Dragonstorm Ch 02

Master, Master, show the way,

lead from dark to light.

See the present, read the past,

make our future bright.

9th Pass -Year 25 -September

(Landing, September 12th)

The meatrolls were cold but, properly spiced, roast wherry made a good cold lunch. In the middle of the southern continent's summer, most folks weren't too fond of hot meals. Even the beverage was a cold fruit juice. It was too hot for klah, too early in the day for wine.

Disappointment prevailed over the research project. It had gotten off to a bad start and gone steadily downhill. Even the people involved were different than those originally intended. The travel and extended sitting required by such tedious work quickly tired Masterhealer Oldive. Darian had been chosen as his replacement because of the avion's knowledge of unusual surgical techniques. It had been determined that current technology couldn't support the kind of operation the two healers were contemplating. However, enough peripheral information was being gathered to make it worthwhile to continue.

The new Masterhealer had shown an aptitude for researching the volumes of information gathered before the AIVAS unit had turned itself off. Unfortunately, the same problem kept recurring. The need for new machinery placed ever-greater demands on the already overtaxed smiths. Even the resourceful, tenacious Benelek was finding it difficult to meet the mounting requests. The techniques were available, but the equipment was not. Darian and Sebell spent as much time in the historical files as the medical or technical banks.

"I thought that name was familiar," the Cygnan was saying, "but I never put the two together. It's hard to equate ancient history and your own life."

"Consider, however," Sebell suggested, "that what we are doing today will be ancient history to someone in the future. All knowledge is relevant. You simply have to find where it fits."

Darian grunted. As much as he liked the Masterharper, philosophy wasn't his long suit. Action appealed to him more than talk. So did men of action. He'd have liked this Admiral Benden. "The way I learned it, the Nathis were brutal. Far worse than anything humans ever did to us. After this Captain Benden, or Admiral, whatever he was, drove off their battle fleet, the humans and Cygnans wiped out the Nathis ground forces. That's where our enforcement teams supposedly got their start. The combination of avion, dragon and two or three others, including humans, was too much for the Nathis to handle."

"It doesn't seem such teams would have made much difference in open warfare," Sebell observed.

Darian quickly agreed. "They wouldn't have. From what I've read, Nathis weaponry was so superior to anything on Cygnus that we relied on hit and run tactics. In ambushes, raids and small-scale attacks, the teams were too fast and too quiet to defend against. I guess the humans did most of the open fighting."

"So, your law enforcement teams stayed on after the war was over?"

Darian chuckled. The laughter held a distinctly sour tone. "After that war was over, yes. Cygnus has always been a violent planet. You know, I don't remember the human technology being advanced enough to compare to what this machine keeps showing us. They must have lost touch with their home planet, just like Pern. At any rate, our history has been one war, major or minor, after another. Didn't seem to matter who was fighting or what they were fighting about, just as long as they were fighting."

"Do you blame the human colonists for that?"

"No, not at all." Darian stopped long enough to chew at his meatroll. He took a large gulp of fruit juice to wash it down. "The humans weren't any more violent that we were. In fact, avions are probably more warlike than humans. We just aren't as good at making advanced weapons, or at fighting together. One on one, few humans have a chance against an avion. But, in a large-scale fight, like a war, it's no contest. If we hadn't learned to live together, the humans would have wiped us out."

Sebell watched his young friend. Despite his air of aloofness, the avion had taken well to dragonfolk. He had a number of friends at both Eastern and Ista, and several more within the Healer and Harper Crafthalls. It felt good to see that acerbic humor reassert itself. It had been missing since the tragedy at Cove. The fire in those crystalline eyes was back; the fire of curiosity, not anger. Rumors of what the winged youth had done recently were disturbing, but not unexpected. Better than most, Sebell understood this distant visitor was not and never would be Pernese. Nor did he wish him to be. "What have you got there?" the harper asked, pointing at the small object Darian was spinning in his fingers.

Darian lifted his hand, displaying the item between his thumb and forefinger. "It's an arrowhead, probably from a crossbow," he explained, showing it to his companion. "Unusual, too. Has four blades, instead of three."

"Interesting. Where did you get it?"

The Cygnan looked at his companion cautiously. He extended his hand, offering the object to the harper. "I found it near Cove." At his shoulder, Lucifer crooned a comforting tenor note. The avion reached up to scratch the lizard's eyeridge.

