Anne McCaffrey - Pern 14 - Red Star Rising

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Red Star Rising
by: Anne McCaffrey
NOTE: this book has two names, in the uk where this book was purchased its
entitled: "Red Star Rising" but in the U.S. its called "Dragonseye"
Red Star Rising 1
Synopsis: 1
Prologue 1
Early Autumn at Fort's Gather 2
Gather at Fort 22
Late Autumn at Telgar Weyr 29
Life in the Weyrling Barracks and at the College 39
Weyrling Barracks and Bitra Hold 46
Telgar Weyr, Fort Hold 62
Fort Hold 72
Telgar Weyr 82
Fort Hold and Bitran Borders - Early Winter VI 88
High Reaches, Boll Holds, Ista, Benden Weyrs, Ista Hold, High Reaches, Fort
and Telgar Holds 97
The Trials at Telgar and Benden Weyrs 104
High Reaches and Fort Holds 115
Bitra Hold and Telgar Weyr 121
Turn 5 End at Fort Hold and Telgar Weyr 131
New Year 258 After L(anding) - College, Benden Hold, Telgar Weyr 143
Cathay, Telgar Weyr, Bitra Hold, Telgar 151
Threadfall 165
Synopsis:
When the volcanoes rumble and the powerful storms begin brewing on Pern, it
means one thing: Thread. For 257 years Pern has been free of the
life-destroying Thread, but now the Red Star has reappeared in the sky and
soon the deadly Threadfall will follow. In the holds and weyrs across the
land, the genetically-engineered dragons of Pern and their human riders begin
feverishly training to combat the Thread, for only dragon fire can destroy the
silvery invaders. But, incredibly, one Lord Holder refuses to believe the
Thread will fall again, and he may endanger the entire planet.
Prologue
Rukbat, in the Sagittarian sector, was a golden o-type star.
It had five planets, two asteroid belts, and a stray planet it had attracted
and held in recent millennia. When men first settled on Rukbat's third planet
and called it Pern, they had taken little notice of the stranger planet,
swinging around its adopted primary in a wildly erratic orbit - until the
desperate path of the wanderer brought it close to its stepsister at
perihelion.
When such aspects were harmonious, and not distorted by conjunctions with
other planets in the system, the wanderer brought in a life form which sought
to bridge the space gap to the more temperate and hospitable planet.
The initial losses the colonists suffered from the voracious mycorrhizoid
organism that fell on them were staggering.
They had divorced themselves from their home planet, Earth, and had
cannibalized the colony ships, the Yokohama, the Bahrain and the Buenos Aires,
so they would have to improvise with what they had.
Their first need was an aerial defence against the Thread, as they named this
menace. Using highly sophisticated bio-engineering techniques, they developed
a specialized variant of a Pernese life form which had two unusual, and
useful, characteristics: the so-called fire-lizards could digest a phosphine
bearing rock in one of their two stomachs and, belching forth the resultant
gas, create a fiery breath which reduced Thread to harmless char. The second
of their unusual qualities were the ability to teleport and an empathy which
allowed limited understanding with humans. The bio-engineered "dragons" - so
called because they resembled the Earth's mythical creatures - were paired at
hatching with an empathic human, forming a symbiotic relationship of unusual
depth and mutual respect.
The colonists moved to the northern continent to seek shelter from the
insidious Thread in the cave systems which were called holds.
The dragons and their riders came, too, housing themselves in old volcanic
craters or Weyrs.
The First Pass of Thread lasted nearly fifty years and what scientific
information the colonists were able to gather indicated that Thread would be a
cyclic problem, occurring every two hundred and fifty years as the path of the
wanderer once again approached Pern.
During this interval, the dragons multiplied and each successive generation
became a little larger than the last, although optimum level would take many,
many more generations to reach. And the humans spread out across the northern
continent, creating holds to live in, and halls in which to train young people
in skills and professions. Sometimes folks even forgot that they lived on a
threatened planet.
However, in both Holds and Weyrs, there were masses of reports, journals, maps
and charts to remind the Lords and Weyrleaders of the problem: and much advice
to assist their descendants when next the rogue planet approached Pern and how
to prepare for the incursion.
This is what happened two hundred and fifty-seven years later.
Early Autumn at Fort's Gather
Dragons in squadrons wove, and interwove sky trails, diving and climbing in
wings, each precisely separated by the minimum safety distance so that
occasionally the watchers thought they saw an uninterrupted line of dragons as
the close order drill continued.
