Abruptly another revelation occurred to him. Lytol, with his scarred and seamed face! Hehad been dragonless for Turns, ever since his brown Larth had died in a routine training flight at Benden: a training flight during which R'gul had allowed his dragon a chance to chew firestone and flame. Only Larth had caught flame in the face and so had Lytol. The dragon had managed to land his gravely wounded rider with the last breath in him. That should have been the end of the rider, as a person-a dragonless man.
Tradition said dragonless riders suicided rather than live without their dragon. But Lytol had defied that convention and had become far more than a dragonrider. He had been a Lord Holder for Jaxom's minority; he had then turned his hand to help Master Robinton and D'ram to manage Landing as a major Hold to the satisfaction of everyone involved. Now, Lytol and D'ram, in addition to bearing blind Wansor company, had accepted yet another role for which they were unusually qualified: as wise consultants for the complex society of the planet. Briefly F'lessan wondered, even as his soul cringed at the thought: would he have had the courage to build a new life-lives, in fact-as Lytol had done, if Golanth had succumbed to his injuries?
F'lessan gave a snort of disgust for his self-absorption. The time he had wasted. As Tai had said, there would be a way. Lytol had made several, and the example of the man's quiet heroism rebuked him.
Halfway through a snore, Golanth woke, alert, looking northward. When was the Nine Fall due? Close enough for Golanth to knowit was near.
Five riders appeared in the sky, and a sixth came swooping up out of the jungle. It was Zaranth who reached Honshu first, hovering to let her rider dismount on the terrace before she turned on her wing tip, as if challenging the newcomers. F'lessan rose, wondering at her almost defensive attitude. Then the dragons were close enough for him to recognize them: Monarth, Gadareth, Path, Galuth, and Arwith, but they made no move to land.
They come to practice,Zaranth said. Tai, I will get his jacket.
"What do they mean 'practice'?" F'lessan wanted to know. His jacket smacked into his chest and the reflex action of his hand kept it there.
"They mean to practice what they learned from Zaranth, Ramoth, and Mnementh," Tai said, as if reminding him of something he'd forgotten.
Lessa had said something about practice the other evening. "Practice what? Who on?"
What happened next was as astonishing to Tai as F'lessan. As she watched-F'lessan went white and staggered in shock-Golanth rose vertically from the stone of the terrace, hissing in surprise. Instinctively, the bronze spread his wings, though he could not extend the left far or raise it to match the other. But he was being lifted into the air.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO GOLANTH!" cried F'lessan, limping frantically to where Golanth dangled out of reach.
I'm all right, F'lessan. I'm all right.
"PRACTICE!" T'lion called.
"PRACTICE!" shouted T'gellan, Persellan behind him.
That was what C'reel and Mirrim were shouting, too.
"You have to practice, as well, F'lessan. All he needs is height," cried Mirrim gaily from Path's back. Her dragon was staring at Zaranth, indulging in some communication that neither rider heard.
"You knew about this?" he demanded of Tai, recalling her whispered reassurance under the ramp.
"Me?" she was affronted. "I'm certainly the last one they'd tell. Zaranth can't keep secrets from Golanth or you."
"PUT MY DRAGON DOWN!"
It doesn 't hurt,Golanth replied, peering down at his rider, as he was supported in midair by the other dragons. I'm high enough to gobetween.
You can't gobetween without your rider,Monarth said and Golanth began to descend.
Stop!Golanth cried to reduce the pressure that was putting him back down on the terrace stones. That's better. Be careful of me! I'm not a feline to be tossed about any old way.Shaking his head, he righted himself and looked around for F'lessan. Why can't I do it to myself?
We don't know–yet!Arwith replied, blinking her lids with puzzled embarrassment. Queens were supposed to know everything.
"We're lucky we've got this far," T'lion shouted. "Get aboard!"
As Golanth crouched to allow him to mount, F'lessan hesitated.
"I'll try it from the left," he said and, trying to disguise his limp, hauled himself up to the neck ridge, though his left leg hung down stiffly straight.
Are you ready, F'lessan?Monarth said. This time we'll lift Golanth high enough for safe passagebetween.
Where?
Swimming. We're to get Golanth in the water, too,Tai said.
You're expected at Cove Hold today,Path told Golanth. I mean swim at Cove Hold, too, you know,he replied.
And Erragon has something for you to bring back. I don't think he needs all of us, you know,Path added in an aside to the other dragons.
Ramoth says we are not to take chances with them,Arwith remarked. Lift!
F'lessan, once again in the air astride his dragon, felt Golanth's unmistakable elation. Within that joy was a core of deep fear that told F'lessan something else: as he had been hiding his fears from his dragon, Golanth had been concealing his from his rider-clowning up and down the ramp, exhausting them both so they could neither grieve nor think. Then he was aware of Zaranth on Golanth's left side. Poised to lend him her wing if needed? Well, he would certainly choose Zaranth and Tai as wing riders. Honshu Hold receded behind them until they were well clear of it. He could see as far as the clump of holder cots, the fields they had cleared for crops, the river-and the terraces.
It is good,and Golanth gave a sigh of relief, craning his head hard left to make up for his impaired vision.
Let's go to Cove Hold, Golanth.Bright in his mind were the blue waters, streaked with green over shallower bits: the observatory on the right. Unconsciously raising his arm in the Wingleader's command, he brought it down and told Golanth to go between.
They did it!Ramoth jubilantly told her rider. Then she added in a slightly critical tone, Not as neat a landing as could be but, under the circumstances, it was well done. I don't think that five dragons were needed to lift Golanth. Just Mnementh and I could have done it.
Most certainly,Lessa agreed but she herself was smiling with relief. But the Monacan riders needed the practice and so many offered, that it might well require five to control each other.
She had never seen the ebullient F'lessan so despairing as the moment he finally realized that Golanth would never again be able to fly Thread. And, by that disability, he could no longer be Wingleader.
She thought back to the day when she and F'lar had been overjoyed, the magical moment when F'lessan had Impressed Golanth at the first Hatching he'd been old enough to stand as candidate. The pair had been unusually well matched and had, almost without visible effort, succeeded in all the training and tests. At sixteen, he'd impudently encouraged Golanth to fly a female when the mating flight of a junior queen had been opened to all bronze dragons. The same Turn had seen the birth of his first child. Two Turns later he had been made Wingleader of a newly formed wing-Benden was at near capacity as a Weyr, so F'lar could take a chance on a new young rider assuming a full wing.