added, shaking his head.

“Now, Master,” Fabry said, for he evidently had an ear cocked in his Master’s direction, “Mislue’s the last person to expose to a dolphin. In the first place, she’ll be terrified …”

“She’s also terrified of dying,” Oldive said crisply.

“But how will you transport her here? The jolting of a Gather wagon would be too painful …”

“A dragon will oblige.”

Fabry snorted. “She’d be even more afraid of riding a dragon—if we could get her astride one—than even the doll-fin.”

“Dolphin,” Sebell said in absent correction.

“Whatever,” Fabry said, glancing at the Master-harper with all the arrogance some of the healers often displayed for other Crafts.

“If that holder woman intends to live to see the grandchild she hopes her daughter-in-law carries, then she’ll obey my orders,” Oldive said with a tinge of impatience in his usually serene voice. He laid a sensitive, thin-fingered hand on Fabry’s arm, and the stocky journeyman assumed an attentive stance. “You will make the arrangements on your return to the Hall, Fabry. I know I can count on you but you are not to forewarn her …”

“She’ll want details. She always wants details,” Fabry said with a much-put-upon sigh.

“The sea, Fabry. It is possible that a sea cure will help her,” Oldive said, one of his irresistible smiles lighting his gentle face and kind eyes.

“A sea cure?” Fabry barked a laugh.

“A sea cure,” Oldive repeated, smiling back.

So Menolly dispatched Beauty to Fort Weyr with a request for N’ton to provide dragons for those returning that evening. Though she received a warm invitation from Robina to stay overnight, too, she declined, anxious to return to her children. Sebell elected to remain with Oldive for a further meeting the next day with the dolphins. That left the question of the runnerbeasts they had ridden down to the Hold, but Curran said he’d have one of his holders lead them back, laden with fish, in a few days.

Sebell gave Menolly a quick embrace when the dragons arrived. “Now, don’t spend all night composing, will you?”

“Much as I’d like to,” she said, hugging him fiercely, “the fresh air’s got me yawning, too. I’m so glad that it all worked.”

“Were you worried?” Sebell asked, looking down into her face with searching eyes.

“Well, not exactly worried, but I certainly didn’t expect the turnout! I’ll have to tell Alemi. He’ll be thrilled. It is too bad, though,” Menolly added, uxoriously smoothing the wrinkles of a jacket only just dried from the afternoon’s soaking.

“What?”

“That so much else is happening to detract from the dolphins.”

“Hmmm. Yes, but we’ll have the dolphins with us for the rest of our lives on Pern. Right now it is imperative that we follow Aivas’s timetable and rid us of Thread.”

“You’re right, of course, Sebell. The dolphins will be with us as they have been with us all along. I do hope Lessa doesn’t mind.”

“Why should she mind?” Sebell asked. She could come out with the most astonishing observations.

“Well, you know how she was about fire-lizards!”

“Not yours, my love. Just the undisciplined mob. I’ll brief Master Robinton and he’ll break it to her.”