The Dolphins of Pern

CHAPTER VI

ALTHOUGH ARAMINA SUSPECTED that Alemi spent a great deal of time talking to the doll-fins, he never mentioned it to anyone in her hearing. Gradually, Readis’s adventure with the shipfish faded as other experiences—such as learning his Traditional ballads under the guidance of Master Menolly and the births of her second son, Olos, and Kitrin’s long-awaited son, Aleki—superseded that occasion. She began to relax again.

Readis was a very strong young swimmer, but she had no wish to see his strength overtaxed by further direct association with the sea creatures—mammals or whatever they were—luring him out beyond his depth. Readis was to succeed his father as Holder of Paradise River, though she secretly harbored the thought that he might be Searched for a dragonrider to the Eastern Weyr: He might be what she hadn’t had the courage to pursue. He certainly enjoyed the company of the many dragons that came to Paradise River Hold; he’d scrubbed many a hide in the warm waters, and most often Lord Jaxom’s white Ruth, who appeared to have a special affinity for her son. It wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility, really, she thought, that Readis might have the same extraordinary option of being both rider and Holder that Lord Jaxom had enjoyed. Although, with all the plans to rid Pern of Thread forever, there’d be less objection to his dual role. From time to time, she wondered—as many did on Pern—if Weyrs would be disbanded after Thread no longer plagued them.

Of course, if Readis became a dragonrider, he would still be quite young—in his early thirties—when this Pass ended: more reason for him to be both rider and holder. After all, Jayge was a vigorous man and likely to last well past the end of Thread. So Readis could ride and hold.

Then, too, dragons would speak to him, a momentous concession even if he didn’t realize it yet in his youthful innocence. He wouldn’t know how much their willingness to do so gladdened her heart. Maybe that would weigh in their accepting him as a Candidate on the Hatching Sands. She wasn’t at all sure how Jayge would view her ambitions for her son. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t have them. Readis’s case was entirely different from hers in every respect. There was no reason not to consider that tantalizing future for her son.

The new harper came, appointed by Menolly herself to succeed her: a journeyman named Boskoney, in his early twenties and bred in a fishing hold on Ista, so he was accustomed to the climate and occupations of Paradise River. She’d done the Paradise River holders the courtesy of presenting several candidates.

“I’m not going to let those lovely children be saddled by some journeyman who only wants to warm his bones in this climate,” she told them. “They have to have someone as alert, eager, and,” she added with a smile, “as adventurous and understanding of this environment as possible. We do have a lovely girl finishing her apprenticeship, if you wouldn’t mind a woman harper …” Menolly had cocked her head at her friends with a sly grin and a twinkle in her eye.

“Of course we wouldn’t mind,” Jayge and Alemi said in unison, then smiled at each other.

“As well, but Hally won’t walk the tables for another nine or ten months and it’s not good to start the teaching process and then interrupt it for such a long time. The children of this Hold are eager to learn, and I don’t like to put them off.”

She went on to point out the strengths and failings of each of the other young men. Perschar, the best artist in the Harper Hall, had sent along portrait sketches of Boskoney, Tomol, and Lesselam, several poses of each, including a full-length drawing in color.

“I never expected we’d have a choice,” Aramina said, scrutinizing the drawings.

Menolly grinned at her. “What? And deprive my nieces, and nephews, of the best education there is? Of course, whoever comes here will have to spend some time helping the archivists with the music Aivas has been churning out for us. Tagetarl’s in charge of the actual printing, but the Paradise River Hold harper is close enough to assist the work. That won’t be a problem, will it?”

“Not at all,” Jayge said. “We’re quiet here and there are not that many children …”

“Yet,” Aramina added with a wink. When the excitement of that admission had abated, she asked if any of the men were married.

“Not yet.” Menolly grinned. “You’ve several lovely girls here among your holders. We have to give them some choice, too, and not limit it to smelly seamen.” She grinned at her brother.

“I like him,” Aramina said, pointing to Boskoney. “He has a kind eye.” Boskoney was not the handsomest of the three, nor the tallest. His curly hair was sun-bleached, and there were laugh wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. She felt comfortable looking at his portrait, whereas the other two faces didn’t seem as … candid. “Ista bred, did you say? Then he won’t mind the heat so much as the other two. And we won’t have to explain about firehead and the other disadvantages of living in a tropical climate.”