"Hmmm." Sebell took another sip at his juice. The Masterharper examined the item, shrugged and handed it back to the avion. He broke off a small piece of meatroll, offering it to his queen. Kimi took it greedily. Electing to change the subject, the harper asked about the morning's progress. "Did you find anything you can use this morning?"

"On CVP, no," Darian replied. "There was some interesting material on oxygen flooding of surface tissue. That would help with cosmetic procedures." He grimaced, thinking about the details of such work. "Probably don't have the stuff to concentrate or purify oxygen with, though. I wonder if we could get the same result by using a pressurized external blood flow?"

"If you're asking me," Sebell chuckled, "I'm afraid I can't help. A song and a dance I can give you. An educated answer...?" He exchanged an amused glance with the avion. Darian snickered, handing the last of his lunch to Lucifer. The little bronze attacked the meatroll with gusto. The harper noted his own lizard staring enviously at the diminutive diner. "Are you going to do any more this afternoon?"

"Yeah," Darian nodded. "I want to check into some urologic procedures. Might need them fairly soon. Then, I'm going to the Smithcraft Hall."

"Fandarel, eh?"

"Fandarel, Terry, Benelek and Wansor. I plan to keep them all busy."

"Must be quite some project you're planning."

Darian didn't answer. He pulled himself to his feet, receiving a sharp scolding from the jostled firelizard. Starting back into the building holding the records hall, the avion was halted by the look in the Masterharper's eyes. He dropped to a low crouch, inclining his head. The frown on his face was more curious than irritated. "Alright, Masterharper, talk to me."

Sebell sighed, stroking Kimi's head. It was flattering knowing the Cygnan valued his opinions, but he wondered how much effect anyone's advice had on the young man. This being was in a position to undo a great deal of the good accomplished during the current Pass. There didn't seem any way to make him understand how heavy a price had been paid for that progress.

"Whatever you must do, my friend," Sebell cautioned, "do it carefully. You have an uncanny way of acting out emotions many on Pern have suppressed for turns. The peace between Weyr, hall and hold that exists now is still tenuous. Even that has been won at great cost. F'lar has held our world together for twenty-five turns, and he has paid dearly. I don't say our ways are perfect, but they work for us. You may know better methods but, please, teach them to us, don't force them on us. Work with us, not against us. Above all, don't work against Benden. You can't win."

Darian chuckled ruefully. "Poetic justice, Masterharper? Captain Benden saved my world, and now Benden Weyr tries to save yours?"

Sebell smiled wanly. He gave his friend a slight bow. "As your own Master would say, a bit melodramatic, but essentially correct. Between them, F'lar and Lessa have saved Pern. During this Pass, much has changed, most of it for the better. But changes do take time. I only ask that you understand that and give us the time to learn to understand you."

The Cygnan eased to his flank, pulling his legs to one side. He turned a serious regard on Sebell. "Masterharper, everyone is always telling me that the Weyrs and holds can't be involved in each other's affairs. Yet, everything I've seen since I got here says just the opposite. Many of the incidents that turn into major problems would be nothing more than irritants if there was some way of coordinating action between the holds and the Weyrs. These raiders are a good example. The holds need the mobility and speed of the Weyrs, the Weyrs need the manpower and ground stability of the holds. But, because they only combine their efforts after something has gone wrong, it takes too long to be effective, and the damage is already done."

Sebell nodded his agreement. The argument was overly simplistic, but basically correct. Pern had come a long way toward correcting this traditional difficulty. There was still a long way to go. "What would you suggest?" he asked.

"Create a group of people responsible for coordinating preventive law enforcement across the planet. The actual enforcement and punishment could still be handled by the Lord Holder involved, but there would be people available who knew how to track criminals, how to read evidence, what to pass on to other enforcement people, and how to safeguard holds. It would only take a handful per hold or crafthall and one or two riders per Weyr. Such a structure would keep all of the Lord Holders, Craftmasters and Weyrleaders aware of what was happening planet wide. No one would be blind-sided if troublemakers crossed territories, and it wouldn't be necessary to assign extra manpower or take people away from their normal duties."

"That makes sense," the Masterharper conceded, "except that we've never had major law enforcement problems. We don't have any one with the skills to do what you're suggesting, or to train anyone else to do it."

