The Dolphins of Pern

CHAPTER V

ALEMI WAS NOT the only one wanting to have a closer understanding of the dolphins.

After T’lion and Gadareth returned Alemi to his Sea Hold, and collected the clothes that T’lion had hastily borrowed from a sleepy brown rider, the boy and the bronze did not immediately return to the Eastern Weyr.

“They’re not as good as you, Gaddie,” T’lion told his dragon as the bronze leaped skyward, “But don’t you think talking sea animals are great?”

Would they talk to me, too?

“Ah, Gaddie, don’t for a moment think I’d trade you for a dolphin!” T’lion laughed at the very notion, scratching the bronze neck as hard as he could with gloved fingers. He had yet to grow into all his flying gear, and the glove fingers were a joint too long, so scratching was difficult. “You and me are different …”

You are my rider and I am your dragon and that is a good difference, Gadareth said stoutly. I chose you of all who were there the day I hatched …

“And I wasn’t even supposed to be a Candidate,” T’lion said, grinning, vividly remembering that most exciting of all days in his life.

His brother, Kanadin, had been the official Candidate and, even though he had Impressed a brown, Kanadin had never quite forgiven his younger brother for making such a show of himself and Impressing when he hadn’t even been presented as a possible rider. Impressing a bronze was an even more unforgivable injury.

“You’re too young!” K’din had yelled at his brother when the weyrlings were led to their quarters. “You were only brought along because Ma and Pa didn’t dare leave you home. How could you do this to me?”

It had never done any good for T’lion to tell K’din that he hadn’t meant to Impress a dragon, much less a bronze, but K’din saw it as a personal offense. Not that he would have swapped his Bulith for Gadareth even ten minutes after the Impression was made. It was the fact that what should have been a momentous day for the eldest son of a journeyman resident at Landing had been trivialized by a much younger brother who had been barely the acceptable age at the time of his Impression.

T’lion had tried to explain that perhaps if this had been a Weyr like the northern ones, an interior cavern with tiers of seats set up high for the witnesses, instead of an open space around the Hatching Ground, Gadareth wouldn’t have found it so easy to reach him. But the little bronze had flopped and crawled, keening with anguish, from the Hatching Sands and right up to T’lion where the boy had been standing with his parents and sister. It wasn’t as if T’lion had tried, in any way, to attract the hatchling’s attention. He hadn’t so much as moved a muscle. Of course, he had been so flabbergasted to find a little dragon butting him that he had had to be urged by T’gellan—the Weyrleader—and the Weyrlingmaster to accept the Impression. Not that he could have resisted much longer, not with Gadareth so upset that he wasn’t immediately accepted by his choice of partner.

Even three years on, at fifteen, T’lion stayed out of K’din’s way as much as possible. Which was easier now that K’din was with a fighting wing and could sneer that T’lion had Turns yet before he, as a bronze rider, would be useful to the Weyr that housed and nurtured him.

T’lion was very grateful to T’gellan, the Weyrleader, and his weyrmate, Mirrim, green Path’s rider, because they never once made the youngster feel unacceptable.

“The dragon chooses,” T’gellan had said at the time, and often at other Impressions, shaking his head ruefully at dragon choice. Then he’d congratulated the stunned family on having two such worthy sons.

Since T’lion could not be included in a fighting Weyr until he was sixteen, T’gellan used the bronze pair as messengers, giving them plenty of practice in finding coordinates all over what was settled of the Southern Continent as well as the major and minor Holds and Halls in the North. T’lion took pride in being a conscientious messenger and was infallibly courteous to his passengers, never once mentioning the behavior of some of them who found going between frightening or unnerving. Or those who tried to order him about as if he were a drudge. No dragon ever chose a drudge personality. Of course, his being so young made some adults feel as if they had to patronize him … him! A dragonrider!

There are some of the fins, Gadareth said, adroitly interrupting T’lion’s less than amiable thoughts. And, knowing his rider’s wish before T’lion could even think it, the bronze glided down toward the pod.

Being up high gave T’lion a superb view of the pod, of their sinuous bodies leaping and plunging in the water. It was sort of like the formation of fighting wings going against Thread, T’lion thought. Only he’d heard that shipfish—no, dolphins—liked Thread. They’d been seen by dragonriders, swarming with other types of marine life, actually following the leading edge of Thread across the ocean.

“Less for us to flame, boy,” bronze rider V’line had remarked.

However, being airborne made it a little difficult for T’lion to speak to the dolphins, even though Gadareth was agreeable to flying just above the surface, being careful not to plunge a wing into the water and off-balance himself.

Then a dolphin heaved itself up out of the water, momentarily on a level with dragon and rider, eyeing them as it reached the top of its jump before sliding gracefully back into the water.

The surprise was enough to make Gadareth veer, catching his wing tip in the water. He struggled to recover his balance, tipping T’lion dangerously against his riding straps.

“Squeeeeeeh! Squeeeh! Carrrrrrrerfullllll!”

There was no doubting the shout from several dolphins as Gadareth righted himself and kept a reasonable distance above the waves. Two more dolphins launched themselves up, each eyeing dragon and rider.

Recovering from the fright, T’lion responded to their scrutiny with an enthusiastic wave, trying to keep his eyes on them as they cued up and down. Then Gadareth caught the rhythm of the dolphins’ maneuver: dipping down as he saw a dolphin nose appear, he arched up and over with the acrobat.

