The Skies of Pern (29 page)

Nor was what “was now under control” explained. Situated in an old warehouse that had been converted to its new purpose, Tagetarl’s Printing Hall was on the north side of Wide Bay. He had a good view of ships entering and leaving the harbor but the Hall was not conveniently situated to see if a dragon had taken off from Keroon Hold. With his good long-range vision, he could make out frantic activity on the wharves as goods waiting to be shipped were taken back into warehouses. He didn’t need his prized collapsible far-seer to see colored sails being hoisted on the dozen or so ships, some of which he knew were waiting for cargo. All through the morning, a tension seemed to pulse in on every wave that splashed the seawalls. Gales whipping either east or west of Nerat’s tip often blustered up past Igen’s headland and up wide Keroon Bay. Tagetarl frequently found reasons to stop in his office for a few minutes and check what was happening in the
bay. The ships were sailing south on a wide port tack, evidently heading up Keroon Bay. For safety.

A shuffling reminded him that he’d nearly forgotten the messenger.

“Sorry …” he caught back “son” because the person in front of him was a young girl. He was still not accustomed to girls as green riders. She looked very uncertain of herself, but somehow proud; he’d seen that combination when a young student managed to play a complicated score correctly. She had her riding helmet crushed in one hand and a thin message packet in the other. Hesitantly she held it out for him to take. She wore Monaco colors and a green weyrling’s knot on her flying jacket. “Sorry, green rider. Is all well at Monaco?”

She stammered. “Very wet, Master. I am to deliver you this.” His polite inquiry produced fear and anxiety in her face. “For your
urgent
attention, Masterprinter. I must wait until you’ve done it.”

“You must, must you?” Tagetarl smiled reassuringly. She couldn’t be more than sixteen Turns and he wondered if this was her first long journey as a weyrling. She also looked very tired. However, any news from Monaco might clarify and enlighten the tense situation—and explain why Lord Kashman had been called to Landing. Of course, the new Lord Holder may not be quite sure of procedure in what appeared to be a widespread emergency.

“Yes, sir, and where may I wait?”

“Sit, before you fall, girl,” Tagetarl said, pointing to a stool before he opened the message. “From F’lar?” he exclaimed, recognizing the handwriting—bad enough under any circumstances, though the bronze rider had obviously tried to be legible.

“Tag, urgent notice to publish facts. Should get inland where sweepriders have not already given warnings. Runners have been asked to distribute. Give the messenger a hundred to take to Nerat. Please ask Keroon Stationmaster to distribute another hundred. Riders will be sent for the rest. Rush.” This last was underscored several times.

Any irritation Tagetarl felt for the peremptory tone was discarded when he read the copy for printing. The body of the message was in another handwriting altogether, much easier to read.

“
Rosheen! Turn on the big press
,” he shouted down the hall. He
heard her answering “
What?
” and continued to call orders at what his spouse called his “harper volume,” audible inside and outside the hall. “Apprentices! I’ll need the big notice sheets. Check the toner cartridges.” He turned back to the green rider. “Where’s your dragon?”

“Path’s in the court. F’lar told me we’d fit. That’s why I was chosen to bring the message. The Printer Hall wasn’t hard to find once I got to Wide Bay. I’m Danegga. No one here seems to mind a dragon dropping in on them,” she added with a charming naïveté.

“The Printer Hall is accustomed to visitors, Danegga, but you look tired and you may want to get something hot to eat.
Between
is cold.” He gave her an encouraging smile. “Your first assignment out of Monaco, Danegga? Good ride. Much damage at Monaco Weyr?”

Her face twisted and tears came to her eyes but she pulled her shoulders up proudly. “They say the water will recede. We’ll rebuild, Masterprinter. We saved everybody and as much else as the dragons could carry.”

“Then you did very well, Danegga. Very well indeed. Now, run down to the kitchen—just follow your nose. There’s always soup on the stove and there was fresh bread this morning. Might just be time for you to get a short nap while I print these. Monaco will be proud of you.”

“Thank you, sir, thank you,” and as she turned to leave, she nearly ran Rosheen down, bobbing again to excuse herself.

As Rosheen reached Tagetarl, he flourished F’lar’s message at her, not allowing her time to read it.

