The White Dragon

CHAPTER XV

SHARRA WAS SHOWING Brekke and Jaxom how to play a children's game in the sand with pebbles and sticks when Ruth, sleeping just beyond them with the fire lizards, woke up. He reared to a sitting position, stretching his neck and keening the long piercing note that marked a dragon's passing.

«Oh no!» Brekke reacted just a shade faster than Jaxom. «Salth is gone!»

«Salth?» Jaxom wondered who that was.

«Salth!» Sharra's face drained of color. «Ask Ruth where!»

«Canth says he was trying to fly Caylith and burst his heart!» Brekke answered the question, her shoulders sagging in new grief and a poignantly remembered tragedy. «The fool! He must have known that the younger dragons would be faster, stronger than poor old Salth!»

«Serves T'kul right! And don't soar over me, Brekke.» Sharra's eyes flashed as Brekke turned to reprimand her. «Remember, I've had to deal with T'kul and the rest of those Oldtimers. They are not like your Northern dragonfolk at all. They're… they're impossible! I could bum your ears with tales! If T'kul was fool enough to set his bronze to fly a young queen, with the competition there'd be for the Istan Weyrleadership, then he deserves to lose his beast! I'm sorry. Harsh words for you, Brekke, and Jaxom, but I know what those Southerners are like. You don't!»

«I knew there'd be real trouble sometime, exiling them like that,» Brekke said slowly, «but…»

«From what I've heard, Brekke,» Jaxom said from a compulsion to erase the desolate look from her face, «that was the only way to handle them. They weren't honoring their responsibilities to the people beholden to them. They were greedy, over and above proper timing. Further,» and he brought out his strongest point, «I heard Lytol criticizing those dragonriders!»

«I know, Jaxom. I know all that but they did come forward from their own time to save Pern…» Jaxom wondered if she realized she was wringing her hands till the knuckles showed white.

«To save Pern, yes, and then they demanded that we remember that every time we drew breath in their presence,» Jaxom went on, recalling all too clearly the arrogant and contemptuous manner with which T'ron had treated Lytol.

«We ignore the Oldtimers,» Sharra said, with a shrug. «We go about our business, keep our Hold green clear, pen up our animals during Fall. We just run a quick search with the flamethrowers to be sure the grubs have done their work.»

«Don't they ride a Fall?» Brekke asked in surprise.

«Oh, now and again. If they feel like it, or if their dragons get too upset…» Sharra's contempt was trenchant. Then she noticed the dismay on the other two faces and added, «Oh, what's happened is not the dragons' fault, mind you. And I don't suppose that it's really the riders' either. I do think they should at least try to act what they are. To be sure, most of the Oldtimers stayed north. So just a few are giving dragonmen a poor reputation in Southern. Still… if they'd met us halfway… we would have helped.»

«I should go, I think,» Brekke said, rising and facing west. «T'kul is half a man now. I know how that feels…» Her voice petered out and her face drained of all color as she stared to the west, her eyes getting larger until a cry of horror burst from her Ups. «Oh no!» Her hand went to her throat and she turned it palm outward as if warding off an attack.

«Brekke, what is it?» Sharra leaped to her feet, her arms about the woman.

Ruth whimpered and nudged against Jaxom for reassurance.

She is very afraid. She is speaking to Canth. He is unhappy. It is terrible. Another dragon is very weak. Canth is with him. It is Mnementh who talks now. T'kul fights F'lar!

«T'kul fights F'lar?» Jaxom reached out to Ruth's shoulder for balance.

The fire lizards picked up the agitation, dipping and swooping, cluttering in harsh cacophony that made Jaxom wave his arms at them to be silent.

«This is ghastly, Jaxom,» Brekke cried. «I must go. They must see that T'kul is not responsible for what he's doing. Why don't they just overpower him? There must be someone with wits at Ista! What is D'ram doing? I'll get my flying things.» She ran back to the shelter.

«Jaxom.» Sharra turned to him, one hand raised, appealing for his reassurance. «T'kul hates F'lar. I've heard him blame F'lar for everything that happens in Southern. If T'kul's dragonless, he'd be insane. He'd kill F'lar!»

