Dragon's Fire (47 page)

“Nerra, that’s no way to talk about our Weyrleader,” Fenner said, but it was clear to Zist that his heart wasn’t in it. Nor could the harper blame him; he’d seen enough of D’gan’s imperiousness firsthand. Dragonrider or not, the man bore his rank and responsibilities poorly.

“What did you ask this girl to do?” Zist asked Fenner.

“I asked her to track down the Shunned in hopes of opening communications with them,” Fenner said.

“That’s what Master Zist asked of me!” Moran exclaimed.

Nerra looked ready to say something acerbic, but was quelled by a look from her father.

“The traders had taken her under their protection,” Fenner explained. “They agreed to lend her aid and support.”

“And if she’d contacted the Shunned, what then?” Zist asked, curious to see if Crom’s Lord Holder had come up with a solution to the knotty problem of Pern’s dispossessed.

“Arrangements could be made,” Fenner said. He met Zist’s eyes squarely. “Some of those are doubtless people I’ve Shunned myself. But the Red Star grows larger and Thread will return. And when it does, what then will people with nothing to lose not do in order to survive?”

Zist nodded. “That was a question the Masterharper and I considered many Turns ago.” He glanced at Moran. “Our plan miscarried, however.”

“The only plan that seems to be working is D’gan’s,” Fenner admitted ruefully. “Round them up and force them to mine firestone.”

“Perhaps not force,” Zist said, “but encourage.” To Lord Fenner he explained, “We’ve just discovered Records that indicate there might be two types of firestone.” He went on to describe the meeting at High Reaches Weyr and the conclusions that Mikal, Kindan, and Cristov had reached.

“So they are going to the Southern Continent?” Fenner asked in surprise.

“Only the shore,” Zist said in reassurance. “To see if they can find any of this fire-lizard firestone.”

“A firestone that doesn’t explode in water,” Moran muttered to himself. He looked up at Zist. “What do the Shunned have to do with this?”

“This new firestone wouldn’t be deadly to mine,” Zist explained. “And all Pern will need it soon. If they could be convinced to mine it, their place and their protection would be assured directly by the Weyrs.”

“That
could
work,” Moran agreed, stroking his chin thoughtfully. He looked up again to Master Zist. “Master, I’d like to offer my services. I will make contact with the Shunned.”

“And find Halla while you’re at it,” Nerra demanded.

“And find Halla,” Moran agreed, turning to sketch a short bow in the girl’s direction.

“Perhaps P’lel will drop you somewhere along our way,” Zist said, turning to the green rider who had silently watched the entire exchange.

“For a firestone that doesn’t explode, I will do anything,” P’lel agreed fervently.

The Southern Continent!

Cristov couldn’t believe his luck as he sat perched atop Hurth’s huge neck and peered cautiously down at the headland below. Beside them, blue Talith struggled to keep up with the huge bronze dragon’s easy turn of speed.

It had startled Cristov for a moment to think that dragonriders couldn’t just
go
to the Southern Continent.

“We need someone who’s been there before,” D’vin had explained when they first set out. “Perhaps someone in Ista will know.”

Weyrleader C’rion greeted them courteously enough when they arrived in Ista Weyr’s Bowl.

“What do you want with the Southern Continent, D’vin?” he asked when D’vin presented their request.

“Firestone,” D’vin said immediately. He recounted the meeting at High Reaches and the conclusion reached by Kindan, Cristov, and Mikal.

C’rion looked skeptical until D’vin added, “Mikal was a dragonrider many turns back.”

“Firestone accident?” C’rion asked.

D’vin nodded.

“There have been so many of those,” C’rion said. He looked at Cristov. “And you say there’s a firestone that doesn’t burn in water?”

“The fire-lizards got their name for some reason,” Cristov pointed out.

“And B’ralar approves this?” C’rion asked, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Well, he’s a cautious one. If he says so, then I’m up for it.”

“Do you know someone who could guide us?” D’vin asked.