“Very well,” Menolly said briskly, pushing the sketch of Boskoney over to her. “Sebell will inform Boskoney of his posting and I’ll ask T’gellan to send a rider to collect him. I’d like to discuss the various children with him so he’ll know what aspects to concentrate on. They’re such a lovely handful. I’ve quite enjoyed my time. Ooops, there’s the baby awake again.”

Boskoney arrived, was duly briefed by Menolly on his students’ abilities, and settled in the harper’s hold as if he’d always been there. Menolly promised to visit Paradise River Hold again, especially when Camo volunteered the information that he would like to stay warm here. He didn’t like winter, but then, as Menolly explained, he had trouble remembering to put on his jacket as the year progressed into winter, and he would forget to take it off as the year wound into spring and summer.

Boskoney elected to do his Harper Hall duty at Landing in the evenings, and T’lion and Gadareth were usually assigned to convey him. That suited T’lion, Gadareth, and Alemi, for they continued to improve their relations with the dolphins, and now there were many pods that would respond to the bells. In the biggest tree bordering the strand nearest Eastern Weyr, T’lion had cobbled a sort of belfry arrangement—using a smaller bell than Alemi used at Paradise Head.

It wasn’t that he was trying to be secretive about his activity. It was more that he was relishing the association so much—as was Gadareth—that he didn’t want his efforts ridiculed or demeaned. After all, it wasn’t as if Weyrleader T’gellan didn’t know that dolphins rescued the sea-stranded. It was only that he, T’lion, hadn’t exactly explained the relationship he was improving all the time.

A summons to the Weyrleader’s quarters that morning in no way alarmed T’lion, since T’gellan often sent for him to assign the day’s chores. But he did not expect to see his brother there, and he was not at all reassured by the smug expression on K’din’s face and the stern ones T’gellan and Mirrim wore.

I don’t know why you’re upset, Monarth, T’lion heard his dragon say quite loudly in his head. They are dolphins that the ancients brought here. They save lives. They can speak to anyone.

That gave T’lion the clue he needed: K’din had been spying on his evening sessions with the dolphins.

“I believe you have some explaining to do, T’lion,” T’gellan said sternly, cocking an eyebrow at his young rider. Mirrim also looked repressive.

“About the dolphins?” T’lion hoped he sounded more relaxed then he actually was.

“Dolphins?”

“Yes, dolphins is what Aivas called them.” He saw the Weyrleaders exchange glances as he casually dropped in that authority. “They came with the Ancients, you know. They had been given mentasynth enhancement so they could speak with their human partners, the dolphineers.” He got all the big words out without tripping over them.

T’gellan frowned. “You’ve been to Aivas with this?”

“Well, no, he interviewed me. Master Alemi at Paradise River Hold is working very closely with the dolphins, since they give him weather reports, news about what fish are running and where. Saves the fishmen a lot of trouble. And better yet, they warn about squalls.”

“They do!” T’gellan said, more statement than question, digesting T’lion’s cheerfully rendered explanation.

“And just how did you get involved, T’lion?” Mirrim wanted to know.

“Oh, you know how these things happen, Mirrim. Like the time you Impressed your fire-lizards.”

She frowned, giving him a don’t-you-be-cocky-with-me stare. “You Impressed these creatures?”

“No, nothing like that” T’lion dismissed the suggestion with a flick of his hand. “Nothing like dragons.” His tone also relegated the association to a less significant interface. “They are useful, though.” He decided not to add “like fire-lizards.” “You summon them with a bell peal. If they feel like it, they answer. Mostly they do because we’re sort of a new game for them.”

“New game?” T’gellan leaned forward.

“That’s what Master Alemi said. The pod that lives in these waters is different from the one he’s in contact with. Aivas wants us to find out how many there are and try to improve their language skills.”

“Language skills?” Mirrim said, blinking at him.