Jaxom drew the girl close to him, wondering which of them needed comfort more. T'kul trying to kill F'lar? He asked Ruth to listen hard.

I hear nothing. Canth is between. I only hear trouble. Ramoth is coming…

«Here?»

No, where they are! Ruth's eyes deepened to the dark purple of worry. I do not like this.

«What, Ruth?»

«Oh, please Jaxom, what's he saying? I'm scared.»

«He is, too. And so am I.»

Brekke came back through the woods, her flying gear in one hand, in the other her small pack of medicines, half closed, and in danger of spilling its contents. She halted just before stepping onto the sands, blinked, frowning with impatience and dismay.

«I can't get there! Canth must stay with B'zon's Ranilth. We can't lose two bronzes today!» She looked this way and that as if the beach could sprout an answer to her dilemma. She bit her underlip and then exclaimed in frustration. «I've got to go!»

The second shock struck both Brekke and Jaxom at the same time as Ruth bugled in fear.

«Robinton!» Brekke reeled and would have fallen if Sharra and Jaxom had not jumped to her support. «Oh, no, not Robinton? How?»

The Master Harper.

«Not dead?» Sharra cried.

The Master Harper is very ill. They will not let him go. He will have to stay. As you did.

«I'll take you, Brekke. On Ruth. Just let me get my flying gear.»

Both women reached out to restrain him.

«You can't fly yet, Jaxom. You can't go between!» The fear in Brekke's eyes was for him now.

«You really can't, Jaxom,» Sharra said, shaking her head and pleading with her eyes. «The cold of between… you're just not well enough yet. Please!»

They are afraid for you now, Ruth said, sounding confused. Very afraid. I do not know why it is wrong for you to ride me but it is!

«He's right, Jaxom, it would be disastrous,» Brekke said, her body slumping with defeat. Wearily she raised her hand to her head, and pulled off the now unnecessary helmet. «You mustn't attempt going between for at least another month or six sevendays. If you did, you'd risk headaches for the rest of your life and the possibility of blindness….»

«How do you know that?» Jaxom demanded, struggling with fury at having been kept ignorant of such a restriction, with frustration at not being able to help either Brekke or the Harper.

«I know that,» Sharra said, turning Jaxom to face her. «One of the dragonriders at Southern took fire head. We didn't know the dangers of going between. He went blind first. Then mad with the pain in his head and… died. So did his dragon.» Her voice caught, remembering that tragedy, and her eyes were misted with tears.

Jaxom could only stare at her, stunned.

«Why wasn't I told that before?»

«No reason to,» Sharra said, her eyes never leaving his, pleading with him for understanding. «You're getting stronger daily. By the time you realized the restriction existed, it might not have been necessary to warn you anymore.»

«Another four or six sevendays?» He ground the words out, conscious that he was working his fists and that his jaw muscles ached with the effort to control his temper.

Sharra nodded slowly, her face expressionless.

Jaxom took a deep breath, forcing emotion down. «That does make it awkward, doesn't it, because right now we need a dragonrider.» He looked toward Brekke. Her head was turned slightly to the west. Jaxom could sense her longing to be where she was urgently needed, the restraint, that kept her from claiming Canth's help when he was needed elsewhere. «We have a dragonrider!» he exclaimed, whooping. «Ruth, would you take Brekke to Ista without me?»

I would take Brekke anywhere. The little white dragon raised his head, his eyes wheeling quickly as he stepped forward, toward Brekke.

Brekke's face cleared miraculously of sorrow and helplessness. «Oh, Jaxom, would you really let me?»

He was well repaid by the overwhelming gratitude in that breathless question.

He took her arm, hurrying her to Ruth's side. «You must go. If Master Robinton…» Jaxom choked on the rest of that sentence, panic at the thought closing his throat.

«Oh, thank you, Jaxom, Thank you, Ruth.» Brekke rumbled with the strap of her helmet. She struggled with her jacket before she could get her arm into the sleeve, and buckled the riding belt in place. When she was ready Ruth dipped his shoulder for Brekke to mount, then turned his head to be sure she was safely seated.

