“Looking for you, of course. Have you any idea how many coves along this stretch of nowhere in the world answer the description Master Robinton gave me?”
“Well, the Weyr’s all organized,” F’lar told Lessa in a quiet voice as he joined her in the foreroom of the weyr which had been hastily vacated by its occupants so that the Master Harper of Pern could be accommodated. Master Oldive would not have him moved even as far as Ista Hold. The Healer and Brekke were with him now in the inner room as he slept, propped up in the bed, Zair perched above him, his glowing eyes never leaving the face of his friend.
Lessa held out her hand, needing her weyrmate’s touch. He pulled a stool beside hers, gave her a quick kiss and poured himself a cup of wine.
“D’ram has the Weyrfolk organized. He’s sent the older bronzes to help Canth and F’nor bring Ranilth back. The poor old thing will live only a few more Turns … if B’zon does.”
“Not another one today!”
F’lar shook his head. “No, he’s just dead asleep. We’ve got the disappointed bronze riders drunk as winemakers’ apprentices, and from every indication Cosira and G’dened are … so involved they haven’t any notion of what else has been happening here in Ista.”
“That’s as well,” Lessa replied, grinning from ear to ear.
F’lar stroked her cheek, grinning right back at her. “So when does Ramoth rise again, dear heart?”
“I’ll remember to let you know!” As she saw F’lar glance in the direction of the inner room, she added, “He’ll be all right!”
“Oldive wasn’t hedging about his full recovery?”
“How could he? With every dragon on Pern listening in? Now that,” she paused in thoughtful reflection, “was totally unexpected. I know the dragons will call him by name but… linking?”
“More incredible to me was Brekke arriving on Ruth, alone!”
“Why ever not?” Lessa asked, piqued. “She’s been a rider! And she’s had a special touch with dragons ever since she lost Wirenth!”
“I can’t quite see you offering her Ramoth under similar circumstances. Now don’t soar over me, Lessa. That was a fine gesture of Jaxom’s. Brekke told me that he hadn’t realized till that moment that he couldn’t fly between. It must have been a bitter discovery for him and it’s greatly to his credit that he could respond so generously.”
“Yes, I see your point. It’s a relief to have her here, too.” Lessa glanced toward the curtain and sighed. “You know, I could almost get to like firelizards after today.”
“What brought about this change of heart?” F’lar stared at her in surprise.
“I didn’t say I had. I said I could almost-watching Brekke direct Grail and Berd to bring her things, and that little bronze of Robinton’s. The creatures can get vicious when their friends are hurt but he just crouched there, watching Robinton’s face and crooning till I thought he’d shake his bones loose. Not that I didn’t feel much the same myself. When I think . ..” Lessa broke off, her face blotchy with tears.
“Don’t think of it, dear heart.” F’lar squeezed her hand. “It didn’t happen.”
“When Mnementh called me, I don’t think I’ve ever moved so fast. I fell off the ledge onto Ramoth’s back. Bad enough trying to get here before T’kul tried to kill you, but to find Robinton … If only you’d killed T’ron at Telgar Hold …”
“Lessa!” He gripped her fingers so tightly she winced. “T’ron’s Fidranth was very much alive at Telgar Hold. I couldn’t cause his death no matter what insult T’ron had given me. T’kul I could kill with pleasure. Though I admit, he nearly had me. Our Harper’s not the only one who’s Turning old.”
“So, thank goodness, are whoever’s still left of the Oldtimers in Southern. And now, what are we to do with them?”
“I will go south and take charge of the Weyr,” D’ram said. He’d entered, quiet with weariness, while they were talking. “I am, after all, an Oldtimer …” He gave a deep sigh. “They will accept from me what they would not endure from you, F’lar.”