C’rion heaved a sigh before replying. “You know that the Southern Continent is banned,” he said. When D’vin nodded in agreement, he continued, “There’s good reason for it, I’m sure. But I’ve one blue rider who won’t listen to reason and just flies off by himself now and again. When he comes back, he’s always got these most amazing fruits of the largest size.”

“He goes to Southern?” D’vin asked.

“I’ve never asked,” C’rion replied drolly, his eyes lit with amusement. “But perhaps he can guide you.”

And so, without actually saying it aloud, D’vin managed to get J’trel to agree to give him the coordinates, provided he could come along.

“I suspect he wants an official reason to know where the Southern Continent is,” D’vin confided with a grin to Cristov as they rose out of Ista Bowl and took station beside the wiry blue dragon.

And now here they were.

D’vin gestured to the beaches beyond the headland, indicating that they should land there.

The sun was warm and the sand hot as they jumped down and looked around.

At some unspoken word from Hurth, D’vin laughed and told his dragon, “Yes, go play! But be ready when I call.”

With a huge cooling breeze from his wings, Hurth leapt into the air. Soon he and J’trel’s Talith were cavorting in and out of the warm southern water.

“Any sign of your rocks, Cristov?” J’trel asked as he strode up to them.

Cristov looked dismayed to hear the fire-lizards’ firestone referred to as “your rocks.” He wondered how the dragonriders would react if none were found.

“Are there any fire-lizards around?” he asked hopefully. “Maybe we could find the rocks they like.”

After an hour, D’vin suggested they try further south. The dragons returned from their water play quickly enough, though neither Cristov nor D’vin were quite happy to be riding a wet dragon.

“We won’t go
between,
” D’vin said reassuringly to Cristov, “but fly straight. Call out if you see anything.”

They checked out two more beaches, but there was no sign of any rocks worthy of consideration.

“Let’s rest a bit, and continue later,” D’vin suggested as they trudged in the hot sand.

“Good idea,” J’trel agreed readily. “I know where to get some fruit—” His face fell as D’vin smiled knowingly at him, but he recovered quickly, adding, “It’s the best fruit you’ll ever taste.”

“I’m sure of it,” D’vin said. He waved J’trel off and called Hurth in from the sea. The dragon curled up comfortably in the sand, tired from his exertions.

J’trel returned shortly, his sack full of large, orange-mottled fruits, which he shared with the other two. Cristov waited until D’vin had bitten into one—manners, he would have said if challenged—but when the Weyrleader’s face lit with appreciation, Cristov’s restraint vanished.

“They’re great!” he exclaimed as soon as he swallowed his first bite. He’d never tasted anything like it. He could completely understand why J’trel had ignored all prohibitions to search out this fruit.

Silence descended as the three ate heartily. The silence continued as the sun reached its highest point and bore down on them relentlessly. Fortunately, Hurth agreeably stretched a wing out over D’vin and Cristov, providing them with shade. J’trel sought the company and protection of his smaller Talith.

Soon all three humans and two dragons were asleep, lulled by their full stomachs, exertions, and the hot noon sun.

Cristov woke with a start, angry with himself for nodding off. He tried to get up but discovered he was trapped by D’vin’s arm across his chest. D’vin silenced him with a look, and then, deliberately, turned his head slowly forward, away from Cristov. Cristov followed his gaze…

Fire-lizards.

He tracked them with his eyes, picking out prominent landmarks so that he would know exactly where they had been. There was a little queen and several bronzes. A mating flight? No, there were blues, greens, and browns, as well.

Idly, Cristov wondered whether a fire-lizard could help in the mines.

One of the bronzes had noticed them. It flew toward them and then, with a chirp of surprise, blinked
between.
Immediately, the rest of the fire-lizards vanished.

D’vin chuckled. “Hurth tells me that the bronze couldn’t believe he was looking at a relative that was so big.”

D’vin released Cristov and the two got up. J’trel joined them, his eyes alight. “Such antics! Did you get a good fix on their location?”

“Not far from that promontory,” Cristov replied, pointing. “Maybe five or six hundred meters away.”

