The Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey [244]
Fandarel stepped out of the darkness to his craftsman’s side. “The instrument is positioned for the viewing. To move it would destroy the careful work of some hours.”
“If it is positioned for viewing, then let us view!” Nabol said and, after staring belligerently around the circle, stepped past Wansor. “Well? What do you do with this thing?”
Wansor glanced questioningly at the big Smith, who made a slight movement of his head, excusing him. Wansor gratefully stepped back and let Fandarel preside. With two gnarled fingers the Smith delicately held the small round protuberance at the of the smaller cylinder.
“This is the eyepiece. Put your best seeing eye to it,” he told Meron.
The lack of any courteous title was not lost on the Nabolese Plainly he wanted to reprimand the Smith. Had Wansor spoken so, he would have hesitated a second, Robinton thought.
Meron’s lips slid into a sneer and, with a bit of a swagger he took the final step to the distance-viewer. Bending forward slightly, he laid his eye to the proper place. And jerked his body back hastily, his face wearing a fleeting expression of shock and terror, He laughed uneasily and than took a second, longer look. Far too long a look to Robinton’s mind.
“If there is any lack of definition in the image, Lord Meron—” Wansor began tentatively.
“Shut up!” Gesturing him away impatiently, Meron continued his deliberate monopoly of the instrument.
“That will be enough, Meron,” Groghe, Lord of Fort said as the others began to stir restlessly. “You’ve had more than your turn this round. Move away. Let others see.”
Meron stared insolently at Groghe for a moment and then looked back into the eyepiece.
“Very interesting. Very interesting.” he said, his tone oily with amusement.
That is quite enough, Meron,” Lessa said, striding to the instrument. The man could not be allowed any privilege.
He regarded her as he might a body insect, coldly and mockingly.
“Enough of what—Weyrwoman?” And his tone made the title a vulgar epithet. In fact, his pose exuded such a lewd familiarity that Robinton found he was clenching his fists. He had an insane desire to wipe that look from Meron’s face and change the arrangement of the features in the process.
The Mastersmith, however, reacted mere quickly. His two great hands secured Meron’s arms to his sides and, in a fluid movement, Fandarel picked the Nabolese Lord up, the man’s feet dangling a full dragonfoot above the rock, and carried him as far away from the Star Stones as the ledge permitted. Fandarel then set Meron down so hard that the man gave a startled exclamation of pain and staggered before he gained his balance. The little lizard screeched around his head
“My lady,” the Mastersmith inclined his upper body toward Lessa and gestured with great courtesy for her to take her place.
Lessa had to stand on tiptoe to reach the eyepiece, silently wishing someone had taken into account that not all the viewers this evening were tall. The instant the image of the Red Star reached her brain, such trivial annoyance evaporated. There was the Red Star, seemingly no farther away than her arm could reach. It swam, a many-hued globe, like a child’s miggsy, in a lush black background. Odd whitish-pink masses must be clouds. Startling to think that the Red Star could possess clouds—like Pern. Where the cover was pierced, she could see grayish masses, a lively gray with glints and sparkles. The ends of the slightly ovoid planet were completely white, but devoid of the cloud cover. Like the great icecaps of northern regions of Pern. Darker masses punctuated the grays. Land? Or seas?
Involuntarily Lessa moved her head, to glance up at the round mark of redness in the night sky that was this child’s toy through the magic of the distance-viewer. Then, before anyone might think she’d relinquished the instrument, she looked back through the eyepiece. Incredible. Unsettling. If the gray was land