Falloner dismissed the “but’ with an indifferent hand and a wry grin. “I’m lucky to be down here at the Hold. I lost my birth mother when I was born, and my foster-mother died of a fever the healer couldn’t cool down, and there’s no one up there I want to see.”
“Not even your father?”
Falloner cocked his head at his friend. “No more than you want to see yours.”
“I never said anything like that …”
“But you never mention him, do you? So you don’t miss him, do you? Besides, I prefer to stay out of Carola’s way, and Lady
Hayara’s fairer to me than even Stolla …” His voice altered to a kinder tone. “But she’s nice, even being headwoman in the Lower Cavern and all. She the one who made S’loner send me down here until it cooled off—’ He stopped short, making a horrible grimace
as if he’d let his mouth run away with him.
“What cooled off?.”
Falloner’s expression turned to bland innocence. “Cooled what off?”
“You just said …” And then Robinton stopped, shrugged and dropped the subject.
It was Lady Hayara’s intervention that saw Falloner going with Robinton.
“For the company,” she told Merelan. “Falloner will show Robinton around without letting him go where he shouldn’t.” She
fixed a stern look on Falloner, but let it turn into an understanding smile. “But I expect you not to tease Lama so much any more.”
“She follows me everywhere,” Falloner complained, screwing his face up. “Lama’s Carola’s daughter,” he explained to Merelan, “and a real pain.”
“Now, Falloner,” Lady Hayara said, wiggling a warning finger at him, “I know that Rob will be asked to sing, but it’s good for an upcoming harper to learn more about the Weyr than what is sung.”
The brown dragon who collected the invited guests did not quibble about adding Falloner to his back. Nor did his rider, who greeted the boy with a wry grin.
“Allowed back, are you, weyrling?”
“It would seem so, C’vrel. Thanks, Falarth,” Falloner added to the brown as he competently mounted and settled himself behind Robinton.
Robinton would have given anything to know exactly what that meant, but he suspected he’d never be told by Falloner. Before he could reflect further, he felt the brown launch himself off the ground with the usual neck-snapping lunge and Robinton braced himself for between. He was especially grateful when he felt Falloner’s hands grip his arms and tighten the moment they went into that bone-searing cold. In between he could feel nothing, but he knew that Falloner still gripped him. It wasn’t as bad, now he knew what to expect – and then, suddenly, he had the incredible good fortune to see a Weyr from on high.
Benden was unusual in that it was situated in an old double volcanic crater. As Falarth swung round, almost on wingtip, Robinton saw the watch dragon and his rider, just beyond the massive Star Stones which would bracket the Red Star on its next return at Solstice. He saw dragons lying on the western-facing ledges, asleep in the sun… and then the several black maws which gave into the Hatching Ground where a queen’s clutch of eggs hardened until it was time for the weyrling dragons to Hatch and Impress their lifelong partners. As Falarth glided downward, Robinton saw the great golden bulk of Feyrith on her ledge, Chendith lying just above her, his eyes whirling in slow circles as he watched Falarth land lightly in front of the Lower Cavern.
CHAPTER SEVEN
So here he was. Falloner had diplomatically slid down the off-side of Falarth, thus avoiding a meeting with Carola who, with S’loner, greeted their MasterSinger guest and her son, thanking them profusely for accepting the invitation.
“Come to Benden?” Merelan laughed. “I’ve been dying to.” Then she was introduced to Stolla, the headwoman of the Lower Cavern, a tall woman of middle years who in turn introduced the MasterSinger to the blue rider, C’gan, who was Weyrsinger, a slight man whose boyish face was eager and earnest, and so was obviously thrilled to meet Merelan. The other woman, Miata, handled basic lessons at the Weyr. Robinton made his best bow to them all, and then S’loner took him by the shoulder.