The Dolphins of Pern

CHAPTER XI

MASTER FANDAREL COMES with MASTER NICAT, Mnementh informed both Lessa and F’lar.

“I wonder what the Mastersmith wants,” Lessa said, sharing the report of the new arrivals with R’mart of Telgar Weyr, G’dened of Ista, and Journeyman Harper Talmor, who was the Benden Weyr-leaders’ main assistant with relocations.

Talmor indicated the council table, spread with maps and reports that the meeting was discussing.

F’lar shrugged. “Leave it. Not efficient to bundle it all up, after all,” the Weyrleader said, and won smiles for the Mastersmith’s oft-voiced criterion. He and Aivas had had much in common on the score of “efficiency.” Perhaps, of them all, Master Fandarel missed the voice-address intelligence the most.

“Maybe he has this ‘radio’ he’s been so eager to produce,” Lessa said, her smile partly for the many attempts the huge Smith had made to initiate some sort of instant communications system for those who had neither dragon nor fire-lizard. He’d been at it ever since that half-successful attempt at the beginning of the Pass.

“That would account for Master Nicat’s appearance,” F’lar said. The Masterminer had collaborated with the Mastersmith to find the raw elements, like metals, crystal, and some of the plastics that Aivas had listed as necessary to the production of “electronic” devices.

As large as Benden’s Council Room was, Master Fandarel seemed to dwarf its dimensions, as he did the other tall and well-built men in the room. Even the harper was tall, and while R’mart had put on some flesh over the past few Turns, he was certainly not as massively built as the Smith.

Fandarel stood in the doorway, noticed the table strewn with paper, the complement of the meeting, and frowned. “I dislike saying this but you are simply going to have to go more slowly settling people in the South,” he said.

“What?” Lessa exclaimed, staring at the Master-smith. It was the last thing she had expected him to say, and certainly he had never been against the relocations. Her reaction was mirrored by everyone else in the room. Talmor left his hand suspended over the latest Smithcrafthall reports, which had recently been delivered.

“This is the first time we’ve been asked to slow down,” F’lar exclaimed. “And good day to you, Master Fandarel. D’you know how many people complain that we’re dragging our heels over settlings?”

“I hear that, too,” Fandarel said, nodding his big head and looking as solemn as ever. He had visibly aged since he had helped remove the engines from the three colony ships, and Lessa had noticed that the slow way in which he now moved was due more to the debilities of age than deliberate movements. “But I know it is not the truth and say so. I also hear, and know, that journeymen and women as well as Masters are being offered heavy purses of marks to leave their positions and go south.”

“I thought Master Nicat was with you,” Lessa said, looking around the big man’s figure in the doorway to see if it hid the smaller, rotund figure of the Masterminer.

“Ah,” and Master Fandarel’s brows drew together as he held up an object, almost lost in his huge hand. “Master Nicat, can you hear me?”

“Of course I can. I’m only at the foot of the stairs.” The unmistakable tones of the miner sounded clearly, if reduced, from the instrument, which Fandarel had turned to face the assembled.

“Ah! You’ve produced the radio!” Lessa cried.

“I have produced an electronic device,” Fandarel corrected her. “An improvement on the radios that were mentioned in the history files, and more nearly what the Ancients used to communicate when they were setting up their stakeholds. The old weather satellite that has been giving us accurate predictions is also able to bounce signals, as is the Yokohama. With such hand units as these, we may communicate across long distances—once we’ve made them a little more efficient.”

“Oh, may I try?” Lessa said, slipping to Fandarel’s side and holding out her hand for the device. “Oh, it’s lightweight.” She hefted it, and turned to show the oblong balancing in her hand.

“Press the red button and hold it down to speak. Later you will need to key in the code number you wish to reach but as the only other unit is with Master Nicat, that step is not necessary. Press and speak into this end.”

“Master Nicat?” Lessa pressed so hard that her knuckle turned white and she spoke loudly into the appropriate end.

“There is no need to shout,” Nicat said, with some asperity in the small clear manifestation of his voice.

“A whisper will be heard,” Fandarel said with an understandable degree of pride.

“Where are you now, Master Nicat?” Lessa asked in a conversational tone.

“Right where I was two minutes ago.”

“Remarkable,” F’lar said, coming to the side of his weyrmate and taking the device from her. He pressed the button. “May I?”

“Of course,” Lessa and Fandarel said in chorus.

“I can hear that, too,” Nicat said.

F’lar pressed the red button. “Then join us!”

“Only too happy to since it’s raining, you know.”

F’lar and Lessa exchanged amused glances. They had been at this meeting for well over an hour now and had had no idea the weather had altered from morning mists to precipitation.

“Master Fandarel, some klah?” Lessa said, getting a fresh mug from the tray and holding up the thermal jug that had been one of the best homey additions to kitchen equipment.

“Please,” he said, striding forward and accepting the seat that F’lar suggested.

Nicat arrived, puffing slightly from the climb to the weyr, holding out the damp coat he’d been wearing, which Talmor took from him and hung on a spare chair to dry.

While he was being served a welcome cup and seated, the two devices were passed around the table for everyone to examine.

“Now what’s all this about your people being bribed, Fandarel?” F’lar asked, setting aside the delights of the device for the more important consideration. “That’s serious.”

“It distresses me, my journeyfolk, and Masters, because it undermines the discipline of my crafthall and the honor and loyalty which has always governed us.”

Nicat muttered a “here, here,” to that sentiment.

“Who’s doing the bribing?” R’mart wanted to know. “Toric?” The Telgar Weyrleader made no bones about his distrust of the southern Holder.

“Not always.”

“Oh, then who?” R’mart demanded, surprised.

Fandarel shrugged. “Let them remain nameless, Weyrleader. Our craftsmen and women did not accept the offered bribes and informed me of each occurrence. But I worry about the apprentices who might not have such scruples.”

G’dened snorted. “I’ve heard of bribery in Ista Hold. Lord Warbret’s furious. He’s also lost some young men and women who’re knowledgeable enough about the sea but haven’t formally been apprenticed yet. And there it is Toric, or his agents, who’re promising high marks because Istans would ‘understand’ the hazards of the Southern Continent since they’re already used to tropical conditions.” G’dened snorted.

“Not the same at all,” F’lar said. “Ista’s been settled a long, long time and has no more of the hazards that the Southern Continent has in plenty.”

“Exactly, and furthermore—” G’dened began.

“We don’t actually have many more sites available right now,” Talmor said, looking through his papers. “And it’s not just a matter of having trained craftspeople to staff them, Master Fandarel. It’s sites that are accessible. So far, we’ve concentrated on river and oceanside positions so there is at least one means of transportation and contact. Especially when the northern-born have not had a chance to acquire fire-lizards. Of course, that device of yours would be of enormous assistance in that respect.” He nodded to the handheld.

“That is the bad news I have for you,” Fandarel said with a heavy sigh. “We will need a work force to make the transistors required and to assemble the components. They will have to be trained, and we will need at least one knowledgeable person of journey rank to oversee the work. Master Benelek needs all the young folk he can train for the terminals and cannot give the Hall more time. I have a long list of those who have requested this efficient and effective little device.”

Lessa covered her smiling mouth at his use of his favorite words. “Effective” was now always paired with “efficient” in his lexicon. It was ironic that when he finally had achieved a device that satisfied his high standards, he hadn’t the people to produce the units.

