The distraught avion hadn't gone far. Just outside the main entrance to the building, they found him sitting on a large boulder. Another shock awaited them. Perched on Darian's shoulder, crooning pitifully, was a bronze firelizard. The avion's finger was rubbing the eye ridge absent-mindedly. He seemed unaware of the tiny dragonet. The four men watched for a few minutes before T'gellan spoke.
"Are you alright?"
The question broke Darian's lethargy. He looked up. Instantly, the little bronze was gone. The Cygnan's head spun to his right, the eyes wide. "What was that?"
F'nor gazed down at him, forehead wrinkled with concern. "That was a firelizard," the brownrider answered. "Did you even know it was there?"
Darian looked back through unfocused eyes. The question was meaningless to him. "What?" he replied in a near whisper.
"The firelizard," F'nor repeated. "Did you know he was there?"
"What firelizard?"
The Benden wingsecond glanced at his fellow brownrider, a worried shadow in his eyes. Simultaneously, all three men called for their dragons. The bronze was less than a hundred yards away, but both Canth and Ledeth arrived as quickly.
"What's wrong with him?" N'rad asked his Weyrleader.
"I don't know," T'gellan replied, a concerned frown on his face. He looked at the Masterharper.
"He may be in shock," Sebell said. "Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea."
The bronzerider shook his head. For one of the few times, he disagreed with the Masterharper. "No, Master Sebell. Sooner or later, we would have had to show him. I don't think it makes any difference."
T'gellan knelt, waving his hand in front of the crystalline eyes. He saw no reaction. "N'rad, get back to the Weyr. Take the Masterharper. Warn Selana and Betrella to be ready when we get there. F'nor, help me get him on Monarth."
Weyrleader and wingsecond lifted the Cygnan to his feet. He looked at them blankly, his body limp. They virtually dragged him toward the bronze. Long before they could lift him onto the lowered neck, Ledeth had blinked between.
T'gellan tied the avion into Monarth's fighting straps then jumped up behind him on the broad neck. He looked down from his perch to the anxious brownrider. "Would you go back to Benden? Tell F'lar and Lessa what happened. If they want to come, I'll be glad to have them. You, too. Bring Brekke if she wants to come."
"On my way," the wingsecond answered. He had barely moved ten feet when Monarth launched himself. Before they cleared the treetops, T'gellan told the bronze, "Take us home."
The cold of between brought Darian out of his trance. They erupted into deep twilight, the last rays of a setting sun golden on the western horizon. Monarth departed from his usual circling approach, instead taking a fast glide directly toward the lower cavern mouth. Below them, a sizeable group of people waited, including four riders with a litter. Among the knot of men, two women were visible, faces turned upward.
The bronze hadn't settled when they broke toward him at a run. Darian turned on the Weyrleader with an uncomprehending stare. "What's this all about?" he asked.
"You feel better?" T'gellan returned.
"I'm fine," he retorted, noticing that the bronzerider's arms were locked around his waist in a tight grip. "Let me down."
"Stay where you are," the Easterner commanded. "We'll get you down in a minute."
N'rad, M'kel and R'kar were waiting when T'gellan lifted the Cygnan clear of Monarth's neck. He spread his wings, easing his descent to the sand and taking his weight off the riders supporting him. He had just touched the Weyr floor when Selana burst through the circle, reaching out to take his arm. She said nothing but deftly turned him toward the litter just in front of them. The realization that the stretcher was for him got a strong reaction from the avion. He pushed everyone, Selena included, away from him. His wings spread open and he emitted an angry hiss. "By the Fires," he demanded, "what is this?"
The Weyrleader jumped from his dragon's foreleg, stepping forward. His stern expression more than matched Darian's anger. The two locked eyes in an uncompromising confrontation.
Watching the stand-off, the Masterharper discreetly bade the others to leave. He had N'rad and R'kar wait at the cavern entrance while he asked Betrella to prepare wine and klah for the council room. The weyrfolk followed the instructions without hesitation.
Gradually, Darian became aware that he and the Weyrleader were alone, excepting the bronze dragon. As his anger subsided, he saw T'gellan's expression soften. He also realized that he was being watched.
'You need help?'
The question brought a humorless smile to his lips. Even this far from home, he wasn't alone. "No," he answered aloud, "I'm alright."
T'gellan was startled by the statement. His head turned, his gaze resting on the flaming red eyes watching from the Weyr ledge. A chill ran through him.
"Don't worry," Darian assured him. "He isn't going to attack. Neither am I."
The bronzerider turned back, seeing the more accustomed smile on the Cygnan's face. He began to relax.
"Now," the avion insisted, "what was that all about?"