The skies above Fort Hold, the oldest of the human settlements on the northern
continent, were brilliantly clear on this early autumn day: that special sort
of clarity and depth of colour that their ancestors in the New England sector
of the North American continent would have instantly identified.
The sun gleamed on healthy dragon hides and intensified the golden queen
dragons who flew at the lowest level, sometimes seeming to touch the tops of
the nearby mountains as they circled Fort. It was a sight to behold, and
always brought a thrill of pride to those who watched the display: with one or
two exceptions.
"Well, that's done for now," said Chalkin, Lord Holder of Bitra, the first to
lower his eyes, though the fly-past was not yet over.
He rotated his neck and smoothed the skin where the decorative embroidered
border of his best tunic had scratched the skin. Actually, he had had a few
heart-stopping moments during some of the manoeuvres, but he would never
mention that aloud. The dragon riders were far too full of themselves as it
was, without pandering to their egos and an inflated sense of importance:
constantly appearing at his Hold and handing him lists of what hadn't been
done and must be done before Threadfall. Chalkin snorted. Just how many people
were taken in with all this twaddle? The storms last year had been unusually
hard, but then that wasn't in itself unexpectable, so why were hard storms
supposed to be a prelude to a Pass?
Winter meant storms.
And this preoccupation with the volcanoes going off. They did periodically
anyway, sort of a natural phenomenon, if he remembered his science orientation
correctly. So what if three or four were active right now? That did not
necessarily have to do with the proximity of a spatial neighbour! And he was
not going to require guards to freeze themselves keeping an easterly watch for
the damned planet. Especially as every other Hold was also on the alert. So
what if it orbited near Pern? That didn't necessarily mean it was close enough
to be dangerous, no matter how the ancients had gone on about cyclical
incursions.
The dragons were just one more of the settlers' weird experiments, altering an
avian species to take the place of the aircraft they had once had. He'd seen
the air sled which the Telgar Foundry treasured as an exhibit: a vehicle much
more convenient to fly in than aboard a dragon where one had to endure the
black-cold of teleportation. He shuddered. He had no liking for that sort of
ultimate cold, even if it avoided the fatigue of overland travel. Surely in
all those records the College was mustering folks to copy, there were other
materials that could be substituted for whatever the ancients had used to
power the vehicles? Why hadn't some bright lad found the answer before the
last of the air sleds deteriorated completely? Why didn't the brainy ones
develop a new type of air-worthy vessel? A vessel that didn't expect to be
thanked for doing its duty!
He glanced down at the wide roadway where the gather tables and stalls were
set up. His were empty; even his gamesters were watching the sight. He'd have
a word with them later. They should have been able to keep some customers at
the various games of chance even with the dragon rider display. Surely
everyone had seen that by now.
Still, the races had gone well and, with every one of the wager-takers his
operators, he'd have made a tidy profit from his percentage of the bets.
As he made his way back to his seat, he saw that wine chillers had been placed
at every table. He rubbed his be ringed fingers together in anticipation, the
black Istan diamonds flashing as they caught sunlight. The wine was the only
reason he had been willing to come to this Gathering; and he'd half suspected
Hegmon of some prevarication in the matter. An effervescent wine, like the
champagne one heard about from old Earth, was to have its debut. And, of
course, the food would be marvellous too, even if the wine should not live up
to its advance notice. Paulin, Fort Hold's Lord, had lured one of the best
chefs on the continent to his kitchens and the evening meal was sure to be
good: if it didn't turn sour in his stomach while he sat through the
obligatory meeting afterwards. Chalkin had bid for the man's services, but
Chrislee had spurned Bitra's offer and that refusal had long rankled in
Chalkin's mind.
The Bitran Holder mentally ran through possible excuses for leaving right
after dinner: one plausible enough to be accepted by the others. This close to
putative Threadfall, he had to be careful of alienating the wrong people. If
he left before the dinner... but then he wouldn't have a chance to sample this
champagne-style wine, and he was determined to.
He'd taken the trouble to go to Hegmon's Benden vineyard, with the clear
intention of buying cases of the vintage. But Hegmon had refused to see him.
Oh, his eldest son had been apologetic - something about a critical time in
the process requiring Hegmon's presence in the caverns - but the upshot was
that Chalkin couldn't even get his name put down on the purchase list for the
sparkling wine. Since Benden Weyr was likely to get the lion's share of it,
Chalkin had to keep in good with the Benden Weyrleaders so that, at the
Hatching which was due to occur in another few weeks, he'd be invited and
could drink as much of their allotment of wines as he could.