“We’ll both need to set copy. Headline in the boldest print face we have, biggest letters,” he muttered, pulling her down the hall to the Print Hall proper.

“FIREBALL WILL CAUSE COASTAL FLOODING!” he said, making a big bracket with his hands. Good time to try that 26-point they’d just added.

She grabbed the message from his hand.

“So this is what’s got the ships sailing away. A fireball? What’s that? Oh, the text explains. And they got Master Esselin to sign this, too?”

She nearly tripped in surprise and Tagetarl grinned at her. They’d both done their stints of copying under his critical eye.

“Makes it more official, though, doesn’t it?” Tagetarl grinned. “Apprentices, front and center! We’ll need to wrap in hundred-copy packets.”

“Did I see Monaco colors on the girl?” Rosheen asked as they took the last few steps to the Hall floor.

“You did and you know as much as I do. Let’s get this job done as fast as possible. Rumors of course will spread faster, but if the Runners distribute a written message, people are more likely to believe the printed word.”

“Considering how scarce they are …” was Rosheen’s whimsical remark as she followed him.

T
he results were not bad for a rush job: the new toner dried fast so the copies didn’t smear. He gave Danegga the first packet; he’d be on up the hill to deliver the second one as soon as he saw her off. Over his shoulder, he saw Ptath lift from the ground, but only high enough to safely go
between
. It didn’t take him long to reach the Wide Bay Runner Station, situated as it was on the wide main road. He paused on the threshold since the entrance was full of men and women, a few dressed as Runners. When the very air buzzed with excitement, Stations were good places to garner news.

“Stationmaster,” Tagetarl said, effortlessly projecting his voice through the babble. To his right, inside the main room, Arminet stood on tiptoe to see him.

“Let the MasterPrinter pass. He’s just the man to explain all this,” cried Arminet in his equally loud deep bass voice.

People stepped on each other to get out of Tagetarl’s way but almost everyone asked “The Fireball? Do you know about the Fireball?” as he passed them.

Tagetarl held the package over his head, waving it. “It’s all in here.” He almost stumbled when he saw Pinch duck to one side. Trust that one to be in the thick of things. “Stationmaster Arminet, I’ve been asked by the signatories of this message to request
Runners to pass these along inland. Sweepriders are warning coastal areas. I’ll pay any charges you think fair.”

“Ha! You know we carry community messages free, Master Tagetarl,” Arminet said, his bass voice rumbling with sardonic amusement. “What does it say?”

Tagetarl began to recite the text of the message as he eased through the crowded room to hand the packet to Arminet. The Stationmaster was besieged by those who wanted their own copy. Tagetarl stopped talking, so as not to interrupt the concentration of those who had difficulty reading the smaller print below the banner headline.

“Then Aivas
prevented
disaster?” Someone in the crowd said, doubtless Pinch, Tagetarl suspected, though the voice was muffled.

“And what are the Abominators saying?” Tagetarl demanded, hands on his belt, glaring around.

“That Aivas caused it, with all its meddling with the Red Star. And dragonriders let it pass. It was seen from Telgar, y’know,” a man shouted.

“And Benden!” a soprano cried.

“Benden and Landing acted!” Tagetarl responded sharply. “More than any Abominator did. I expect I’ll have more news later. I’ll publish as I receive. I stopped here first to start spreading truth.”

“I’ll see these go out with every packet,” Arminet had to raise his voice again above the cries for copies.

Pinch did not follow Tagetarl out but he would probably be one of the first to spread the news where it would do the most good. Or thwart rumor quickest!

When Tagetarl got back to the Hall, he was surprised to see a crowd of people, all wanting their own copy of the newssheet. Rosheen and the two apprentices were handing them out as fast as they could. Tagetarl saw some far too curious folk circling by the shelves where he kept galley pages of work waiting for approval.

“You, there, wait your turn. Come up front,” he called, gesturing authoritatively for them to stop wandering about the print shop. “You’ve no business back there.” He went to supervise their departure and decided maybe he could do a second run of the
sheet. Get people to rely on the printed word and he’d get new customers for the books and manuals he kept in stock.