This is fun! the dragon said, his eyes whirling with green and blue.

“Funnnhn! Funnnhnn! Gaym! Pullay gaym!” the dolphins cried as they leaped up and over.

Did they hear me? Gadareth asked his astonished rider.

Getting any dolphin to answer that question was beyond the physical constraints of their present maneuvering, though T’lion shouted as loud as he could at each dolphin arching past him.

“I’ll have to ask Master Alemi, Gaddie,” T’lion told his dragon. “Maybe he’ll know. He said Aivas told him a lot about dolphins. That’s what they really are, not shipfish, you know.”

I know now. Dolphins, not shipfishes. And they can talk.

“I think we’d better go back to the Weyr,” T’lion said, checking the slant of the westering sun. “And, Gaddie, let’s keep this adventure to ourselves, shall we?”

It’s fun to know something other people don’t, the bronze replied, just as he had on several other occasions when he and his rider had spent some private time investigating on their own. There was so much to explore! Of course, if T’lion had not been conscientious about his duties, Gadareth would not have been so willing to take free time, but T’lion was very good about doing fun things only when he had finished his assigned chores.

Sounds were sent that the dragons which mans had made still liked dolphins. Dolphins had seen dragons in the skies since mans went to the New Place North Dolphins had sung to dragons but had not been answered. Dragons talked to their riders in a fashion that dolphins did not quite understand. They felt the speech and saw the results—the dragon doing what the rider asked. Dragons provided many new games. They liked having their undersides ski-ritched and mans were always inspecting them so they did not have any more blufiss. They did not mind being jumped and providing sport for dolphins. They had very big and colored eyes, not like dolphins. Dolphins had jumped to see. Dragon had been pleased to see them play.

Back at Eastern Weyr, T’lion was sent off to help in the kitchen, which he never minded because it gave him a chance to see what dinner would be and he always managed to sneak a few bites. When his brother twitted him about having to do drudge chores because he wasn’t big enough or old enough for anything else, T’lion invariably gave K’din the reaction he expected and never admitted that he liked doing the tasks set him. The best part was that he never knew from one day to the next what he’d be doing.

Before appearing at the main Weyr Hall, T’lion saw Gadareth comfortable in his own sandy wallow, a clearing in the thick jungle that T’lion had prepared for his dragon when they were considered old enough to leave the weyrling barracks. T’lion lived in a single-roomed accommodation that looked out onto the clearing. He even had a covered porch where, on the hottest nights, he slept in the hammock slung between wall and porch support. Having lived, up until his Impression, in a hold too small for all the brothers and sisters he shared it with, T’lion treasured his privacy. He felt very lucky indeed, because he could just remember the cold winters and the harsh winds of his birthhold in Benden Hold. Living south was much better. Even in Benden Weyr riders had to live in cold caves high up on the Weyrside. Here, he could live right in the forest, with fruit to be picked from branches whenever he wanted.

Over the next few weeks, T’lion and Gadareth spent a good deal of time conveying Master Menolly about, usually by direct flight, since she was too pregnant to go between—sometimes to Landing, but most often to Cove Hold to see Master Robinton, old Lytol, and D’ram. Neither were long flights if the winds were right, as they often were at this time of year. While he was waiting to return Master Menolly, he and Gadareth had plenty of time to bathe in the lovely waters of the cove. Then, when he and Gadareth went exploring one day, they found a second cove to the west, with deep waters, where dolphins swam.

That was quite a boon for T’lion and Gadareth, for dolphins seemed as eager to talk to them as they were to improve their relationship. Neither rider nor dragon realized that dolphins swam in groups called pods, patrolling certain areas as their home waters, just as dragons had certain areas they patrolled to keep Threadfree. T’lion didn’t have a bell, couldn’t find one at the Weyr Hall, but Gadareth’s melodic bugle seemed to work just as well Gadareth got brave enough, too, to settle on the water, wings spread wide to aid flotation. This provided the dolphins with yet another entertainment—leaping across the wings or coming up between Gadareth’s forelegs. The dolphins also enjoyed tickling the bronze dragon by caressing their bodies on his ticklish underside, a “game” that caused T’lion to be submerged on several occasions until he learned to unfasten his riding straps before the dolphins could “attack” Gadareth.

It was Menolly’s custom to send her gold fire-lizard, Beauty, or one of the bronzes, Rocky, Diver, or Poll, to summon him back to Cove Hold. The fire-lizards were fascinated by the dolphins, perching on one of Gadareth’s outstretched wings and learning just where dolphins like to be scratched with the excellent talons that were fire-lizard equipment.

Gadareth would know the gist of what the fire-lizards wished to express, and he’d tell his rider, who then informed the dolphins. It was a three-cornered conversation, but T’lion thought it helped develop more usable words and terms. Sometimes, teaching dolphins proper pronunciations, he felt like a harper. They were using words more properly now: like “we” instead of “oo-we” and “report” instead of “reporit” and “bell” instead of “bellill.”

Sometimes he’d come away from these sessions feeling bigger than T’gellan!

What with all these flights and despite being in and out of Paradise River often, it was nearly six seven-days before T’lion saw Master Alemi again.

“T’lion, Gadareth, how are you?” Master Alemi said, arriving with a creel of fresh fish for Menolly.