T’lion gave a shrug. “That’s the term Aivas used. They speak badly—they say ‘mans’ for ‘men’ and ‘gayve’ instead of ‘gave,’ messing up words something fearful. I have to sort of teach them how to speak correctly.”

K’din gave a scornful guffaw. “You, a teacher?”

“I do know more words than the dolphins do,” T’lion replied serenely.

“Just when do you teach them, T’lion?”

The young bronze rider could see he wasn’t out of the fire yet as far as his Weyrleader was concerned. “Oh, when I have time. Like when I’m bathing Gadareth. He rather likes the dolphins. They swim under him and tickle his belly. And when I’m scrubbing his wings, they vault over them.”

“Do they so?” The Weyrleader’s tone was rhetorical, and T’lion remained silent, trying to act nonchalant.

Had K’din actually suggested that he was depriving or neglecting Gadareth in favor of dolphins? Not that he could be drummed out of the Weyr or anything! However, he could be disciplined and kept from associating with the dolphins. Had he mentioned Aivas enough so that T’gellan would be satisfied? Or had he made too much of that association for a Weyrleader’s unease?

“I think we’d better meet these …”

“Dolphins, Weyrleader. They’d be pleased to make your acquaintance, too,” T’lion sounded as cheerful as he could, but he hoped the dolphins would display their positive talents instead of their love of play and games. “Can my brother come? So he can get a good square look at the dolphins?”

T’gellan regarded the older brown rider with a speculative look. “I do believe that might be salutary.”

“Yes, very,” Minim added with a sour look in K’din’s direction.

Monarth and Path are interested. I told them everything we do. But we should have told the Weyleaders sooner That is one thing wrong. I don’t understand the other.

Not the most reassuring remark Gadareth could have made.

As T’lion turned to follow the Weyrleaders out to their waiting dragons, he realized that Gadareth was correct about not informing his Weyrleaders sooner. But, with conveying Menolly and others about, he hadn’t been much in the Weyr these days.

But much on the seaside talking to dolphins, Gadareth reminded him conscientiously.

That brother of mine, T’lion thought back to his bronze. He’d love nothing better than to get me in trouble with the Weyrleaders.

Bulith doesn’t like it.

Good on Bulith, then.

Fortunately for T’lion’s purpose of demonstration, Tana and Natua appeared as soon as the bell peal had echoed across waters slightly roughened by a sea breeze and the incoming tide. T’lion walked in to waist depth to meet the two, while the others stood on the shore, dragons, riders, and Minim’s fire-lizards.

“Just you two?” T’lion asked, having hoped to have more of the pod to show off. Then he raised his voice so those on the beach could hear what he said as he made introductions. “Tana, Natua, that’s my pod leader, T’gellan, and his mate, Mirrim. And K’din.” He was not going to introduce him as his brother.

“G’day, Gellin, Mirm,” Natua said politely while Tana splashed water in their direction.

“G’day, Natua,” Mirrim said, and waded out to stand by T’lion. She had a grin on her face. Her fire-lizards swirled above her head protectively. She patted the bottlenose that Natua pushed at her. Tana did a swim-by, observing Mirrim with first one eye and then the other on the return trip. Then she reared up in the water so that she and Mirrim were at eye level. “G’day, Tana. Water good?”

“Fine. Fish fine, too. Pod eating. Good eating.”

It was clear that Tana wanted to know what game they’d be playing, so T’lion hastily intervened. “Sorry to call you from feeding, Tana.”

“Bell ring. We answer. We promise. We here.”

He was also pleased that their speech was so clear—he’d finally broken their habit of saying “oo-ee” for “we.”

“It’s very good of you to be so prompt because my pod leaders wanted to meet you.”

Natua did a backward flip, showering water on Mirrim and T’lion. Minim’s expression went blank as water dripped from her head and shoulders. T’lion winced. He was so accustomed to such antics, that he hadn’t thought to warn her. Mirrim flicked water off her arms and gave a deep sigh.

“You didn’t need to soak Mirrim,” T’lion said, shaking a finger at Natua. The dolphin squee’ed and cut a circle about the two humans.

“Water warm. Good,” Natua said, his lower jaw dropping in a smile as he came to a halt by the young rider.