More than one way to skin a wherry!
He paused to twirl one of the bottles in its ice nest. Almost perfectly
chilled. Riders must have brought the ice in from the High Reaches for Paulin.
Whenever he needed some, he couldn't find a rider willing to do him, Bitra's
Lord Holder, such a simple service. Humph!
But of course, certain Bloodlines always got preferential treatment.
Rank didn't mean as much as it should, that was certain!
He was surreptitiously inspecting the label of a bottle when there was a
sudden, startled intake of fearful breaths from the watchers, instantly
followed by a wild cheer. Looking up, he saw he had just missed some sort of
dangerous manoeuvre Ah, yes, they'd done another mid-air rescue. He saw a
bronze dragon veering from under a blue who was miming a wounded wing: both
riders now safely aboard the bronze's neck. Quite likely that Telgar
Weyrleader who was such a dare-devil.
Cheers were now punctuated with applause and some banging of drums from the
bandsmen on their podium down on the wide courtyard that spread out from the
steps to the Hold down to the two right-angled annexes. Once again, both the
infirmary and the teachers' college were being enlarged, if the scaffolding
was a reliable indication. Chalkin snorted, for the buildings were being
extended outward, wide open to any Thread which was purportedly supposed to
start falling again. They really ought to be consistent! Of course, tunnelling
into the cliff would take more time than building outside. But too many folks
preached one thing and practised another.
Chalkin grunted to himself, wondering acidly if the architects had got
Weyrleader approval for the design. Thread! He snorted again and wished that
Paulin, chatting so cosily with the two Benden Holders as he and his wife
escorted them back to the head table, would hurry up.
He was dying to sample the bubbly white.
Rattling his fingers on the table, he awaited the return of his host and the
opening of the tempting bottles in the cooler.
K'vin, bronze Charanth's rider, put his lips close to the ear of the young
blue rider sitting in front of him.
"Next time wait for my signal!" he said.
P'tero only grinned, giving him a backward glance, his bright blue eyes merry.
"Knew you'd catch me", he bellowed back. "Too many people watching to let me
swing and give Weyr secrets away!" Then P'tero waved encouragingly at Ormonth,
who was now flying anxiously at Charanth's wingtip. Though unseen from the
ground, the safety-tethers still linked the blue rider to his dragon. P'tero
unbuckled his end of the straps and they dangled free.
"Lucky you that I was looking up just then!" K'vin said so harshly that the
brash lad flushed to his ear tips. "Look at the fright you've given Ormonth!"
And he gestured towards the blue, his hide flushing in mottled spots from his
recent scare.
P'tero yelled something else which K'vin didn't catch so he leaned forward,
putting his right ear nearer the blue rider's mouth.
"I was in no danger," P'tero repeated. "I used brand-new straps and he watched
me braid'em".
"Hah!" As every rider knew, dragons had gaps in their ability to correlate
cause and effect. So Ormonth would scarcely have connected the new straps with
his rider's perfect safety.
"Oh, thanks," the rider added as K'vin snapped one of his own straps to
P'tero's belt. Not that they would be doing more than landing, but K'vin
wished to make a point of safety to P'tero.
While K'vin approved of courage, he did not appreciate recklessness,
especially if it endangered a dragon this close to the beginning of
Threadfall. Careful supervision had kept his Weyr from losing any dragon
partners and he intended to maintain that record.
Spilling off his blue before K'vin had passed the word was taking a totally
unnecessary risk. Fortunately, K'vin had seen P'tero dive.
His heart had lurched in his chest, even if he knew P'tero was equipped with
the especially heavy and long harness as a fail-safe. Even if he and Charanth
had not accurately judged the mid-air rescue, those long straps would have
saved the blue rider from falling to his death.
Today's manoeuvre had been precipitous instead of well-executed.
And, if Charanth had not been as adept on the wing, P'tero might be nursing
broken ankles or severe bruising as a result of his folly.
No matter how broad, those safety straps really jerked a man about in mid-air.
