Youll have to take my word for it …
Have I ever questioned your word, Tron? Those words, too, were out before Flar could censor them. He could and did keep his face expressionless, hoping Tron would not read in it an additional allusion to that meeting. I can see that the Records badly eroded, but if youve deciphered it and it bears on this mornings unpredicted shift, well all be in your debt.
Flar? Lessas voice rang down the corridor. Where are your manners? The klahs cooling and it is predawn Trons time.
Id appreciate a cup, Tron admitted, as obviously relieved as Flar by the interruption.
I apologize for rousing you …
I need none, not with this news.
Unaccountably Flar was relieved to realize that Tron had obviously not known of Threadfall. He had come charging in here, delighted at an opportunity to put Flar and Benden in the wrong. Hed not have been so quick witness his evasiveness and contradictions over the belt-knife fight if hed known.
When the two men entered the queens weyr, Lessa was gowned, her hair loosely held by an intricate net, and seated gracefully at the table. Just as if she hadnt ridden hard all morning and been suited five minutes before.
So Lessa was all set to charm Tron again, huh? Despite the unsettling events, Flar was amused. Still, he wasnt certain that this ploy would lessen Trons antagonism. He didnt know what truth there was in a rumor that Tron and Mardra were not on very good terms for a Weyrwoman and Weyrleader.
Wheres Ramoth? Tron asked, as he passed the queens empty weyr.
On the Hatching Ground, of course, slobbering over her latest clutch. Lessa replied with just the right amount of indifference .
But Tron frowned, undoubtedly reminded that there was another queen egg on Bendens warm sands and that the Oldtimers queens laid few gold eggs.
I do apologize for starting your day so early, she went on, deftly serving him a neatly sectioned fruit and fixing klah to his taste Rut we need your advice and help.
Tron grunted his thanks, carefully placing the Record hide side down on the table.
Threadfall could come when it would if we didnt have all those blasted forests to care for, Tron said, glaring at Flar through the steam of the klah as he lifted his mug.
What? And do without wood? Lessa complained, rubbing her hands on the carved chair which Bendarek had made with his consummate artistry. Those stone chairs may fit you and Mardra, she said in a sweet insinuating voice, but I had a cold rear end all the time.
Tron snorted with amusement, his eyes wandering over the dainty Weyrwoman in such a way that Lessa leaned forward abruptly and tapped the Record.
I ought not to take your valuable time with chatter. Have you discovered something here which we missed?
Flar ground his teeth. He hadnt overlooked a single legible word in those moldy Records, so how could she imply negligence so casually?
He forgave her when Tron responded by flipping over the hide. The skin is badly preserved, of course, and he made it sound as if Bendens wardship were at fault, not the depredations of four hundred Turns of abandonment, but when you sent that weyrling with this news, I happened to remember seeing a reference to a Pass where all previous Records were no help. One reason we never bothered with timetable nonsense.
Flar was about to demand why none of the Oldtimers had seen fit to mention that minor fact, when he caught Lessas stern look. He held his peace.
See, this phrase here is partly missing, but if you put unpredictable shifts here, it makes sense.
Lessa, her gray eyes wide with an expression of unfeigned awe (her dissembling nearly choked Flar), looked up from the Record at Tron.
Hes right, Flar. That would make sense. See and she deftly slipped the Record from Trons reluctant fingers and passed it to Flar. He took it from her.
Youre right, Tron. Very right. This is one of the older skins which I had to abandon, unable to decipher them.