F’lessan and Tai had finished eating when the word passed among the dragonriders that the emergency supplies were ready to be collected. Riders had been told to return to those holdings they had visited earlier that day. They were to check on injuries and determine if it was necessary to convey anyone
between
to Landing’s Healer Hall. Enough healers had been sent by Master Oldive to assist those locally assigned. There were Healer kits of bandages, numbweed, fellis juice, and fortified wine for riders to bring with them. The riders were to make their own judgments about staying overnight at holdings if critical situations had developed.

“What could be critical after this morning?” F’lessan remarked facetiously.

Tai gave him a hard stare. “I suppose we can bed down here tonight.” She gave a shrug. “There’s nothing left of our Weyr.”

He knew that she, and a few other riders, had had the courage to overfly the flood that had drowned Monaco Bay Weyr.

“You can stay at Honshu,” and before she could refuse, F’lessan extended the invitation to C’reel and St’ven nearby. “Have you been to Honshu?” he asked the brown riders.

“Hunted nearby once or twice,” C’reel said but his grim expression lightened at the invitation.

“There’s plenty of space,” F’lessan said expansively. “Though I’m not sure about having enough food. Bring some with you, but there’s a whole cliff of space for dragons.”

“How many can you accommodate?” Tai asked.

F’lessan raised his arms. “Well, not all of Monaco Weyr but two, three wings of riders and dragons. And any weyrfolk attached to them.” As Tai turned away to spread his invitation, he added, “And tell ’em to bring blankets. It’s cooler up there.”

He and C’reel fitted Zaranth’s load to her back before Tai returned.

“Everyone’s grateful,” she said and he knew that she was, too. “T’gellan and Mirrim may have to remain here at Landing and there’re others promised to help the weyrfolk on the hills. They thank you, F’lessan. Landing’s facilities are overtaxed.”

“There’re always the Catherine Caves,” F’lessan said, trying for some levity.

“Too small for
our
dragons,” C’reel said, with good-natured condescension.

“Move on there, if you’re loaded up,” someone yelled at them.

They did. Zaranth following F’lessan, C’reel, and St’ven out of the line.

“Have you ever been to Honshu?” F’lessan asked Tai.

“Got taken there once. Oh, Zaranth says Golanth just made sure she knows the landmark. I’ll see you!”

Zaranth trotted away, sacks bouncing on her back, until she had enough clear space to launch herself.

Tell her good flying, Golanth
. F’lessan experienced an unusual sense of apprehension for the green rider.

She is strong. Zaranth is strong. The sooner we go, the quicker we get to Honshu. Honshu is quiet
, his bronze told him and F’lessan couldn’t agree more.

St’ven and C’reel mounted over the supplies. He wondered if they were as uncomfortable as he felt, perched on sacks with hard things prodding into his legs. He latched his helmet, made sure his jacket was closed and, raising his arm high, pumped it to direct his companions upward.

Let’s not make shallow jumps a habit, brown riders
, he said, waiting until they were well above the surface. Then he extended his arm southward to their destinations.
We all know where we’re going?

Riders and dragons acknowledged.

Let’s go
.

C
oming out above an almost obscenely quiet sea front where Sunrise Cliff Seahold had been was as much a shock to F’lessan as to the other riders: he could hear their exclamations above the sad noises all three dragons made.

There might never have been human habitation here. Waves splashed idly against granite cliffs instead of wide white sands in grassy dunes, waters draining muddily back from the break in the cliff face that had been a streambed. From the flotsam deposited, piled in places, they could see how far inland the tsunami had coursed. It had not yet pulled back far enough to show what might be left of the cotholds. Whole tree trunks floated on the waves, idly being pushed in by the high water. It was logical to assume that these had been swept from the islands just off the coast. Most were craggy, with no place for a holding of any sort, except near the summits, but they had supported the same variety of fruit and timber trees that grew on this part of the continent. And the fish would return to an area rich in feed.

Mealth sees smoke
, Golanth told his rider and turned his head.

F’lessan let out his breath. He hadn’t known he’d been holding it. His throat ached. He hadn’t a doubt that Lady Medda had organized everything to her satisfaction. Odd that there was still light in the sky—a strange sort of luminescence, possibly something to do with that sharding fragment. After today he was going to review his old astronomy lessons and he doubted he’d be the only one.