CHAPTER VII
Midmorning at Benden Weyr
Early Morning at the Mastersmiths
Crafthall in Telgar Hold
FLAR RECEIVED Fnors message, five leaves of notes, just as he was about to set out to the Smithcrafthall to see Fandarels distance-writing mechanism. Lessa was already aloft and waiting.
Fnor said it was urgent. Its about the Gnag said.
Ill read it as soon as I can, Flar interrupted him. The man would talk your ear off. My thanks and my apologies.
But, Flar … The rest of the mans sentence was lost as Mnemenths claws rattled against the stone of the ledge and the bronze dragon began to beat his way up.
It didnt help Flars temper to realize that Mnementh was making a gentle ascent. Lessa had been so right when she had teased him about staying up drinking and talking with Robinton. The man was a sieve for wine Around midnight Fandarel had left, taking his treasure of a contraption. Lessa had wagered that hed never go to bed, and likely no one in his Hall would either. After extracting a promise from Flar that hed get some rest soon, too, shed retired.
He had meant to, but Robinton knew so much about the different Holds, which minor Holders were important in swaying their Lords mind essential information if Flar was going to effect a revolution.
Reverence for the older rider was part of Weyrlife, and respect for the able Threadfighter. Seven Turns back, when Flar had realized humbly how inadequate was Perns one Weyr, Benden, and how ill-prepared for actual Threadfighting conditions, he had ascribed many virtues to the Oldtimers which were difficult now for him arbitrarily to sweep away. He and all Bendens Dragonriders had learned the root of Threadfighting from the Oldtimers. Had learned the many tricks of dodging Thread, gauging the varieties of Fall, of conserving the strength of beast and rider, of turning the mind from the horrors of a full scoring or a phosphine emission too close. What Flar didnt realize was how his Weyr and the Southerners had improved on the teaching; improved and surpassed, as they could on the larger, stronger, more intelligent contemporary dragons. Flar had been able, in the name of gratitude and loyalty to his peers, to ignore, forget, rationalize the Oldtimers shortcomings. He could do so no longer as the weight of their insecurity and insularity forced him to re-evaluate the results of their actions. In spite of this disillusionment, some part of Flar, that inner soul of a man which requires a hero, a model against which to measure his own accomplishments, wanted to unite all the dragonmen; to sweep away the Oldtimers intractable resistance to change, their tenacious hold on the outmoded.
Such a feat rivaled his other goal and yet, the distance separating Pern and the Red Star was only a different sort of step between. And one man had to take if he was ever to free himself of the yoke of Thread.
The cool air the sun was not full on the Bowl yet reminded him of his face scores but it felt good against his aching forehead. As he bent forward to brace himself against Mnemenths neck, the leaves of the message pressed into his ribs. Well, hed find out what Kylara was doing later.
He glanced below, squeezing his lids shut briefly as the dizzying speed affected his unfocusing eyes. Yes, Nton was already directing a crew of men and dragons in the removal of the sealed entrance. With more light and fresher air flooding the abandoned corridors, exploration could go on effectively. Theyd keep Ramoth out of the way so shed not complain that men were coming too close to her maturing clutch.
She knows, Mnementh informed his rider.
And?
She is curious.
They were now poised above the Star Rocks, above and beyond the watchrider, who saluted them. Flar frowned at the Finger Rock. Now, if a man had a proper lens, fitted into the Eye Rock, would he be able to see the Red Star? No, because at this time of year you did not see the Red Star at that angle. Well …