“As well as the demand for any one of the many projects people have applied for our Craft to fabricate,” he added, “I’ve had to assign Master Terry three assistants to deal with requests alone, and we have given up trying to make efficient and effective deliveries.” Fandarel’s sigh was more regret than satisfaction at so much business on his books.

“I, too, am overwhelmed, Weyrleaders,” Master Nicat put in. “Every mine known to the Craft, and certainly all the new ones from the Ancients’ records, are being worked and I’ve had to ask those older miners who returned to the Hall to do Aivas’s work to remain on in supervisory capacities. I can’t afford to lose one able-bodied man or those women we have in the Hall. Then—he threw up his hands—“people started applying to me for stoneworkers. There’s not much call for stoneworkers as most holders enlarge their quarters over the winter months. And masonry’s not strictly a minercraft skill. But no one else trains men to work stone. And all the dressed stone will have to be shipped south! I ask you, how will that be accomplished?” If he saw R’mart’s knowing look or the glances that F’lar and Lessa exchanged, he gave no notice. “One thing Aivas didn’t seem to have in those exhaustive files of his was much about improvements in quarrying and masonry.” Unexpectedly, a grin spread across Nicat’s round face with its fringe of white hair.

“Really? Well, it’s almost a relief to find out he wasn’t infallible,” F’lar remarked at his driest. “Do you have men trained for stonework?”

“Actually, we’re training some right now,” Nicat said, screwing his face up and sighing. “That sculptor fellow, Edwinrus, has a couple of young sons and has taken on a few more likely lads. He’s put aside some artistic commissions to give me a hand. I could use half again as many apprentices in that trade and the same number in mining, what with Hamian wanting more and more trained miners down at Karachi. He’ll have to take apprentices and train them up as he wants them. I even walked those caves of Laudey’s to see if there were any men able-bodied enough for that sort of work.”

“Laudey still has people in the caves?” Lessa asked in surprise. “I thought they all got put to work during the special projects.”

“Some of those projects have ended, you know,” Nicat remarked. “So he got some of the Holdless back, but mainly it’s the old and infirm who’re in those caves. However, Larad says he could free up some of those prisoners,” Nicat continued, “the ones whom he feels have served sufficient time and could be more profitably used elsewhere. At least they’re accustomed to stonework.”

“In point of fact, it’s the dearth of suitable stone that curtails settling in some of the open plains areas,” Talmor said, shuffling around his various maps and reports.

“Those areas will just have to wait until after the Pass is over,” F’lar said, dismissing that consideration. “Sometimes I wonder why we let ourselves get talked into being responsible for the development of the Southern Continent …”

“Because Weyrleaders are the only ones who could be entrusted with such a responsibility,” Fandarel bellowed at the same moment Master Nicat rose half out of his chair to say much the same thing. They regarded each other, each taken aback by the other’s uncharacteristic vehemence.

G’dened and R’mart grinned.

“With the Harper Hall as your consciences,” Talmor added in a mild tone, “and the fervent agreement of all the Lord Holders and Mastercrafts-men …”

“With the notable exception of Toric,” Lessa said, sardonically cocking one eyebrow.

“Be that as it may,” F’lar went on, with a nod of gratitude to the two Mastercraftsmen, “dragonriders are stretched, too, between Threadfalls all over the world, mapping, and conveying. Shortly, we’ll have to open a Weyr in the Honshu area …”

“Surely not at Honshu Weyrhold,” Fandarel said.

“Not likely,” F’lar said with a laugh, glancing at Lessa to forestall a terse comment from her as well. “But we will need stone for a decent Weyrhall for that, as we haven’t been able to locate any suitable craters down south.”

“You do remember, don’t you, your promise to T’bor?” R’mart said, leaning toward F’lar and smiling lopsidedly.

“That he could turn over the Weyrleadership of High Reaches and go back south?” F’lar nodded his head. “When this Pass is over, he can do what he pleases.”

“When this Pass is over …” Nicat said wistfully on a long sigh.

A respectfiil silence followed.

“By the bye, Master Fandarel,” R’mart said, snagging one of the maps out of the array on the table and sliding it to the smith, “we located that ridge for you, the one which is indicated as a source of iron on the Ancients’ spatial map.”

“Where?” Instantly alert, Fandarel reached his long arm across the table to retrieve the paper.

“There, in those foothills. We’ve staked and flagged it to be recognized. Good site, actually, a fine river nearby. You might consider setting up another Hall down there.” R’mart was half teasing, knowing how devoted Master Fandarel was to the main crafthall site in Telgar.

“We may indeed have to consider that in due course,” Fandarel said, his eyes scanning the map while one huge index finger followed the course of the river. “It wouldn’t be fair to have all the main crafthalls in the North. Give some of my good Masters a chance to show their abilities.”

“Make it easier to mine and process the ore at the same site,” Master Nicat said, rising to peer over Fandarel’s shoulder at the map. “See any black-stone?”

“Didn’t look for it, Master Nicat, but we can,” R’mart replied. “Nice stretch of trees nearby. And a sweet little valley where folks could farm.”

“Ah, the possibilities are endless now, are they not?” Nicat said with great satisfaction.

“Did we but have the trained men and women,” Fandarel added wistfully.

“Well,” F’lar began, “it is obvious that we can proceed no faster than we are doing in the matter of southern settlements, no matter what accusations are made.”

“We shall do our best to counter those,” Fandarel said, looking at Nicat, who nodded vigorous accord. “We shall also do our best to indicate that it is a lack of trained personnel that holds the whole process up. I shall so inform my Craft, Masters, journeyfolk, and apprentices.” He looked at Master Nicat, who hastily added that he would do likewise.

“When will more of these be available?” F’lar asked, holding up one of the com devices.

“I was thinking of the most efficient way of doing that.” Now Fandarel turned to Master Nicat. “Those elderly and infirm at Igen, do they have their wits about them and the use of their fingers?”

Nicat frowned down at his fingertips, splayed out on the stone table. “Aye, I believe they do.”

“Good then. That is all that is really needed, sight and ten fingers. We’ve already put some of our elderlies to work and they are glad of the marks in their hands, I can tell you.”

“Besides which, it’s an efficient use of available personnel, isn’t it?” Lessa commented, managing to keep a straight face, though Talmor took a fit of coughing and R’mart and G’dened looked everywhere except at her or the smith.

“I shall leave this one with you, F’lar, Lessa,” Fandarel said, formally bowing to make the presentation. “It will reach me at the Smithcrafthall should you need to speak with me.”

“Quite useful, I assure you,” Nicat answered. “I don’t know how I’ve managed without it.”

F’lar escorted the two Mastercraftsmen out of the Council Room. Then Lessa allowed herself the luxury of a chuckle while the others smiled broadly. When F’lar returned, he was grinning as well, but he rubbed his hands together.

“We’ll just wind this meeting up, shall we?”

“Not much more to say, is there?” Talmor said. “And we thought we were busy doing Aivas’s bidding!”

“I wonder if he knew just how much he was altering our whole lives,” Lessa said, making a sweeping movement with one arm.

“Quite likely he did,” R’mart said sardonically, “which is why he quit on us before we could disconnect him, or whatever it is one does with a machine.”

“He could at least have stayed around until we were well into the transition,” Lessa said, sounding slightly mutinous.

“And bear your reproaches, my dear?” F’lar asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he looked at his weyrmate.

Lessa gave a sniff.

“He knew at least one person would make efficient and effective use of the Library,” Talmor said, grinning.

“Enough out of you, Harper,” Lessa said with mock astringency. “Did you find anywhere, R’mart, remotely resembling a Weyr possibility?”