«I'll send Ruth directly back, Jaxom. Oh, no, don't let him go! Don't let him sleep!» The last two sentences were directed to distant minds.

We will not let him go, Ruth said. He briefly nosed Jaxom on the shoulder and then sprang up, showering his friend and Sharra with dry sand. He was barely wing height above the waves before he winked out.

«Jaxom?» Sharra's voice was so unsteady that he tamed to her in concern. «What can have happened? T'kul couldn't have been mad enough to attack the Harper, too?»

«The Harper may have tried to stop the fight, if I know him. Do you know Master Robinton?»

«I know more of him,» she said, biting her underlip. She expelled her breath in a deep shudder, struggling to control her fears. «Through Piemur, and Menolly. I've seen him, of course, in our Hold and heard him sing. He's such a wonderful man. Oh, Jaxom! All those Southerners have run mad. Mad! They're sick, confused, lost!» She dropped her head against his shoulder, surrendering to her anxieties. Tenderly, he drew her against him.

He lives! Ruth's reassurance rang faint but true in his head.

«Ruth says he lives, Sharra.»

«He must continue to live, Jaxom. He must! He must!» Her fists beat on his chest to emphasize her determination.

Jaxom caught her hands, holding them flat, and smiled into her wide, flashing eyes.

«He will. I'm sure he will, if it's in our power to think him so.»

Jaxom was intensely aware, at this highly inappropriate moment, of Sharra's vibrant body pressing against his. He could feel her warmth through the thin fabric of her shirt, the long line of her thighs against his, the fragrance of her hair, scented with sun and a blossom she had tucked behind her ear. The startled look that crossed her face told him that she, too, was aware of the intimacy of their positions aware and, for the first time since he had known her, confused.

He eased his grip on her hands, ready to release her completely if necessary. Sharra was not Corana, not a simple hold girl obedient to the Lord of her Hold. Sharra was not a bed partner for a passing indulgence of desire. Sharra was too important to him to risk destroying their relationship with an ill timed demonstration. He was also aware that Sharra thought that his feelings for her stemmed from a natural gratitude for her nursing. He'd thought of that possibility in himself and decided that she was wrong. He liked too many things about her, from the sound of her beautiful voice, to the sure touch of her hands: hands he was aching to have caress him. He'd learned a good deal about her in the past few days, but he was aware of a hungry curiosity in himself to know much, much more. Her reaction to the Southerners had surprised him; she often surprised him. Part of her attraction, he supposed, was that he never knew what she'd say or how she'd say it.

Suddenly he broke their partial embrace and, circling her shoulders lightly with his arm, guided her to the mats where they'd been so blithely playing a child's game. He put both hands on her shoulders and gave her a gentle downward push.

«We may have a long wait, Sharra, before we know for certain the Harper's all right.»

«I wish I knew what was wrong! If that T'kul has harmed our Harper…»

«What about his harming F'lar?»

«I don't know F'lar, although I'd naturally be very sorry if he were hurt by T'kul.» She absently folded her legs as he sat down beside her, just close enough so that their shoulders nearly touched. «And, in a sense, F'lar ought to fight T'kul. After all, he sent the Oldtimers into exile so he ought to finish it.»

«And he'll finish it by killing T'kul?»

«Or being killed by him!»

«We'd be in a far worse state,» Jaxom replied with more heat than he intended at her callous dismissal of F'lar's fate, «if the Benden Weyrleader gets killed! He is Pern!»

«Really?» Sharra was willing to be converted. «I've never seen him…»

There are many dragons here and many many people, Ruth told him, his tone still faint but clear. Sebell is coming. Menolly cannot.

«Is Ruth talking to you?» Sharra asked anxiously, leaning forward and grasping his arm. He covered her fingers with his, silencing her in that gesture. She bit her underlip and studied his face. He tried to reassure her with emphatic nods.

Her fire lizards are here. The Harper sleeps. Master Oldive is with him, too. They wait outside. We will not let him go. Should I return to you now?

«Who are they?» Jaxom asked though he was fairly sure of the identity.