Mirrim began to laugh. “What’s a soaking to sea creatures? And I did enter his water.” She used both hands to shake water out of her hair. “You like soaking humans.”

“You woman, not oomans,” Natua said.

Mirrim made an O with her mouth, amazed that he recognized the difference. “Thank you, Natua! C’mon in, T’gellan, you’re missing half the fun and the water’s … warm!”

Then, to everyone’s shock, Tana delivered a surprise. “You have a baby inside.”

“What?” Mirrim cried, arching her body toward the dolphin.

“Tana sees baby.”

“What did you say? Now, wait a minute, you, you fish!” Mirrim said, shock briefly draining color out of her face before indignation brought on a deep flush under her tanned skin.

“What’d that critter just say?” T’gellan demanded, wading out to his weyrmate and putting a protective arm about her.

T’lion was aghast. He didn’t know what to do. He gulped and stammered, until he caught his brother’s smug expression.

“It said I’m pregnant,” Mirrim replied. “This is not a joking matter, doll-fin!”

“Not joking,” Tana said. “I know. Always we know. Sonar tells truth about wo-man body.”

“Sonar? What’s that?” T’gellan demanded of his young rider. “Just what is going on here?”

“I don’t know,” T’lion said in a wail

“I right. You ask medic. Squeee! Good time is baby time. I have baby, too. Like it.”

“Medic?” T’gellan echoed, ignoring the rest of the comment.

“That’s what the Ancients called healers,” Mirrim murmured, her head bent to watch the hand she put on her belly, just below the watery surface.

“I’m sorry, Mirrim. I don’t know …” T’lion said, appalled by the incident and Tana’s declaration. How could she queer this meeting? He’d thought they were his friends! He might just as well plead to be transferred to another Weyr before his disgrace became planetwide—and he had no doubt at all that K’din would see that everyone knew! He’d truly shamed his family now. And he’d been so proud to speak to shipfish! To his growing horror, Tana didn’t stop chattering and Natua was nodding violently as if he, too, concurred!

“I know. Woman is pregnant,” Tana repeated, excitedly weaving about in front of the three humans. Then, before anyone guessed her intent, she dropped back into the water and, with the greatest care and lightest touch, put her nose over Mirrim’s hand. “Have baby. Not soon. Small.”

T’gellan exchanged glances with his weyrmate and began to smile tenderly at Mirrim.

“Not that I don’t wish you were, Mir,” he said so softly that T’lion wasn’t sure he’d heard properly.

“But nothing’s happened yet—I mean, it’s much too soon to be sure,” Mirrim murmured back, looking up at the tall bronze rider, her expression equally tender. Then she gave herself a shake and started to wade to the shore. “First thing, we find out from Aivas if that silly sea creature could possibly know what it’s talking about.” She swiveled back toward T’lion. “You come, too, T’lion, and we’ll just settle the matter for once and all. Can’t have a rider your age dealing with erratic creatures like these.”

I love you, T’lion, Gadareth said in such a vehement tone that T’lion was a little comforted. Until he saw the triumphant expression on K’din’s face. He closed his eyes, trying to close his ears against the joyous sounds of squeeing and clicking the two dolphins were making as he waded out of the water. I like the dolphins, Gadareth said. They have such fun and make things fun for us, too.

Don’t talk to me about doll-fins right now, Gaddie. You don’t know what they’ve just done.

I know. Path knows. Path is glad if her rider is to have a baby.

T’lion groaned as he obeyed T’gelian’s hand signal to mount the young bronze.

“You’ll come, too, K’din,” T’gellan said, and his expression was suddenly severe. “I want you where I can see you. We’re flying straight.”

Mirrim had mounted Path, water dripping from her wet legs and clothing and running down the green’s sides.

“Keep it a low flight,” she said. “We’ll dry out as we go, but I don’t want it fast either.” She did not so much as look in T’lion’s direction, which depressed him even further.