“Not a cave nor a crater we could use among any of those hills,” R’mart said with disgust.

“Plenty of stone for Master Nicat, though,” G’dened said.

Tamor continued making his notations on the borders of the charts and sighing occasionally.

“Now, here I have no special comments,” he said, turning the edge of the map toward R’mart.

“That’s because there is nothing special to comment on, More hills, valleys, rivers, rocks.”

“Ah, but rocks can be useful,” Talmor said, and made the appropriate notation.

“When the Pass is over …”

It was an hour or more before the Weyrleaders had finished their discussions of the newly charted lands and the visitors left.

“I’ll be so glad when we’ve got the entire continent mapped out,” she said, sighing.

“I doubt we’ll have discovered all we need to know about for the time being … until we have enough folks to distribute,” F’lar said, gathering her slight body to his with one arm as they made their way into Ramoth’s weyr, The great gold dragon was asleep, her nostrils twitching a bit and her foreleg claws scrabbling against her stone bed as her dream caused her to open and close them. “Is she hungry?”

“Shouldn’t be,” Lessa said. “She hunted well earlier this sevenday below Landing. The southern beasts are better-tasting.”

“All the fuss is worth the trouble, Lessa,” F’lar reminded her. “We shan’t disabuse the trust that’s been placed in us to dispense the land impartially. And dragonriders will have their own stakes in the Southern Continent. We’ll never be beholden to Halls or Holds again.”

Lessa knew that he had never forgotten Benden’s situation at the end of the Last Interval, when only three holds had tithed to the lone Weyr and dragonriders had been reduced to conditions no small Holder would have endured. It was ironic that, in finding the solution to the recurring problem of Thread, they had also ended the reason for their privileges. Aivas had reassured them on one point: the dragons would not just cease to mate because the orbit of the Red Star had been disrupted. They were as established a species on Pern as the dolphins and would continue to prosper, though perhaps not in the same large numbers. A shallow mating flight would keep the clutches small It required more control of both queen and bronze but it was a feasible deterrent Commonly in Intervals, the queens did not rise as often anyway.

“No,” Lessa said with a devious smile, her eyes sparkling, “they will be beholden to us for the peace and tranquility after this Pass is over!” She liked that.

“We must still wait carefully for the appropriate moment, my heart,” he said, but he, too, smiled in anticipation.

“I wager you that it’s Toric who provides the excuse,” she said. “He’s greedy and he’s never forgiven us for deceiving him at the true size of the Southern Continent.” Her grin was sweetly malicious as she recalled that victory.

“You say that every time the subject comes up, so you’re probably right about him,” F’lar said equably. “Still, he’s done more to properly site new settlers than anyone else.”

“Especially that group that tried to take over his island.” Lessa gave a very girlish giggle of amusement. “He’ll never let us forget that one. Still, we were right not to interfere.”

“Then,” F’lar said in a significantly weighted tone. They’d reached the table where they’d been eating a light meal, when Talmor had appeared. He lifted the klah jug and felt it. “Cold. Let’s see what’s going in the lower cavern. That way we’ll be harder to find.”

They grinned conspiratorially and, hand in hand, made their way back to the stairs of the weyr and down across the Bowl to the kitchens.

The dolphins gave warning, ringing the bells that were now situated in ten locations on the coasts. They rang the big bell at Tillek Sea Hold early that morning, though Tillek was farther north than the storm’s course. But the pod that swam in the great bays also knew that the Masterfishman Idarolan was pod leader for all fish boats and should know what affected his Craft. In appreciation of dolphin help to all seafarers, Master Idarolan had had built a really fine dolphin marina where they could bring the injured and sick animals of the Western Sea.

Idarolan himself answered the bell, well wrapped up against the chill of predawn.

“Bad blow, bad bad bad blow,” the pod leader told him, waggling her head while her podmates nodded emphatically. The dolphins couldn’t measure wind speeds in any gauge comprehensible to humans. They did not have to cope with winds, merely high seas, and then they’d either swim to calmer waters or through combers. In fact, they often delighted in the rougher seas as ways of testing their skills. But they did understand the dangers that such storms posed to humans.

“Ships can sink in bad bad bad blow. Blow against rocks.” Of which there were many on the less hospitable western coastline.

“Exactly where do you think it will hit?” Idarolan asked. He’d had a harper drawer make up a huge map of Pern, the seas in the bright primary color the dolphins could recognize as “sea” as opposed to the “dark” landmasses. He lowered this now, close enough for Iggy to nose out the storm’s course.

She indicated the vast expanse of water just below the Eastern Current and skidded her nose under Southern Boll, aiming it directly at Southern Weyr and Hold. “Blow big there. First land. Blow all day, all night, all day, all night. Looooong blow. Warm water, much cold air.” Iggy shook her head at the unfavorable mixture. “Blow blow blow bad bad bad.”

Her podmates squeeed high and loud to stress the dangers.

“We’ve some ships out …” Idarolan ran through the list of those he knew from this port. “Fishing …”

“We swim, we see, we tell,” Iggy promised. “We warn Iddie pod leader.” Iggy loved to say the Master-fishman’s name as it was so much like her own.

“I appreciate that very much, Iggy.” He held out the first fish from the pail always kept full by the bell, and she rose neatly to accept his offering. Then he flicked out thank-yous into the other waiting mouths. He had good aim and none of those who had accompanied the messenger were slighted.

Master Idarolan trundled back to his warm Hold and started writing messages for fire-lizards to carry. He sighed as he did so for it was likely that the fleet finny friends of the deep would relay the warning far faster than even fire-lizards could be dispatched. His first message went to Lord Toric, for that man would batter his crafthall with complaints if such news was not sent first to him.

There had been rather a lot of storms in the past two Turns, and Master Idarolan had heard whispers that this was due to the alteration of the Red Star’s orbit. Master Wansor of the Smithcrafthall, who had made a study of the stars, and one of his own leading Seamasters who had learned the Craft of meteorology from Aivas had ridiculed the possibility, but that hadn’t kept it from being repeated, and credited by those without the specialized knowledge to recognize its fallacies. Idarolan had sat in on as many of Aivas’s lectures on weather formation, winds, and currents as he could make time for. There were valid reasons for the formation of both calm, clear weather and storms. The weather satellites established by the Ancients still gave back their information but not always were they read a-right. The dolphins were more reliable than instrumentation set at Landing, so far away from the point of the depression. Not for the first time, Idarolan wondered how they’d ever gotten along without dolphins.

Lord Toric was roused from a deep sleep by the chittering of a fire-lizard and the noise his own were making at the arrival of a newcomer. He wasn’t best pleased. He had worked late the previous night, going over the recent maps made by his scouts, checking and rechecking the organization of his next move. He had made contact with all those he had felt would be eager to assist in his dramatic move. He’d also sounded out which of the Lord Holders also felt that Benden Weyr should not have the gift of southern lands. Even Lord Groghe had wavered slightly from his loyalty to the Weyrleaders. After all, he had ten sons to place to some advantage. At every Fort Gather over the past three Turns, Toric had been planting suggestions in the boys’ ears, intimating that they ought to have the same opportunity as Benelek or Horon. He’d put a flea in the ear of young Kern of Crom, Lord Nessel’s third son and Nabol’s second son. He’d selected older journeymen, competent and resenting the promotion of others to Mastery above them.

