The Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey [417]
On the eastern tip, Jaxom could see that pits had been dug for roasting, metal spits erected and fires started. Tables had been placed in the shade on which Jaxom could see the piled mounds of red, orange and green fruits.
Ruth hovered over the clearing, gently landing. Two men by the fire-pits leaped to Jaxom’s assistance as he offloaded the wherry. Ruth immediately vaulted out of the way so that Jaxom could guide the other carcasses dangling from the hunting ropes of the bigger dragons.
F’nor, stripping off his flying gear, walked slowly up to Jaxom, squinting against the brilliant glare from the sands as be surveyed the activity in the once peaceful cove. He sighed deeply but began to nod his head as if unexpectedly satisfied by something.
“Yes, it’ll work out all right,” he said, more to himself than to Jaxom because he turned then, smiling, and gripped Jaxom by the shoulder. “Yes, they’ll make the transition easily.”
“Transition?”
F’nor clearly didn’t mean the present building frenzy.
“Dragonfolk going back to the land, the hold. How much exploring have you been able to do around here?”
“The coves, as far back as those river meadows, and some of the immediate interior the day before yesterday with Piemur.”
As one, the two men turned toward the cone of the volcano that lay, cloud clad, in the distance.
“Yes, it does sort of draw your eye, doesn’t it?” F’nor grinned. “You’ll get there first, Jaxom. In fact, I’d prefer it if you and Piemur began some serious explorations with that as your goal. Yes, that pleases you, doesn’t it? Better for you, too, and Piemur. Now, before I forget it again, where’s that fire-lizard clutch you reported?”
“There’re twenty-one eggs and I’d like to have five of them, if I may . . .”
“Of course!”
“To be taken to Ruatha!”
“By evening.”
“You know, that’s curious.” Jaxom craned his body about, looking everywhere.
“What?”
“Usually there’re a lot more fire-lizards around. I don’t count more than a double handful. And they’re all banded.”
CHAPTER XVII
Fort Hold, Benden Weyr, at Cove Hold,
and at Sea aboard the Dawn Sister,
15.10.1–15.10.2
When the three fire-lizards had made the first overtures of greeting, the three men, grinning at the enthusiasm shown by their friends, made themselves comfortable around the table in the small room at Fort Hold where Lord Groghe held his private meetings. Sebell had been there frequently, but never as spokesman for his Crafthall and never when Lord Groghe had summoned the Fort Weyrleader as well, in what was obviously a matter of some importance.
“Not sure how to begin,” Lord Groghe said as he poured the wine. Sebell thought that was a very good way to begin, especially since the Lord Holder had honored them with Benden wine. “Might as well plunge. Problem’s this . . . I backed F’lar when he fought T’ron,” Groghe nodded at the current Fort Weyrleader, “because I knew he was right. Right to exile those misfits where they’d do no one any harm. While the Oldtimers were in the Southern Weyr, made sense to leave them alone, just as long as they left us alone—which they mostly did.” Lord Groghe peered from under his heavy brows first at N’ton and then at Sebell.
Since both men were aware that there had been occasional depredations in Fort Hold which could only be attributed to the dissident Oldtimers, they nodded acknowledgement of that point. Lord Groghe cleared his throat, and folded his hands across his thick middle.
“Point is, they’re mostly dead, or waiting to die. No trouble anymore. D’ram, being sort of F’lar’s representative, is bringing in dragonfolk from other Weyrs, to make it a proper Weyr again, fighting Thread and all that! I approve!” He favored the Harpercraftmaster and then the Weyrleader with long meaningful glances.