McCaffrey, Anne – Dragon Drums. Chapter 11

“We need the wind, Sebell,” she replied, laughing with a spontaneous gaiety that drew a laugh from him because

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they had finally spoken of what had kept them apart too long.

He put up his hand to grab the boorn before it could swing back. She half rose and reached the lines to secure the boom, then pulled herself onto the seat to unlash the tiller. As Sebell rose to join her, he caught sight of a curled ball of bronze and gold on the forward deck, but Kimi and Diver were too soundly asleep to be roused by considerations of sea and wind. He envied them.

“Where did Rocky go?” he asked Menolly, who frowned slightly in thought.

“He either joined Beauty … or found himself a wild green. I suspect the latter.”

“Wouldn’t you know?” asked Sebell, surprised.

Menolly shook her head from side to side, with a half-smile, and Sebell realized that she’d been unaware of anything except their rapport with their two fire lizards. He relaxed, thoroughly content with their new understanding.

“If this breeze continues to follow, we’ll make Southern by tomorrow high sun,” she said and deftly played out the line, making the most of the wind that filled the red sail. Then she indicated that Sebell should bridge the distance between them in the cockpit.

Neither left each other for very long all through that brilliant, lovely night.

Menolly’s sea-sense was acute, for the sun had just reached its zenith when they eased the little skiff into the pleasant cove that served the Southern Hold as harbor. Se-bell counted the ships bobbing at anchor and wondered where the largest three vessels were. They’d seen none fishing as the Great Eastern Current had raced them toward their destination. Not that Sebell expected anyone in the Southern Hold to be moving about in the heavy heat of high sun.

Suddenly Beauty appeared, cluttering a wild welcome. Rocky arrived more sedately, settling on the tied boom. Menolly scooped him from his perch and caressed him, murmuring loving reassurances until Sebell heard her laugh.

“What’s so amusing?”

“He must have found a green. He looks far too smug, but he’s trying to make me feel guiltyl”

17S

“Not your fault Diver lived up to his name!”

“Hello down there!” The loud hail attracted their attention up to the small precipice that bulged out above the harbor. The tall, tanned figure of the Southern Holder, Toric, waved an imperious arm at them. “No use swelter-ing! Come where it’s cool!”

With Beauty and Rocky as escort, they waded ashore, leaving Kimi and Diver still asleep. Sebell firmly captured Menolly’s hand as they raced across the hot sand to the steps that would lead to the top of the white stone cliff, which rose above the sea to make a safehold for its inhabitants.

Toric was gone from the halfway lookout when they reached it, but they were both accustomed to the southerner’s habits, and indeed, it was only sensible to get out of the burdening heat.

Toric had been able to keep the lush vegetation of the south only so far from the entrance to the cool white caves by strewing the area deeply with seashells. The crunch and break of shell also served to warn the hold of visitors. To-ric awaited them just inside the hold’s entrance, gripping each by the arm with fingers that threatened to leave bruise marks.

“You were mighty short on words with that message Beauty bore me,” he said as he escorted them to his private quarters.

The Southern Hold differed from northern ones in many respects, and, at this time of day, was uninhabited. The large low cavern was used for mealtimes, bad storms or Threadfall. The Southerners preferred to live apart, in shelters set in the shade of the thick forest of the bluff. When the wind was from the wrong quarter, this cavern could be breathlessly-hot. Today, however, as Toric handed them each long tubes of cooled fruit juices, the temperature was a distinct drop from the heat without.

“To expand on Beauty’s terse message,” said Sebell, without the usual harper preambles, for Toric was a blunt-spoken man and appreciated the same in return. “Meron is dead and his successor. Lord Deckter, wishes it clearly understood that he is in no way to be bound by previous commitments.”

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