He cursed as he read Idarolan’s message about the storm—it meant he’d have to delay the start of his big plan. It could also mean more chance of someone—and his “someone” translated into “dragon-rider”—discovering his carefully concealed sites. Or questioning the provision of every one of the Hold’s small fishing fleet. So far, the young Weyrleader K’van had accepted the offhanded explanation that Toric was resupplying his southernmost mine sites before the hot season. The sites across the river had not been detected, hidden as they were in dense foliage. The dragonriders had long since surveyed the coast. All that land … and his Hold bursting with eager, new, hand-chosen settlers, determined to secure and improve their own holds, looking favorably on him because he had granted their most earnest desires.

He had had to swallow a great many slights and insults from the Benden Weyrleaders, who thought they were going to carve up all these lands to their own specifications. Well, they would find opinion against them now. Too many people were aware of the extent of the Southern Continent and were discontented over the dragonriders’ claim of first choice. For Turns they had had the best that Pern had to offer. When the Pass was ended and their services were no longer needed, a far different tune would be struck for them to dance to. And he would make sure of that!

He heard the bell that his Fishcraftmen had insisted be installed in the deep harbor. The shipfish may have proved unexpectedly useful in telling fishmen where the schools were running, but he was not at all their advocate. He resented talking animals: speech was a human attribute. Mammals or not, the creatures were not equal to humans, and there was no way he would change his mind on that score. Humans planned ahead: dolphins only cooperated with humans because humans amused them, created “games” for them to play. Life was not a game! The very notion of providing amusement to an animal irritated Toric to the core. And he didn’t like their latest “game”: patrolling the coastline. He had his own plans for the coastline. He fingered his lips thoughtfully.

They’d seek safety in the Currents during this storm, then, and that might be the best time for him to make his move: before the storm was quite over and the dolphins had returned to their customary waters.

He rose then, pulling on his clothes, ignoring his wife’s sleepy murmurs. If he was to push this scheme through on the end of the gale, he had work to do.

When the storm swept down on the southern peninsulas protruding northward in the Southern Sea, its battering winds were the fiercest experienced in most lifetimes. Even longtime fishmen were amazed. Though its eye was well south of Southern Boll and Ista, coastal holds were battered and the seas flooded low-lying lands, crashing up beaches to inundate seaside cotholds and fields that had always been high above ground. Coming as it did during the equinox, its fury was double that of normal storms, battering the lands right up to the hills.

Along the southern coast it uprooted the shallower rooted, flexible trees that generally bowed with wind. The storm rolled gigantic combers as high up the Weyr cliff as the Weyrhall, shredding part of the roof and demolishing many of the little buildings that housed riders. Nothing stood in its way. Especially Toric’s plans. The deep harbor, usually a safe enough anchorage, was as storm-tossed as the outer sea, and men struggled to save the ships, many half-laden for their “downriver” journey. Some crew, riding out the storm on their craft, took serious injuries and had to remain there, tended for three long days and nights as best their mates could manage, until the storm finally blew itself away from Southern.

It made good speed, and gathered more, as it headed obliquely south-southeast, blasting toward Paradise River and Cove Hold.

Although the warning served by the dolphin pods was immediately heeded, the exact definition of “bad bad bad” became all too apparent as the weather worsened and the whistling twisting winds pounded the coast. No one had anticipated such a lengthy and ferocious storm.

Paradise River ran high, flooding the line of cotholds and forcing Jayge and his family to the nearest high ground, which was also threatened. The riverside farmlands were inundated, too. With the season’s crops all gathered in, at first everyone felt safe enough. But the storehouses were not much more than roofs on posts to keep the sun off material; most of those structures lost their roofs and had their contents blown away. It was too late to try to lash down bales and crates: the wind tossed these indiscriminately as lethal flying objects. Herd-and runnerbeasts who were pasturing in the more open fields were later found lodged in now leafless tree bolls, a strange fruit. It took days to round up those that had fled from the savagery of the storm. Some animals had to be destroyed when they were found with broken legs or wounds that had become infected during the three days in which they had been untended.

At Landing, the storm flag was flown from the mast that had once floated the ancient colors of a forgotten homeworld to the breeze. Somewhat protected by the three slumbering volcanoes and the fact that the storm was blowing itself inland, Landing suffered relatively little damage. Monaco Bay took heavy surf and lost the dolphin float, but not the bell that had clanged for hours in the gale. Eastern Weyr got lashing rain and high winds, but not the punishing blow that had devastated the coastline.

As soon as he could, Readis made a wet journey down to the bay, to ask Alta and Dar to find out if his folks at Paradise River were all right. Kami insisted on coming with him, because a frantic message from Cove Hold told them that Master Robinton’s house had been flooded and many of the things that the Harper had valued had been destroyed. She was terribly afraid that Paradise River might also have been devastated. It took a long time for the dolphins to answer the Report sequence: Readis and Kami ended up taking turns at the bell rope.

When Alta finally answered, she told them that while some of the pod had remained on duty in case a ship had been out in the gales, the others had swum to the northern and quieter seas. She said she would sound a message to pass to the Paradise River pod. So Readis and Kami waited until nearly full dark before they received an answer. The blow had been bad bad bad but humans were well, wet, and tired.

“Dolphins hurt. You go help?”

“Badly?”

Alta ducked her head under the water and came up. “Don’t know. You go.”

Further distressed by such unexpected news, Readis thanked Alta and apologized for having no fish to give her.

“Ah, the fish run well and deep,” she told him, and then backflipped away.

“Who got hurt? How badly?” Readis demanded of Kami, who remained silent as they started on the long walk back. “I wish they could be more explicit. Shards! It’ll be ages before we find out.”

“I’m sure Master Alemi is already helping, Readis,” Kami said soothingly.

They were both startled, and Readis cried out with relief, when they heard a dragon’s trumpeting above them, the sound almost lost in the still brisk after-storm wind. It was Gadareth and T’lion.

“Could you take us to Paradise River, T’lion?” Readis begged when rider and dragon landed. “There’s been dolphin injuries, only Alta couldn’t say who or how badly.”

T’lion didn’t bother to dismount, leaning over to give them a hand up to Gadareth’s back.

“That’s bad news.” T’lion looked concerned and Gadareth turned his head back to show the orange of worry in his eyes. “I was just at Landing and heard you’d walked down here. Look, I’m supposed to report in at Cove Hold. It was badly flooded but I can certainly get you home first. At that, the wind’s only just died down enough for dragons to risk flying. Gaddie couldn’t lift far enough off the ground to go between. That storm was incredible!”

As soon as Gadareth lifted from the roadway, the three were buffeted by the winds—Readis clinging to T’lion, who had his safety straps buckled on, and Kami clutching Readis so hard she hurt his ribs. Dragon flight was usually smooth, but this morning even Gadareth was subjected to unexpected drops in the few moments it took him to reach transfer height.

The winds were not much calmer at Paradise River, and as Gadareth reentered, all three could see how badly the Hold had fared. Whole swathes of trees were down, the broad-leafed vegetation in shreds, riverbanks deep in mud, and roofs lying everywhere but where they had been built. Readis groaned. Everywhere people were working to clear the storm debris.

Grabbing T’lion’s shoulder, Readis shouted in his ear. “Take us to the harbor. The dolphins’ll need my help more.”

“Oh, Readis, I must get home. Just look!” Kami was in tears as she pointed to their once neat hold. The porch roof was awry, mud and storm wrack covered the place, and the chimney had fallen down. The net racks were splinters on the ground, and they could see several nets festooned in high limbs of trees.

“The dolphins first. You won’t be far from your home there.”

