Oil is for itching skin, said Canth. Imperfect hide cracks in between.
Be quiet, you. Ive got skin, not hide.
Grall appeared in his room, hovering over his chest, her wings wafting cool air across his face. She was curious, a curiosity with slight overtones of alarm.
He smiled, generating reassurance and affection. The gyrations of her lovely jewel-faceted eyes slowed and she made a graceful survey of his quarters, humming when she discovered the bathing room. He could hear her splashing about in the water. He closed his eyes. He would need to rest. He did not look forward to the afternoons endeavor.
If the grubs did live to eat Thread, and if Flar could maneuver the scared Lords and Craftsmen into accepting this solution, what then? They werent fools, those men. Theyd see that Pern would no longer be dependent on Dragonriders. Of course, thats what they wanted. And what under the sun did out-of-work Dragonriders do? The Lords Holders Groghe, Sangel, Nessel, Meron and Vincet would immediately dispense with tithes. Fnor wouldnt object to learning another trade, but Flar had relinquished their tentative hold on the southern continent to the Oldtimers, so where would dragonmen farm? What commodity would they barter for the products of the Crafthalls?
Flar couldnt be under the impression that he could mend that breach with Tkul, could he? Or maybe well, they didnt know how large the southern continent was. Past the deserts to the west or the unexplored sea to the east, maybe there were other, hospitable lands. Did Flar know more than he said? Grall chirruped piteously in his ear. She was clinging to the fur rug by his shoulder, her supple hide gleaming golden from her bath. He stroked her, wondering if she needed oil. She was growing, but not at the tremendous rate dragons did in the first few weeks after Hatching.
Well, his thoughts were disturbing her as well as himself. Canth?
The dragon was asleep. The fact was oddly consoling.
Fnor found a comfortable position and closed his eyes, determined to rest. Gralls soft stirrings ended and he felt her body resting against his neck, in the curve of his shoulder. He wondered how Brekke was doing at the High Reaches. And if her small bronze was as unsettled by Weyrlife in a cliff as Grall. A memory of Brekkes face crossed his mind. Not as he had last seen her, anxious, worried, rapidly mobilizing her wits to cope with moving so precipitously after Tkul had swooped down on the unsuspecting settlement. But as loving had made her, soft, gentled. Hed have her soon to himself all to himself, for hed see that she didnt over extend herself fighting everyones battles except her own. Shed be asleep now, he realized, for it was still night at High Reaches …
Brekke was not asleep. She had awakened suddenly, as she was accustomed to doing in the morning, except that the dark stillness around her was not simply that of an inner room in the weyr cliff, but was full of the soft solitude of night. The fire lizard, Berd, roused too, his brilliant eyes the only light in the room. He crooned apprehensively. Brekke stroked him, listening for Wirenth, but the queen was sound asleep in her stony couch.
Brekke tried to compose herself back into sleep, but even as she made her body relax, she realized it was a useless attempt. It might be late watch here at High Reaches, but it was dawn in Southern, and thats the rhythm her body was still tuned to. With a sigh, she rose, reassuring Berd who rustled around anxiously. But he joined her in the pool bath, splashing with small vehemence in the warm water, utilizing the superfluous suds from her cleansing sands to bathe himself. He preened on the bench, uttering those soft voluptuous croons that amused her. In a way, it was good to be up and about with no one to interrupt her for there was so much to be done to settle the weyrfolk in their new habitation. Shed have to plan around some of the most obvious problems. There was little fresh food. Tkul had gratuitously left behind the oldest, scrawniest bucks, the worst furnishings, had made off with most of the supplies of cloth, cured woods, leathers, all the wine, and managed to prevent the Southern folk from taking enough from their stores to make up the deficits. Oh, if shed had even two hours, or any warning …