Dragonheart

“No,” he replied promptly. “I’ll make arrangements to be a part of her — or his — life, whether here or in the Hold.”

“And if she wants to be a harper?”

“All the better,” Bemin replied with a grin. “I have, as you know, changed my opinion about harpers in the past twelve Turns or more.”

“But if the child would prefer the honor of being a Lord Holder,” Zist added, looking challengingly at Kelsa, “I expect there to be no impediments.”

“Our  child,” Kelsa declared firmly with an adoring glance at Bemin, “will have nothing stand in her way!”

“I would expect not,” Zist agreed, “with such parents as she has.”

“I’m impressed,” H’nez allowed as he watched the conclusion of the ground-crew drill at Fort Hold two days later.

They were standing on a rise just beyond sight of Fort Hold proper in the first valley beyond. H’nez could see brightly colored flags waving in the distance and small gouts of flame as the ground crews practiced flaming the mock Thread burrows that he had helped to “plant” earlier that morning — “ ’Cuz they’re used to me and my ways,” as Stennel, the head of ground crews noted.

“We’d be much quicker off the mark if we still had the fire-lizards,” Stennel explained apologetically. “We trained them to spot the burrows and coordinate our plans.” He shook his head regretfully. “As it is, we’ve got to rely on spotters in the heights, and I’m afraid we’ll miss many burrows until they get too big for us.”

“And how big is that?” H’nez asked, ignoring what to him was yet another whine about the fire-lizards. Didn’t these holders realize that it was the dragons  of Pern that protected them against Thread? The fire-lizards were nothing more than a minor amusement, even if, as Stennel maintained, they were occasionally useful.

“According to the Records, if we don’t find the burrow in the first hour, then it’ll be too big to fight with the flamethrowers,” Stennel replied. “And then we’d have to get dragons to flame it.”

“Hmph,” H’nez grunted noncommittally.

“If we don’t spot it within eight hours, the Records say that our best hope is to fire the whole valley around it,” Stennel continued with a frown.

“Fire a whole valley?” H’nez repeated doubtfully. “I’m sure whoever wrote that Record must have been in error.”

“It happened about ten times in the last Turn of the Second Pass ,” Stennel persisted.

“Who told you that?”

“It was in the Hold Records,” Stennel replied. “I read them myself.” He stood a bit taller as he continued with a touch of pride, “I wanted to know, as best I could, what we were to expect, my lord.”

“Hmm,” H’nez murmured, turning his attention to the distant lines of the ground crews as they moved back to their rallying point.

“Anyways, it makes sense,” Stennel continued. “It matches up with what we’ve seen fighting fires.”

“Fighting fires?”

Stennel flushed and shrugged. “You could consider a burrow rather like a fire in a high wind — either one will destroy every living thing around it in short order, my lord.” He gestured to the ground crews in the distance. “These lads also fight our fires when we have ’em.” He shrugged once more, grimacing. “We had the fire-lizards for that, too. They were great spotters.

“But they would never eat the firestone we use for the flamethrowers,” he continued reflectively. He cocked an eye at the dragonrider, adding, “I’m sure glad they found the right stuff — although getting our stone is much harder now.”

“Harder?”

“Aye,” Stennel replied. “No one wanted to dig it before, when it was necessary for the dragons. Now it’s only necessary for ground crews and no one really  wants to go looking for it. Which is why the Mastersmith is working to see if he can adapt our flamethrowers to use proper firestone,” he went on, shaking his head. “Last I heard, he hadn’t much luck, but I don’t get the freshest information all the time.” He cast an inviting glance toward the dragonrider. But if he was hoping for illumination, he would be disappointed.

“I see,” H’nez replied in a tone that showed that whether he saw or not, he certainly didn’t care.

Stennel frowned. “I suppose fire’s not so much an issue up in your Weyr, surrounded by all that rock.”

“No,” H’nez answered, “it isn’t.”

Why was it, he wondered, that holders were so easily irritated? They certainly weren’t properly deferential, not even the women. With a frown, H’nez turned away, back toward his dragon. “Well, I’ve seen enough,” he said, climbing up to Ginirth’s neck. “I’ll see you back at the Hold.”

Stennel sketched a salute as the wind of Ginirth’s wings buffeted him, and then H’nez was gone, between.

It’s always good to show the holders their place, H’nez reflected as he and Ginirth emerged once more from between,  this time over the courtyard of Fort Hold . A group of holder women and children scattered as he guided Ginirth down to a landing. He spotted Lord Holder Bemin striding out into the courtyard from the Great Hall in response to the commotion and allowed himself a grin as he noticed Bemin quickly school his irritated expression into a bland look.

“Does the ground-crew drill meet your approval, my lord?” Bemin asked as H’nez dismounted.

H’nez paused a moment, straightening his clothes, before answering indolently, “As well as could be expected, I suppose.” He gave Bemin a measuring look. “I was surprised that you were not there yourself.” He raised his eyebrows questioningly. “Was there business at the Harper Hall?”

Bemin flushed, which was not lost on H’nez. “I was busy with inventory,” he replied tightly, waving a hand toward the Great Hall. “We have to be certain not only of our tithe to the Weyr but also to ensure that the holders themselves will prosper.”

“Of course,” H’nez agreed in a tone that was just short of insulting.

Lord Holder Bemin pressed his lips together, firmly stomping on his anger.

H’nez noticed and was amused. He started to add another jibe when the air above them suddenly darkened and was filled with the sound of dragons.

Bemin scanned the riders and their dragons’ harnesses for signs of their Weyr, hoping that perhaps M’tal or some other Weyrleader had come to visit the Masterharper. Perhaps, he thought hopefully, I could have a word with him and he could rein in this irritating wingleader.

“V’ney!” H’nez exclaimed as he recognized the bronze rider descending. “You’re a day early!”

The bronze rider, still descending, didn’t hear him, of course, but H’nez’s expression was so clear that when V’ney dismounted, he called out, “H’nez, you need to return to the Weyr.”

“Why didn’t you have your dragon send for me?” H’nez demanded, exasperated. Bemin was far enough behind that he saw both dragonriders’ faces, and it was clear to him that V’ney had brought bad news.

“The sick dragons are — ” V’ney stopped abruptly, placing an arm gently on H’nez’s shoulder. “They’re not expected to make it through the night,” he finished quietly. “K’lior thought it would be best if the riders had the companionship of their wing.”

H’nez’s face was suddenly devoid of all expression. “Of course,” he said immediately. “Thank you . . . I’ll fill you in on the — ”

“You haven’t time,” V’ney said. “You need to get your wing back now. ” He gestured to Bemin, who had quickened his pace to join them. “I’m sure the Lord Holder can set me right.” He gestured skyward. “You get going.”

H’nez opened his mouth to argue but stopped himself, settling instead for an abrupt nod of his head.

V’ney’s bronze leapt up to the watchtower to make room for H’nez’s Ginirth in the landing area.

“Wingleader!” Bemin called out as H’nez climbed astride his dragon. The bronze rider gave him a startled look. “I am sorry we part so sadly.”

H’nez locked eyes with him, and for a moment the dragonrider appeared to be his usually arrogant self, but then he visibly deflated in sorrow and said, “I, too.”

And then the dragon leapt aloft and was gone, between.