The Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey [280]
“What could he have seen?” N’ton demanded urgently, tapping F’nor’s shoulder to get his attention.
“Clouds,” F’nor said, stepping back to let N’ton in. “Like a fist. Which turned into a dragon’s eye. Clouds, that’s all he could have seen, over backward Nerat!”
N’ton looked up from the eyepiece, sighing with relief.
“Cloud formations won’t get us anywhere!”
F’nor held his hand up for Grall. She came down obediently and when she started to hop to his shoulder, he forestalled her, gently stroking her head, smoothing her wings flat. He held her level with his eyes and, without stopping the gentle caresses, began to project the image of that fist, lazily forming over Nerat. He outlined color, grayish-red, and whitish where the top of the imagined fingers might be sun-struck. He visualized the fingers closing above the Neratian peninsula. Then he projected the image of Grall taking the long step between to the Red Star, into that cloud fist.
Terror, horror, a whirling many-faceted impression of heat, violent wind, burning breathlessness, sent him staggering against N’ton as Grall, with a fearful shriek, launched herself from his hand and disappeared.
“What happened to her?” N’ton demanded, steadying the brown rider.
“I asked her,” and F’nor had to take a deep breath because her reaction had been rather shattering, “to go to the Red Star.”
“Well, that takes care of Brekke’s idea!”
“But why did she overreact that way? Canth?”
She was afraid, Canth replied didactically, although he sounded as surprised as F’nor. You gave vivid coordinates.
“I gave vivid coordinates?”
Yes.
“What terrified Grall? You aren’t reacting the way she did and you heard the coordinates.”
She is young and silly. Canth paused, considering something. She remembered something that scared her. The brown dragon sounded puzzled by that memory.
“What does Canth say?” N’ton asked, unable to pick up the quick exchange.
“He doesn’t know what frightened her. Something she remembers, he says.”
“Remembers? She’s only been hatched a few weeks.”
“A moment, N’ton.” F’nor put his hand on the bronze rider’s shoulder to silence him for a thought had suddenly struck him. “Canth,” he said taking a deep breath, “you said the coordinates I gave her were vivid. Vivid enough—for you to take me to that fist I saw in the clouds?”
Yes, I can see where you want me to go, Canth replied so confidently that F’nor was taken aback. But this wasn’t a time to think things out.
He buckled his tunic tightly and jammed the gloves up under the wristbands.
“You going back now?” N’ton asked.
“Fun’s over here for the night,” F’nor replied with a nonchalance that astonished him. “Want to make sure Grall got back safely to Brekke. Otherwise I’ll have to sneak in to Southern to the cove where she hatched.”
“Have a care then,” N’ton advised. “At least we’ve solved one problem tonight. Meron can’t make that fire lizard of his go to the Red Star ahead of us.”
F’nor had mourned Canth. He tightened the fighting straps until they threatened to cut off circulation. He waved to N’ton and the watchrider suppressing his rising level of excitement until Canth had taken him high above the Weyr. Then he stretched flat along Canth’s neck and looped the hand straps double around his wrists. Wouldn’t do to fall off during this jump between.
Canth beat steadily upward, directly toward the baleful Red Star, high in the dark heavens, almost as if the dragon proposed to fly there straight.
Clouds were formed by water vapors, F’nor knew. At least they were on