McCaffrey, Anne – DragonQuest. Chapter 3, 4

“Indeed we will. We’ll bring them up to date if …”

“Lessa,” and F’lar gave her a little shake, his pessimism dispersed by the vehemence of her response and the transparency of her rapid calculations on how to bring about such changes. “You can’t change a watch-wher into a dragon, my love …”

Who’d want to? demanded Mnementh from the Feeding Ground, his appetite sated.

The bronze dragon’s tart observation elicited a giggle from Lessa. F’lar hugged her gratefully.

“Well, it’s nothing we can’t cope with,” she said firmly, allowing him to tuck her under his shoulder as they walked back to the weyr. “And it’s nothing I don’t expect from that T’kul of the ever-so-superior High Reaches. But R’mart of Telgar Weyr?”

“How long have the messengers been gone?”

Lessa frowned up at the bright midmorning sky. “Only just. I wanted to get any last details from the Sweepriders.”

“I’m as hungry as Mnementh. Feed me, woman.”

The bronze dragon had glided up to the ledge to settle in his accustomed spot just as a commotion started in the tunnel. He extended his wings to flight position, neck craned toward the one land entrance to the dragonweyr.

“It’s the wine train from Benden, silly,” Lessa told him, chuckling as Mnementh gave voice to a loud brassy grumble and began to arrange himself again, completely disinterested in wine trains “Now don’t tell Robinton the new wine’s in, F’lar. It has to settle first, you know.”

“And why would I be telling Robinton anything?” F’lar demanded, wondering how Lessa knew that he had only just started to think of the Masterharper himself.

“There has never been a crisis before us when you haven’t sent for the Masterharper and the Mastersmith.” She sighed deeply. “If we only had such cooperation from our own kind.” Her body went rigid under his arm. “Here comes Fidranth and he says that T’ron’s very agitated.”

“T’ron’s agitated?” F’lar’s anger welled up instantly.

“That’s what I said,” Lessa replied, freeing herself and taking the steps two at a time. “I’ll order you food.” She halted abruptly, turning to say over her shoulder, “Keep your temper. I suspect T’kul never told anyone. He’s never forgiven T’ron for talking him into coming forward, you know.”

F’lar waited beside Mnementh as Fidranth circled smartly into the weyr. From the Hatching Cavern came Ramoth’s crotchety challenge. Mnementh answered her soothingly that the intruder was only Fidranth and no threat. At least not to her clutch. Then the bronze rolled one scintillating eye toward his rider. The exchange, so like one between himself and Lessa, drained anger from F’lar. Which was as well, for T’ron’s opening remarks were scarcely diplomatic.

“I found it! I found what you forgot to incorporate in those so-called infallible timetables of yours!”

“You’ve found what, T’ron?” F’lar asked, tightly controlling his temper. If T’ron had found anything that would be of help, he could not antagonize the man.

Mnementh had courteously stepped aside to permit Fidranth landing room, but with two huge bronze bodies there was so little space that T’ron slid in front of the Benden Weyrleader, waving a portion of a Record hide right under his nose.

“Here’s proof your timetables didn’t include every scrap of information from our Records!”

“You’ve never questioned them before, T’ron,” F’lar reminded the exercised man, speaking evenly.

“Don’t hedge with me, F’lar. You just sent a messenger with word that Thread was falling out of pattern.”

“And I’d have appreciated knowing that Thread had fallen out of pattern over Tillek and High Crom in the past few days!”

The look of shock and horror on T’ron’s face was too genuine to be faked.

“You’d do better to listen to what commoners say, T’ron, instead of immuring yourself in the Weyr,” F’lar told him. “Asgenar knew of it yet neither T’kul nor R’mar thought to tell the other Weyrs, so we could prepare and keep watch.

Just luck I had F’rad …”

“You’ve not been housing dragonmen in the Holds again?”

“I always send a messenger on ahead the day of a Fall. If I didn’t follow the practice, Asgenar’s forest lands would be gone by now.”

F’lar regretted that heated reference. It would give T’ron the wedge he needed for another of his diatribes about over forestration. To divert him, F’lar reached for the piece of Record, but T’ron twitched it out of his grasp.