“I’m fine, Master Alemi. How are your dolphins?”

Surprised, Alemi grinned at the boy’s proper pronunciation; he was still having trouble getting others to say the word properly.

“You remembered?”

“Yes, Master, I’m not likely to forget a day like that. And …” Then T’lion hesitated.

Alemi took him by the shoulder and looked down at him kindly. “And you’ve been talking to dolphins since, have you, lad?” He looked up then at Gadareth, who turned calmly spinning eyes on the fishman. “And Gadareth? What does he think of them?”

“He likes them, Master Alemi, he really does. You know the cove west of Cove Hold? Well, the water’s really deep there and the dolphins love it, too, and we’ve sort of had a chance to get to know some of them.”

“Good!” Alemi was delighted. “Which ones? I’m trying to make a list of dolphin names. They’re rather proud of them, you know.”

T’lion grinned mischievously. “Don’t they just get stroppy when you miscall them! Well, the ones I’ve met are Rom, Alta—she’s pod leader—and Fessi, Gar, Tom, Dik, and Boojie, that’s Alta’s latest calf. And—”

“Steady on, lad,” Alemi said, laughing at the torrent of names he had unleashed as he fumbled in his belt pouch for pencil and pad. “Give me that list more slowly, will you?”

T’lion complied. “Have you met any of them, Master?”

“No, but I’ve met Dar and Alta from Monaco, Kib, Afo, Mel, Jim, Mul, and Temp. You ask yours if they know mine and I’ll do the same. We can compare notes later, shall we? I see you now and again, flying in, to collect Menolly, but it’s usually when I’m making out to sea and can’t turn back. How do you call them? D’you use a bell?”

“Gadareth bugles and they come. They like him!”

“I’d be surprised if they didn’t.”

“Well, we’re sort of on the opposite side from the dolphins, though, aren’t we?” T’lion remarked, looking up at the tall fishman. “They eat what we char.”

“Point. Dolphins and dragons are both intelligent creatures. I’d say they’d respect each other’s ways.”

“Yes, yes, they do,” T’lion said excitedly.

“What do you talk about? Does Gadareth understand them, too?”

“That’s what I wanted to ask you,” T’lion said, turning solemn. “Could they hear what he thinks?”

Alemi considered that. “Well, now, I’ve never heard a dragon—not in my head as you riders do. I understand dragons can make themselves heard to people they want to talk to but, well, I haven’t been so complimented.”

I will speak to you, Masterfishman, Gadareth said immediately—and to T’lion’s surprise.

A stunned expression came over Alemi’s tanned face. “Ooosh.” He put a hand to his temple, rolling widened eyes. “The words do just come into your head.” Then he bowed formally to Gadareth. “Thank you, Gadareth. That was very kind of you.”

My pleasure, Master

“Yes, well, to answer your questions, Aivas didn’t say anything about any telepathic ability in dolphins, just that they had had mentasynth enhancement.”

“What’s that?”

Alemi chuckled. “I’m not at all sure I understand, but it was a treatment the Ancients used and it allowed dolphins to use human speech.”

“The reason I wanted to know is, well, sometimes they say something just after Gaddie and I have been talking, and it just seems as if they’re answering us. Only I’m not talking out loud.”

“Really? That could be merely coincidence, you know. Great minds thinking along the same lines.”

T’lion absently hauled off his riding helmet, scratching at his sweaty scalp. “I suppose it could be. But you’d know, since you talked to Aivas.”

Alemi gave a chuckle. “Aivas only told me what he knew, and what he got from the records. I doubt he’s enjoyed our personal contact with the dolphins, or yours with your dragon.”

T’lion cocked his head at Alemi. “Are yours speaking more? I mean like, telling you more things?”

Alemi thought a moment. “I believe they are. I don’t know about yours, but I’ve been trying to teach mine the correct pronunciation—or, rather, how we say words.”

“It’s better if they speak more like us, isn’t it?”

“If we want them to be understood by people here and now, it is. But I do believe they are remembering more words.” He grinned drolly. “Do try not to use words that sound alike and have different meanings. Like ‘whole’ and ‘hole.’ Dolphins know of only one hole.” Alemi tapped the top of his head.

“Then it’s all right for me to correct them?” T’lion asked, grinning. “I’ve got mine to say ‘bell’ and ‘report’ and other words properly. How come they got so … twisted?”

“Ah …” Alemi held up one hand. “We don’t speak the way our ancestors did.”

“We don’t?” T’lion exclaimed, his eyes widening. “But the harpers are forever saying that they’ve helped keep the language pure, just as it’s always been spoken.”

Alemi laughed. “Not according to Aivas. He had to make adjustments to allow for”—Alemi hesitated briefly, trying to get the next words right—“lingual shifts. But let’s not rub harper noses in the fact. I certainly want to keep on the good side of my sister the Masterharper. I’ve only to mention her name and here she is! Good day to you, Master Menolly.”

“Good day, Master Alemi brother. T’lion. Gadareth. How good you are to fly me so patiently,” Menolly said, putting her arms through the straps of the pack she carried. “D’you mind if we hurry on, Alemi? It’s so hot in riding gear. And fish for me? Thank you, ’Lemi. I’m being spoiled rotten. Camo?”

The big man came, carrying a chortling Robse pickaback.

