Just as Robinton realized that the beasts must have flown in at sea level to get this close to the Weyr undetected, he also realized that these were older beasts, muzzles graying, necks thickened. Southerners. Two of the Oldtmers’ bronzes. That had to be T’kul with Salth, and probably B’zon with Ranilth. Robinton began to run toward the killing ground, toward the queen’s prospective mates, for that was the obvious goal of the two bronzes sweeping in from the south.
Their timing had been perfect, Robinton thought then saw two others making for the landing bronzes-the stocky figure of D’ram and F’lar’s lean body. T’kul and B’zon jumped off their beasts. The dragons took one final leap to range themselves with the other bronzes who hissed and growled at the newcomers. Robinton prayed under his breath that none of the bronze riders would act first, think later. Most of them were so young they’d not recognize T’kul or B’zon. But D’ram and F’lar certainly had.
Robinton felt his heart pounding in his chest and a totally unfamiliar ache that caused him to grimace and slow his trot momentarily. B’zon was facing him, a set smile on his face. The Oldtimer touched T’kul’s arm and the former High Reaches Weyrleader spared the Harper a quick glance. T’kul considered him no threat and turned back toward the two Weyrleaders.
D’ram reached T’kul first. “You fool, this is for young beasts. You’ll kill Salth.”
“What option have you left us?” B’zon demanded just as F’lar and Robinton skidded to either side of the two Southerners. There was a hysterical note in the man’s voice. “Our queens are too old to rise: there are no greens to give the males relief. We must…”
Caylith bugled as she left the blood-sucked corpse of the buck and half-flew, half-ran to scatter the herd, one sweeping forepaw impaling another victim on its flank and dragging it back to her.
“D’ram, you declared this flight open, didn’t you?”
T’kul asked in a harsh voice, his features fine-drawn despite the tan of Southern suns. He looked from D’ram to F’lar.
“I did, but your bronzes are too old, T’kul.” He gestured toward the eager young dragons. The difference between them and the two older ones was pathetically obvious.
“Salth’s dying anyway. Let him go out flying. I made that choice, D’ram, when I brought him here.” T’kul stared hard at F’lar, the bitterness and hatred so vivid that Robinton sucked in his breath. “Why did you take back the egg? How did you find it?” Desperation broke briefly through T’kul’s cold pride and arrogance.
“Had you come to us, we would have helped you,” F’lar said quietly.
“Or I,” D’ram said, miserable before the plight of his one-time acquaintance.
Ignoring F’lar altogether, Tkul gave the Istan Weyrleader a long scornful glance then, straightening his shoulders, jerked his head at B’zon to move forward. F’lar was in his direct path to the other bronze riders. The Benden Weyrleader opened his mouth to speak, shook his head in regret and stepped to one side. The Southern riders moved the few paces forward just in time. Caylith, raising her bloody muzzle, seemed to pulse more golden than ever. Her eyes were whirling opalescence. With a fierce scream, she launched herself upward. Barnath was the first dragon off the ground after her, and, to Robinton’s surprise, T’kul’s Salth was not far behind the Istan bronze.
T’kul swung back to F’lar, the triumph on his face an insult. Then he strode to Cosira’s side. The Weyrwoman was swaying with the effort of staying in mental contact with her queen. She didn’t notice that it was G’dened and T’kul who were leading her back to her quarters to await the outcome of the flight.
“He’ll kill Salth,” D’ram was muttering, his face stricken.
That odd pressure against his chest kept Robinton from reassuring the worried man.
“And B’zon,, too!” D’ram grabbed F’lar’s arm. “Is there nothing we can do to stop it? Two dragons?”
“If they had come to us …” F’lar began, placing his hand consolingly on D’ram’s. “But those Oldtimer riders always took! That was they error at the outset!” His face hardened.
“They’re still taking,” Robinton said, wanting to ease D’ram’s distress. “They’ve taken what they wanted from the north all along. Here, there. What pleased them. Young girls, material, stone, iron, jewels. They looted with quiet system ever since they were exiled. I’ve had the reports. I’ve given them to F’lar.”