Darian shook his head vehemently. "Yes, you do. You have at least four career professionals. And as far as not having major problems...." The avion's features clouded, his voice turning bitter. The gleam in his eyes changed from enthusiasm to anger. "... tell that to Trelka, or to T'gellan. Or to N'rad. You, of all people, should know better."

The men sat silently. Sebell considered the concept. It was something that would be resisted fervently. No one on Pern seemed to want any authority that crossed hold or Weyr boundaries. It was also, he knew, long overdue. The planet was too large, too populous, and too prosperous to continue on its present course. The degree of trade, both in goods and services, had increased in the turns prior to this Pass, and in the turns during the Pass, to the point where anybody's problem was everybody's problem. Territorial disputes and criminal actions were no longer someone else's worry.

"Since I met you," the harper confessed, "I've been hoping you'd suggest something like this." He noted with satisfaction the intense interest in Darian's regard. "I can't promise such an idea will be accepted. I am, in fact, rather dubious about its prospects. The Lord Holders will likely resist the idea. I'll bring the subject up with F'lar and N'ton. They may find it intriguing. In the meantime, let's get back to work!"

The early afternoon passed quickly. In less than two hours, Darian had completed the research he desired. He took his leave of the Masterharper and left the AIVAS building. The rider assigned as his transport was nowhere to be seen, so he approached the brownrider assigned to Sebell.

Tr'lon bowed politely. "Good afternoon, sir. What can I do for you?"

"Afternoon, Tr'lon. Serpenth is looking well."

The brown lowered his head, allowing Darian to scratch his eye ridge. Tr'lon shook his head at the action, a slight smile on his lips. He had noticed with great interest how well most of the dragons got along with the avion. He felt a twinge of jealousy at his brown's fondness for the man. "He's fine, Masterhealer. Of course, anyone would prefer southern to Benden this time of year."

Darian chuckled. "It is a bit chilly up there. But, then again, you could be assigned to the Reaches."

Tr'lon's eyebrow peaked, a curious smirk crossing his face. "What'd I do to you?" he inquired. Both men laughed, drawing a happy croon from the brown. His rider gave him an affectionate pat on the muzzle.

"I need to leave," the Cygnan remarked. "Would you mind asking Serpenth to bespeak Kelth?"

The brownrider nodded, relaying the message to his mount. Serpenth quickly forwarded the message. 'Kelth says they are swimming. They'll be a few minutes.'

"They're taking a bath," the Benden rider cracked. "Want to go join them?"

"Not hardly," Darian grinned. "I've been around T'marek long enough to know the combination of Kelth and water is an accident waiting to happen."

"Are you coming back tomorrow?" the brownrider asked.

"No. I don't think there's much more I can do here. You?"

"Uh uh. I'm only here by accident, anyhow. I have the Cove detail. If Master Sebell hadn't been checking on something there, a Fort rider would have brought him here. Besides, we're flying Thread tomorrow. Eastern has the Cove patrol. My time is up. F'lar'll send someone else for the next seven-day." The man's face showed a bit of disappointment. This detail was popular with the riders. It was a bit of vacation in the middle of Benden's dreary winter.

"I'm surprised I haven't seen F'nor down here."

Tr'lon's eyes darkened. His face took on a blank look, unreadable to the eye. Not unreadable, however, to an empath. "Not likely," he answered quietly. "He's F'lar's senior wingsecond."

A powerful undercurrent of emotion flavored the statement. The avion picked up a distinct sense of worry. There was an even deeper disturbance in the thought but, he felt, not directly related to the wingsecond. In fact, there was a strong disparity of feeling about Canth's rider. Darian wondered if he'd touched a raw nerve.

"F'nor not a popular subject?"

Tr'lon shrugged. "I keep an eye out for him, that's all."

"Why's that?"

"He's my senior wingsecond. We all feel a sense of responsibility for him. I'm not doing my job while I'm down here. I can't do it if I go back to Benden and they send F'nor here."

Darian shook his head. The thought of anyone looking out for F'lar's half-brother was mildly amusing. "F'nor's a big boy," he smiled. "He can take care of himself."

"Uh huh."

A surge of irritation coursed through the brownrider's thoughts. More than that, Darian felt frustration, even defeat. Something powerful was hidden inside the Benden wingrider, but so near the surface the Cygnan's empathic tendency registered it clearly. Whatever the root of the turmoil, it wasn't F'nor.

