“My brother, Brian, is working at the fort. Duke knows him as well as he knows me. And I’ve seen plenty of fax of the place. He’d go to Brian.” As if understanding that he was being discussed, Duke circled in to land on Sorka’s shoulder. She laughed. “See, he’s game!”
“He may come when he’s called,” Sean said, “but will he -go where he’s sent? Landing’s one thing—they all know it well.”
“We can only try and see,” Pol remarked firmly. “And this is a good hour to reach Brian at Fort Hold.” He punched the comm unit. “What a boon that the tower’s functional. Ah, yes, Pol Nietro speaking. I need an urgent word with Brian Hanrahan . . . I said urgent! This is Pol Nietro. Get him for me! Idiots,” he murmured in an aside. “Is this call important?”
Brian was found and was surprised to hear from his sister. “Look, what’s this all about? You don’t just scream priority around here. I can assure you that Mother’s taking good care of Mick. She dotes on him.”
His slightly aggrieved voice was clear to the others, and Sorka was taken aback by his uncooperative response. Sean took the handset from her.
“Brian, Sean here. Marco Galliani and his dragon Duluth died yesterday in an unfortunate accident. We’re trying to prevent a recurrence. We’re only asking for a few minutes of your time. And this is a priority.”
“Marco and Duluth?” Brian’s tone was chastened. “Jays, we hadn’t heard anything. I’m sorry. What can I do?”
“Are you outside? Someplace where you can be easily spotted from the air?”
“Yes, I am. Why?”
“Then tell Sorka exactly where you are. I’m handing you over to her.”
“Hell and damnation, Sorka, I’m sorry I dumped on you. So I’m outside. Have you seen the recent fax? Well, I’m approximately twenty meters from the new ramp. At the vet caves. They finally carved us some more headroom, and there’s a huge pile of rock about a meter from me and nearly as high. What do I do now?”
“Just stand there. I’m sending Duke to you. When I say ‘mark,’ set your timer.”
“Come on, now, sis,” he began in patent disbelief, “you’re in Kahrain Cove, aren’t you?”
“Brian! For once in your life, don’t argue with me.”
“All right. I’m ready to mark the time.” He still sounded aggrieved.
Sorka held her arm high, ready to pitch Duke into the air. “Go to Brian, Duke. He’s at the new place! Here!” She screwed her eyes shut and concentrated on an image of Brian standing on the site he had described. “Go, Duke.”
With a startled squawk, Duke launched himself into the air and vanished.
“Mark!” Sorka cried.
“Hey, I can hear you loud and clear, sister. You don’t need to roar. I don’t know what good this is going to do. You can’t imagine for one minute that a fire-dragonet could possibly—Jays!” Brian’s voice in her ear faded into astonishment. “I don’t bloody believe it. Shit. I forgot to mark time.”
“That’s all right,” Sorka said, nodding her head with delight, “we used your ‘jays’ to mark!”
Pol was jumping up and down, holding his wrist chrono and shouting, “Eight seconds! Eight seconds!”
He grabbed Bay by the waist and danced around her. Sean lifted Sorka from her feet and kissed her soundly while Mariah and Blazer led an augmented fair of fluting fire-dragonets in a dizzy aerial display.
“Eight seconds to the fort, only eight seconds,” Pol gasped, reeling to a standstill, Bay clinging to him.
“That doesn’t make much sense, does it?” Bay said, panting, one hand on her heaving chest. “The same time to go fifty klicks or nearly three thousand.”
“Hey, Sorka,” came Brian’s plaintive voice. She put the handset to her ear again, mopping the sweat off her forehead against her sleeve. “I really gotta go, only what am I supposed to do with Duke now you’ve got him here?”
“Tell him to come back to me. And give us the mark when he disappears.”
“Sure, right. On the mark, now . . . Duke, find Sorka! Sorka! Find—he’s gone. Shit! Mark!”
On the beach at Kahrain Cove, four fingers pressed sweep hands, four pairs of eyes turned westward to the hot afternoon skies, and four voices counted the seconds.
“Six . . . seven . . . eight . . . He did it!”
Their elation had new confidence as Duke, cheeping happily, settled back to Sorka’s shoulder and rubbed a cold muzzle against her cheek.
“Well, this has been most satisfying and productive,” Bay said, beaming broadly.
“Report it to Emily, will you, Bay?” Sean asked, tucking his hand under Sorka’s elbows. “We’d better go do our share of the donk work today.”
“So the Galliani boy’s death proved to be a catalyst?” Paul Benden asked Emily as they conferred that evening by comm unit.
“Pol and Bay are much encouraged,” Emily replied, still unaccountably saddened by the tragedy. She was tired, she knew, and while she spoke to Paul, hoping for the consolation of any sort of good news from the northern continent, half her mind was still on things that had to be organized.
“Telgar’s group has made a tremendous effort, Em. The quarters are magnificent. You wouldn’t know you were twenty or thirty feet in solid rock. Cobber and Ozzie have penetrated several hundred feet down on seven tunnels. There’s even an eyrie for Ongola’s communications equipment, cut high up in the cliff face. This place is big enough to house the entire population of Landing.”
“Not everyone wants to live in a hole in the ground, Paul.” Emily spoke for herself.
“There are quite a few ground-level caverns, immediate access,” he replied soothingly. “You wait. You’ll see. And when are you coming over? I’ve got to put in an appearance at the next Fall or they’ll fire me.”
“Don’t you wish it!”
“Emily.” Paul’s flippant tone turned serious. “Let Ezra take over from you. He and Jim can liaise on shipments. Others can handle transportation and sled and skimmer maintenance. Pierre should be here to supervise the catering arrangements. He’s got the biggest kitchen unit on Pern.”
“That would be a welcome change from the largest single barbecue pit! It’s the dragons that I worry about, Paul.”
“I think they have to sort it out themselves, Emily. From what you reported, I believe they will.”
“Thank you, Paul,” she replied fervently, heartened by the absolute confidence in his voice. “I’ll reserve a seat on the evening sled tomorrow.”
After the excitement of sending Duke north, directing fire-dragonets back and forth between Kahrain and Landing was anticlimactic, but it helped to pass the tedium of the long journey. On the way back, Sean had the dragonriders practice flying in both close and loose formations and, more importantly, learning how to identify and benefit from the helpful airstreams.
Their campfire that night was bigger, and Pol and Bay slipped into its light to discuss observations about the fire-dragonets and how to apply them to the dragons. There had been no real need for Sean to promote caution as a byword: Marco and Duluth were still very much in everyone’s mind. To counter any morbidity, Sean suggested that they get more formation practice the next day, practice that would stand them in good stead during Threadfall.
“If you know where you are in relation to other wing riders, you’ll always know where to come back to,” he said, stressing the last word.
“Your dragons are so young,” Pol went on, seeing the favorable reaction, “in terms of their species. The fire-dragonets do not appear to suffer from degeneration. In other words, they don’t age as we do physiologically.”
“You mean, they could go on living after we die?” Tarrie asked, amazed. She glanced around toward Porth, a darker bulk against the shadowy vegetation.