Энн Маккефри - The Second Weyr

“We used some of those first uglies Wind Blossom bred to check out the tunnels,” he said, tapping a joint-disfigured finger on the drawings. “X marks spots you don’t go. ‘S’all here. Took her”-he pointed at Torene- “and her, him, him,” he added, indicating Uloa, N’kla and D’vid, “through every one of ‘em, up and down, and the ones in between. The ‘between’ you get to when you walk,” he commented, favoring David Caterel with a droll eye.

“Had you anything better to do today?” David asked, grinning. “You can sit here, drink all the klah. . .”

“You didn’t think to bring any beer, didja? Prefer beer.

“In fact, I did, knowing your preference,” David said, and began to haul large bottles from each of his thigh and jacket pockets.

“Good man.” Ozzie took one, broke the seal, took a long pull, then wiped his mouth with the back of his sun-riddled hand and sighed with deep appreciation. At last he looked up at David again. “I’ll tell ya if ya do anythin’ wrong,” he assured them. “That one”-and he pointed to Torene again-”knows most of ‘em anyway, so she can lead you. I’ll just stay here in case ya go wrong. Then I’ll findja.’

Smiles were carefully concealed from the wiry old man as David turned purposefully to Torene.

“So, what do you want to see first?” she asked, holding her hands out in compliance.

“Everything,” David said. “Starting with here and where can we put the hypocaust to keep the sands warm.

“This way, lords and ladies,” Torene said impishly, remembering the phrases from the stories her father had told her as a child. There were always lords and ladies in Volodya Ostrovsky’s bedtime tales.

By noontime, they had climbed about, or been flown by obliging dragons to, every cave, niche, nook, and cranny in the eastern side of the upper crater. They paused to eat, and review their notes and the diagrams, and then, with only slightly diminished zeal, explored the western side, including the sites where Torene had thought ground access was possible. The plasfilm that had been pristine that morning showed all kinds of marks and new legends in the margins. Lists of materials urgently needed were stuck in under the top rail.

By the time darkness fell, not only was everyone tired, scratched, and bruised from clambering over, under, and past unforgiving stone, but also full of intimate knowledge of their proposed home.

The next day queen riders, Wingleaders, and — seconds held conferences with Ierne’s representatives to see what materials would be needed to start work on the access tunnel.

Though they were not asked, the dragons insisted on helping dig once the stonecutters had excised the cliff face of the proposed access tunnel. David Caterel tried to stop them.

“You’re fighting dragons, not digging dragons,” he said, scowling at his own Polenth. “Torene, Uloa, Jean, speak to your queens.”

“Sternly?” Jean asked, grinning back and smearing the mud on her face as she mopped sweat. A shovel handle leaned against her.

This will be our home, too, Alaranth and Greteth said, and the bronzes bugled agreement.

“Think you got outvoted,” Uloa said. “It’s only because you’re one of the first and Sean fussed so about doing carrier duty.”

“This is different,” Jean said, replacing gloves preparatory to attacking the rubble again. “This is for us!”

The dragons gave another bugle, and David, shaking his head, surrendered. There was no question that dragon assistance lightened the task. Ozzie was on hand, too, “to make sure the echoes were accurate,” he said. But he carried out his supervision from a sunny spot on a convenient boulder, pulling away at his beer.

Torene was not the only rider who had brought sleeping furs, spare clothes, and what food she could wangle from Tarrie’s kitchen. She had dumped her things in one of the smaller caves that she could climb to if Alaranth was asleep. It was three times the size of her accommodation at Fort-palatial in comparison. Alaranth thoroughly approved of the ledge in front, which got the morning sun.

By pooling their food, those who stayed on overnight managed quite a satisfactory meal. Despite being tired, some of the bronze and brown riders excused themselves afterward.

“Wonder where they’re going?” Uloa asked.

“Not where, not even why,” Jean said, groaning, “but how do they have the energy to go at all! Fresh fruit would go nice for breakfast.”

“Did any of them check for Threadfall in the south?” Torene asked.

“Mihall did,” R’bert said, offering round the klah pot.

Jean rolled her eyes and Uloa sighed, stretching warily.

“D’you think he’ll bring back a hot bath?” she asked.

“That would be heaven,” Jean said. “What did Ozzie say about the possibility of tapping into some thermals here?”

“He said that it was possible if there was enough pipeline left from doing Tillek, “ Torene said, thinking longingly of a hot bath herself.

We could go back to Fort? Alaranth suggested.

I don’t think I have muscles enough to climb up to your back, Torene replied.

She was half-asleep when the riders returned. Not only had they brought fresh fruit and several braces of chickens, but each dragon had a fat bullock or cow struggling in his claws. These were deposited down by the lake, where they bawled out their terror for hours before finally settling.

“Where’d you find the chickens?” Jean asked, eyes wide with delighted surprise.

“They take shelter in the old caves, the Catherine caves, I think they were called,” Mihall said.

“Yes, they were,” Jean said as she watched him untie the chickens’ legs. Squawking, each released fowl ran off into the bowl. “We’ve nothing to feed them with.”

“I think I threw some crusts and heels onto the compost heap,” Torene said, and got up.

Mihall caught her by the shoulder. “If it’s there, they’ll find it on their own. What’s the matter?” he added as he saw her wince.

“My shoulder’s stiff.”

“Whose isn’t?” Uloa said, groaning and rubbing her own shoulder.

“Didn’t one of you think to bring some numbweed?” Mihall asked with a grin.

A widespread groan answered the question: the remedy was so obvious! Jean stiffly began to get to her feet. “My pack’s nearest.”

Mihall reached out to prevent her. “Where? Let me get it.”

“Oh, would you? I’m in the third cave on the left on the first level. It’s an easy climb.”

When Mihall returned with the numbweed, they took turns rubbing the salve into abused muscles. Somehow-and she couldn’t reject the courtesy without sounding uncivil-Mihall managed to be available to work on Torene’s shoulders. Then she was much too grateful for the sure, firm touch of his massaging fingers as he worked the salve in.

“Thanks, Mihall,” she said, rotating shoulder blades that no longer ached.

“Just take it easy tomorrow or you’ll be back to me again,” he said, and turned to Genteelly, who was waiting for similar ministrations.

Because of the massage she slept easier that night-once she tuned out the bawling of the cattle. The next day, at an appropriate hour, she asked Polenth to have David bring along a big jar of the numbweed when they returned from Fort to Benden.

In effect, they now worked two shifts: those staying at Benden did the first one, then took a rest break when the Fort-based contingent arrived, fresh. The four Benden wings, excused from Threadfall at Fort, began to catch the eastern Falls, to see how they could protect the newly named Benden Hold property. A nearby source of phosphine-bearing rock was indicated on the survey maps, and David sent a work group of blue and brown riders to begin to stockpile the all-important firestone.