“Here, dear, put these in the cooler, will you? What are you to do with the fish, Camo?” she said, tweaking his sleeve arm so that he looked right in her face.

“Fish?” Camo said, his expression blank as his mind tried hard to recall what she had just told him. “Put in cooler.”

“That’s right.” She turned him around and gave him a gentle push toward the door. “In the cooler now, Camo. Then you take Robse to ’Mina.”

“Fish in cooler, Robse to ’Mina,” Camo said under his breath, and he could be heard repeating his instructions as he obeyed them, Robse’s happy laughter as counterpoint to his litany.

“There, now, thanks again, ’Lemi, and have a good day. Let’s go, T’lion, before I sweat off my breakfast.”

As they walked to the waiting bronze dragon, Menolly asked him what he and Alemi had been talking about so earnestly.

“Oh, this and that,” T’lion said in a noncommittal tone, unwilling to mention what Alemi had said about the “linguistic” shift and harpers.

“You’ve conveyed Alemi a time or two?” she asked casually.

“That’s what I’m good at,” T’lion said. “You can still get up all right, Master Menolly?”

“Of course I can,” she said with a trilling laugh, and proceeded to prove it. Though, in fact, it took an effort to hoist her gravid body into position between Gadareth’s firm neck ridges. “Good thing you’ve a bronze. I’d never fit now on a blue or a brown.” Then, just before T’lion urged his bronze into the sky, she added ruefully, “And very soon I fear I shan’t be able to fit on Gadareth. Guess I’ll have to get that brother of mine to sail me around to Cove Hold.”

“Or I could bring to you the people you need to see,” T’lion offered, shouting over his shoulder at her.

“That, too, if push comes to shove,” she yelled back, and then the difficulty of speaking against the wind of flight kept them both silent.

T’lion was just as glad, because he wasn’t sure if he should mention all his visits with the dolphins to anyone. Not even Master Menolly, who was so nice that it was easy to forget she was one of the most important Masters on Pern.

One of the archivists who thronged Cove Hold these days was on the porch and hurried down to them when they arrived.

“Master Menolly, Master Robinton would like you to go up to Landing today. Aivas has had time to release more music.” The journeywoman’s eyes shone with eagerness. “I hear it’s simply splendid.”

“Oh, it must be the sonatas we’ve been after him to copy to us,” Menolly said, shifting herself a bit from the long ride. “Well, let’s go, T’lion. I can see how Sharra’s doing, too. She came south on the Dawn Sisters with me.”

All the way up to Landing, T’lion wondered what he’d do if she started to have the baby while he was conveying her. His mother was always having babies at night, at which times he and his brothers were shoved out of the hold. He’d never be forgiven if anything happened to Master Menolly while she was in his care. He’d ask Mirrim.

That distracted him from the fact that he would have to forgo his day’s idling with the dolphins. Well, he was lucky to have as much free time as he did, he told himself sternly. And the kitchens up at Landing did produce much better food than he generally got at noontime at Cove Hold, where everyone usually grabbed a meatroll or cold food and continued working.

Landing was really less fun than Cove Hold. Gadareth took himself up to the heights and sunbathed, or exchanged draconic comments with whoever else had arrived from the various Weyrs.

Gadareth told him that most of the dragonriders were in some sort of conference. There were Mastersmiths, too, and half the Harper Hall, trying to construct something called a “printing press.”

When T’lion sidled hopefully into the kitchen, he was immediately pounced on by the headwoman,

“Another pair of hands. T’lion, isn’t it? Yes, here, make yourself useful. Take this tray—and be careful not to spill it—to the large conference room. I’ve all that lot to make a nooning for and not enough hands to do it.” She added several more sweet rolls to the tray and winked at him. “Something for you, too, lad.”

T’lion hurried off before she also thought to order him to come back so he could help her more in the kitchen.

He managed to deliver the tray and remove both his rolls and himself from the conference room before anyone questioned his presence. Hearing voices and the tread of booted feet, he ducked into the small empty room next door so he could eat his rolls in peace.

“Yes? Identify?” a deep voice requested.

Straggling not to choke on the generous bite he had just taken out of a sweet roll, T’lion looked guiltily about the room. There was no one else in it, and the door was still shut. He swallowed.

“Who’s speaking?”

“Aivas. I did not realize there was a meeting scheduled here.”

“Where are you?”’

“Please address the screen,” T’lion was told.

“Huh?” But he turned toward the screen and saw the blinking red light in the lower right-hand corner.

“Identify, please?”

“You can see me?”

“Identify! Please!”

“Oh, excuse me. I’m T’lion.”

“The rider of bronze Gadareth?”

T’lion gawped. “Y-y-y-y-y-yess. How’d you know?”

“A listing of all current riders in the Weyrs, their names, and the names and colors of their dragons has been input. You are welcome, T’lion. How may I help you?”

“Oh, I’m not supposed to be here. I mean, I didn’t think anyone was in here and I needed a place …” T’lion trailed off, shaking his head at his own words and stupidity. He was embarrassed to be caught where he had no business being, and amazed to be known by someone—something?—everyone else in his Weyr respected so highly. He didn’t know what to do and felt foolish, standing there with sweet rolls in his hand. “I certainly shouldn’t take up your time, Aivas.”

“You have nothing of interest to report? All input is valuable.”

