The Dolphins of Pern

CHAPTER XII

K’VAN STRODE into the Weyrwoman’s quarters with the briefest nod to Ramoth asleep on her couch.

“It’s Lord Toric again, Lessa, F’lar,” the Southern Weyrleader said, with an angry slap of his riding gloves on his thigh as he came to a halt by the table where they were having an evening glass of wine and studying storm damage reports from the Southern Continent.

Although the youngest Weyrleader now, K’van was as old as F’lar had been when Mnementh had first flown Ramoth, making F’lar Weyrleader. He had attained more height than his adolescence had suggested; his shoulders had broadened, his legs had lengthened, and his eyes were at a level with F’lar’s when they were standing. F’lar gestured for K’van to be seated and poured a glass of wine for him.

“You look as if you need it.”

“I do,” K’van said with a sigh as he dropped into the chair opposite Lessa. “And you will, too.”

“So what has Toric done this time?” Lessa asked, amused.

“He hasn’t done it yet, but he’s about to. Go across the river and settle it with his chosen, having prepared a place for them. He’s never been the least bit altruistic, so I know he’s up to something and I’ve a hunch what it is.” It gave K’van little satisfaction to see how angrily the Weyrleaders reacted to Toric’s latest show of arrogance. “We found incontrovertible evidence of substantial shelters in eight different locations—coastal, riverside, and inland. His harbormaster is saying that the ships are being loaded for a downriver supply run, but I doubted that even when he gave me the smooth lie.”

Lessa pursed her lips angrily, her eyes sparkling. “Toric’s never been satisfied, has he?” she asked rhetorically, and then pounded her fist on the table. “Greedy, that’s what he is. And he’s got a larger Hold than any of the Ancients ever staked out.” She leaned toward F’lar. “We can’t let him get away with this, F’lar. We can’t!”

“Lessa, we also can’t stop him.”

“Why not?” she demanded.

“We can’t interfere with a Lord Holder.” The Weyrleader scowled deeply, for once annoyed to be constrained by that tradition.

“But Toric isn’t within his Hold if he’s across the river, now, is he?” K’van asked, his tenor voice at its mildest. The slight smile on his face was sly. “Oh, I know, he asked us to help him with Denol and that group who tried to take over Ierne Island, but that is part of the holding you granted him. This land is all beyond his Hold borders.”

“You’re sure of that, K’van?” F’lar asked.

“That he’s out of his own Hold? Yes, even the eastern bank of the river is not his. Not according to the map I have that outlines Southern Hold, from river to sea, and inclusive of Ierne Island—”

“Which he insisted on having at the time,” Lessa said, angry red spots appearing on her tanned cheeks. She had clenched her fists. “And we only gave in to that demand because I wanted Jaxom to have Sharra.”

F’lar brushed back the lock that always escaped to cover his eyes at moments like these. “You’re right—he’s up to something. I have a sudden, totally unworthy thought …” F’lar then shook his head and dismissed the thought unspoken with a wave of his hand. “I believe I’d better wait to justify such base suspicions.” He grinned at K’van and Lessa. The look in the young Weyrleader’s eye suggested he might be entertaining the same notion.

“What suspicions? Of course they’d be base, coming from Toric. But just what?” Lessa demanded.

“Later, love. Tell me, K’van, does he have settlers all lined up and ready to settle?”

K’van nodded. “I had nothing specific to report to you until now, but we kept our eyes open to Toric’s doings. Discreetly, of course. Over the past few months there have been more than a normal number of well-laden ships making port at Southern. Each carrying ten to twenty passengers, sometimes family, sometimes singles. You know he’s built four coastal cruisers? Yes, well. They’re lumberly craft but have shallow draft and good cargo space. At any rate, he’s got a lot of people in and about the Hold who haven’t gone inland as I’d’ve thought they would—if they were his new settlers. He’s never hidden the fact that he’s been recruiting crafters. All perfectly legal, since he hasn’t settled all the land he rightfully holds. No reason for a Weyrleader to poke his nose where he’s no right to sniff.” K’van grinned, his eyes glinting cynically. The young Weyrleader kept strictly to the Traditions that governed Weyr and Hold, knowing that Toric would rave about any infringement by Weyr or Hold prerogatives. “But when no one moved out, by land or by sea, all I could do was wait until I had something definite to bring to your attention. At the last Gather, there were marks circulating from every northern Hall and Hold and some rumors that Toric’s been selling sites. In his own Hold, he has that right but”—K’van lifted his hand—“not across the river!”

