The Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey [329]
“Which, let us fervently hope,” F’nor said, raising his eyes toward the ceiling, “wipes out what happened today in record time.”
“Lessa does not suffer that gift,” Robinton said with a heavy sigh.
“She’s not stupid either, Masterharper,” N’ton said, adroitly reaffirming his respect for the man by the use of his title. “Nor is F’lar. Just worried. They’ll both come round and appreciate your intervention today.” Then N’ton cleared his throat and looked the Masterharper squarely in the eyes. “Do you know who took the egg?”
“I had heard that something was being planned. I knew, which would have been obvious to anyone counting Turns, that the Southern men and dragons are slowing with age, and desperate. I’ve had only the experience of Zair wanting to mate . . .” Robinton paused, remembering that astounding revival of desires he had thought himself well past, shrugged and met the understanding twinkle in N’ton’s eyes. “So I can appreciate the pressures that randy brown and bronze dragons can exert on their riders. Even a willing green, young enough to be flown, would help . . .” He looked questioningly at the two dragonriders.
“Not after today,” F’nor said emphatically. “If they’d approached one of the Weyrs . . . D’ram for instance,” he glanced at N’ton for corroboration, “perhaps a green would have gone, if only to prevent something disastrous. But to attempt to solve their problems by kidnapping a queen egg?” F’nor frowned. “How much do you know, Robinton, about what goes on down in the Southern Weyr? I know I gave you all the maps I’d made when I was timing it in the South.”
“Frankly, I know more about happenings in the Hold. I did get a message from Piemur recently that the dragonriders had been more private than is their custom. They don’t mix much with holders, following the pattern of their own Time, but a certain amount of coming and going into the Weyr was permitted. That ceased abruptly and then no holders were allowed near the Weyr. Not for any reason. Nor was there much flying done. Piemur says the dragons would be seen midair and then they’d pop between. No circling, no cruising. Just going between.”
“Timing it,” F’nor said thoughtfully.
Zair squeaked piteously and Robinton soothed him. Again the fire-lizard inserted in his mind the image of dragons flaming fire-lizards: the black nothingness, and a glimpse of an egg.
“Did you both get that picture, too, from your friends?” he asked, though their startled expression made the question unnecessary.
Robinton pressed Zair for a clearer image, a view of where the egg was, and received nothing but the impression of flame and fear.
“I wish they’d a bit more sense,” Robinton said, forcing down his irritation. Tantalizing to be so close, thwarted by the limited scope of fire-lizard vision.
“They’re still upset,” F’nor said. “I’ll try with Grall and Berd later on. I wonder if Menolly’s getting the same reaction from hers. You might ask her when you’ve got back to the Harpercrafthall, Master Robinton. With ten, she might get that much more clarity.”
Robinton agreed as he rose, but thought of one last thing. “N’ton, weren’t you among the bronzes who went to Southern Weyr, to see if the egg had been taken there?”
“I was. The Weyr was deserted. Not even an old dragon left behind. Completely deserted.”
“Yes, that would follow, wouldn’t it?”
When Jaxom and Menolly, on Ruth, entered the air above Fort Hold, Ruth called his name to the watchdragon and was almost smothered by fire-lizards. They so impeded his progress that he dropped a few lengths before he could get them to give him wing room. The moment he landed, the fire-lizards swarmed over him and his riders, keening with anxiety.
Menolly called out reassurances as fire-lizards clung to her clothing, got tangled in her hair. Jaxom found two trying to sit on his head, several had tails wrapped around his neck and three were beating their wings frantically to remain at eye level with him.
“What’s got into them?”
“They’re terrified!