Schools of fish and warnings of shoals and squalls were well within a dolphin’s abilities, but this? T’lion allowed his body to move with Gadareth’s upward leap, but he felt wooden, and scared, and totally miserable. How could Natua and Tana treat him so? Just when he needed them to show at their very best. He’d never even had a chance to ask them about weather bearing down on them, or schools in the sea off Eastern Weyr …

The straight flight, though it wasn’t actually that far, seemed to take ages. His clothes were dry and his nose burned enough to hurt by the time they reached Landing. K’din’s smugness became slightly tinged with awe as he followed his leaders into the Admin and right up to the table where D’ram was currently serving as visit monitor.

“T’gellan, Mirrim, how very good to see you! Monarth and Path are well? And here’s T’lion again, and this is your older brother, isn’t it, T’lion? A noticeable family resemblance.”

“Good day, D’ram, Tiroth looks fat and fine up there in the sun,” T’gellan said pleasantly but with an unmistakable urgency in his tone.

“A problem?”

“Yes, and one which only Aivas can solve for us. Is there any free time to query him?”

“Yes, certainly. Try the small conference room. T’lion knows the way.”

T’lion would have given anything right now not to be so well known to D’ram. As the ex-Istan Weyr-leader gave him a smiling permission to proceed, T’lion shrank in on himself.

“Lead on, T’lion,” T’gellan ordered, an indefinable expression on his face as he followed.

T’lion trudged disconsolately toward the conference room and utter humiliation, a short walk that seemed as long as the flight straight.

Monarth said they would like to have a baby, Gadareth told him in a cheerful tone. Path agrees.

But what if Tana can’t know? What if she’s wrong? I’ll die!

No, Gadareth said, his tone chiding him for rashness, because you would not like me to die, too, would you?

No, of course not! T’lion gave himself a shake. Whatever happened now, he still had Gadareth. No one could part him from his dragon.

He pushed open the door.

“Aivas, it’s T’lion here with Weyrleader T’gellan and green Path’s rider, Mirrim,” he announced to the screen. Only when he had caught a reproving glance from T’gellan did he mutter K’din’s name.

“What is the topic of your discussion today? The dolphins?”

“How did he know?” Mirrim asked in an undertone.

“Because T’lion usually reports on the progress of his meetings with the dolphins, Mirrim,” Aivas said, and Mirrim winced, having forgotten the acuteness of the facility’s “hearing.”

Mirrim came straight to the point. “One of the dolphins, Tana, said I was pregnant”

“If the dolphin noticed an alteration in your womb, she is likely to be accurate.”

A profound silence fell on the small conference room.

“Well, now, how? I didn’t even know myself, Aivas,” Mirrim said, easing herself onto a chair. “I mean …”

“Dolphin sonar—”

“That was the word she used!” T’gellan exclaimed. “Sonar … What is that?”

“Dolphin sonar is the means by which they navigate across the oceans of Pern, sending out signals and reading the sound waves that return to them. Sonar also informs the dolphin of minute changes in body mass. Dolphins accurately diagnose not only pregnancy but bodily tumors and growths and often other illnesses in their early stages. Medics—healers in your current parlance—relied on dolphin diagnostics as unique and correct.”

“You mean, Mirrim is pregnant?” T’gellan asked.

“If a dolphin has pronounced it, indubitably she is with child.”

T’lion looked from the radiant smile that suffused Minim’s face to T’gellan’s proud posture. Out of the corner of his eye he caught the grimace on his brother’s face, but he was careful not to exhibit his elation at Aivas’s verdict. He didn’t want to prod K’din into further acts of retaliation. It was enough that he, T’lion, was right, and he mentally kicked himself for doubting the dolphins. But he hadn’t had any idea they could “see” into human bodies!

“Perhaps this facet of dolphin abilities has been overlooked?” Aivas asked after T’gellan and Mirrim had shared a happy embrace.

T’gellan looked at T’lion, who shrugged.

“I think we should ask the Weyr healer to look into the matter,” T’gellan said. “Would the dolphins see infections that lie under the skin and then erupt?”

“The records so indicate. Do you refer to a puncture wound?”

“Yes, I do. M’sur nearly lost his leg because it wasn’t until he saw the red lines of blood poisoning that he realized he had a severe injury. Persellan had a time saving his life and his leg!” Then T’gellan turned to T’lion. “I think we’d best inform the Healer Hall at Fort about this.”