“He wouldn’t dare!” Indignation and outrage fueled Lessa’s anger. “He’s got the gall to charge for what settlers should have by right of their own hard work?”

“A neat scheme,” F’lar said, sardonically amused. “And I wouldn’t doubt if the payment in marks isn’t followed by a different sort of payment later on.” K’van nodded, and F’lar went on. “When the Council of Holders might need to vote on other business.”

Lessa opened her mouth, her dark eyes widening as she began to understand the scale of Toric’s plan. “Base isn’t a vile enough description of what he plans to do! I knew we were wrong to call a complete halt to new settlings,” she said, “in spite of what Fandarel and Nicat said, and in spite of the lack of suitable places. They wouldn’t have been half so eager to take up Toric’s offer if they could have come to us.”

“So, do you have proof of Toric’s encroachment on unapportioned lands?” F’lar asked.

“Indeed we have. The storm flattened whole swaths of forestry as wide as a Threadfall, and what do you know? There were five settlements all too visible to my sweep riders. So we went looking to see if there might be a few more, and located another three. All built and ready to be occupied. And then there’s Lord Toric’s harborful of laden ships …” K’van shrugged, not needing to say more.

“He didn’t lose any ships to the storm?” F’lar asked, a tinge of annoyance in his voice as he nodded at the reports spread out on the table, itemizing storm losses.

K’van grinned. “I know that Master Idarolan passed a dolphin warning on to him as well as to the Weyr so Toric had had time, and the good sense, to batten his shipping down. Toric doesn’t leave much to chance.”

“Does he know you’ve overflown these totally illegal sites of his?” Lessa asked, her voice harsh with the anger seething inside her.

“I doubt it,” K’van said. “Once they realized what they were seeing, my sweep riders avoided Southern Hold on their way back.”

“We can tackle this encroachment several ways,” F’lar said, leaning back in his chair, a malicious smile on his lips as he idly twirled the stem of his glass.

“There’s only one way—” Lessa began, and he held up his hand.

“Hear me out. We could dismantle those settlements so there’d be no … ah … accommodations left for these settlers of his when they finally sail forth. They’d be forced to go back to Southern. This is not the season to be without shelter, if that storm is any preview of a rough winter down south. But I would like to show other Lord Holders, who have been courteous enough to bide their time, what sort of trickery Toric has been up to. Making people pay for land they have the right to!”

“He’s so certain that we’re holding out the best lots for ourselves,” Lessa began, giving vent to her outrage. “Just because he wasn’t at the Council when the Lords asked the Weyrleaders to officiate, he refuses to believe that we did not want anything to do with land settlements, that we protested about taking on such responsibilities!”

F’lar regarded his diminutive weyrmate with more amusement than choler. “We didn’t protest that strongly, love, now did we?”

“Only because it was all too plain what would happen if someone with some claim to impartiality didn’t take charge. And it was we who insisted that all Weyrleaders take part, not just Benden, which was the intention of Larad and Asgenar, who proposed the notion. And we also insisted that the Harper Hall keep records of all transactions.”

“I know Toric’s certain that dragonriders will get preference,” K’van began.

“And shouldn’t we?” Lessa demanded of the young Weyrleader.

“I certainly feel we should,” K’van answered firmly, all too aware of the Weyrwoman’s temper and determined not to fall afoul of it, “since it’s the last concession we’ll expect of Pern. Adrea and I found a place that we feel we’d be very happy in. Found it on my very first mapping sweep.”

“Adrea likes it?” Lessa asked, momentarily diverted from her castigation of Toric.

“Oh, yes, we’ve been down half a dozen times … to make sure, and”—K’van grinned—“it looks better every time we see it. It’s what we want but I don’t think many people would find it so perfect.”

“That’s what I mean,” Lessa went on, gesturing emphatically with one hand as if sweeping Toric’s exceptions aside. “Our needs and tastes are very individual and there’s so much land out there …” She made another expansive gesture. “And he has the unmitigated gall to take marks …” She was speechless for such presumption. “The man has tried my patience for the last time.”