“It’s a pity they weren’t flaming,” J’trel said.

“It’s possible that they won’t be looking for firestone until the first Threadfall,” D’vin remarked, with a sideways glance at Cristov.

Cristov groaned and his shoulders slumped. “I hadn’t thought of that!”

“Nor had anyone else,” D’vin told him reassuringly. “Still, we can look.” He cocked an eyebrow at J’trel. “Is your Talith up to chewing strange rocks?”

“Certainly,” the blue rider replied after a moment’s silent communication with his dragon.

“It’s a pity we forgot to bring a shovel,” D’vin remarked as they started toward the promontory. Behind him, Hurth grumbled and leapt into the air, arriving at the site before them. A shower of flying sand flew into the air as the great dragon began to dig. “Sorry, Hurth, I’d forgotten we didn’t need one,” D’vin apologized with a smile.

“For a fire-lizard, the stones would have to be about this big, wouldn’t they?” J’trel asked Cristov, making a shape about half the size of his fist.

“I suppose,” Cristov agreed judiciously. He looked around. “And they wouldn’t bother with the larger rocks, so if we found any place where there were lots of larger rocks of the same type and no smaller ones—”

“Like these?” D’vin asked, holding up a rock the size of his fist.

Cristov beckoned, and D’vin tossed the rock to him. The young miner examined it for a moment; started to toss it aside, then changed his mind and tossed it to J’trel. “That’s too heavy for firestone; it should be lighter.”

Cristov spied some rocks not far from Hurth’s new hole. He walked over and picked one of them up.

“This is more like it,” he said, hefting the rock judiciously.

“It looks like sandstone,” D’vin said, picking up another one from the pile.

Cristov nodded and threw his rock down hard on a larger rock. His specimen cracked, revealing a blue-green crystal.

“Is that firestone?” D’vin asked.

“It could be,” Cristov replied.

“There’s only one way to find out,” J’trel said, picking up the other half of Cristov’s specimen. “Talith, if you’d be so kind?”

The blue dragon opened its mouth and J’trel threw the rock into it. Shortly there came the grinding sound of a dragon chewing and then Talith swallowed, visibly and audibly.

“Now, we wait,” J’trel said. The three found it impossible to wait patiently. Cristov found himself examining the promontory for more signs of sandstone or blue-green rock; D’vin found more of the sandstone rocks and started cracking them, throwing the ones that were pure sandstone into one pile and the ones with hints of the blue-green rock into another pile; J’trel merely spent his time nervously pacing in front of his dragon.

“So how do you feel?” J’trel asked out loud. “Does it feel like firestone?” Before he could get a response, he jumped away, arms outstretched, crying, “Stand back!”

Talith opened his mouth and burped. A tiny flicker of flame erupted.

“That took longer than regular firestone,” D’vin said.

“Talith says that it didn’t burn, and he’d like to try some more,” J’trel reported, gathering up some of the rocks that D’vin had sorted and feeding them to his dragon. D’vin started doing the same with Hurth.

In a few short moments, both dragons produced a decent flame, and both pronounced it much less stressful than the firestone they were used to.

“Does it look like they can sustain flame longer?” D’vin asked J’trel.

“Yes, it seems like this firestone produces the fire gas more slowly,” J’trel agreed. He looked up at Talith again. “Is that how it feels to you?”

Cristov understood Talith’s response merely from the blue’s emphatic nod. He picked up a specimen and walked with it to the sea.

“Cristov, what are you doing?” D’vin asked his voice tinged with equal parts curiosity and alarm.

Cristov threw his rock, with its exposed blue-green crystal, into the surf and watched carefully. Nothing. No explosion, no puff of gas, nothing.

“I just wanted to be sure,” he said, turning around and walking back to the others. He picked up several specimens and stuffed them into his pouch. “This firestone doesn’t explode on contact with water.”

“There must be something extra in the dragons’ stomachs to make the flame,” D’vin suggested, hefting a rock in his palm. “If this were the old firestone, the sweat from my palms alone would produce some gas.”