“D’you think they’ll believe you?” Mirrim said with a laugh. Her left hand hovered on her belt, fingers spread over her belly as if she still couldn’t credit the diagnosis.

T’gellan shrugged, grinning. “They can or cannot as they so choose but I’ve a duty to inform them.”

“There’s a healer here at Landing, isn’t there?” Mirrim asked. “Oh, thank you, Aivas, for your time.”

“You are welcome, dragonrider Mirrim.”

“My gratitude, Aivas, on several counts.” T’gellan gave T’lion a reassuring grin. “That meeting with your dolphin friends took a most unexpected turn, lad. We thank you. Mirrim’s lost two babes because she didn’t know she was pregnant. We don’t want to lose another. Come.” He put one hand on Mirrim’s waist, guiding her out the door. “We’ll inform D’ram of this. He’ll see that the Healer Hall is informed.”

“Yes, best coming from him,” Mirrim agreed, but she beckoned for T’lion to walk beside her on their way out.

It took a moment or two for D’ram to absorb the astonishing news; then he rose from his chair and heartily shook T’gellan’s hand, beaming at Mirrim.

“It’s always been a problem for Weyrwomen to know when they have conceived … and stay out of between in the first few months. You’ll have women flocking to the shores to speak to dolphins.”

“I’m not sure that’s what we want,” T’gellan said, somewhat alarmed.

“Oh, well, yes, but I shall inform the Healer Hall and they can make what arrangements they find useful.”

“If they believe the story,” Mirrim said.

“Oh, I know a few who are open-minded enough to investigate—especially if Aivas has verified the matter. First I shall ask Aivas to give me what information he has on the diagnostic abilities of the dolphin. Nothing like the printed word to reassure.” Then the old Weyrleader turned to T’gellan. “You were wise to confirm this with Aivas instead of dismissing the matter.”

“It was certainly worth the trouble of flying here straight,” T’gellan agreed, smiling fondly down at his weyrmate. “Though I won’t deny I found it hard to credit. Sorry about that, T’lion.”

“Oh, that’s all right, T’gellan.” T’lion could honestly say now that his friends were vindicated. “I didn’t believe it myself, you know.”

If T’lion found himself appointed as dolphin liaison—a word Kib suggested to him from his revived vocabulary of Ancient terms—for the skeptical medics who did come, sometimes with patients, more often not, he had no objections. It kept him out of K’din’s way and made it less likely that any tale K’din might concoct would discredit him in the Weyrleader’s eyes. Persellan, the Weyr’s healer, a journeyman from the southernmost tip of South Boll, was nearly scornful as he announced that it was impossible to detect a pregnancy so soon after conception. But Tana neatly demolished his disbelief when she pinpointed yet another festering puncture wound in the arm of a weyrchild who kept complaining that his arm hurt. The headwoman had been sure it was an attempt to avoid his chores. Not only was Tana correct about the infection, but she touched her nose on exactly the point that the skeptical Persellan was to poultice. The next morning the infection had come to a head, and in it could clearly be seen the needle-fine thorn that had caused the problem.

Thorns from a variety of vegetation on the Southera Continent were a constant problem to the healers. Most people wore little in the hot summers, so there was more bare flesh that could be invaded by a casual brush against leaves and plants. Even tough dragon hide was not impervious, though the protective layer just under the skin was rarely penetrated. More often it was the rider, scrubbing his dragon, who found a thorn embedding itself in a water-soaked hand.

Not by any means thoroughly convinced of this method of diagnosing pregnancy, Persellan did bring women in various stages of known pregnancy to test Tana and other members of her pod, who seemed eager to prove their abilities.

It was, however, a broken bone that persuaded Persellan. A broken bone, moreover, that had healed badly just below the elbow, inhibiting the free use of the woman’s right arm. She had come to discover if she was pregnant again, a condition she didn’t wish to continue since she considered that three children were more than enough to saddle the Weyr with.

“Bone broke. Healed wrong,” Tana told Persellan. “Here.”

“What about a baby, fish?” the woman, Durras, demanded even as Persellan seized her arm, his trained hands finding the thickened joint. “I’ve had no bleeding in two months.”

