The Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey [195]
“I’ll manage them, sir. I promise. And I won’t forget my duties, either,” she said breathlessly, her eyes still wide. With a gasp, she turned to give a splashing stir to the contents of the nearest pot, then whirled back again before the men could turn. “Brekke’s not here. Would you like some klah? Or the stew? Or some . . .”
“We’ll serve ourselves,” F’nor assured her, picking up two mugs.
“Oh, I ought to do that, sir . . .”
“You ought to watch your kettles, Mirrim. We’ll manage,” F’lar told her kindly, mentally contrasting the state of domestic affairs at the Crafthall to the order and the cooking of good rich food at this hall.
He motioned the brown rider to take the table furthest from the kitchen hearth.
“Can you hear anything from the lizards?” he asked in a low voice.
“From hers, you mean? No, but I can easily see what they must be thinking from their reactions. Why?”
“Idle question. But she’s not from a Search, is she?”
“No, of course not. She’s Brekke’s fosterling.”
“Hmmm. Then she’s not exactly proof, is she?”
“Proof of what, F’lar? I’ve suffered no head injury but I can’t follow your thought.”
F’lar gave his brother an absent smile and then exhaled wearily.
“We’re going to have trouble with the Lord Holders; they’re disillusioned and dissatisfied with the Oldtime Weyrs and are going to balk at any more expeditious measures against Thread.”
“Raid and Sifer give you a hard time?”
“I wish it were only that, F’nor. They’d come round.” F’lar gave his half-brother a terse account of what he’d learned from Lytol, Robinton and Fandarel the day before.
“Brekke was right when she said something really important had come up,” F’nor said afterward. “But . . .”
“Yes, that news’s a hard roll to eat, all right, but our ever efficient Smith’s got what might be an answer, not only to the watch on Thread but to establishing decent communications with every Hold and Hall on Pern. Especially since we can’t get the Oldtimers to assign riders outside the Weyrs. I saw a demonstration of the device today and we’re going to rig one for the Lord Holders at Telgar’s wedding . . .”
“And the Threads will wait for that?”
F’lar snorted. “They may be the lesser evil, frankly. The Threads prove to be more flexible in their ways than the Oldtimers and less trouble than the Lord Holders.”
“One of the basic troubles between Lord Holders and Weyrmen are dragons, F’lar, and those fire lizards might just ease matters.”
“That’s what I was thinking earlier, considering that young Mirrim had Impressed three. That’s really astonishing, even if she is weyrbred.”
“Brekke would like to see her Impress a fighting dragon,” F’nor said in a casual way, watching his half-brother’s face closely.
F’lar gave him a startled stare and then threw back his head and laughed.
“Can you . . . imagine . . . T’ron’s reaction? . . .” he managed to say.
“Well enough to spare myself your version, but the fire lizards may do the trick! And, have the added talent of keeping Hold in contact with Weyr if these creatures prove amenable to training.”
“If—if! Just how similar to dragons are fire lizards?”
F’nor shrugged. “As I told you, they are Impressionable—if rather undiscriminating,” he pointed to Mirrim at the Hearth and then grinned maliciously, “although they detested Kylara on sight. They’re slaves to their stomachs, though after Hatching that’s very definitely draconic. They respond to affection and flattery. The dragons themselves admit the relationship, seem totally free of jealousy of the creatures. I can detect basic emotions in the thoughts of mine and they generally inspire affection in those who handle them.”
“And they can go between?”
“Grall—my little queen—did. About chewing firestone I couldn’t hazard a guess. We’ll have to wait and see.”
“And we don’t have time,” F’lar