“I’m sorry,” K’rall said, “I should have warned you.”
Zenor couldn’t speak, but shook his head in a feeble denial. Seyorth wheeled and dove suddenly, causing Zenor to tense in panic once more. And then —
— he let out his breath and looked at the ground rising below him. He was riding a dragon!
He hadn’t had any time when they came to Igen Weyr from Mine Natalon to really appreciate the experience — and he’d been too concerned with Nuella’s well-being to notice anything around him, even the cold of
“There!” he called excitedly over his shoulder. “Land there!” He turned red with embarrassment as he realized he had just ordered a bronze rider, but it faded when he heard K’rall’s enthusiastic, “Hold on!” from behind him. Seyorth flicked his wings, spilling air, and they plunged even more steeply downward, giving Zenor a near vertical view of the river’s bend rapidly rising up to meet them.
Just when Zenor started to feel the first tinges of panic returning to him, Seyorth leveled up, circled once, and deftly landed less than a dragonlength from Zenor’s chosen point.
“Wow!” Zenor exclaimed. “That was fantastic.”
“I never grow tired of it,” K’rall admitted, patting Seyorth affectionately before handing Zenor down.
The air churned as the other four dragons landed and their riders jumped off.
“What are we looking for?” S’gan called as he strode over to join K’rall. He nodded affably to Zenor.
“We’re looking for two things,” Zenor said. “A good site for a wherhold — they like caves and hate the sun — and traces of gold.”
“Gold?” S’gan repeated, his brows rising in surprise. He spun around, eyeing the ground carefully. “Where would we find that?”
“The river’s bend is probably the best spot to look,” Zenor said, nodding in the indicated direction. He allowed himself a moment to take in the surrounding scrub, greener near the river but certainly not desert. He could imagine growing crops or grazing cattle here.
“Let’s go!” S’gan replied enthusiastically, taking off in a lope.
As Zenor made to follow, K’rall laid a hand on his arm. “Let’s not go too quickly; this is likely to be a long search, isn’t it?”
“It is,” Zenor agreed with a smile, matching his pace to that of the older dragonrider. He noticed that D’teril, the other blue rider, was racing after S’gan, but that the two younger brown riders were taking their cue from K’rall. “Are they always like that?”
“Blues are quick, agile,” K’rall explained. “They tend to Impress those with similar traits.”
T’del, one of the brown riders, cocked a questioning look toward K’rall.
“Not all blues are the same,” K’rall said in response. “But if you were to place a bet in a race, bet that the fastest rider is a blue.”
“Blues start quick, browns finish,” T’del said, grinning.
“True.”
Zenor slowed as they reached the river bank, and carefully began to pick a path to the river’s edge.
“I don’t see anything,” S’gan called from his spot on the shore. “
It’ll be in the water, under the dirt,” Zenor replied absently as he took a cautious step into the water and squatted down to grab a handful of muck from the river bottom. He examined it carefully and grunted with pleasure when he noted that it was grainy, not fine. Gold was less likely to sink far down in grainy soil. He eyed the overhang on the far side of the river, then turned to K’rall. “Can we get over there?”
“Certainly,” K’rall said, slogging down into the river and carefully picking his way to the far side. When he got there, he gestured to Zenor, who was watching at him in surprise. “You were thinking we’d
Zenor snorted and shook his head in acknowledgment of the twitting, then made his way across, following K’rall’s course. Once there, he began to pull up clumps of sand, letting the water wash them away and examining the results. K’rall watched him dubiously.
“I’m hoping to get lucky,” Zenor admitted. “Really, I’d expect to find little glimmers of gold — just dust but . . .” He shrugged and grinned, and then, suddenly, his expression changed to one of complete shock.
“What is it?”
“Gold,” Zenor said shakily, raising up his hand to show a large nugget. He pocketed the piece and redoubled his efforts. In an instant the others had clambered over to join him.
“Show us how to do it,” S’gan begged. Once Zenor had shown them, the four younger riders churned up the river until the water downstream was yellow with sand.
K’rall eyed them all tolerantly, satisfying himself with a couple of attempts before giving up to watch the others.
“Have you seen enough?” he asked half an hour later as Zenor, thoroughly drenched, stood up and stretched his sore muscles.
“Yes,” Zenor said, smiling at the dragonriders, who looked ready to drain the entire river in their attempts to find more gold. “I think we’ve got something to show.”
“Then perhaps we should see if there is a potential holding site nearby,” K’rall suggested, splashing back across the river.
“Come on,” he shouted over his shoulders to the other riders. With a chorus of groans, they reluctantly followed.
Once out of the water, Zenor realized how much sandy grit his trousers had retained and regretted it, except for the heavy bulge in his pocket. He eyed the ground and headed off toward a low rise not far away.
“You could dig that out, probably,” K’rall observed. “Or you could quarry some rock and build.”
“Maybe both,” Zenor mused. “Quarry for the hold, use the caves for the whers.”
K’rall grunted agreement.
“How long would it take?” D’teril asked as he came, panting, up beside them.
“It depends on the soil,” Zenor said, digging a toe into the earth. He turned to K’rall. “Can we take some samples?”
K’rall shrugged. “We didn’t think to bring tools.”
“A sturdy stick will do,” Zenor said. He grabbed a branch from a nearby tree and broke it off, then strode around, poking the stick in the ground and occasionally stooping to dig a sample. Finally, he threw the stick away and turned to K’rall. “I’ve seen enough.”
“Will it do, then?” the bronze dragonrider asked with a smile.
“There’s good topsoil in places, particularly near the river,” Zenor replied. “And the hills have good solid rock in them.” He nodded. “I think we can make a holding of it.”
Armed with good news and several nuggets of gold, Zenor and the riders returned to the Weyr.
“It’ll be cooler at Telgar,” T’mar said enticingly to Fiona as they stood outside the Dining Cavern under the burning hot Igen sun at noon.
“But I’m on crutches!” Fiona said. She’d been glad just to spend the morning with Talenth, idly oiling her and listening to the gold dragon commiserating with her over her injury. She felt dizzy and useless.
K’rall gave T’mar a warning look, then chimed in, “Well, if you’re not up to it, Weyrwoman, I suppose — ”
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t go!” Fiona snapped, her pride piqued. “I just said that I’m on crutches.”
“We’ll be sure that there’s something nice and cool for you when you return,” Terin offered. At K’rall’s gesture, she pulled out two jackets. “And I found these. I think you and T’mar should wear them.”
“What are they?” Fiona asked, peering at the jackets. “They look hot.”
“Hot but fashionable,” Terin said with a grin as she picked one up by the shoulders and proudly displayed the back. “What all Weyrwomen and Weyrleaders should wear.”
“I’m not a Weyrleader,” T’mar said, holding up his hands in a warding gesture.
“Close enough,” K’rall allowed. “Especially with regards to the markings.”
Fiona glanced more carefully at the large diamond woven onto the back of the wherhide jacket: It was sandy and showed three mounds — the Igen Weyr markings.
“Oh, wouldn’t that rile D’gan!” T’mar exclaimed.
“We thought it might provide some amusement,” K’rall said, including Terin with a gesture.