“I do believe you’re right, my love,” F’lar said, still grinning. “And since he isn’t even on his own Hold grounds, I think we have him just where we need him. And where he can do us the favor of becoming a lesson for anyone with similar inclinations. A lesson that will last until the end of this Pass.”

“I’m with you there, F’lar.” K’van lifted his glass. “Exactly how did you mean to set the lesson?” he asked then. “Mind you, you have Southern Weyr’s total cooperation. There have been times when it was all I could do to keep a civil tongue in my head with the great and greedy Lord Toric. And I’m not the only one in the Weyr to find him a bit too highhanded and arrogant”

F’lar’s amber eyes were sparkling with such orange lights that for a moment K’van wondered if some of Mnementh’s fighting characteristics had transferred to his rider. His slowly widening smile was both sinister and amused. “I think I’ll borrow a moment from Benden Weyr’s past. How long do you think it will be before the storm damage to Toric’s fleet is repaired and he’s ready to move out?”

“Oooh, I couldn’t say, F’lar, but I can sure find out,” K’van said. “How much leeway time do you need—to prepare this lesson of yours?”

F’lar laughed, rising from the table. “No more than I did the first time.” He took a roll of maps from those stored in a container and, motioning Lessa and K’van to clear the table, spread it out with a practiced hand. “Now, can you show me the exact locations of each site?”

“Yes, I can.” K’van took some notes from his inner pocket. “I checked them out myself against our chart of the area.” Referring to his notes from time to time, he used F’lar’s stylus to make small x’s, all on land east of the river that the Ancient maps called Island River. One was where a river branched off to the old stakehold of Thessaly and a second well east of Drakeslake. There were three in coves along the coast, and three well inland.

“That Toric!” Lessa said in exasperation. “He’s—he’s grasping, avaricious, covetous, and unrepentant-ly rapacious! He’s like … like Fax!”

“Is there anyone in any of these sites now?”

“Half a dozen at the most—builders.”

“Have they prepared any fields?”

K’van shook his head. “We’d’ve noticed that a lot sooner, I can assure you.”

“Yes, I suppose you would. Is he doing anything at all on his own Hold?”

K’van shook his head again, grinning. “He’s had all his crews where they’ve no right to be.” He tapped the encroachments on the map.

Lessa was refilling their glasses when she suddenly looked at F’lar and burst out laughing. The wine began to spill.

“Figured it out, have you?” he said. He took the wineskin from hands shaking with laughter as well as malicious anticipation. “Now, now, Lessa love, that’s good Benden red you’re pouring. In the memory of our good Robinton, have a care of it.”

“Robinton would be howling with laughter over this, F’lar, and you know it,” she said.

“Honestly, F’lar, I wouldn’t tell anyone. You know how discreet I can be,” K’van said, not quite pleading.

F’lar gave him an affectionate slap on the arm. “You’ll know. Just be sure we know when Toric’s about to move, will you?”

“I can do that. He sets some of his fire-lizards to watch the Weyr Hall and doesn’t even realize that two can play the game of See and Say.” Reluctantly K’van rose, realizing he wasn’t going to get any more out of the two Benden Weyrleaders. Considering how annoyed they had been about Toric’s territorial aggressiveness, they were in remarkably good spirits now. “Do let me know when, and how, Southern Weyr may assist you.”

“Oh, you’ll know,” F’lar said, laying a companionable hand on K’van’s shoulder as he escorted the young Weyrleader to the weyr’s entrance. “In fact, you’ll be the first,” he added, chuckling at whatever scheme he had in mind.

On the third day after T’lion and Readis had treated the injured dolphins, Jayge, Temma, and Alemi arrived at the anchorage. Alemi had left a din-ghy in the water, since there had been no time to replace the float previously used for human and dolphin conferences. Jayge was certain that his son would reappear, if only to see for himself that the two calves were healing properly. The last three days had weighed heavily on Jayge. He wished that Aramina had not been so didactic about issuing that ultimatum to Readis. Although he understood her panic, and certainly agreed with her that Readis had acted disgracefully, he also understood his son well enough to know that forcing the boy to promise against his conscience would make him rebel The boy was of the right age to resent a mother’s restrictions. Jayge earnestly hoped that the three anxious days would be enough for Readis to have made his point and make an honorable return. By this morning, Aramina had been beside herself with remorse at driving her oldest child away. Jayge doubted that she’d renew her demand that Readis stop seeing the dolphins, but he was equally certain she would never cease blaming the creatures for the trouble they’d caused her and hers.