Lessa and F'lar. The man who attacked F'lar is dead.

«T'kul's dead, and F'lar is not hurt?»

No.

«Ask him what is wrong with the Harper,» Sharra whispered.

Jaxom wanted to know, too, but there was a long pause before Ruth answered, and the little dragon sounded confused.

Mnementh said Robinton's chest hurt and he wanted to sleep. Wine helped him. Mnementh and Ramoth knew he should not sleep. He would go. May I come back now?

«Does Brekke need you?»

There are many dragons here.

«Come home, my friend!»

I come!

«His chest hurt?» Sharra repeated when Jaxom told her what Ruth had said. She frowned. «It could be the heart. The Harper is not a young man and he does a great deal!» She looked about her for her fire lizards. «I could send Meer…»

«Ruth says there's an awful lot of people and dragons at Ista right now. I think we'd better wait.»

«I know,» and Sharra gave a long sigh. She picked up a handful of sand and let it run through her fingers. Then she gave Jaxom a sad smile. «I know how to wait, but that doesn't mean I like to!»

«We know he's alive, and F'lar…» Jaxom gave her a sly look.

«I didn't mean any disrespect to your Weyrleader, Jaxom, I want you to know that…»

Jaxom laughed, having managed to tease her. She let out an exclamation of annoyance and threw the handful of sand toward him, but he ducked and the sand went over his shoulder, some of it falling in the gentle waves that lapped up the shore.

Brushed out of existence by the next wave, no ripples lasted in this water. There was a fallacy in the Harper's analogy then, Jaxom thought, amused by this irrelevant thought.

Meer and Talla suddenly squawked, both heads turned toward the western arm of the cove. They raised their wings and crouched on their haunches, ready to spring into the air.

«What is it?»

As quickly as they had become alert, the two fire lizards relaxed, Meer preening one wing as if she hadn't been startled the moment before.

«Is someone coming?» Sharra asked, turning to Jaxom with amazement.

Jaxom jumped to his feet, scanning the skies. «They wouldn't object to Ruth's return.»

«It must be someone they know!» The possibility was as improbable to Sharra as it was to Jaxom. «And he's not flying in!»

They both heard the noises of something large moving through the forest on the point. A muffled curse indicated the visitor was human but the first head that penetrated the screen of thick foliage was undeniably animal. The body that followed the head belonged to the smallest runner beast Jaxom had ever seen.

The muffled curses resolved into intelligible words. «Stop snapping the branches back in my face, you ruddy, horn nosed, flat footed, slab hided dragonbait! Well, Sharra, so this is where you got to! I was told, but I was beginning to doubt it! Hear you've been ill, Jaxom? You don't look it now!»

«Piemur?» Although the appearance of the young harper was the unlikeliest of events, there was no mistaking the characteristic swagger in the short, compact figure that limped jauntily down the beach. «Piemur! What are you doing here?»

«Looking for you, of course. Have you any idea how many coves along this stretch of nowhere in the world answer the description Master Robinton gave me?»

«Well, the Weyr's all organized,» F'lar told Lessa in a quiet voice as he joined her in the foreroom of the weyr which had been hastily vacated by its occupants so that the Master Harper of Pern could be accommodated. Master Oldive would not have him moved even as far as Ista Hold. The Healer and Brekke were with him now in the inner room as he slept, propped up in the bed, Zair perched above him, his glowing eyes never leaving the face of his friend.

Lessa held out her hand, needing her weyrmate's touch. He pulled a stool beside hers, gave her a quick kiss and poured himself a cup of wine.

«D'ram has the Weyrfolk organized. He's sent the older bronzes to help Canth and F'nor bring Ranilth back. The poor old thing will live only a few more Turns… if B'zon does.»

«Not another one today!»

F'lar shook his head. «No, he's just dead asleep. We've got the disappointed bronze riders drunk as winemakers' apprentices, and from every indication Cosira and G'dened are… so involved they haven't any notion of what else has been happening here in Ista.»

«That's as well,» Lessa replied, grinning from ear to ear.