Darian hadn't used this ability often in recent cycles, but his curiosity was aroused. If the dragonman's emotions were so easily read, his thoughts would be readily discernible. There was a mild shock as the pattern of images formed. One vision cleared quickly. The avion beheld a vision of beauty, enhanced by individual perception perhaps, but obvious nonetheless. He knew the face, and now he knew the reason for the rider's concern about his wingsecond. An understanding smile flashed across the Masterhealer's face. "Alright, Tr'lon," he chuckled, "take care of F'nor."

The Bendenite's eyes narrowed, lips drawn into a tightly neutral expression. "I intend to," he avowed.

Fanning his wings idly, Darian eased into the air. Warm air and gentle wind enticed him into lazy aerobatics. He gained altitude before beginning a series of looping dives, swoops and glides. The elation of flying surged through him. Sweet odors and bright sunshine invigorated him. Suddenly, the image of his daughter impressed itself in his mind. He wished Mareka was here to share in this experience. There had been little time to spend with the girl lately.

She did most of her flying with Astaroth. The black had taken to her. Past experience wouldn't have suggested such a possibility, but Darian believed the dragon was actually fond of the girl. That was comforting. Astaroth made quite a watchdog. The avion had been lost in his daydreams for several minutes when he realized the sky was not his alone.

Just to his right, a brown dragon vaned idly, mimicking his flight. A thoroughly amused rider grinned openly at him. "Having fun?" he quipped.

"I was," the avion smiled back. He waved cheerfully to Kelth, who responded with a contented croon. Darian eased above the brown, positioning himself to settle gently behind the rider.

T'marek grinned back over his shoulder. "Where to, oh Master of Healers?"

"Smithcraft Hall."

"You got it."

After delighting in the balmy air of a southern continent summer, the cold of between was brutal. Reappearing over Telgar Hold in the middle of a snow squall made the transition even more depressing. Cygnan and Pernese groaned together. "Sure you don't want to go back?" the brownrider suggested hopefully.

"Can't. Unlike some people, I've got work to do." He gave his companion a friendly pop to the shoulder then launched himself into the storm. "Stick around," he called back, "I'm going to need you."

The drifting flakes reminded him of early spring back home. The air would have been warmer, but the cressid trees needed only a hint of spring to release their pods. Floating like puffs of white smoke, the tiny seeds covered the entire Plateau. The least amount of wind could make seeing difficult and flying at low altitudes nearly impossible.

He snickered at the vision of Loki peevishly cleaning the sticky seeds out of his fur then drinking everything he could reach to get the pollen off his tongue. By the time his feet touched the ground, Darian was laughing. He was still chuckling when a slap to his arm nearly felled him. An equally hearty guffaw met his surprised glare.

Mastersmith Fandarel extended his hand. "Welcome, Masterhealer! I suppose you want to pick up those new instruments we've been working on?"

"And to ask for a couple of others," Darian grinned back. He fell in behind the huge smith, walking rapidly across the remaining distance to the crafthall door. The soft sounds of a winter storm were lost immediately in the din of tools as the hall door opened. Mastersmith Terry was at the entrance, waving a greeting.

"Good morning, Masterhealer," the smith said, reminding Darian that he had gained several hours' time in the transit from Landing to Telgar. "Get inside before you freeze."

"Thank you," the avion smiled. "T'marek will be along shortly. He and Kelth brought me." He stepped through the portal, taking a deep breath. A sizable fire cast its warmth throughout the hall. "Is the Starmaster in?"

"Over there," Terry replied, pointing to the far end of the huge building. At one of the many workbenches, Darian spied the hunched figure busily fidgeting with one of the many projects cluttering the area. "Before I take you over, though, I have something for you here." Leading the way to another table, the balding smith explained his latest work. "I stayed as close to the design you showed me as I could, but some of the specs may be slightly larger than you wanted. If these don't work, we'll try again." He stopped in front of a long trestle, pointing to a tray.

Darian looked down to see several bright metal instruments. Long narrow pliers with serrated jaws and wide grips caught his eye. He picked one up. "Hemostats! Outstanding!" The lightweight and nearly perfect balance of the instrument was delightful. He worked the action, nodding with approval at the smoothness with which they latched and released.