With thoughts that were more disillusioned than vengeful F’lar realized that Mnementh was gliding fast toward Fort Weyr’s jagged rim. The Star Stones and the watchrider were silhouetted against the dying sunset. Beyond them were the forms of three other bronzes, one a good half-tail larger than the others. That would be Orth, so T’bor was already arrived from Southern Weyr. But only three bronzes? Who was yet to come to the meeting?
Salth from High Reaches and Branth with R’mart of Telgar Weyr are absent. Mnementh informed his rider.
High Reaches and Telgar Weyrs missing? Well, T’kul of High Reaches was likely late on purpose. Odd though; that caustic Oldtimer ought to enjoy tonight. He’d have a chance to snipe at both F’lar and T’bor and he’d thoroughly enjoy T’ron’s discomfiture. F’lar had never felt any friendliness for or from the dour, dark-complected High Reaches Weyrleader. He wondered if that was why Mnementh never used T’kul’s name. Dragons ignored human names when they didn’t like the bearer. But for a dragon not to name a Weyrleader was most unusual.
F’lar hoped that R’mart of Telgar would come. Of the Oldtimers, R’mart and G’narish of Igen were the youngest, the least set in their ways. Though they tended to side with their contemporaries in most affairs against the two modern Weyrleaders, F’lar and T’bor, F’lar had noticed lately that those two were sympathetic to some of his suggestions. Could he work on that to his advantage today – tonight! He wished that Lessa could have come with him for she was able to use deft mental pressures against dissenters and could often get the other dragons to answer her. She had to be careful, for Dragonriders were apt to suspect they were being manipulated.
Mnementh was now within the Bowl of Fort Weyr itself and veering toward the ledge of the senior queen’s weyr. T’ron’s Fidranth was not there, guarding his queen Weyrmate as Mnementh would have been. Or perhaps Mardra, the senior Weyrwoman, was gone. She was as quick to find exception and slights as T’ron, though once she hadn’t been so touchy. In those first days after the Weyrs had come up, she and Lessa had been exceedingly close. But Mardra’s friendship had gradually turned into an active hatred. Mardra was a handsome woman, with a full, strong figure, and while she was nowhere near as promiscuous with her favors as Kylara of Southern Weyr, she was much sought after by bronze riders. By nature she was intensely possessive and not, F’lar realized, particularly intelligent. Lessa, dainty, oddly beautiful, already a Weyr legend for that spectacular ride between time, had unconsciously attracted attention from Mardra. Mardra evidently didn’t consider the fact that Lessa made no attempt to entice any favorite from Mardra, did not, indeed, dally with any man (for which F’lar was immensely pleased). Add to that the ridiculous matter of their mutual Ruathan origin – Mardra conceived a hatred for Lessa. She seemed to feel that Lessa, the only survivor of that Bloodline, had had no right to renounce her claim on Ruatha Hold to young Lord Jaxom. Not that a Weyrwoman could take Hold or would want to. The bases for Mardra’s hatred of Lessa were spurious. Lessa had no control over her beauty and had had no real choice about taking Hold at Ruatha.
So it was as well the Weyrwomen had not been included in this meeting. Put Mardra in the same room with Lessa and there’d be problems. Add Kylara of the Southern Weyr who was apt to make trouble for the pure joy of getting attention by disrupting others, and nothing would be accomplished Nadira of Igen Weyr liked Lessa but in a passive way. Bedella of Telgar Weyr was stupid and Fanna of Ista, taciturn. Merika of the High Reaches was as much a sour sort as her Weyrleader T’kul.
This was a matter for men to settle.
F’lar thanked Mnementh as he slid down the warm shoulder to the ledge, stumbling as his bootheels caught on the ridges of claw scars on the edge. T’ron might have put out a basket of glows, F’lar thought irritably, and then caught himself. Another trick to put everyone in as unreceptive a mood as possible.
Loranth, senior queen dragon of Fort Weyr, solemnly regarded F’lar as he entered the main room of the Weyr. He gave her a cordial greeting, suppressing his relief that there was no sign of Mardra. If Loranth was solemn, Mardra would have been downright unpleasant. Undoubtedly the Fort Weyrwoman was sulking beyond the curtain between weyr and sleeping room. Maybe this awkward time had been her idea. It was after western dinner hours and too late for more than wine for those from later time zones. She thus avoided the necessity of playing hostess.
Lessa would never resort to such mean-spirited strategies. F’lar knew how often the impulsive Lessa had bitten back quick answers when Mardra had patronized her. In fact, Lessa’s forbearance with the haughty Fort Weyrwoman was miraculous, considering Lessa’s temper. F’lar supposed that his Weyrmate felt responsible for uprooting the Oldtimers. But the final decision to go forward in time had been theirs.
Well, if Lessa could endure Mardra’s condescension out of gratitude, F’lar could try to put up with T’ron. The man did know how to fight Thread effectively and F’lar had learned a great deal from him at first. So, in a determinedly pleasant frame of mind, F’lar walked down the short passage to the Fort Weyr Council Room.
T’ron, seated in the big stone chair at the head of the Table, acknowledged F’lar’s entry with a stiff nod. The light of the glows on the wall cast unflattering shadows on the Oldtimer’s heavy, lined face. It struck F’lar forcibly that the man had never known anything but fighting Thread. He must have been born when the Red Star began that last fifty-Turn-long Pass around Pern, and he’d fought Thread until the Star had finished its circuit. Then followed Lessa forward. A man could get mighty tired of fighting Thread in just seven short Turns. F’lar halted that line of thought.
D’ram of Ista Weyr and G’narish of Igen also contented themselves with nods. T’bor, however, gave F’lar a hearty greeting, his eyes glinting with emotion.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” F’lar said to all. “I apologize for taking you from your own affairs or rest with this request for an emergency meeting of all Weyrleaders, but it could not wait until the regular Solstice Gathering.”
“I’ll conduct the meetings at Fort Weyr, Benden,” T’ron said in a cold harsh voice. “I’ll wait for T’kul and R’mart before I have any discussion of your – your complaint.”
“Agreed.”
T’ron stared at F’lar as if that hadn’t been the answer he’d anticipated and he’d gathered himself for an argument that hadn’t materialized. F’lar nodded to T’bor as he took the seat beside him.
“I’ll say this now, Benden,” T’ron continued. “The next time you elect to drag us all out of our Weyrs suddenly, you apply to me first. Fort’s the oldest Weyr on Pern. Don’t just irresponsibly send messengers out to everyone.”
“I don’t see that F’lar acted irresponsibly,” G’narish said, evidently surprised by T’ron’s attitude. G’narish was a stocky young man, some Turns F’lar’s junior and the youngest of the Weyrleaders to come forward in time. “Any Weyrleader can call a joint meeting if circumstances warrant it. And these do!” G’narish emphasized this with a curt nod, adding when he saw the Fort Weyrleader scowling at him, “Well, they do.”
“Your rider was the aggressor, T’ron,” D’ram said in a stern voice. He was a rangy man, getting stringy with age, but his astonishing shock of red hair was only lightly grizzled at the temples. “F’lar’s within his rights.”
“You had the choice of time and place, T’ron,” F’lar pointed out, all deference.
T’ron’s scowl deepened.
“Wish Telgar’d get here,” he said in a low, irritated tone.
“Have some wine, F’lar?” T’bor suggested, an almost malicious smile playing on his lips for T’ron ought to have offered immediately. “Of course, it’s not Benden Hold wine, but not bad. Not bad.”