Readis also fretted about the fishing ships. Maybe, and surely Alemi would have gone to inspect them as soon as he could, the dolphin injuries had been attended to. That way he could go home to help. His mother might not even realize that he’d gone to the dolphins first.

Gadareth had trouble finding enough clear space to land in, for the pier had been demolished to a few lengths, the dolphin float and the bell gone. With a sinking heart, Readis saw that the two smaller ships had been beached and lay on their sides, masts and rigging gone, hulls broached. The Fair Winds was not in much better shape, but he could see figures working on her deck, cutting away the sheets and the splintered mainmast; the second one was still upright even if the rigging had been torn away. The schooner also looked low in the water. Had she sprung a leak, or merely taken on a lot of water?

There were no dorsals visible and that worried Readis even more. How many injuries had there been? And with no bell to summon the dolphins, how was he to call them?

As Gadareth gingerly settled on the beach, pushing splintered tree trunks out of his way to do so, T’lion turned to Readis. “No bell. Gaddie can call them underwater. He’s done it before. Haven’t you, my fine fellow?” And T’lion affectionately slapped Gada-reth’s neck.

I call They come. My bugle is as good as their bell.

When his passengers had dismounted, Readis looked around and shook his head at the devastation. So much to do. Kami was sniffling; she knew that Readis disliked her showing indecision or emotions, but she wanted to cry on seeing the destruction of the smaller boats. Father would be so upset!

Gadareth walked into the water, holding his wings up high at first until he was buoyant. Then he lowered his head in the water. Those watching heard nothing, but they could see the bubbles of his call boiling to the surface. He raised his head, looking out to sea to wait for results. Then T’lion and Readis saw someone on the Fair Winds waving vigorously. The ship was too far out for voices to be heard. Gadareth was about to repeat his summons when a single dorsal appeared in the water, speeding toward them. Gadareth extended his head toward the incoming dolphin, but it continued in toward the shore as far as it could before it raised its head. It was Kib, bearing fresh marks on his melon.

“Bad bad bad bad blow. Worse! Two calves hurt. Can you fix?”

“We’ll try,” Readis replied. “How’s the ship?”

“Hole full of water. We help ’Lemi.”

“That’s good of you with injured calves.”

Kib blew water out of his hole. “We help. Our duty.”

“Then we’ll help. Our duty,” T’lion added, “Bring in the injured. Gaddie’s very good at holding.”

When the two battered calves were brought in, Readis and T’lion exchanged despairing glances, Both needed stitching to close the gaping wounds. A healer was needed.

“Would your aunt Temma be willing?” T’lion asked Readis. “I think T’gellan will understand me coming here instead of Cove Hold. They’ll have lots of help.”

From his tone of voice, Readis gathered that T’lion wasn’t all that certain of Weyrleader approval of his delay. But they’d need Gadareth to hold the dolphin calves while the stitching was in progress. The dams were alternately squeeing to the humans to help and trying to soothe their offspring. Both dams bore superficial cuts: nothing as bad as the injuries to the lighter and less experienced younglings.

“I’ll understand if you don’t feel you can stay,” Readis said.

“Don’t worry about me and T’gellan,” T’lion added, coming to a sudden decision. “There’re plenty of humans to help other humans, but very few to help dolphins.”

“I thought the dolphins just rode out storms,” Kami said timorously, her pretty face twisted with conflicting worries.

“They usually can,” Readis said.

T’lion shook his head. “That was not any usual sort of storm! Shall I take you to the Hold?”

“You go to the Hold, T’lion, and ask Temma to come. She’s good at suturing. Had enough practice, Uncle Nazer says. And you go with him, Kami,” Readis said, deciding that the girl would fret too much over the conditions of her home to be useful here. “I’ll stay with the patients.”

“Can you manage?” Kami asked, vacillating again between showing Readis how helpful she could be and worried about not being with her mother in this emergency.

“Sure,” Readis said blithely, standing waist deep in water, a wounded dolphin floating on either side of him, surrounded by the dams and the nurse dolphins.

Temma was too busy with human injuries to leave off her duties for dolphins. She said she’d come when she could. T’lion thanked her and asked Gadareth to take him back to Eastern Weyr. They had weathered the three days of storm much better than anywhere else. He’d get Persellan to come.

But Persellan had been collected and taken to Cove Hold.

“Does he need more supplies? How bad was it there?” Mirrim asked, her brows knotted with concern.

“It’s bad all along the coast, Mirrim,” T’lion said. “I’ll just bring what’s needed with me,” he added and, since Mirrim didn’t challenge him further, he entered the healer’s hold and helped himself to the items he knew he and Readis would need. There was more than enough and he’d tell Persellan later. He also took the book that was Persellan’s treasured compilation from Aivas’s medical files. T’lion had watched Persellan work on dolphins often enough to have a good idea of how to proceed, but it would be reassuring to have printed words to refer to.

He didn’t think he’d been very long, but the wait must have seemed like Turns to Readis, who called out frantically as Gadareth landed.

“What took you so long? I’ve had all sorts of trouble keeping the bloodsuckers from attaching themselves to the calves. Temma isn’t with you?” Readis’s face turned whiter and his expression bordered panic.

“I took what we need from Persellan’s hold, and his book,” T’lion explained as he stripped off his riding gear and clothes down to his clout. Shivering a bit, for the wind still had traces of storm chill, he waded out, book and sack of supplies held above the rippling surface of the water. “C’mon, Gaddie, we’ll need you, too.” Gadareth followed him, moving very carefully, one eye on the dorsal fins and heads protruding above the surface.

“What about Temma?” Readis fretted. “I’ve never sewn up anything. Have you? And I had to stuff Angie’s guts back in.” Angie was the older of the two injured calves. Cori was younger, just born that spring.

“Ooooo. Wonder if you should’ve …”

“I had to, T’lion,” Readis said, his tone a bit strident with anxiety. “Couldn’t let any bloodsuckers get attached to her guts. They’d eat her inside out.”

“Wait a minute. I’m looking …” T’lion riffled through the pages of the book, which he kept well above the water and any splashes. “Oooo! Ugh!” He paused, lowering the book slightly to peer at something. “Ah, here. Human intestines.” He bent to peer down at the injured Angie. “Gaddie, hold her for me, will you? C’mon now, Angie, Gaddie won’t hurt you.”

The calf’s squeeing was agonized, but, with her mother and Afo pushing her with their noses, she had no option. Gaddie’s talons cradled hen

“Tip her slightly, huh, Gaddie?” And the bronze dragon, head cocked to see for himself, tilted the little body sideways. “Oooo.” T’lion shuddered at the raw sight of the cords of visible intestines poking out of the wound.

T’lion tucked the sack on the dragon’s upper arm where the angle was just enough to keep it secure but to hand, then tentatively fingered the extruding loops. Referring to the book again, he read with his lips moving, sounding out the more technical words by the syllables. Then he shrugged at the anxious Readis. “Well, the book doesn’t give any directions other than ‘reinsert the colon in the reverse order of removal.’ Hmmm. That’s a lot of help.”

“I did sort of loop them back in,” Readis said. “I’ve seen runners with their bellies opened. Dad would just put them back in, sew ’em up, and hope. Mostly they lived.”

“Then we’ll hope dolphins, being mammals like us and runners, will survive, too,” T’lion replied, rolling up his sleeves. “All right, start spreading this”—he handed Readis a big pot of numbweed—“around the wound. It seemed to help Boojie, and he didn’t squirm when Persellan sewed him up.”

Readis liberally slathered on the numbweed.