“You mean about the dolphins?” T’lion could think of nothing else he’d been doing that would be of interest to Aivas.

“You have been in contact with the dolphins? Your report would be appreciated.”

“It would?”

“Yes, it would.”

“Well, I haven’t done much more than correct them when they use words wrong, but Master Alemi told me that it’s us who’re using the wrong words.” T’lion found himself grinning. It was surely all right to tell Aivas that, since Alemi had heard it from Aivas.

“Yes, that is true. Are the dolphins adapting to the correction?”

“Well, the ones I’ve been talking to have been very quick to correct what they say,” T’lion said with a tinge of pride in his voice. “‘Gave’ instead of ‘gayve’ and ‘we’ instead of ‘oo-we.’ They’re using more words than they did when we first started talking.”

“A fuller account is awaited.”

“You really want to know? I haven’t told anyone else,” T’lion began, still reluctant to admit to his pastime.

“All input is useful. No one will be informed of your association if that is your wish, but your account will provide further insight into the renewal of contact.”

“In that case …” T’lion settled himself on a chair and related his experiences, as concisely as he could since Weyrlingmaster H’mar had always insisted on detailed reports. Aivas did not interrupt him, but when he had finished speaking, he was asked to repeat all the dolphin names he had been told.

“Interesting that the names have been handed down.”

“What?”

“The present dolphins seem to have shortened names from those given the original complement of tursiops tursio.”

“Really?”

“Kib is a short form of Kibbe, Afo possibly derived from Aphrodite, Alta from Atlanta, Dar from Dart. It is gratifying to see that they perpetuated many traditions. Please continue with your independent contact and report further discussions of any significance. Thank you, T’lion of Eastern Weyr, bronze Gadareth’s rider.” The light on the screen darkened and the pulse of the red corner light became much slower.

“Oh, you’re welcome,” T’lion replied, somewhat bemused.

His stomach put in a strong rumble, and he looked down at the sweet rolls he hadn’t had a chance to eat. He mulled over the conversation with Aivas as he consumed them.

Menolly is looking for you, T’lion, Gadareth told him suddenly.

Licking his fingers clean, T’lion hurried down the hall and out the door to collect his passenger.

Master Idarolan did inform many members of his Craft of dolphin intelligence and his personal experience of it. He did not inform all his Craft, since he knew that some of the hidebound ones, like Yanus of Half Circle Sea Hold, would simply deny the facts. The replies he got indicated that many of his Masters and journeymen had had experiences with dolphins, or knew of them from reliable sources. Some mentioned relief at vindication of what they thought they had just imagined: shipfish talking to them. Idarolan had supplied the report peal sequence, annotated by his Hall harper, so that even the most nonmusical could ring a proper summons. He recommended that requests for assistance be rendered in simple language; he suggested asking about local fish runs, weather, or depth reports in dangerous waters.

Perusing records kept of ship sinkings, he found that most of them occurred either during storms or by sailing too close to unknown reefs, shoals, and sand banks. On some occasions the captains reported seeing dolphins veering suddenly to the port or starboard.

Now it was obvious to Master Idarolan that the dolphins had been trying to urge the helmsman to change course. Invariably the presence of shipfish was reported when a ship was storm-tossed. Not all gave credit to the saving of life by the shipfish, but it was often implied that help had been received from an external agency, most seamen being honest in what they logged.

Two incidents had been faithfully reported of small vessels that had been caught in one of the Great Currents being pushed vigorously out of the current by the efforts of shipfish.

Idarolan asked for, and received, an interview with Aivas to report his findings and to request additional advice on how to promote the association to the benefit of both parties.

He learned that pods were autonomous, following their chosen leader—usually an older female. Young males and old ones were apt to go off on their own for most of the year. He was also given a copy of the same instructions that Aivas had printed out for Alemi: the basic vocabulary of words that the dolphins had been trained to understand and the hand signals that were used underwater.

Both men were somewhat disappointed, though, to find that the news of intelligent shipfish was overshadowed by the growing industry aimed at a final battle with Thread. That was the top priority and everything else subject to that goal. Even Idarolan, after his initial fierce interest, found little time to pursue a meaningful relationship with the dolphins. He did, however, keep available on deck a pail of the small fish that Aivas said the creatures preferred. Whenever the Dawn Sisters had an escort, he himself offered them the reward. He also ordered his helmsmen to watch the directions the dolphins were taking and to follow their lead to the fishing grounds. In that way his hauls improved, and twice Dawn Sisters avoided unexpected reefs by following dolphin directions.

It was Kitrin who alerted Menolly to her brother’s evening-time occupation. When the sea winds began to cool the day, Menolly gave herself such exercise as her condition permitted. Mostly she swam, delighted to have the weight of her unborn child buoyed by the sea. Aramina often joined her, with Aranya in tow. Menolly also used these evening swims as an opportunity to get to know her brother’s wife better. She couldn’t get Kitrin to join Aramina and herself in doing laps, but at least the woman would sit in waist-high water and benefit from the cooling circulation of water about her gravid body. Alemi had taught his older daughters how to swim, and they were quite adept, though they obeyed their mother the instant she called them to stay closer to the beach. Readis, on the other hand, needed careful observation, for he was utterly at home in the water, or under it, and had a tendency to swim farther out than his mother liked. Camo would come, too, wading out to no more than knee depth and following the fearless toddling Robse about in the shallows.