F'lar stroked her cheek, grinning right back at her. «So when does Ramoth rise again, dear heart?»

«I'll remember to let you know!» As she saw F'lar glance in the direction of the inner room, she added, «He'll be all right!»

«Oldive wasn't hedging about his full recovery?»

«How could he? With every dragon on Pern listening in? Now that,» she paused in thoughtful reflection, «was totally unexpected. I know the dragons will call him by name but… linking?»

«More incredible to me was Brekke arriving on Ruth, alone!»

«Why ever not?» Lessa asked, piqued. «She's been a rider! And she's had a special touch with dragons ever since she lost Wirenth!»

«I can't quite see you offering her Ramoth under similar circumstances. Now don't soar over me, Lessa. That was a fine gesture of Jaxom's. Brekke told me that he hadn't realized till that moment that he couldn't fly between. It must have been a bitter discovery for him and it's greatly to his credit that he could respond so generously.»

«Yes, I see your point. It's a relief to have her here, too.» Lessa glanced toward the curtain and sighed. «You know, I could almost get to like fire lizards after today.»

«What brought about this change of heart?» F'lar stared at her in surprise.

«I didn't say I had. I said I could almost watching Brekke direct Grail and Berd to bring her things, and that little bronze of Robinton's. The creatures can get vicious when their friends are hurt but he just crouched there, watching Robinton's face and crooning till I thought he'd shake his bones loose. Not that I didn't feel much the same myself. When I think..» Lessa broke off, her face blotchy with tears.

«Don't think of it, dear heart.» F'lar squeezed her hand. «It didn't happen.»

«When Mnementh called me, I don't think I've ever moved so fast. I fell off the ledge onto Ramoth's back. Bad enough trying to get here before T'kul tried to kill you, but to find Robinton… If only you'd killed T'ron at Telgar Hold…»

«Lessa!» He gripped her fingers so tightly she winced. «T'ron's Fidranth was very much alive at Telgar Hold. I couldn't cause his death no matter what insult T'ron had given me. T'kul I could kill with pleasure. Though I admit, he nearly had me. Our Harper's not the only one who's Turning old.»

«So, thank goodness, are whoever's still left of the Oldtimers in Southern. And now, what are we to do with them?»

«I will go south and take charge of the Weyr,» D'ram said. He'd entered, quiet with weariness, while they were talking. «I am, after all, an Oldtimer…» He gave a deep sigh. «They will accept from me what they would not endure from you, F'lar.»

The Benden Weyrleader hesitated, appealing as this offer was. «I know you're willing, D'ram, but if it's going to overset you…»

D'ram raised his hand to cut off the rest of the sentence. «I'm fitter than I thought. Those quiet days in the cove worked a miracle. I will need help…»

«Any help we can give…»

«I'll take you at your word. I'll need some greens, preferably from R'mart at Telgar, or G'narish at Igen, for there are none to spare here at the moment. If they, too, are Oldtime, it will be easier for the Southerns. I'll need two younger bronzes, and enough blues and browns to make up two fighting wings.»

«The Southern dragonriders haven't fought Thread in Turns,» F'lar said with contempt.

«I know that. But it's time they did. That would give the dragons who remain purpose and strength. It would give their riders hope and occupation.» D'ram's face was stern. «I learned things from B'zon today that grieve me. I have been so blind…»

«The fault is not yours, D'ram. Mine was the decision to send them south.»

«I have honored that decision because it was the right one, F'lar. When… when Fanna died…"he got the words out in a rush, «I should have gone to the Southern Weyr. It would not have been disloyal to you if I had and it might have…»

«I doubt it,» Lessa said, angry that D'ram was blaming himself. «Once T'kul plotted to steal a queen egg…» and she gestured her condemnation of the man.

«If he had come to you…»

Lessa's harsh expression did not alter. «I doubt that T'kul would have come,» she said slowly. An expression of distaste crossed her mobile features and she made a sound of annoyance before she looked at D'ram again; this time her expression was rueful. «And I'd have probably sent him about his business. But you,» she pointed her finger at D'ram, «wouldn't have. And I imagine that F'lar would also have been more tolerant.» She grinned at her Weyrmate. «It wasn't in T'kul's nature to beg,» she went on more briskly. «Nor in mine to forgive! I will never forgive the Southerns for stealing Ramoth's egg! When I think they brought me to the point where I was willing to set dragon against dragon! That I can never forgive!»