“I’ve watched Persellan sewing up dragons often enough, and I helped him with Boojie,” T’lion began, taking out a needle and threading it with the fine strong suture that Aivas had suggested to the Healer Hall. “I’ve even got the hang of how he ties his knots.”

“So do it,” Readis said impatiently, “before she loses any more blood. That’s definitely not good for her.”

With a decisive exhalation, T’lion reached for the needle and thread. Numbweed worked really quickly, deadening any flesh, human, dragon, and, he hoped, dolphin.

Doing, he found, was by no means the same as watching. Even getting the sharp needle to penetrate the tough and slippery flesh of the dolphin was different than sewing up clothes or repairing his flying straps, The muscles along Angie’s side rippled since he had to jam the needle in her pretty hard. But she wasn’t squirming, which would have worried him. The other dolphins were making some sort of soothing noises that, in some mysterious way, seemed to vibrate in the water around his legs. Gaddie, careful to keep the rest of her under the rippling water, held her steady enough so that the jabbing needle didn’t go into the wrong places.

“She knows you’re helping her,” Readis said as he kept up a reassuring rhythm of caresses. That helped his nerves and she seemed to lean into the motions. He also kept checking the reassuring beat of the big heart in her chest. It struck him as significant that dolphins had hearts on the left sides of their bodies, just as humans did.

Cori, the other injured baby, wasn’t more than a few months old, and the wound was serious for so young a calf. When T’lion was finishing the last of Angie’s stitches, he asked Gaddie to take Cori in hand so that Readis could smear her with numbweed. The baby made odd noises and swished her tail around, but Afo told them that Cori was only relieved to have the pain gone.

“Goodee man goo,” she said quite clearly. “Nummmmm weeeed?” she asked.

Readis laughed, as much from relief of the strain as because he was pleased to know the pods were using more words. “Yes, numbweed,” he said. “They’ve learned a lot from you, T’lion.” He tried to keep envy out of his voice.

“They didn’t learn it from me—I don’t think,” T’lion said, frowning as he concentrated on tying the last few stitches in the complex knot. “Maybe Persellan used the word when he was doing Boojie. But Afo wasn’t at Eastern when we did that. There! That’s closed now. Wheeee.” T’lion wiped his forehead on his arm, cleaned the needle, and returned it to the little case that held Persellan’s needles.

“Good mans … men,” Afo said and rubbed against their legs, prodding them gently in their genitals as a mark of extra affection.

“Hey, don’t do that, Afo,” Readis said.

T’lion laughed at his reaction. “Don’t forget to thank Gaddie, too, Afo,” he said, and Afo responded by blowing a spout of water up against the bronze dragon’s chest Gadareth rose out of the water, the wave he made swamping the two young men.

“Watch that! I’m soaked, and this water’s not so warm today,” Readis complained. “I’m also water-riddled.” He looked at the shriveled skin on his fingers. “Anyone else need help, Afo?”

“No, t’ank you. We go now, work holes in ships. ‘Lemi grateful Afo grateful, Cori, Angie, Mel grateful and happy.”

“Bring the calves back in three days, three sunrises, Afo. So we can take those stitches out.”

“Hear you,” Afo said as she swam away, ahead of the little group of four, moving off westward and more slowly.

The two friends made their way to the beach, moving wearily after the unaccustomed mental and physical strain.

“I sure hope we did it right,” T’lion said, shaking his head. “What we need is a manual on animal treatment. I heard tell that Masterfarmer Andemon finally asked for—Shards!” T’lion stopped, pawing through the sack. “Where did the book go?” His hands came up empty and he looked about frantically, hoping to see the book on the water. He couldn’t even remember when he had last seen it, save that he had propped it up on Gaddie’s forearm. “Gaddie, where did the book go? Readis, call Afo back. Did we come straight out? How far were we from shore?”

“Don’t panic, T’lion,” Readis said as he began retracing his steps. “I was in up to my belt … which is probably so salt-logged it’ll never soften up …”

“You’re worried about a belt?” T’lion roared. “When I may have lost Persellan’s book …”

“We were about here, I think,” Readis said, and then dove beneath the surface.

“Gaddie, put your head under, too. See if you can see it?”

The waters were still dark from the storm where the sea bottom had been churned up.

I see little, Gadareth responded, though it was obvious from the movement of his neck that he was looking all around. What do I look for?

“The book! The book I used. I put it on your arm. You know what the book looked like.” Really upset, T’lion framed the size of the book in his hands, although his dragon still had his head underwater and could not have seen him.

Readis surfaced. “It’s all stirred up, sand everywhere. Can’t see a thing. And Caddie’s been walking about. He might have buried it.”

“Buried it?” T’lion’s voice broke octaves in his anxiety.

“Easy, T’lion, easy,” Readis said, took three deep breaths, and then dove.

T’lion could barely see the holder lad swimming, so murky was the water. He began walking about the area where he thought they had been standing, hoping he might kick it up. But Gaddie couldn’t’ve kicked it. He had been holding up the dolphins, and his hind feet would have been farther out.

“Gaddie, call Afo. Tell her we need her.”

Gadareth obligingly bellowed. That his bugle was heard was obvious when two of the seamen working on the Fair Winds waved back at them. But not a single dorsal fin came streaking toward them.

“Try underwater, Gaddie. Afo must hear you. We need her help.”

Afo did not come, though Gadareth called her in air and underwater every time T’lion asked him.

And Readis, who kept diving, going in ever increasing circles out from the spot where they thought the precious book might be, was becoming so hyper-ventilated and pale under his tan that even T’lion knew he should stop.

“One more dive is all I’ll let you take,” the dragonrider told his younger friend. “You look awful”

“If only we’d had the mask …” And Readis’s look was accusing.

“I’m trying, I’m trying,” T’lion explained, his voice tense, his mind in a whirl as he thought of how Persellan was going to react to the loss of his invaluable book.

Then Readis took his usual deep inhalation and dove, appearing for that instant more like a dolphin than a boy.

“Lucky last!” Readis shouted as he exploded out of the water. In the hands held high above his head he had the book.

“Don’t get it any wetter than it is!” T’lion cried, reaching out in a thankful gesture at sight of the lost object.

But when Readis put the soggy book in his hands, dark runnels of water over their hands told them that considerable damage had been done the contents. T’lion groaned as his trembling fingers flipped open the cover. He flipped it closed immediately, rolling his eyes and groaning again.

“It’s ruined. Ruined! Persellan will flay me!”

“It came from Aivas’s files, didn’t it? Well, then it only needs to be reprinted,” Readis said in an effort to relieve his friend’s dismay.

“Only?” T’lion repeated. “Do you have any idea of how long someone has to wait to get something only reprinted?”

Readis shook his head, determined to supply a remedy. “I’m up there all the time, T’lion. I can re-copy what needs to be done directly from the disks.” Then he added by way of reparation, “And maybe include some animal treatment stuff at the same time.”

“Oh, I dunno,” T’lion said, appalled at the damage a moment’s inattention had caused.

“Good thing you had it so we’d know how to put her guts back in.”

“We won’t know until she gets better—and works right—if we did,” T’lion replied, shaking his head and staring down at the book, which was still shedding inky drops of water.

“Let’s get out of the water, and see if we can’t dry out some of the pages in the sun,” Readis urged, and they both headed back to the shore. “I mean, we have a duty to dolphins, too, you know.”

“Do we?”