“How long ago did that happen?”

Durras jerked her arm out of his grip, scowling at the healer. “I didn’t come about the arm. I was a child when it broke. Fish, what about the baby?”

“No babbee, but full womb. Not good. Needs cleaning out.”

“What?” The woman backed out of the water and ran up the sands and away from the dolphin.

“What do you mean? Full womb? Needs cleaning out?” Persellan asked. He had been startled by Durras’s reaction but, in his long apprenticeship, there had been not infrequent occasions of interrupted flows where the patient had later had severe and constant abdominal pains, and several instances where the woman had died—and where his only recourse had been heavy doses of numbweed to ease the pain.

“Growwwwsse,” Tana said, trying to enunciate a difficult word. “Bad things.”

“Growths?” Persellan asked. Intrusive surgeries were not a facet of healing, though he knew that some specially trained healers were actually cutting into a human body to relieve some conditions. Aivas had had much to tell the Healer Hall, but very few had actually undertaken operations. He’d heard that the Hall had authorized after-death examinations. Even thinking about such intrusions made him shudder, but valuable information had resulted. “Did the Ancients cut into a body to remove growths?”

“No need. Opening is there. Clean out. Then have babbee.”

“How? What opening?”

“Main one down below. Way babbee comes.”

Persellan shuddered again. The very idea of entering by that passage was repugnant. Still, a healer was often required to perform measures unpleasant, and even hurtful to the patient, to restore health.

The next surprise Persellan had came later that eventful morning when T’lion came to summon him to the bay.

“They’re bringing in an injured dolphin. Natua and Tana say you’ll need to sew him up.”

“Sew up a dolphin?” Persellan halted in the act of reaching for his healer’s bag. “Really, T’lion! That’s enough!”

“Why?” T’lion demanded. “You do dragons when they’re cut.”

“But … fish?”

“They are not fish, Healer, they’re mammals, same as humans, and Boojie won’t heal properly unless you stitch the wound.”

“Have you seen it?”

“No, but Tana asked. She’s helped you, now you help her.”

Persellan could not fault that argument, but he muttered under his breath all the way down to the beach about having to extend his practice to heal sea creatures. The moment he saw the long deep gash he was set to turn right about and return to his Weyr.

“There’s no way I could close that Why, the—creature would bite me … or something. The pain would be intense.”

“Numbweed,” T’lion said, stubbornly blocking Persellan’s path and sending Gadareth an urgent plea to come help.

“How do I know numbweed would help? It might even be dangerous!”

“Tana told me. She said Boojie’s too young to die, but he will if that wound is not closed.”

“How’d he gouge himself like that?” Persellan continued to argue even as T’lion pulled him toward the water and the swarm of dolphins clumped together in the shallower water. “I don’t even know if stitching’s the answer.”

“Sew Boojie,” Tana said. Then, daring water almost too shallow for her to swim in, she pushed the healer with her nose toward the injured dolphin, being kept afloat by podmates.

“Come on, Persellan,” T’lion said, up to his chest in the water.

“How can I possibly … It’s so absurd!” the healer cried, but a stiff nose in his crotch pushed him forward. “Stop that!” And he batted his free hand at Tana’s importunate melon. “I simply don’t know how to go about … Shock from such a wound, not to mention suturing … I mean, I’ve never done anything like this in my life.”

“Didn’t they tell you life in a Weyr would never be boring?” T’lion said, silly with relief that the healer was complying.

He almost gagged when he saw the depth of the wound, the flesh laid bare to several levels. The moment of nausea passed as he became fascinated that any creature so badly injured had survived the journey here. Boojie was barely breathing, too exhausted to make so much as a soft squee. Only the gleam in the visible left eye was evidence that the bottlenose lived. T’lion placed a hand close to the lung, far enough away from the ghastly slice not to cause any additional pain, and felt the rumble of activity within the dolphin’s body.

“If you’re going to do something, you better do it now, Persellan,” T’lion murmured. “Boojie’s just hanging on.”

“How on earth am I going to do any suturing in the ocean?”

