And I set the stage for this one, Lessa said with a bitter laugh.
Before Flar could speak, Robinton was waggling his finger at her. Silly people waste time assigning or assuming guilt, Lessa. You went back and you brought the Oldtimers forward. To save Pern. Now we have a different problem. Youre not silly. You and Flar, and all of us, must find other solutions. Now weve that so conveniently scheduled wedding at Telgar Hold. Therell be a bevy of Lords and Craftmasters doing honor to Lemos and Telgar. We are all invited. Let us make very good use of that social occasion, my Lady Lessa, my lord Flar, and bend them all to Bendens way of thinking. Let Benden weyr be a model and all the other Holds and Crafts will follow those weyrbound to Benden …
He leaned back suddenly, smiling with great anticipation.
Flar said quietly, Disaffection is apparently universal. We are going to need more than words and example to change minds.
The Crafts will back you, Weyrleader, to the last Hall, Fandarel said. You champion Bendarek. Fnor defended Terry, and against dragonmen because they were in the wrong. Fnor is all right, is he not? The Smith turned questioningly to Lessa.
Hell be back in a week or so.
We need him now, Robinton said. Hed be useful at Telgar Hold, the commoners account him a hero. What do you say, Flar? Were yours to command again.
They all turned to him, Lessa slipping a hand to his knee her eyes eager. This was what she wanted, all right; for him to assume the responsibility. It was what he knew he had to do, finishing the task he had relinquished, hopefully, to those he thought better qualified than he to protect Pern.
About that distance-writer of yours, Fandarel, could you rig one to Telgar Hold in time for the marriage? Flar asked.
Robinton let out a whoop that reverberated through the chamber, causing Ramoth to grumble from the Hatching Ground. The Smith showed all his stained tusks and clenched his huge fists on the table as if choking any opposition a-borning. The tic in Lytols cheek gave a spasmodic leap and stopped.
Marvelous idea, Robinton cried. Hopes a great encourager. Give the Lords a reliable means of keeping in touch and youve undone much of the Weyrs isolation policies.
Can you do it, Fandarel? Flar asked the Smith.
To Telgar I could lay wire. Yes. It could be done.
How is this distance writing done? I dont understand.
Fandarel inclined his head toward the Masterharper. Thanks to Robinton, we have a code that permits us to send long and complicated messages. One must train a man to understand it, to send and receive it. If you could spare an hour of your time …
I can spare you as much time as you need, Fandarel, Flar assured him.
Lets go tomorrow. Theres nothing could fall here tomorrow, Lessa urged, excited.
Good. I shall arrange a demonstration. I shall put more people to work on the wire.
I shall speak to Lord Sangel of Southern Boll and Lord Groghe of Fort Hold, Lytol said. Discreetly, of course, but they know Ruatha is not favored by the Weyr. He got to his feet. I have been a dragonrider, and a craftsman, and now I am a Holder. But Thread makes no distinction. It sears wherever, whatever it touches.
Yes, we must remind everyone of that, Robinton said with an ominous grin.
I shall, of course, agree to whatever Tron orders me to do, now I have hopes of a surer deliverance. Lytol bowed to Lessa. My duty to you, my lady. Ill collect Lord Jaxom and beg the favor of a return flight …
Youve missed your lunch, stay for our dinner.
Lytol shook his head regretfully. Therell be much to set in motion.
In the interests of conserving dragon strength, Ill ride with Lytol and Jaxom, Robinton said, swallowing the rest of his wine after a rueful toast to such haste. That will leave you two beasts to share the burden of Fandarel.
Fandarel stood up, a tolerantly smiling giant, his massive bulk dwarfing the Harper, who was by no measure a short man. I sympathize with dragons, forced to endure the envy of frail, small creatures.