T’gellan had sent an adroit message to Jayge by fire-lizard, asking for confirmation that T’lion had treated injured dolphins at Paradise River. Jayge had succinctly replied that that was true.

Jayge was not surprised to see one dragon in the sky, but he was when a second bronze appeared. One was Gadareth, carrying T’lion, and the other was Monarth, with T’gellan and a passenger. When they landed, the stranger was introduced as Persellan, Eastern’s healer. From the moment he dismounted Monarth, the healer did not look at T’lion and addressed all his questions about the dolphins’ welfare to the air in front of him—though they were patently meant for T’lion, who answered in humble and subdued tones. Not that Jayge blamed Persellan for his coldness to the young rider. T’lion was lucky to get off with just that when he had borrowed the precious manual without permission and ruined it in the bargain. Well, replacing the damaged portions would be part of Readis’s reparation,

“It was made plain, was it not,” Persellan was saying in that purse-mouthed pose he adopted when “not addressing” T’lion, “that they should return in three suns?” He was staring straight ahead at the sea.

“It was. Afo understood.”

Persellan shielded his eyes, peering out to where the Fair Winds rode at anchor. Some of her rigging was restored, and the waterline hole had been repaired with delphinic help; some dolphins were still to be seen, working with crewmen in the water.

“And they knew to come to the beach?”

“Yes.”

Alemi suddenly pointed to the west. “There’re dorsal fins just clearing the head now. I’d say they were smack on time. Wouldn’t you, T’lion? Wasn’t this about the time when you and Readis got here? I remember seeing you on the shore.”

The Masterfishman was sensitive to more than the rhythms of the sea of his beloved schooner and was doing his best to ease the tension in the air. Now he looked in the opposite direction, down the shoreline, to the spit of land at the eastern end of the cove, and then back over his shoulder at the jungle.

“I’d have thought Readis would be here already,” T’gellan said, looking at Jayge for some explanation.

“I expect him to be here” was Jayge’s terse reply. He realized then how desperately he was counting on Readis’s appearance. Three days was more than long enough to prove his point. It was certainly long enough to throw Aramina into a complete panic of anxieties that Readis had injured himself, had been thrown from Delky, had suffered any number of misfortunes. Worry conflicted with a rising and righteous anger that Readis, who had always been treated with respect, would repay their kindness in this fashion!

The dolphins had escorted the two calves into the shallows by then, and T’lion, who had stripped down to his clout when Alemi spied them approaching, now waded out to meet them, Gadareth following him.

Muttering under his breath, Persellan also discarded his clothing, while T’gellan only removed his boots and rolled up his pants. As Jayge, Temma, and Alemi were already down to the minimum of apparel, they merely kicked off sandals and strode in.

“We come three suns,” Afo said, clicking and blowing water. She bumped into Persellan. “You healer. I hear all about you. Good man. T’ank you.”

“You’re welcome, I’m sure,” Persellan said. “Now which—ah,…” Angie had swum into the talons that Gadareth had splayed just under the surface.

Jayge was briefly surprised at Gadareth’s initiative, but then realized that T’lion had probably mentally asked for his cooperation. Dragons could surprise their riders now and then, but there was no expression at all on T’lion’s face as he stood to one side so he wouldn’t impede Persellan’s examination.

Angie had tilted her sleek little body to expose the stitching. Persellan’s hands gently moved across the flesh on either side of the sutured wound.

Now that Jayge saw the wound, he had to admit that Readis had acted properly. No one at the Hold had been so severely wounded: a few broken bones, quite a few gashes from flying debris, muscle strains that numbweed immediately eased. Of course, Tem-ma had also had to decide which herdbeasts would have to be destroyed, but that had been done with a minimum of fuss and no prolonged suffering. Jayge gave an involuntary shudder over the terrific wound the calf had endured.