After Menolly had done what she considered sufficient laps, she would join Kitrin in the shallows to dote over the antics of their children and Readis. On one evening, Menolly asked if they could inveigle Alemi to join them. She hadn’t actually had as much of Alemi’s company as she had hoped, though certainly more than in previous Turns. They were very comfortable with each other in a way that would never have been possible at Half Circle Sea Hold, and she would have liked to spend more time with him.

“Oh, he’s off on some Craft project most evenings,” Kitrin said with a dismissive wave of her hand and a grin for male enthusiasms. “I never interfere with Hall matters and whatever it is, he comes back well pleased from the time spent on it.”

Menolly frowned. She had explored most of the area in her daily walks, with and without her pupils, and she couldn’t remember seeing any evidence of a project. “Building a new skiff, is he?”

It was Kitrin’s turn to frown in concentration. “I don’t think so, because I believe he sent an order to the crafters at Ista—about the one Hall that isn’t overinvolved with Aivas commissions.” She straightened abruptly, one hand going to her belly. “Oh, I do so hope this one’s a boy. They say that if you’ve morning sickness, you’re carrying a boy?” She cocked her head to Menolly for confirmation.

Menolly shrugged, grinning in Robse’s direction. He was having an argument with the little ripples that flowed in as he tried to dig something out of the sand at his feet. Imperiously he held up one hand to the next wave and shrieked with indignation when it, too, splashed him. Camo came bounding over to see if the toddler was in any danger.

“I’m not the one to ask. I didn’t have morning sickness with Robse and certainly none with this one. What about Aramina?”

Kitrin sighed. “She never has problems.”

“Don’t fret, Kitrin,” Menolly said gently, laying a soothing hand on the other woman’s forearm. Kitrin was a dainty person, with fine features and long black hair now braided and coiled about her well-shaped head. Her brown eyes were clouded with anxiety. “Alemi adores you and will continue to do so whether you ever give him a son or not.” Then she wrinkled her face. “I remember that most Seahold women wanted daughters so they wouldn’t have to face losing them to storms at sea.”

“Oh?” Then Kitrin looked about, although they were alone in the water. Touching Menolly’s arm to indicate a confidence, she leaned closer. “Have you heard that shipfish—Alemi insists on calling them doll-fins now—are intelligent? And speak?”

“Yes, I have heard that rumor. From Readis,” she added with a smile, “who told me in great detail the first day I held class that he had been rescued by ‘mam’ls.’ Quite a harper tale it was, too.”

Kitrin heaved another of her sighs. “Well, it was true. Alemi says so. He was even sent for by Aivas to come to Landing and give a report on the incident.” She leaned ever closer. “I think that it’s the doll-fins he talks to in the evenings. If the wind is right I can hear a bell. He put in an order, I know, to the Smithcrafthall for a big bell, but with all they’re doing for Aivas and the Benden Weyrleaders, it’ll be ages before they get around to casting it. So he got a small one from Master Robinton. I think he uses it to summon the doll-fins. He’s got it on the pier around on the headland so he won’t upset Aramina, or let Readis know what he’s doing.”

“Readis?” Menolly’s gaze went to the intrepid boy, who was diving in and out of the water, in much the same way she had observed shipfish disporting themselves.

“Yes, well, she does not want Readis getting keen to talk to shipfish. Just see how he’s swimming right now. Readis!” she called. “Swim back into shore now!” She turned back to Menolly. “That’s what I mean and what worries her. Why, he’d swim right out to sea to meet a dolphin. No fear on him.”

“Well, I can help distract him from that,” Menolly said. “At his age, they don’t have a long concentration span.” She gave a sigh. “You have to keep one step ahead of them, with something new to do, a game or a challenge. Your girls are a great help with him, by the way. Such biddable children.”

Kitrin sat a bit straighter, delighted at such praise of her Kitral, Nika, and Kami, and neatly diverted away from the previous topic.

Curious, Menolly took the next opportunity she had to follow the well-used lane through the trees and shrubs that flourished on the headland to the pier. On that quiet evening, the three fishing ships were at anchor in the small bay on the eastern side of the head, their skiffs tied to the rings on the pier. At first she didn’t see Alemi, though she could hear voices—some of them pitched at a very odd level and emitting some very odd sounds. She saw the splashing first, and realized that half a dozen shipfish heads were protruding from the water. And it was they who were making the odd sounds: squees and clicks and watery noises. Only when she had walked to the end of the pier did she see her brother, below the pier deck, sitting cross-legged on a fragile raft that was nearly flooded by the vigorous wavelets splashed on it by the shipfish.

She nearly fell off the side of the pier when a shipfish suddenly jumped into the air, one black eye fixed on her before it fell back into the water, squeeing.

“Squeee! New game coming, ’Lemi?” it asked plainly.

Alemi’s head appeared above the deck of the pier. “Menolly?”

“None other, brother,” she said at her drollest, peering down at his surprised face. “Is this a secret?” she asked, gesturing at the attentive faces, now turned in her direction.

“This is Menolly, my pod sister,” Alemi said to the dolphins. Menolly suppressed a burst of laughter as he went on. “Menolly, starting on the port side, here are Kib, Afo, Mel, Temp, Biz, and Rom. Jim and Mul are missing this evening.”