D'ram drew himself up. «Do you disagree, Weyrwoman, with my decision to go south?»

«Great Shells, no!» She was astonished, and then shook her head. «No, D'ram, I think you're wise and kind, more generous than I could ever be. Why, that idiot T'kul might have killed F'lar today! No, you must go. You're quite right about their accepting you. I don't think I ever realized what might be happening in the South. I didn't want to!» she added in candid acknowledgment of her own shortcomings.

«Then I may invite additional riders to join me?» D'ram looked first at her and then at F'lar.

«Ask anyone you want from Benden, except F'nor. It wouldn't be fair to ask Brekke to return to Southern

D'ram nodded.

«I think the other Weyrleaders will help. This matter touches the honor of all dragonriders. And…» F'lar broke off, clearing his throat, «and we do not want the Lord Holders precipitously taking charge in the South on the grounds that we cannot maintain order in the Weyrs.»

«They'd never…» D'ram began, frowning with indignation.

«They well might. For other very valid reasons to their ways of thinking,» F'lar replied. «I know,» he paused to emphasize that surety, «that the Southerns under T'kul and T'ron would never permit the Lord Holders to extend their holdings one dragonlength. Toric's settlement has been steadily growing over the past Turns, a few people now and then, craftsmen, the dissatisfied, a few young holder sons without hope of land in the North. All very quietly, so as not to alarm the Oldtimers.» F'lar rose, restlessly pacing. «This isn't common knowledge…»

«I knew that there were traders north and south,» said D'ram.

«Yes, part of the problem. Traders talk, and word has passed back that there's a lot of land south. Granted some of this may be exaggeration but I've reason to believe that the Southern Continent is probably as large as this one and one protected against Thread by thorough grubbing.» He paused again, rubbing forefinger and thumb down the lines from nose to chin, scratching absently under his jaw. «This time, D'ram, the dragonriders will have first choice of land. In the next Interval, I do not intend that any dragonrider will be beholden to the generosity of Hold and Craft. We will have our own places, without prejudice. I, for one, will never beg wine or bread or meat from anyone!»

D'ram had listened, at first with surprise and then with a gleam of delight in his tired eyes. He straightened his shoulders and with a curt nod of his head, looked the Benden Weyrleader straight in the eye.

«You may rely on me, F'lar, to secure the South for that purpose. A grand purpose! By the First Shell, that's a superb notion. That lovely land, soon dragonrider land!»

F'lar gripped D'ram's arm, affirming the trust. Then his face broke into a sly smile. «If you hadn't volunteered to go South yourself, D'ram, I was going to suggest it to you! You're the only man to handle the situation. And I don't envy you!»

D'ram chuckled at the Benden Weyrleader's admission and returned the arm grip firmly. Then his expression cleared.

«I have grieved for my weyrmate as is proper. But I still live. I liked being in that cove, but it wasn't enough. I was relieved when you came after me, and kept me busy, F'lar. It doesn't answer to give up the only life I've known. I couldn't. Dragonmen must fly/When Threads are in the sky I» He sighed once more, inclined his head respectfully to Lessa and then, turning smartly on his heel, strode from the weyr, his step firm, his stance proud.

«D'you think he can manage it, F'lar?»

«He's more likely to pull it off than anyone… except possibly F'nor. But I can't ask that of him. Or of Brekke!»

«I should think not!» She spoke sharply and, with a little cry as if regretting her asperity, she ran to embrace him. He put his arms about her, absently stroking her hair.