"I think you were in shock," T'gellan explained. "You just disappeared from the records room. When we found you, you wouldn't speak or move. We didn't know what to expect when we got you back, so we wanted to be ready. No one meant to insult you."
Darian mulled over the statement. He didn't like the possibility that he hadn't been in control of himself but he couldn't remember much after seeing the pictures in that book. His one vivid recollection was the bitter cold of another trip between. "Well, I'm sorry if I caused a problem."
The Weyrleader nodded. He reached out to grasp the winged one's shoulder. "No problem, friend, so long as you're alright."
Darian nodded, still a bit fuzzy. He shivered, once more feeling that numbing chill deep in his bones. He fastened the collar on his vest. The act was not unnoticed.
"Are you hungry?"
Another memory snapped into place. That strange bird-like animal he'd had for lunch. It hadn't been overly large, but he was still full. He wasn't hungry, just cold and thirsty. "No. I had a good lunch. I am rather dry, though."
"Good," T'gellan smiled. "There's plenty of hot klah inside. Let's go warm up."
Sebell watched the two men move toward the cave entrance. He nodded to R'kar, who moved off.
The healer gazed up at him uncertainly. "He doesn't want me around, Master Sebell," she declared. "What do you want me to do?"
"Why do you say that? I thought he was rather fond of you."
Selana's lips curled into a pout. She shrugged. "I don't know. He's been so strange, like he doesn't trust me or he's afraid of me. I feel like I'm intruding anytime I'm near him, even when we're working together. I just don't think he likes me."
The harper smiled down at her. He couldn't quite judge her emotions, but it was clear that a great deal more than a sense of rejection was bothering her. Nonetheless, it might be wise to keep her available. "Stay with us, Selana. We may need you." He squeezed her hand, evoking a self-conscious smile. She nodded agreement.
Klah had been poured and a platter of meatrolls and breads set out when the riders filed into the council room. No particular order was observed, T'gellan and Darian slipping into the first chairs they reached. N'rad and R'kar joined them, Betrella and Selana staying close at hand. At a wave from the Weyrleader, they took seats. The last person to place himself was the Masterharper, quietly occupying the perch to the avion's left.
Darian downed a cup of the thick beverage. The Weyrleader candidly disclosed his recent discomfort at finding himself the less than cordial object of Astaroth's attention. Conversation centered around the black's role in the law enforcement team and lack of tolerance for aggressive behavior. Everyone chuckled at the irony of the irascible dragon being offended by similar behavior in other species.
A discussion of dragon habits and both the obvious and subtle differences in the black and his Pernese fellows ensued. As the evening wore on, it became ever more apparent that the beasts might be kindred spirits in goal and intent, but not in nature and methodology.
After yet another mug of klah had been drained, the Masterharper momentarily changed the subject. "Lord T'gellan, would it be possible to get some wine, please?"
The bronzerider nodded. He glanced toward Betrella, who dutifully rose and left the chamber. "I believe, Master Sebell, that you know what arrives here before I do. Reminds me of Master Robinton."
"Neither fog, fall nor fire," boomed the rich baritone, mimicking his revered predecessor, "shall stay me in the pursuit of Benden Wine!"
Hearty laughter echoed across the room. Darian found himself smiling at the harper's good humor. Within minutes, the clinking of glass signaled the arrival of the wine. "Ah," the Masterharper declared, "the nectar of dreams, sweet as the morning mist, kissed by a dragon's tears!"
T'gellan watched a hand from behind the chairs place a goblet in front of Sebell. The fingers were strong and weathered, and the wrist extended from a wher-hide riding jacket. "A pleasure to serve you," a cheerful, masculine voice avowed.
Sebell pivoted in his seat, finding the Benden Weyrleader poised behind him. To either side of the dragonman, Lessa, F'nor and Brekke smiled at him. "Good evening, Benden," the Masterharper smiled, offering a respectful bow of his head. "Darian was just regaling us with stories about the mating habits of Cygnan dragons."
Darian waited for the Benden couples to take seats before continuing his narrative. He observed with interest that Brekke did not sit with her weyrmate, opting instead to circle the table and sit with her fellow weyrhealer.
"They really don't have any," he reflected. "Females only clutch about once every seventy-five years, and there are usually more males than females, so they don't get many opportunities."
"Every seventy-five turns!" N'rad exclaimed. "It's a wonder they aren't extinct by now. You must not have very many of them."
"We have enough. The females lay five to ten eggs at a time. Usually, they all hatch. So there are plenty enough dragons to go around."
R'kar had an amused grin on his face and a devious glint in his eyes. He nudged N'rad and asked quietly, "Could you imagine T'marek going seventy-five turns without a female?"
