Mnementh had landed now. F’lar would be striding across the meadow. Robinton began to twitch with more impatience for that final walk than he had felt during the four sevendays of coolness between Weyr and Hall.
Robinton rose and paced to the window just as F’lar entered the inner courtyard of the Crafthall. He was walking with long strides, but F’lar always did, so there did not seem to be any baste in his errand. Then why was he coming to the Hall?
F’lar spoke to a journeyman, who was packing a runner for a trip. Firelizards congregated on the roof. Robinton saw F’lar raise his head and notice them. The Harper briefly considered whether he ought to ask Zair to leave while F’lar was present. No sense filing resentment of any consequence right now.
F’lar had entered the Hall. Through the open window, Robinton could hear the Weyrleader’s voice and the pause for an answer. Silvina? More likely his journeyman, he thought, smiling to himself, lying in wait for the Weyrleader. Yes, he was right. He could hear Menolly’s voice and F’lar’s as they came up the stairs. The sounds of the voices were unmarked by emotion. Good girl! Easy does it.
“Ah, Robinton, Menolly informs me that her firelizards refer to Mnementh as ‘the biggest one,’ ” F’lar said with a slight smile on his face as he entered the room.
“They’re chary of awarding accolades, F’lar,” Robinton replied, taking the tray from Menolly, who withdrew, closing the door. Not that her absence precluded her knowing what would happen, not with Beauty attuned to Zair.
“There’s no trouble at Benden, is there?” Robinton asked the Weyrleader as he handed him a cup of klah.
“No, no trouble.” Robinton waited. “But there is a puzzle that I thought you might be able to answer for us.”
“If I can, I will,” the Harper said, gesturing to F’lar to seat himself.
“We can’t find D’ram.”
“D’ram?” Robinton almost laughed in surprise. “Why can’t you find D’ram?”
“He’s alive. We know that much. We don’t know where.”
“Surely Ramoth could touch Tiroth?”
F’lar shook his head. “Perhaps I should have said when.”
“When? D’ram’s timed it somewhere? I mean, somewhen?”
“That’s the only explanation. And we can’t see how he could possibly have gone back to his own Time. We don’t believe that Tiroth has that much strength in him. Timing it, as you know, is very draining on both dragon and rider. But D’ram has gone.”
“That’s not unexpected surely,” Robinton said slowly, his mind turning rapidly over the possibilities of when.
“No, not unexpected.”
“He wouldn’t have gone to the Southern Weyr?”
“No, because Ramoth would have no trouble locating him there. And G’dened went back quite a distance, before Threadfall, at Ista itself, thinking D’ram would stay where his memories are.”
“Lord Warbret offered D’ram. any one of those caves on the south side of Ista Island. He seemed agreeable.” Then as F’lar’s shrug negated that suggestion, the Harper added, “Yes, he was too agreeable.”
F’lar rose, striding restlessly about, turning back to the Harper. “Have you any ideas where the man could have gone? You were with him a great deal. Can you remember anything?”
“He wasn’t talking very much toward the end, just sat there holding Fanna’s hand.” Robinton found that he needed to swallow. As accustomed as he was to mortality, D’ram’s devotion to his Weyrwoman and his silent grief at her death had the power to bring tears to the Harper’s eyes. “I tendered offers of hospitality to him from Groghe and Sangel. In fact, I gather he could have gone anywhere on Pern and been welcome. Obviously he prefers the company of his memories. Might I ask if there is any reason to know where he is?”
“No reason other than our concern for him.”
“Oldive said that he was completely in possession of his reason, F’lar, if that’s your worry.”
F’lar made a grimace and impatiently stroked back a forelock which invariably fell into his eyes when he was agitated. “Frankly, Robinton, it’s Lessa. Ramoth can’t find Tiroth. Lessa’s certain he’s gone far enough back in time to suicide without giving us distress. It’s in D’ram’s nature to do so.”