“A little tight here,” Persellan said with asperity, prodding the point. “I think I will release it. There is good healing, and this might soon tear skin.” He reached into his sack and pulled out scissors, making the cut and pulling the suture carefully through the skin. He wasn’t the only one to hold his breath as the flesh relaxed but did not split. “Hmmm. There is much to be said about saltwater healing.” Then he turned to Afo, who was watching him carefully with one bright black eye. “Does she hurt when I touch here?”

“Ask her,” Afo said with a soft squee. “Her name is Angie.”

“Angie, can you tell me if my fingers hurt you?” Persellan asked, raising his voice. Angie, who had been holding her head out of the water and craning so she could keep one eye on Persellan, let water out of her blowhole.

“Just like a kid not so sure he believes his healer,” Temma murmured to Jayge and Alemi, standing beside her.

Persellan poked, gently enough, testing the length of the wound. “How do I ask this? Angie, are you regular?”

Temma cleared her throat, suppressing a chuckle. Then Angie squeeed in a tone that was so clearly “Repeat that, I don’t understand” that Temma did give an amused snort.

“Are you eating all right?” Persellan asked.

“I hungry. I eat.”

Persellan turned now, in his perplexity even willing to address T’lion. “How do I get across to her that she also has to evacuate what she eats?”

“Her guts work,” Afo said in a tone that bordered on disgust with his periphrasis. “Come back sooner if not.”

“Well, that’s good to know,” Persellan murmured. “I think I’ll remove a few more sutures to ease her flesh. But she is healing well” That begrudged compliment seemed to release the tension in the taut young bronze rider. “There now, Angie, you come back in three more days and the other stitches can be removed.” He turned to Temma, who nodded that she would attend to that.

Angie wriggled free of Gadareth’s claws, and obediently the smaller Cori replaced her.

“I think all of these can come out,” Persellan said, his voice not half so accusatory now. “It’s a jagged enough seam, but I perceive that it was also a jagged wound. Who’s this?”

“Cori,” T’lion said, almost white with relief.

“Cori. Well, you’re a lucky … young dolphin,” Persellan said, just catching himself before saying “young girl.”

He had relaxed enough now that he even smiled as he neatly severed and pulled through each suture. He stroked Cori’s side before giving her a farewell scratch under her chin. She squeed and clicked as she swam free, but turned back to him and, looking up in his face, said quite clearly:

“Perslan good man. T’ank you, t’ank you, t’ank you.”

Just then, her dam, Mel, pushed herself against T’lion. “Tlon, hand,” she said.

“Hand?” T’lion held both up, looking puzzled.

“Hold your hand open under water,” Alemi said, having a notion what was to happen.

“My hand?” But the dragonrider had done so, and in an instant Mel dropped something from her mouth into his hand. He held up a smooth oval varicolored shell that glistened in the light. “Oh! It’s lovely,” he said, and forgot his disgraced state long enough to hold the gift up for the others to see.

“That’s one of those bivalve shells,” Temma said, impressed. “You don’t see many unbroken ones,”

“Thank you, Mel, I will treasure it,” T’lion said, and Mel’s bright eye watched him as he carefully tucked it under his clout waistband.

Then Angie presented herself before Persellan and surprised everyone by lifting herself out of the water high enough to touch her nose to Persellan’s lips. “I kiss t’ank you. I clever-member old t’ank you.” At which point she dove down and away as if embarrassed by her actions.

“My word, my word,” Persellan said through the fingers of his hand that he had raised in surprise to his lips.

“You’re more popular with the dolphins than the weyrchildren, Persellan,” T’gellan said with a laugh. “Maybe you ought to let T’lion copy those animal treatment files as well as the ones that got soaked.”

“Well, I’m not sure about that, Weyrleader,” Persellan replied, but from the expressions fleeting across his face, it could be assumed that he might be reconsidering. He glanced in T’lion’s direction, though he didn’t quite look at him. “I was far more upset that the boy had borrowed without permission what he knew was invaluable …” T’lion looked down at the ripples breaking against his legs, making futile hand motions as Persellan continued. “But, in all honesty, now that I see how well he used the information in the book—despite its damage—I cannot hold the grudge.”

