Then Fnor remembered that hed not had the chance to mention Brekkes problem to Flar. And Flar would probably have gone back to Benden Weyr by now. Fnor upbraided himself for what was downright interference. Comes from being a wingsecond so long, he thought. You cannot go around meddling in anothers Weyr. Tbor had enough stress. But, by the First Egg, Fnor hated to think of the scenes Kylara would subject Brekke to, if Orth flew Wirenth.
He grew restless with traveling and wasnt even amused when Canth began to croon soothingly. But when the journey was accomplished, and they were circling down into the late afternoon sun over Southern, he felt no fatigue. A few riders were feeding their beasts in the pasture and he inquired if Canth wished to be fed.
Brekke wants to see you, Canth advised Fnor as he landed neatly in his weyr.
Probably to scold me, Fnor said, slapping Canths muzzle affectionately. He stood aside watching until the brown settled himself in the warmth of his dusty wallow.
Grall peeked out of the folds of the sling and Fnor transferred her to his shoulder. She squeaked a protest as he strode quickly toward Brekkes weyrhold and dug her claws into the shoulder pad for balance. She was thinking hungry thoughts.
Brekke was feeding her lizard, Berd, when Fnor entered. She smiled as she heard Gralls shrill demand, and pushed the bowl of meat toward Fnor.
I was worried that you might fly between.
Canth wouldnt let me.
Canth has sense. Hows the arm?
Took no hurt. There wasnt much to be done.
So I hear. Brekke frowned. Everythings askew. I have the oddest sensation …
Go on, Fnor urged when she broke off. What kind of a sensation? Was Wirenth about to rise? Brekke seemed to remain untouched by so many disturbances, a serene competent personality, tranquilly keeping the Weyr going, healing the wounded. For her to admit to uncertainty was disturbing.
As if she caught his thoughts, she shook her head, her lips set in a fierce line.
No, its not personal. Its just that everything is going awry disorienting, changing…
Is that all? Didnt I hear you suggesting a minor change or two? Letting a girl Impress a fighting dragon? Handing out fire lizards to placate the common mass?
Thats change. Im talking about a disorientation, a violent upheaval …
And your suggestions dont rank under that heading? Oh, my dear girl, and Fnor suddenly gave her a long, penetrating look. Something in her candid gaze disturbed him deeply.
Kylara pestering you?
Brekkes eyes slid from his and she shook her head.
I told you, Brekke, you can request other bronzes. Someone from another Weyr, Nton of Benden or Bdor of Ista … That would shut Kylara up.
Brekke shook her head violently, but kept her face averted. Dont keep foisting your friends on me! Her voice was sharp. I like Southern. Im needed here.
Needed? Youre being shamelessly exploited and not just by Southerners!
She stared at him, as surprised by the impulsive outburst as he was. For one moment he thought he understood why, but her eyes became guarded and Fnor wondered what Brekke could want to hide.
The need is more apparent than the exploitation. I dont mind hard work, she said in a low voice and popped a piece of meat into the browns wide-open mouth. Dont rob me of what fragile contentment I can contrive.
Contentment?
Sssh. Youre agitating the lizards.
Theyll survive. They fight. The trouble with you, Brekke, is that you wont. You deserve so much more than you get. You dont know what a kind, generous, useful oh, shells! and Fnor broke off in confusion.
Useful, worthwhile, wholesome, capable, dependable, the list is categoric, Fnor, I know the entire litany, Brekke said with a funny little catch in her voice. Rest assured, my friend, I know what I am.
There was such a bitterness in her light words, and such a shadow in her usually candid green eyes that Fnor could not tolerate it. To erase that self-deprecation, to make amends for his own maladroitness, Fnor leaned across the table to kiss her on the lips.