“I am pleased to make your acquaintance,” Menolly said in slow formal tones, nodding her head at each smiling shipfish face in the circle.

“G’day, Nolly,” several chorused at her. She was unable to suppress laughter any longer. “Nolly has babbee inside.”

“My word! I know I’m big with child but how would they know?” she exclaimed, pausing in her attempt to get her awkward pregnant body arranged in a sitting position on the edge of the pier.

“They know or, as they put it, ’member’ rather a lot about humans. Nolly! That’s a fair nickname.”

“The dolphins may, but you may not,” she said sternly. “What’re you discussing?”

“I’m getting tomorrow’s weather and a fish report,” he told his sister.

“Really?”

“The dolphins have been very helpful over the past few weeks. We’ve never had better hauls. They know exactly where schools are feeding and lead us right to them. My men are delighted, since it means less time at sea as well as sufficient warning on squalls.”

“Oh, yes, that would be helpful, wouldn’t it?” Menolly made herself as comfortable on the hard planking as she could. “Readis told me all about your dramatic rescue.”

Alemi grinned. “I don’t think he’s embroidered it much from the last time I heard him tell it. And it really happened, sister. Only,” he added, waving his hand at the raft and dolphins, “Aramina would rather Readis forgot that adventure.”

“So Kitrin told me, and now I know, I can divert him. ’Mina should have told me.”

Alemi shrugged. “She’s still recovering from the shock of your appearance, Masterharper sister dear.”

“Oh? She seems pleased.”

“Of course she is. Who wouldn’t want a harper of your talent to teach their children?”

“Teach? Teach?” asked two shipfish.

“Oh, sorry, fellas,” Alemi said, turning back to the bottlenoses. “Where were we? I teach them new words—or, rather, get them to remember them.”

“You? Teaching?”

“C’mon, Menolly, I was Petiron’s pet student until you came along.”

“Oh, and you’ve sung to your new friends?”

“No.” Alemi refused to rise to her bait. “You’re the singer in the family. And the teacher!”

Menolly shot her brother a close look. Alemi had a teasing streak in him, but he was quite sincere.

“Go on,” he said. “You sang to the fire-lizards, why not to dolphins? I’ll do the tenor line, if you’ll sing something I know.”

“Very well.” She launched into one of the sea songs she had composed not long after she had walked the tables as a journeywoman. Alemi’s well-placed voice joined immediately in harmony. After the first startled squees and clickings, her audience was silent. Beauty, Rocky, and Diver appeared suddenly in the air, settling on pilings, eyes whirling fast with curiosity as they saw her audience.

“Zea zong,” one of the shipfish said when the last notes died away. “Nolly zing zea zong.” The sibilants were drawn out.

“Zeee, squeeee zong,” another added, and Menolly laughed.

“Sea song, you silly creatures. Sea, not zee.”

Then abruptly the shipfish began an intricate maneuver in and over the sea’s surface, all the time squeeing “Ssseee song, seee song” and on several tones so that it was almost a chord to what she and Alemi had sung. Delighted at their antics and the apparent compliment, Menolly clapped her hands. Two shipfish splashed water with their flippers as if imitating her action.

“They are intelligent, ’Lemi. Do they mean to be funny?”

“Just look at their smiling faces. They’re right rascals when they want to be,” Alemi said, hauling himself up off the float to sit beside her.

“Sing song, Nolly? Sing two song, Nolly?”

“All right, but settle down. You can’t hear me when you’re splashing around like that.”

Beauty assumed her usual perch on Menolly’s shoulder, wrapping her tail about her neck but being careful how she placed her talons on the fabric of the light top Menolly was wearing. Menolly put up a caressing hand as she began one of the Traditional ballads. Menolly was accustomed to respectful listeners, but the attentiveness of these sea creatures was the most intense she had ever encountered. They listened with eye, body, and whole being. They didn’t even seem to breathe. Softly, in her ear, she heard Beauty begin her usual soft descant. The shipfish heard it, too, for their eyes turned slightly to her left and their grins, if anything, seemed to widen. Menolly had had many rare musical experiences with audiences, but this surely was unique. She would have to tell Sebell all about it. She would never forget this evening! From the expression on his face, she doubted Alemi would either.

Darkness came with the usual tropical immediacy, and suddenly they were enclosed in the dark of full night, the attentive dolphin heads gleaming silvery in the light of Timor just rising over the sea.

“Thank you one and all,” Menolly said in a voice vibrant with gratitude. “I shall never forget meeting you.”

“Thank you, Nolly. Love man song.”

“In this case it is a woman song,” Alemi said in wry correction.

“Nolly song. Nolly song!” was the rejoinder.

“Diff’rent, better, best,” Afo added, ducking her head and flipping a spray at them with her nose in farewell.

Menolly and Alemi watched as the six plunged seaward, leaping and diving gracefully until they could no longer be seen.

“Well, that was much more than I could ever have anticipated,” Menolly said as they walked slowly back toward the Hold, Alemi holding the glowbasket that he had learned to bring for the dark return walk. “It’s almost a shame, really.”

“What?”

“That there’s all this fuss and industry over Thread when Aivas has so much more to offer us.”