Relief and disbelief shining in his eyes, T’lion looked up. “I am sorry, Persellan, but I didn’t know what else to do and there was no one to ask …” The bronze dragonrider held his hands out to the healer in entreaty.

“Ask the next time,” Persellan said, once more stern. “But I think next time we should both be more knowledgeable about the necessary procedures. You did say there was considerable documentation on the treatment of dolphin ailments and injuries?”

“Yes, there is. And D’ram said that I could copy anything you felt you needed …”

“Readis was to do the copying,” Jayge said.

T’lion, still flushed with absolution, looked anxiously at the Holder. “I thought he’d be here. It’s not like him to be absent. Or …”

“I was hoping that he would be here, too,” Jayge said quietly.

In the sudden silence, T’gellan cleared his throat and started wading out of the water. Alemi, Persellan, and Temma followed him.

“But he went back to the Hold with you,” T’lion said, anxiety clouding his eyes. He looked up and down the strand as if he momentarily expected Readis to burst through the thick vegetation.

“He left the Hold the day after and has not been seen since.”

“Oh!” T’lion looked anywhere but at Jayge’s face.

“You haven’t seen him?” Jayge asked, though he knew now that the answer would be negative.

T’lion shook his head. “I’ve spent every free moment up at Landing. Persellan insisted that since I borrowed the book, I should copy it, not Readis. I thought you’d just made him stay here”—T’lion gestured toward the Hold—“to help clean up.”

Jayge shook his head.

“Oh, that’s not like Readis, sir,” T’lion said earnestly. He opened his mouth to ask another question and closed it without speaking. “If you asked T’gellan, maybe he’d let me and Gaddie sweep-ride?”

Jayge made eye contact and saw the concern in T’lion’s eyes. He gave a nod. “I will ask. I would appreciate the help. The last I saw of him he was crossing the bridge and heading west on Delky.”

“Oh, if he’s on Delky, I’m sure Gadareth and I can find him.”

Then they waded out of the water to where the others were drying off and dressing. Jayge asked T’gellan if T’lion could be spared to do an errand.

T’gellan gave Jayge a long look before he flicked his fingers to grant permission. “T’lion has an appointment at Landing for his evening’s stint of copying, but he may do your errand until then.”

T’lion was so certain that he and Gadareth would find the truant in a short sweep down the coastline that he went off in very good spirits indeed. Readis would be so glad to know that all had ended well; that Persellan had grudgingly approved the suturing and would now learn more about dolphin medicine. The next step would be to get Persellan to let him assist and maybe even work as an apprentice—at least in the dolphin healing. There wasn’t a Hall for sea-creature medicine, and Masterfarmer Andemon had made it very plain that he didn’t consider them part of his Craft’s mandate. But if dolphins could get hurt, they had the right to be healed. He and Readis might be the only two on Pern to consider that imperative, but two were better than none,

How far could he have got, Gaddie? Even on Delky’s back? T’lion asked his dragon as they skimmed the treetops—where treetops still existed. This part of the coast had taken a ferocious beating. T’lion thought that should make it easier to find Readis.

When an hour’s flight along the coastline failed to turn up any sign of his friend, T’lion had Gadareth turn slightly inland and fly a second search pattern. They coursed back and forth, occasionally landing in a likely clearing to see if there’d been a fire or anything that suggested human presence. They startled a very large furry creature at one point, and only the size of the bronze dragon deterred the beast from charging at T’lion. Instead, it went crashing away from them as fast as it could run.

Darkness came and a weary and discouraged T’lion stopped briefly at Paradise River Hold to inform Jayge that he had had no success in his search.

“I’ll ask T’gellan to let me try again tomorrow. He can’t have gone too far from here in just three days, sir. He might not have realized it was me and Gad-die, and hidden. I’ll try again and we’ll call for him. And—” T’lion had the good sense to break off there when Aramina appeared on the porch, hoping for good news. “I couldn’t go as far as I should have, perhaps,” he added in a self-deprecating tone of voice. Readis’s mother had been crying and she looked awful, T’lion thought. “I’ll try again tomorrow. I know I’ll find him. Don’t you worry now. Got to get back to my Weyr before T’gellan flays me.” T’lion backed off the porch with that sentence and raced for Gadareth before he could be questioned. He certainly had no answers.