Fair of dragonets? Like a pride of lions? Or a gaggle of geese? Yes very ‘fair’ description,” Pol Nietro said, his eyes twinkling at mother and daughter. “Not that you’re apt to have that kind of cooperation in the ordinary ‘fair.’ ”
Pol Nietro, if you’re casting aspersions on Donnybrook Fairs . . .” Mairi began with a grin.
Cast aspersions, Mairi? Not my way at all.” Pol winked at her. “But that fair of dragonets proved very useful. They did, indeed, seem to work well together to a common goal. Paul Benden noticed this particularly and wants Kitti and myself to – ”
Mairi caught his arm, her expression altered. “You wouldn’t – ”
“Of course not, my dear.” He patted her hand reassuringly. “But I think Sorka can help us, and Duke, if they’re willing. We have already amassed quite a good deal of information about our small friends. Their potential has just taken a quantum leap. And our understanding of them! We brought no creatures with us to ward off such vicious aerial scavengers as the wherries.”
Sorka was feeding a nearly sated Duke, who sat upright, tail extended on the top of the table, the tip twitching with a more decisive movement each time he daintily secured the morsel Sorka offered him. There was about him an odd, not completely pleasant odor which, out of deference to his heroism, she was trying to ignore.
“Ah, the servant is worthy of his hire,” Pol said.
Sorka gave him a long look. “I don’t mean to be cheeky, sir, but I don’t think of Duke as a servant of any kind. And he certainly proved he was a friend to us!” She waved her hand to indicate the entire settlement.
“He and his . . . cohorts,” Pol said tactfully, “most certainly proved their friendship today.” He sat down beside Sorka, watching the little creature pinch the next piece of food in its claws. Duke regarded the morsel from all sides, sniffed, licked, and finally took a small bite. Pol watched admiringly.
Sorka giggled. “He’s stuffed, but he never turns down food.” Then she added, “Actually, he’s not eating as much as he used to. He’s down to one meal a day, so he may be reaching maturity. I’ve kept notes on his growth, and really, sir, he does seem to be as big as the wild ones.”
“Interesting. Do please give me your records, and I shall add them to the file.” Pol shifted his body a bit. “Really, you know, this is a fascinating evolution. Especially if those plankton eaters the dolphins report could represent a common ancestor for the tunnel snakes and dragonets.”
Mairi was surprised. “Tunnel snakes and dragonets?”
“Hmm, yes, for life evolved from the seas here on Pern just as it did on Earth. With variations, of course.” Pol settled happily into his lecturing mode with an attentive if incredulous audience. “Yes, an aquatic eel-like ancestor, in fact. With six limbs. The first pair – ” He pointed at the dragonet still clutching his morsel in his front pincers. “ – originally were nets for catching. See the action of the front claw against the stationary back pair. The dragonets dropped the net in favor of three digits. They opted for wings instead of stabilizing middle fins, while the hind pair are for propulsion. The dry-land adaptation, our tunnel snake, was to make the front pair diggers, the middle set remained balancers, especially when they have food in the front pair, and the rear limbs are for steering or holding on. Yes, I’m sure we’ll find that the plankton eaters are like the common ancestors of our good friends here.” Pol beamed warmly down at Duke, who was deliberating taking a fresh morsel from Sorka. “However . . .” He paused.
Sorka waited politely, knowing that the zoologist had some purpose in his visit.
“Would you happen to know of any undisturbed nests?” he asked finally.
“Yes, sir, but it’s not a big clutch, and the eggs are rather smaller than others I’ve seen.”
“Ah, yes, perhaps the eggs of the smaller green female,” Pol said, placatingly. “Well, since the green is not as protective of her nest as the gold, she will suffer no great pangs if we borrow a few. But I did want to ask you one other, greater favor. I particularly remember your mentioning seeing the body of a hatchling in the water. Is this a frequent hazard?”
Sorka considered that and replied in the same objective tone of voice. “I think so. Some of the hatchlings just don’t make it. Either they can’t feed themselves enough to make up for the hatching trauma,” she began to explain. She didn’t see the slight grin tuggin at Pol Nietro’s mouth. “Or they are struck down by wherries. You see, just before hatching, the older dragonets bring seaweed to form a ring about the clutch, and offer fish and crawlies and anything else they can find to the hatchlings.”
“Hmm, definitely imprinting, then,” Pol murmured.
“By the time they’ve filled their stomachs, their wings have dried, and they can fly off with the rest of the fair. The older dragonets do a first-rate job of keeping off snakes and wherries, to give the babies a chance. One day, though, Sean spotted some eel-like thing attacking from the sea during a high tide. The hatchling didn’t have a chance.”
“Sean is your elusive but oft-mentioned ally?”
“Yes, sir. He and I discovered the first nest together and kept watch on it.”
“Would he assist us in finding nests, and . . . the hatchlings?”
Sorka regarded the zoologist for a long moment. He had always kept his word to her, and he had been very good about Duke that first day. She decided that she could trust him, but she was also aware of his high rank in Landing, and what he might be able to do for Sean.
“If you promise, promise – and I’d vouch for you, too – that his family gets one of the first horses, he’ll do just about anything for you.”
“Sorka!” Mairi was embarrassed by her daughter’s proposal. The girl spent entirely too much time with that boy and was learning some bad habits from him. But to her amazement, Pol smiled cheerfully and patted Sorka’s arm.
“Now, now, Mairi, your daughter has good instincts. Barter is already practiced as an exchange system on Pern, you know.” He regarded Sorka with proper solemnity. “He’s one of the Connells, is he not?” When she nodded solemnly, he went on briskly. “In point of fact, that is the first name on the list to receive equines. Or oxen, if they prefer.”
“Horses. Horses are what they’ve always had,” Sorka eagerly affirmed.
“And when can I have a few words with this young man?”
“Anytime you want, sir. Would this evening do? I know where Sean is likely to be.” Out of lifelong habit, she glanced at her mother for consent. Mairi nodded.
On consultation, Sean agreed that there were only green eggs nearby, but suggested that they would do well to look on the beaches a good distance from Landing’s well-trampled strands. Sorka had found him on the Head, his two dragonets fishing in the shallows for the finger fish often trapped between tides.
“May we request your services in this venture, Sean Connell?” Pol Nietro asked formally.
Casually, Sean cocked his head and gave the zoologist a long and appraising look. “What’s in it for me to go off hunting lizards?”
“Dragonets,” Sorka said firmly.
Sean ignored her. “There aint no money here, and me da needs me in the camp.”
Sorka moved restlessly beside Pol, unsure if the scientist would rise to the occasion. But Pol had not been head of a prestigious zoology department in the huge university on First without learning how to deal with touchy, opinionated fellows. The young rascal who eyed him with ancient, inherited skepticism merely presented a slightly different aspect of a well-known problem. To any other young person, the zoologist might have offered the chance to light the evening bonfire, which had become a much-sought-after privilege, but he knew that Sean would not care about that.