“Yes, it would seem he has,” S’nan said, and then frowned slightly. “Although I cannot like him turning loose Chalkin’s games men. They’ll cause trouble at Gathers, mark my words.”
“No more than they’ve always done,” Paulin said, giving Jamson a discreet helping hand up Magrith’s tall shoulder.
“Probably less without Chalkin exhorting them to squeeze more out of innocent and guileless holders.”
“No gambling should be allowed for any reason in a Weyr”, said S’nan, as portentous as ever.
Paulin mounted silently, hoping that these two would see sufficient in a quick swoop to reassure them about Vergerin’s worth and the wisdom of Chalkin’s impeachment. The brief visit had satisfied him especially the sight of Chalkin’s much improved portrait. He must send a message to Iantine at Telgar Weyr; Bridgely had said the artist had returned there as soon as he was finished at Benden Hold and enquired when he and his spouse could hope to have a sitting.
During the rest of the inspection circuit, Paulin addressed the more important problem of subtly reinstating Gallian in his father’s favor. Paulin didn’t know if it was working, and probably wouldn’t until Jamson died and the succession was in question. There were so many instances of visible repairs and clearings that Jamson could certainly see how poor a Holder Chalkin had been. For once, S’nan’s critical comments were a positive encomium of Vergerin’s effort at taking Hold.
Paulin was well pleased he had taken the trouble to accompany Jamson. He hoped Lady Thea would be able to tell him that Gallian was off the hot seat.
“You are not saving the entire world from Threadfall by yourself, P’tero,” said K’vin, glaring up at the young blue rider.
He was nearly beside himself with rage at P’tero’s utter disregard of common sense. “You are not going to impress M’leng. If this is how you see your role in Threadfall, I think you’ll be a long time on messenger duty.”
“But, but…”
“Furthermore,” and K’vin pointed a finger fiercely under the boy’s nose, “Maranis tells me that your wounds are not well enough healed for you to be back on duty.”
“But… but…” and P’tero, eyes wide with fright, recoiled from his Weyrleader’s fury, clutching the neck ridge before he over-balanced. The pad which T’sen had given him now slipped, the ties torn loose some time during the exercises.
Blood spotted it.
“Get down here,” K’vin roared, pointing to where he wanted P’tero: on the ground. “Right now.”
P’tero obeyed as promptly as he could, but he was stiff from sitting so long during the day’s maneuvers and from the barely healed flesh of his buttocks.
K’vin caught him by the shoulder and whirled him around.
“Not only new blood, but old stains,” he said, his voice trenchant with scorn and fury. “You’re off duty.”
“But… but… Thread’s nearly here!” P’tero cried in anguish, almost in tears with frustration and the fear of being unable to show M’leng just how brave he really was. Not mock-brave, like the lion attack, but brave in the air.
“And Thread’ll be here for fifty years, young man. That’s plenty long enough for it to fear you and Ormonth in the air!
“Report to Maranis immediately. You’re grounded!”
“But I have to be in the first Fall wings,” P’tero cried, anguished.
“That wasn’t the way to get there. Go to Maranis!” K’vin didn’t wait to see if P’tero obeyed. He stormed across the Bowl, the temptation to shake sense into the blue rider so intense that he had to put distance between them.
Ormonth tried to keep him from flying today, Charanth informed his rider.
K’vin halted, now glaring up at his bronze dragon who was settling himself on his weyr ledge to get what sun remained.
Then you’re as bad as the pair of them! K’vin had the satisfaction of seeing Charanth quail at his fury.
From now on, you are to report to me - instantly - when any rider, or his dragon, is not one hundred percent fit for duty. Do you understand me?
Charanth’s eyes whirled, the yellow of anxiety coloring the blue.
His tone was remorseful. I will not fail you again.
If they had been in real danger, I would have warned them off, Meranath said, entering the conversation.
I didn’t ask you! K’vin was so irate he didn’t really care if he offended Meranath, or her rider. But he was not going to lose riders from foolish and vainglorious actions. There were fifty years of Thread fighting ahead of them, and he was not going to lose partners or risk their injuries due to some cockamamie notion of what comprises courageous actions.
If you think that I would jeopardize a single rider…
K’vin took the stairs up to the queen’s weyr three at a time, trying to work out his rage before he had to confront Zulaya and explain why he thought he could speak to her queen in such a peremptory fashion.
I should be informed of ANY unfit rider or dragon, at any time, anywhere. Meranath and you should know that or, by the first egg, why are you senior queen?
“Because I am her rider!” Zulaya came storming out on to the weyr ledge, her eyes sparkling with indignation.
“How dare you address my queen?”
“How dare she withhold information from ME?” Zulaya stared at him, surprised, for K’vin had never reprimanded either her or Meranath, though she had to admit privately that he could have legitimately done so on several occasions she would be embarrassed to admit.
“Did you know about P’tero’s condition?” he demanded, and she backed into the weyr, away from him. He was rather magnificently furious, eyes blazing, face stern, the epitome of indignation.
“Tisha remarked that Maranis wasn’t pleased with him assuming duty. The scar tissue is thin.”
“And you said nothing to me?”
“He’s only a blue rider.”
“EVERY ONE OF MY RIDERS IS IMPORTANT TO ME!” K’vin roared, clenching his fists at his sides because they wanted to grab something to release the pent-up fury in him.
“Threadfall is two days away. I need to have a Weyr in full readiness. I need to be sure of everyone I ask to face Thread in two days’ time. I don’t need secrets or evasions or…”
“K’vin,” Zulaya began, reaching out a hand to him, “Kev, it’s all right. The Weyr is ready perhaps tuned a little too tight, but that’s all to the good.”
“ALL TO THE GOOD?” and K’vin batted her hand away, “when we have unfit riders taking positions they couldn’t possibly manage in their condition?” He began pacing now and Zulaya watched him, smiling with relief and pride. He was going to be a splendid Weyrleader, much better than B’ner would have been.
He halted just short of where she stood - his eyes, brilliant with his anger and frustration, fixed on her face.
“What on earth can you find to grin about right now?” he demanded - suspiciously, for there was a quality in her smile that he’d never seen before.
“That you’re in full control,” she said, leaving her smile in place.
“Oh, I am, am I?” Then, as she had always hoped he would, he took her in his arms and began kissing her with the full authority of his masculinity and his position as her Weyrleader, without a trace of hesitation or deference. Just what she had always hoped she’d provoke him to do.
K’vin was still very much in complete control even very early the next morning, before dawn in fact, when Meranath told them that B’nurrin and Shanna were waiting for them.
“Waiting for what?” K’vin asked, pulling himself reluctantly away from Zulaya to reach for his pants.
It is time to go, Charanth added.
“Go where?” asked K’vin in a querulous tone of voice.
“Go where?” Zulaya echoed sleepily.