Readis gave his friend a startled look. “I think we do. They came with us, didn’t they? They didn’t have to, but they came to help us with the marine explorations. They’ve done them, but our responsibility doesn’t end there. Does it? Huh? No more than our responsibility to dragonkind will end when Thread stops.” He looked a little embarrassed when T’lion turned to give him an odd stare, his jaw dropped in surprise at Readis’s vehemence. “That is, when it does,” Readis amended. “I mean, we—humans—created the dragons. We owe them, too, you know.”

T’lion’s slow grin spread across his face. “I wish more of us humans thought the way you do.”

Readis ducked his face in embarrassment. “I’ve known dragons all my life, better than most holder children do. I’ve scrubbed more.” Then he squinted up at the angle of the sun. “Here. Let’s prop the book up here so it gets the sun. I’d better dry off, too,” he added, noticing the water marks on his hands. “Or Dad will sure know where I’ve spent time when I should have been back helping him and Mother.”

“D’you think the book’ll dry out enough?” T’lion said anxiously as he settled the book on a broad leaf so that sand wouldn’t damage it further. The inner pages had been sufficiently pressed down so that only the edges showed their immersion. But the ink had blurred somewhat, even on the illustrations.

T’lion groaned as they surveyed the ravages. “Persellan’s not going to like this.”

“I said I’d make good.”

“You oughtn’t to have to. I borrowed the book without permission. You didn’t.”

“You wouldn’t have borrowed it if I hadn’t insisted we heal the calves.” Readis’s chin was at an aggressive angle. “We’re in this together.”

“You most certainly are,” said a new voice, and the two young men swung around to see Jayge and Temma come striding out of the jungle that bordered the cove. “What’s all this about dolphins’ needing medical assistance? Where have you been? Kami’s been back hours and she said she came with you.”

Readis sprang to his feet, trying to conceal the waterlogged book from his father’s sight. “Ah, well, oh!” he floundered.

“I told T’lion I’d come when I could,” Temma said, cocking her head and looking from one to the other. Then out to sea. “No dolphins to mend?”

“We did it,” Readis said. “I mean, T’lion’s watched Persellan and there were bloodsuckers trying to … and it was the calves, and they were hurt with awful gashes … guts hanging out …”

“So you decided that those mammals of yours needed attention sooner than injured humans?” Jayge had crossed his arms over his chest at his most forbidding.

Readis swallowed. He had not often had occasion to suffer his father’s disapproval or chastisement, but he knew the pose from those times Jayge had dealt with recalcitrant Hold workers or those whose behavior had not met his standards. Now he raised his chin.

“Yes, sir. They bleed and hurt the same as we do, and there was no one else bothering about them and plenty of people, including Aunt Temma, to tend to human hurts. No one was badly hurt, were they?” Readis asked Temma.

“No,” Jayge answered. “But you should have found that out first, before you even thought of coming here.” He frowned at his son. “You’re my son and will be Holder. What sort of an example are you setting—he waved toward the sea and its denizens—“by coming here first before you knew what help was needed in your Hold!”

“When we overflew the Hold, it looked like you had matters in hand. But no one was looking after our dolphins …”

“Our dolphins?” Jayge’s expression became even more forbidding. “Since when do ‘we’ own dolphins?”

“The pod—the ones that use these waters—they’re ours, in a manner of speaking.”

“Sir, the fault was mine,” T’lion interrupted, and was waved silent by Jayge.

“Why are you involved in this, T’lion?”

“He’s been—” Readis began.

“Dragonriders are able to answer for themselves, Readis.”

“But he—”

“I’m liaison for the dolphins in the Eastern Weyr waters, Holder Jayge,” T’lion said, stiffening to an erect position. “We heard at Landing that there were injuries in this pod and help was requested. So I …”

Jayge frowned. “How would they know at Landing …”

Before Readis could capitalize on his father’s misunderstanding and absolve himself of his apparent defection by intimating that someone at Landing had given him the orders, T’lion continued. “Actually, sir, we found out at Monaco Bay, not Landing. Readis and Kami were there, hoping to hear word from Paradise River that all was well here.”

“So you got a message at Monaco Bay that dolphins at Paradise River were injured?”

“Yes, sir,” T’lion replied.

Jayge’s frown got darker. “So Master Samvel didn’t give you permission to leave, Readis?”

“Master Samvel told me that Readis was down at Monaco,” T’lion said, temporizing as he suddenly realized what Readis had been trying to imply.

Jayge shook his head. “Will you boys stop answering for each other? So, you are absent from school as well as derelict in your duty to your Hold, Readis. And you, T’lion, where were you supposed to be when you were busy healing the dolphins?”

“I went down to Monaco Bay when I heard that’s where Readis and Kami had gone,” he replied.

“I repeat, where were you ordered to go?”

“Cove Hold,” T’lion said, “but plenty of folks were helping out there and no one was …” He hesitated

“Helping these dolphins,” Jayge finished. “Both of you need to get your priorities in order. I shall expect you to report your afternoon’s activities to T’gellan, T’lion. You’d better report to where you should be before the day ends.” A Holder could not presume to give a dragonrider, even a young one, direct orders that did not deal with Threadfall, but Jayge was coming close.

“Ah, yes, sir.” T’lion hesitated. He needed to take the book back with him, damp as it was, but he also didn’t quite like the idea of displaying the damaged thing to anyone.

“Well …”

T’lion grimaced. He had to leave, and leave Readis facing an angry father. So, giving a despairing sigh, he reached for the book.

“And what’s that sorry-looking mess?” Jayge asked, holding out his hand. When T’lion had reluctantly given it to him, Jayge whistled as he felt the dampness. Turning the first few pages, he then shot angry glances at both son and dragonrider as he realized how valuable it was.

“We know it’s been damaged. It fell off Gaddie’s arm,” T’lion explained. “I needed to know how to restore intestines …”

“By using your healer’s most valued possession?” Temma asked, incensed when she saw what Jayge was looking through. “He’ll not thank you for that.”

“I can copy the damaged pages,” Readis said quickly. “I’ve access to the files. I can even add more from the veterinary sections …”

“Did you at least have permission to use the manual?” Jayge asked. “Ah, I see not,” he added, noting the guilty flush on the dragon-rider’s face.

“Persellan was nowhere about to ask,” T’lion said. “Mirrim saw me and said it was all right.”

“To take supplies possibly,” Temma put in, “but not such a valuable healer’s book.”

“I can set it right,” Readis insisted.

“That’s enough out of you,” Jayge said, turning on his son. “You’d better leave, T’lion.”

Temma took the dragonrider’s arm before he swung past her. “And the dolphins?”

“We sewed them up and they went off with their dams,” T’lion said in a muted voice.

“Sewed them up, did you?” Temma looked dubious.

“I’ve helped Persellan and I can tie the right sort of healer knots to suture securely. That was the critical need, so the bloodfish couldn’t enter the wounds.”

“The critical need?”

T’lion stiffened, regarding the older woman with an expressionless face. “I did what I could to help and we’ll see in three days if what I did was enough.”

Temma’s expression softened a little. “Happen you did all that was needed. I’d be interested to see.”

Without a backward look then, the young dragon-rider went to his pile of clothes, dressed, stuffed Persellan’s volume in his flying jacket, and clambered aboard Gadareth. The bronze took off westward, away from those silently watching.

Readis couldn’t look at his father, but he felt Jayge’s suppressed anger in the grip he took on Readis’s arm as he pushed him toward his clothing.

“Get your shoes on!” Jayge said. “Let’s not have another thorn in your foot.”

