Энн Маккефри - The Second Weyr

“So that’s what all this coming and going’s been about,” Uloa said, propping her fists on her hips and glaring at David. “And you never gave us so much as a hint.”

David recoiled slightly. “I never had so much as a hint myself until this evening. You know how closemouthed Sean can be.”

“That’s true enough,” Jean said with a wry laugh.

“What he dislikes is that the dragons’ll have to do a lot of hauling.”

Jean made a real grimace this time and sighed deeply. “Then it’s only fair that the holders help us dig!”

“That was Sean’s point.”

Jean couldn’t see the diagram, so she pulled it down. “So this is how we’ll be spending our free time?”

“What free time?” half a dozen voices chorused around her.

“The free time tomorrow when we’ll all go over and formally take possession of our Weyr,” David said firmly. He glanced around, looking for acknowledgment. “Go easy on the beer. We’ll make a daylight start.”

“Our daylight, of course!” said an anonymous voice from the back.

“He’s got more sense than to interfere with your beering by making us start at daylight on the east coast,” Jean said tartly.

From the middle of the room a roar went up: “Telgar! Telgar Weyr!”

“As if they had any choice,” Jean said at her drollest, “though I’d like to suggest a name now for ours and let you think about it.”

“What name?”

“Benden!” she said in a proud quiet tone, lifting her chin. There was a long moment of respectful silence.

“What’s to think about?” asked a firm baritone voice from the rear.

“Could there be any other name that would be more fitting?” David Caterel asked, and Torene could see that his eyes had filled.

The murmur grew quickly as the name was repeated throughout their small gathering. Jean touched her glass to David’s, and suddenly the others all got to their feet, glasses raised.

“To Benden Weyr!” David Caterel said, though “Weyr” came out raggedly.

“To Benden Weyr!” And mugs, cups, and glasses were raised high and then drained.

Torene had to sniff and dash the tears from her eyes, but she felt uplifted by that little ceremony. Hers had been the last Hatching that the ailing admiral had attended. She remembered that he had sought her out and wished her and her new queen the very best. Though he still walked with an erect back, his step was short and jerky. One of his sons and Mihall had escorted him.

Many riders began to circulate then, some to get more beer, some to drift off, but Torene was more or less hemmed in by the other queen riders and Wingleaders.

“You got this copy from your mother?” David asked, spreading it carefully out on the table. When she nodded, he asked, “Any chance we can get more? And at least one set of enlargements for each elevation?” Torene nodded again. Her parents would be extremely proud of her assignment and willing to cooperate in any way they could. “And you’ve been there recently?” His manner was kindly, as if she were much younger than she actually was and needed to be led. She was twenty-two, but she didn’t resent that from David as much as she would have from one of her peers.

“A whole bunch of us went the day you and Sean went down to Ierne to eat,” Uloa said, with a put-you-in-your-place tone.

Grinning back at her, David said, “If I’d known Sean was going to pull it off, I’d’ve come with you. What I need to establish is how recent your visit was.”

“Very.”

“And where is this access tunnel you found, Torene?”

N’klas was closer and jammed his index finger down on the spot. “Here.”

David kept looking at Torene for his answer.

She nodded. “This echo reads as two meters high, ground to ceiling.” She indicated with a fingertip. “Here and here Ozzie says there’re tunnels that can be enlarged, with an entrance into the-into Benden Weyr-” She was interrupted by a chorus of approval: “Sounds good.” “Paul’d be pleased.” “Perfect name!” “Has a ring to it, doesn’t it?” She went on: “-and an exit on high ground above the river, here.”

Comments and suggestions flew too thick and fast for her to identify the speakers.

“That would be the priority project, so we can get materials and people in and out easily.”

“We still have to shift by dragonback. Couldn’t send a land expedition when we don’t know the overnighting places.”

“Kaarvan wouldn’t mind a good long sail. He’s bored with fishing the Bay.”

“Iernans can bring in a lot of their own gear on their ships.”

Other riders, eager to contribute, began to crowd in, and Torene, courteously letting people past her, suddenly found herself excluded.

“It’s my map,” she said under her breath, trying to suppress a surge of bitterness as she took a further step back, nearly stepping on the feet of someone seated behind her.

“It’ll be your Weyr, ‘Rene,” said a soft, amused tenor voice. She looked down into Mihall Connell’s slightly mocking gray-blue eyes. She’d never been close enough to see their color before. “Come the time Alaranth flies,” he went on. “She’ll fly soon-but you know that, don’t you?”

There was no mockery in his tone, and he’d made more of a statement than a question.

“Well, if you intend to be Weyrleader, why aren’t you in there, mapping your space?” The moment the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them and bit her lip. “I’m sorry, Mihall.”

“Why?” His very regular eyebrows quirked briefly, and his gray-blue eyes, not a trace of mockery in them, met hers once more, his head tilted up at her. “I should like to be Weyrleader. I intend to be Weyrleader. Everyone knows that.” The mockery was back. “The question is, how does Alaranth feel about Brianth?”

“Isn’t it more how I feel about you?” The words tumbled out before she could stop them, and she shook her head and stamped her foot in annoyance: That wasn’t at all what she had intended to say.

Mihall rose slowly until he was looking down at her, an intense expression on his face. “No, it’s ultimately the dragons who decide: the one who decides how to fly this queen, and the one who decides who she’ll let catch her.”

Torene knew now why she hadn’t been in his company much. He wasn’t at all like the other bronze and brown riders in her “bunch.” And knowing the reputation he and Brianth had in “catching” queens, she had deliberately, if unconsciously, avoided being in his company. She also knew the opinions the other queen riders had of him, and those only confused her more. “Polite”? “Quick”? “Deft and considerate”? “Too controlled”? None of those comments fit what she sensed of him.

He knows he is the son of his parents, Alaranth said.

“Yes, he would know that,” she said almost sadly, for that couldn’t be easy on him. When Mihall politely raised his eyebrows in query, she realized she had spoken aloud. “Brianth,” she added, and gave Mihall what she hoped was an understanding smile. From his stunned expression, she found she had only compounded her blunder and he had jumped to the logical conclusion. “Oh, lord, both feet are in my mouth tonight. Do you want a copy of your own when I ask Mother for them tomorrow?” She tried to keep her voice even and pleasant, but to her own ears she sounded irritated.

Mihall inclined toward her. “I’d appreciate it,” he said, but all the warmth she had seen-so briefly-in his eyes was gone and they were coldly gray. He stood clear of the chair, and before she could walk away from her embarrassment, he left her.

I could just scream, she told Alaranth. It all came out so wrong, Allie. How could I possibly have said the things I did to him? And the way I said them! Oh, how could I!