“What could be more important than getting rid of Thread forever?” Alemi asked, surprised by her comment. “Interest in the dolphins is likely to be limited to my Hall and totally ignored by land dwellers. No, I’m as glad to keep them as useful allies, like dragons or fire-lizards. They’re far more intelligent than runner beasts, or even the canines, and are far more use to us than fire-lizards. Especially since they can communicate verbally, rather than mentally the way dragons—or even fire-lizards, with their limited range—do.”

“No, let’s not belittle fire-lizards, not to she who has ten and uses all her fair. Does Master Idarolan know of these”—she laughed—“sea dragons of yours?”

“Of course. He was the first person—besides Aivas—I talked to. I send him regular reports on my progress with this pod.”

“Pod?”

“Yes, that’s the name for individual units. Pods. Each one has waters it prefers to fish and play in. They’re great ones for games, dolphins are,” Alemi laughed indulgently. “As far as they’re concerned, I’m just a new game they’re playing.”

“But you said that they gave you information about fishing and squalls?”

“Oh, they do, but reporting’s more like a game to them.”

“Oh, I see,”

“Don’t discount the usefulness of such a game, Menolly,” he added earnestly.

“No, I won’t, but I do see that their appeal would be—should be—limited. They’re certainly not as easy to take home as fire-lizards.”

“True,” Alemi said, chuckling. “But they are endlessly interesting with their observations. They’re much more their own selves than fire-lizards or even dragons. If they’re not interested, they go off.” Alemi shrugged.

“Like children …”

“Yes, very much like children at times.”

“Well, fire-lizards have proved useful,” Menolly said with a tinge of irritation in her tone. Some people discounted the many ways in which fire-lizards were useful.

“Easy, Nolly,” Alemi said, and his tone made her look up at him to see his white teeth showing in his grinning face. “And it was your method of teaching a fire-lizard manners that has helped me make meaningful contact with the dolphins.”

“Sorry, brother,” Menolly said sheepishly.

“We have much to be thankful to the Ancients for,” Alemi said in an expansive tone.

“Though I wonder,” Menolly replied thoughtfully, “if we will say the same in a few Turns’ time when Aivas unleashes all the wonders stored up.”

“I thought Harpers were applauding all the—what is it Aivas calls it—input?”

“Knowledge is sometimes two-edged, Alemi. You learn about all the marvels that used to be and they set the standard for what can be, and maybe shouldn’t be.”

“Are you worried?”

“Oh,” she said and shook herself, “put my fancies down to pregnancy. There’s so much we don’t know, don’t remember, have lost. Like shipfish—excuse me, doll-fins—being able to speak intelligently. Every time I visit Cove Hold, D’ram or Lytol or Master Robinton have something newly remarkable to recount. The mind can only absorb so much.”

“Isn’t it up to the Harper Hall and the Benden Weyrleaders to see that we learn only the best of what there is?” He was half-teasing, half-serious.

“Indeed it is.” She was very solemn. “A great responsibility, I assure you.”

“You must find it dull living here in such a backwater.”

“Not at all, ’Lemi.” She paused, catching his arm and giving him a little shake. “Frankly, living here and teaching your lovely children has given me a much-needed respite and a chance to gain some perspective on all that’s happening to our way of life.”

“It’s improved, that’s what’s happened.”

“Ah, but is it really improvement?”

“You’re in an odd mood, Menolly.”

“I think of more things than the next song to write.”

“I never said you didn’t.”

“No, you never did. Sorry, ’Lemi. Nighttime confessions and doubts generally are regretted in daylight.”

Alemi put his arm about her shoulders in reassurance. “Don’t ever doubt yourself, Menolly. You’ve come such a long way.”

She chuckled. “Yes, I have, haven’t I?” She clasped his hand on her shoulder, suffused with warm feelings for this favorite brother.

“But you can see, as a Harper and a sea-bred holder, how helpful the relationship with dolphins can be.”

“Yes, indeed I can, above and beyond my gratitude for their rescue of you and Readis.”

“Mind you,” he put in, his fingers squeezing her shoulders in warning, “don’t mention this evening to Readis or Aramina, will you?”

“No, of course not. But I’d like to tell Sebell and Master Robinton.”

“Them, of course.”

She declined his invitation to join him and Kitrin for an evening cup of klah or wine. He saw her safely to her holding despite her protests that she was able to see her way clear to her own door. She had every intention of sitting down and writing to Sebell of the evening’s surprise, but the sight of the hammock swinging lightly in the night breeze was irresistible, and she sank into it—only for a moment, she thought—and fell instantly asleep.

Afo ecstatically reported the Nolly singing to them. Dolphins had songs of their own, which all the Tilleks had taught so well they were embedded in their memories, which they sang remembering the waters they had come from. Sometimes the songs were sad—from the times when many dolphins died in nets that entangled them. Sometimes the sadness came from missing the mans, the great work that had been done and the happy partnerships. The happy songs were from the things dolphins had learned to do with mans, the Dunkirk, the Crossing of the Great Currents, the Swimming of the Whirlpool, or the finding of man things that got into the water and shouldn’t stay there; the saving of mans in storms, There were many songs dolphins would sound. Sometimes every pod would join in, weaving the sounds back and forth across the sea of Pern.

That darktime many songs floated on the Great Currents.

That they disturbed the sleep of two women and one small boy at Paradise River Hold was something that ended on the morning tide. But the song remained, a faint and pleasant memory, not a sad one as it had been at other times.