Readis felt a hard cold feeling in his chest at that harsh remark. His father never referred to his limp, had never before reminded him of the injury or where he had taken it. But then, his father wouldn’t know that Readis felt far more comfortable in the sea, where his shriveled leg posed no disadvantage or handicap. The way home was too short for Readis to prepare himself for his mother’s condemnation. She’d make sure he never went to the cove again. She would certainly extract a promise from him to have nothing to do with dolphins ever again. It was a promise that Readis could not in conscience give. There was no way now that he would give up the contact. Today’s events had proved to him that the dolphins needed to have at least one staunch defendant in every coastline settlement: one committed dolphineer. The word had been hovering in his mind for a long time now and, in that moment, he recognized what he should do and be: a dolphineer.

As badly as Readis thought his mother would react, the actual storm that followed his father’s account of his son’s various offenses against his Hold and against parental teaching and tolerance, his consorting with dolphins, and his absence from the Landing school, brought such a tirade down on his head that he was unable to speak out in self-defense. Until she ranted that he was without conscience, loyalty, or honor in his devious and unworthy association with shipfish.

“Dolphins, Mother, dolphins,” he said. “And I’ve always kept my promise to you.”

She halted in her ranting, her face pale, her eyes huge; if the tear streaks on her cheeks were tormenting him, her injustice had made him speak out.

“You have not!”

“I have, too. I have never been alone with the dolphins or in the sea. There has always been someone else with me.”

“That isn’t at issue …”

“But it is I promised you the day after the dolphins rescued me and Unclemi that I wouldn’t go by myself to swim and I never have. Not in ten Turns!”

“But you were a child! How could you remember that?”

“Mother, I remembered. I have obeyed. I have never come to harm from the dolphins …”

“But you have neglected your own family and the Hold’s needs at a time when we needed everyone’s help, everyone’s loyalty …”

“The dolphins are part of Paradise River Hold,” Readis began, but she slapped his face as hard as she could. He staggered back, rocked from the insecure balance of standing on the toe of one foot.

For a moment there was complete silence in the room. Aramina rarely used physical punishment, and the slaps she had given her children for naughtiness had been admonitory, not punitive. She hadn’t even so much as tapped his hand in rebuke since he had started at the Landing school

“Dolphins … are … not … part of this Hold!” she said fiercely, stringing out the words to emphasize her anger and denial. “I’m sure there is work to which your father can put you now. You will do it and you will never mention those wretched creatures in my presence again. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Readis managed to say. “I understand.” He could not at that moment call her “Mother.” He turned his head to his father, awaiting orders.

Jayge, whose expressionless face told Readis nothing, beckoned for Readis to follow him.

Fortunately, the Ancients had built all the river-bank holds on stone pillars that elevated the floors four to five steps above ground level. This had provided breezeways under the dwellings for cooling in hot weather, but it also provided protection against occasional flooding. The holders had blessed that precaution when the gale-driven tides had lapped at the top steps, and even flowed onto the porch flooring, right up to the doors, but not over the thresholds. The storehouses had lost their light roofs; there was debris to be removed, and help required to rig some sort of covering for supplies, store crates and canisters to be inspected for damp, clothing to be hung out to dry, dead animals to be butchered. The injured, human and animal, had by then been attended to. Readis was set to help with the skinning and dressing down. That had to be completed by nightfall, and the meat refrigerated.

Nazer had the generator running again, so there was power for lights and cooling. Readis worked alongside other holders, grateful for the fact that no one else knew of his dereliction. Kami had evidently told only his parents that he had returned with her. Readis didn’t think he could stand any more reproaches. While he had learned how to compensate for the atrophied muscles in the bad leg—he sat or leaned against some sturdy support whenever possible—he had to work at top speed to dress the carcasses down and, by midnight, the muscles in both legs were jumping with strain and he was exhausted. But nothing would make him take a break until everyone else quit. He had had klah and a fish roll when food was passed round, which had eased his hunger pangs: He’d had nothing since eating at school early that morning.

When the last haunch was prepared for the cooler, Nazer sent everyone to their beds. Readis started off toward his home, and stopped halfway there. He could see that a light had been left burning on the porch but he couldn’t—he just couldn’t—go back under that roof right now. He veered toward the animal shed. He’d be warm enough under the temporary roof despite the slight chill of the sea breeze. He’d sleep anywhere he laid himself down. And he did.

He was unprepared for being roughly shaken out of a deep sleep.

“So here’s where you are!” his sister Aranya said, her expression accusatory. “Father’s been searching everywhere for you but Uncle Alemi swore he hadn’t seen you. You’ve got Mother in a terrible state over your shameful—”

“I’ll take that from … my mother,” Readis said, putting his fist in her face and having the satisfaction of seeing his sister stumble backward, frightened, “but I don’t have to take it from you, Rannie.” Then he decided to take a small revenge on his usually tenderhearted sister. “My leg ached so I couldn’t walk another step.” And he rubbed both hands down the withered muscles.

“Oh, Readis, Father said Nazer told him you’d stayed on till the bitter end last night. They looked for you there, first. Then Mother was certain you’d gone to those wretched creatures who caused all your problems.”

“The dolphins,” he said with distinct emphasis on their proper designation, “have caused me no problems at all. A wretched thorn did!”

“Well, Mother says you wouldn’t have got the thorn in your foot if you—” She broke off when he raised his fist in her direction again. “You’d better come home. I’ll tell them where I found you, and that will be that.”

It wasn’t. His mother was close to hysterical again and his father, reckoning the cost of the storm to the Hold’s prosperity, was in a sour mood.

Later Readis would realize how strained everyone had been then, tempers and patience too stretched to allow for any tolerance, but when his mother insisted that he give her his word that he would never again have anything to do with shipfish—and her use of that term as well as the tone of voice she used further inflamed him—then he, too, lost his temper.

“That is a promise I cannot make!”

“You will make it and abide by it,” his mother told him, her eyes sparkling with anger, “or you cannot live in this hold!”

“As you will,” he said, cold despite the trembling in his guts. He stalked down the hall to his room, where he filled a travel sack with everything he could lay his hands on.

“You promise me, Readis,” his mother screamed down the hall at him. “You promise—” She stopped in his doorway. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m going, for I cannot promise that, Mother.”

“Going to those awful creatures?”

“Now, that’s a ridiculous idea,” he said scornfully. Though he didn’t know it, he sounded so much like his father at that moment that Aramina was stunned; he was able to push past her before she could recover enough to prevent him.

Limping as fast as he could, he made for the kitchen, sending out a piercing whistle for Delky. He’d seen her grazing, as usual, near the house when he and Aranya had left the shed. He saw his wide-eyed sisters and younger brother sitting at the table, an uneaten breakfast proving that they had been listening to the row. As he reached the kitchen door, Delky whinnied a greeting. Although his bad leg nearly collapsed, Readis managed to vault to her back, balancing his duffel before him. He heard his mother, demanding at the top of her voice that he come back inside the house right now as he kicked Delky into a canter, putting as much distance between himself and his unyielding parent as possible.

Delky had to dodge fallen trees and piled debris, nearly unseating him several times, but he kept her heading toward the river. The bridge had already been partially restored so that both sides of the river-bank were accessible. There were just enough planks down for Delky, surprised and cautious but obedient to his insistence, to cross without losing a foot in a gap. When he got to the other side, he sent her flying down the sands and on into the scrub vegetation. He slowed her down only when the rough going might injure her, and did not stop until he had reached jungle and would be invisible to anyone searching for him from the air. Then he slipped from Delky’s back, his sack under him, and wept in frustration, anger, and heartbreak.