Seeing the problem, for the dolphin nurses had to prop the patient and that made it difficult for Persellan to reach the wound, T’lion called Gadareth.

“Dragon claws were made useful,” he told Persellan. “Gaddie will cradle Boojie, just enough in the water, but with his side turned to you.”

There was a flurry as the bronze dragon, perceiving from his rider’s mind what had to be accomplished, entered the water and approached the group.

“Gaddie’ll help, Tana. Tell the others to let him take Boojie. He won’t harm him. You know dragons wouldn’t harm a dolphin.”

Tana clicked, squee’ed, and spouted water so urgently that the maneuver was deftly accomplished, though it took a bit to get Boojie angled just right for the repair.

“By the first shell, will you look at this?” Persellan exclaimed, and pointed to the thick layer of blubber lying just under the dolphin’s rubbery skin. “I suppose it’s normal? Would she know? Come to think of it, a very fat herdbeast has a fatty layer. I suppose it’s all right. Oh, well, it can only bite me.” Keeping up a running monologue—which T’lion rightly had the sense not to answer—and muttering darkly about a most unusual healing, Persellan began to smear numbweed on the lips of the wound. “Don’t know if the stuff will penetrate enough to do any good, but the Masterfarmer always uses it on injured animals, so I don’t see why I can’t use it on a sea creature.” His dabbings were tentative at first, but his motions became more confident when his patient did not twitch or move during the procedure.

T’lion helped when he saw what to do, and his smaller fingers managed to ease the paste all along the edges of the wound.

“I’ve never done anything so bizarre in my life,” Persellan muttered as he paused, the long thin needle he used for dragon flesh poised for the first stitch. “I’ve never heard of anything so weird as suturing a fish …”

“Boojie’s not a fish,” T’lion corrected, but he was grinning. “He’s a mammal.”

“Put your hands on either side, would you, and see if you can’t push the lips together?”

It was not an easy job Persellan asked of T’lion, and toward the end, though the healer worked swiftly, the young rider’s muscles began to spasm in protest. But together the humans finished closing the gash.

“Three hands long …” Persellan said, measuring and shaking his head. “I doubt he’ll live. Shock alone … Although saltwater wounds do heal well …” He shook his head again as he scrubbed the remaining blood from his hands before passing the brush to his equally gory assistant. He washed the needle and replaced it in its leather, then put it and what was left of the fine strong thread he had used back in his now-soaked healer’s bag.

“So what do we do with this Boojie now, T’lion? Nurse him here, in the shallows? I’m water-pocked from the waist down.”

“Afo, what now?” T’lion asked, seeing her in the circle of observant dolphins grouped on either side of Gadareth, who still held Boojie in his talons.

“You do good. Tell dragon to let Boojie go. We care him.” With a sharp series of whistles, she organized her helpers, Gar, Jim, and Tana among them, as Gadareth obediently and very carefully lowered his forearms into the water until Boojie’s body floated free. T’lion was relieved to notice a slight motion of fins as Boojie wearily responded to his freedom. Then his podmates renewed their support and pointed him seaward.

“T’ank you! T’ank you! Tank you!” came the unexpected chorus as the group headed slowly out to sea.

“Will he be all right, Natua?”

She gave a little leap in answer, which he took to be affirmative. Both he and Persellan watched in silence until the dorsal fins of patient and nurses were no longer easily visible.

“Never done anything like that before in my life,” Persellan muttered as he strode out of the water. He took no more than a few steps up on the sand before he collapsed, to spread out his length on the warm sand. “And I don’t even know if it will be enough. But I tried.”

“You did indeed, Healer, and I’m very grateful you did,” T’lion said. Gaddie, you were great!

I know it I’ve never done anything like that either But the dolphin lives. We all did well Tell the healer

“Gadareth, too, says you did well, Persellan,” T’lion murmured, with a weary grin. A snore answered him. A nap seemed like a good idea, but he had enough common sense remaining to collect two of the wide leaves they often used to shield the harsh sun rays. He put one on Persellan’s head and face, and draped the second over himself.

Gadareth, wings carefully tight against his back, rolled this way and that in the warm sands before he, too, settled his head on his front legs and relaxed in the sun.