McCaffrey, Anne – DragonQuest. Chapter 11, 12

CHAPTER XI

Early Morning at Benden Weyr

“I WISH you’d give me fair warning the next time you rearrange the social and political structure of this planet,” F’nor told his half-brother when he strode into the queen’s weyr at Benden the next morning. There wasn’t, of course, a trace of resentment on his tanned, grinning face. “Who’s where now?”

“T’bor is Weyrleader at the High Reaches with Kylara as Weyrwoman …”

“Kylara at High Reaches?” F’nor looked dubious but F’lar waved aside his half-born protest.

“Yes, there are disadvantages to that, of course. All but fourteen of the folk at High Reaches Weyr went with T’kul and Merika. Most of the Fort Weyr people wanted to stay …”

F’nor chuckled nastily. “Bet that was hard for Mardra to swallow.” He looked expectantly at Lessa, knowing how often his Weyrwoman had mastered resentment and indignation at Mardra’s hands. Lessa returned his gaze with polite unconcern.

“So P’zar is acting Weyrleader until a queen rises …”

“Any chance of making that an open flight for any bronze?”

“That is my intention,” F’lar replied. “However, I think the biggest of the modern bronzes had better be conspicuous by their absence.”

“Then why have you assigned N’ton there as Wingsecond?” demanded Lessa in surprise.

F’lar grinned at his Weyrmate. “Because by the time a Fort queen rises in flight, N’ton will be known and well-liked by the Fort Weyrfolk and they won’t mind. He’ll be considered a Fort rider, not a Benden replacement.”

Lessa wrinkled her nose. “He doesn’t have much choice at Fort Weyr.”

“He is quite capable of taking care of himself,” F’lar replied with a wicked grin.

“Well, you seem to have arranged everything to your satisfaction,” F’nor remarked. “I, however, resent having been yanked out of Southern. I’d spotted a very promising clutch of fire-lizard eggs in a certain Southern cove. Not quite hard enough to move with impunity. If you had held off a few more days, I’d — ” He broke off, sliding into the chair Lessa motioned him to. “Say, F’lar, what’s the matter with you? You been time — betweening or something?”

“No, he’s been knifed between his top and bottom,” Lessa answered with a sour glance at her Weyrmate. “And it is with exceptional difficulty that I can keep him in a chair. He belongs in a bed.”

F’lar waved her recriminations aside good-humoredly.

“If you’re — ” F’nor half-rose, his face concerned.

“If you’re — ” mocked F’lar, his look indicating a growing irritation with his disability and their protectiveness.

F’nor laughed, reseating himself. “And Brekke said I was a cantankerous patient. Ha! How bad is it? I heard various tales about that duel, well embroidered already, but not that you’d been clipped. Must it always be belt knives — for our Blood? And the other man armed with a wherry-skewer?”

“And dressed in wher-hide,” Lessa added.

“Look, F’lar, Brekke has pronounced me fit to fly between,” and F’nor flexed his arm, fully but carefully. “I can appreciate your wanting to keep quiet about your injury, so I’ll do all your popping about.”

F’lar chuckled at his half-brother’s eagerness. “Back a-neck and ready to go, huh? Well, resume your responsibilities then. They’ve changed.”

“Noticeably, o exalted one.”

F’lar frowned at that and brushed his forelock back irritably.

“Not that much. Did you see T’kul when he arrived from High Reaches at Southern?”

“No, nor did I want to. I heard him.” F’nor’s right hand clenched. The fighting wings had already gone to join you at Igen for the Threadfall. T’kul ordered everyone, including the wounded, out of Southern in an hour’s time. What they couldn’t pack and take, he confiscated. He made it clear that the southern continent was his to have and hold. That his Sweepriders were challenging any dragon and would flame them down like Thread if they didn’t get the proper response. Some of those Oldtimer dragons are stupid enough to do it, too.” F’nor paused. “You know, I’ve been noticing lately …”

“Did the Fort Weyr people arrive?”

“Yes, and Brekke checked T’ron to be sure he’d survived the trip.” F’nor scowled.

“He’ll live?”

“Yes, but …”

“Good. Now, I rather suspected that T’kul would react in that fashion To be sure we’ve all of Igen, Ista and Southern Boll as breeding ground for fire lizards, but I want you to get Manora to rig you something for those other lizard eggs you found and bring them back here. We need every one we can find. Where’s your little queen? They go back to their first feeding place, you know …”