There are too many deep lines in his face, now, thought Lessa, lines that she hadn't noticed before. His eyes were sad, his lips thin with worry as he gazed after D'ram. But the muscles in his arm were as strong as ever, and his body lean and hard with the active life he led. He'd been fit enough to preserve his skin against a madman. There'd only been one time when weakness had frightened F'lar just after that knife fight at Telgar, when his wound had been slow to heal and he'd been sick with fever from foolishly going between. He'd learned a lesson then and had started delegating some of the strain of leadership to F'nor and T'gellan in Benden, to N'ton and R'mart in Pern, and to Lessa herself! Keenly sensible of her deep need of him, Lessa embraced F'lar fiercely.

He smiled down at her sudden demonstration, the tired lines smoothed away.

«I'm with you, dear heart, don't worry!» He kissed her soundly enough to leave her no room for doubt of his vitality.

The sound of boot heels thudding rapidly down the short corridor interrupted them and they moved apart. Sebell, face flushed from running, charged into the room, checking his pace when Lessa signaled him urgently to be quieter.

«He's all right?»

«He's asleep now, but see for yourself, Sebell,» Lessa replied and gestured toward the curtained sleeping chamber.

Sebell rocked on his heels, wanting to reassure himself with a glimpse of his Master and anxious with fear he might disturb him.

«Go on, man.» F'lar waved him forward. «Just be quiet.»

Two fire lizards winged into the room, squeaked when they saw Lessa and disappeared.

«I didn't know you had two queens.»

«I don't,» Sebell said, glancing over his shoulder to see where they'd gone. «The other one's Menolly's. She wasn't allowed to come!» His grimace told both Weyrleaders how Menolly had reacted to that restriction.

«Oh, tell them to come back. I don't eat fire lizards!» Lessa said, curbing her irritation. She didn't know which annoyed her more, the fire lizards themselves, or the way people cringed about her when the subject came up. «And that little bronze of Robinton's showed a commendable amount of common sense today. So tell Menolly's queen to come back. If the fire lizard sees, she'll believe!»

Smiling with intense relief, Sebell held up his arm. Two queens popped in, eyes huge and whirling madly in their perturbation. One of them, Lessa didn't know whose, since they all looked alike to her, chirped as if in thanks. Then Sebell, careful not to disrupt their balance and set them squeaking, walked with exaggerated care toward the sick man's quarters.

«Sebell takes over the Harper Hall?» Lessa asked.

«Well able for it, too.»

«If only the dear man had had the sense to delegate more to Sebell before this…»

«It's partly my fault, Lessa. Benden has asked much of the Harper Hall.» F'lar poured himself a cup of wine, looking at Lessa to see if she wanted some as well, and poured another when she nodded. They made an unspoken toast. «Benden wine!»

«The wine that kept him alive!»

«Miss a cup of wine? Not Robinton!» She drank quickly to ease the pressure in her throat.

«And he'll drink many more skins limp,» the quiet voice of Master Oldive said. He glided to the table, a curious figure with arms and legs apparently too long for his torso until his back was visible, with its hump. His handsome face was serene as he poured himself a cup of wine, regarding the rich crimson color a moment before he raised it, as Lessa had, and drank it down. «As you said, this helped keep him alive. It's seldom that a man's vice sustained life in his body!»

«Master Robinton will be all right?»

«Yes, with care and rest. He has rallied well. His pulse and heart are beating evenly again, if slowly. He cannot be fretted by any worries. I warned him repeatedly to reduce his activities. Not that I thought he'd listen! Sebell, Silvina and Menolly have done all they could to assist, but then Menolly took ill… There is so much to be done for his Hall and for Pern!» Oldive smiled, his long face lighting gently as he took Lessa's hand and put it in F'lar's. «You can do no more here, Weyrleaders. Sebell will wait to reassure Robinton when he rouses that all is well in his Hall. Brekke and I, and the good people of this Weyr, will nurse the Master Harper. You two need rest as well. Go back to your Weyr. This day has taken its toll of many. Go!» He gave them a shove toward the passage. «Go along now!» He spoke as to recalcitrant children, but Lessa was weary enough to obey and concerned enough to override the objections she saw rising in F'lar's eyes.

We do not leave the Harper alone, Ramoth said as F'lar helped Lessa mount her queen. We are with him.

All of us are with him, Mnementh said, his eyes slowly turning in quiet reassurance.