P'tero still showed no remorse. K'vin only hoped that the stunt produced the
effect the love-struck P'tero wished. His mate would have been watching, heart
in mouth, no doubt, and P'tero would reap the harvest of such fear some time
this evening. K'vin wished that more girls were available to Impress green
dragons. It made that facet of Weyrleadership considerably easier to deal
with. There were still a few, of course, but with parents keenly interested in
applying for more land by setting up cot holds for married children, fewer and
fewer girls were encouraged to stand on the Hatching Grounds. While being a
dragon rider didn't prevent a girl from having children, if that's what she
wanted, it did prevent them from owning land. Still, grandchildren, even the
Weyrborn, could claim land. Though, in actual fact, more Weyrborn preferred to
stay in the Weyr even if they didn't Impress.
The dragons who had taken part in the mass fly-by were now landing their
riders in the wide road beyond the court.
Then they leaped up again to find a spot in which to enjoy the last of the
warm autumnal sun. Many made for the adjoining cliffs as space on Fort's
heights filled up on either side of the solar panels.
Dragons could be trusted not to tread on what remained of the priceless
installations. Fort's were the oldest, of course, and two banks had been lost
last winter to the unseasonably fierce storms. Fort, being the largest as well
as the oldest northern installation, needed all its arrays in full working
order to supply heat for its warren of corridors, power for air circulation
units and what equipment still worked. Fortunately a huge stockpile of panels
had been made during the first big wave of constructing new Weyrs and Holds.
There would be enough for generations.
Weyrleaders sought their tables on the upper level with Lord Holders and
Professionals, while riders joined whatever company they preferred at tables
set up on the huge expanse of the outer apron. Not a sprout of vegetation
anywhere on that plaza surface, K'vin noticed with approval. S'nan, Fort's
Weyrleader, had always been fussy and rightly so.
The musicians had struck up sprightly music and couples were already dancing
on the wooden floor set over the cobbles. Beyond the dance square were the
stalls, tents and tables where goods were being sold or exchanged. There'd
been brisk business all day, especially for items needed during the winter
months when there would be fewer big Gathers.
The various Craftsmen would be pleased, and there'd be less for the dragons to
haul back.
Charanth was now circling over the annexes which had been started to increase
living space for both Pern's main infirmary research facility and teacher
training. The dormitories were also going to house volunteers who were
assiduously trying to save the records, damaged during last spring when water
had leaked down the walls of the vast storage caverns under Fort. Riders had
offered to spend as much time as possible from their training schedules to
help in the project.
Everyone who had a legible script was acceptable, and Lord Paulin had done a
bang-up job in making the copyists comfortable. The other Holds had
contributed material and work forces.
The exterior buildings of the College were designed to be Threadproof, with
high peaked roofs of Telgar slate and gutters which led into underground
cisterns where errant Thread would be drowned.
All the Craftsmen involved, including those destined to inhabit the facility,
would have preferred to enlarge the cave system, but there had been two
serious collapses of caverns and the mining engineers had vetoed interior
expansion for fear of undermining the whole cliff-side.
Even the mutant, blunt-winged, flightless photo-sensitive watchwhers had
refused to go on further subterranean explorations which, their handlers
insisted meant dangers human eyes couldn't see. So build they did: stout walls
more than two and a half me tres thick at ground level, tapering to just under
two me tres under the roof. With the iron mines at Telgar going full blast,
the necessary structural beams to support such weight had posed no problem.
The new quarters were to be finished within the month.
Even today there had been a work force, though they had taken a break to watch
the aerial display and would finish in time for the evening meal and
entertainment.
Charanth landed gracefully, with Ormonth right beside him so that P'tero could
remove the tethering safety straps before they could be noticed. As he was
doing so, M'leng, green Sith's rider, came up to him, scolding him for
"putting my heart in my mouth like that!" And he proceeded to berate P'tero
far more viciously than his Weyrleader would.
K'vin grinned to himself, especially as he saw how penitent P'tero became
under such a harangue. K'vin rolled up his riding straps and tied them to the
harness ring.
"Enjoy the sun, my friend," he said, slapping Charanth on the wide shoulder.
I will. Meranath is already there, the bronze dragon said, his tone slightly
smug as he executed a powerful upward leap, showering his rider with grit.
Charanth's attitude towards his mate, Meranath, amused, and pleased, his
rider. No-one had expected K'vin to accede to Telgar's Weyrleadership when it
fell open after B'ner's death nine months before. Who would have expected that
the sturdy rider, just into his sixth decade, had had any heart problems? But
that is what the medics said killed him. So, when Meranath was ready to mate
again, Telgar's senior Weyrwoman, Zulaya, had called for an open flight,
leaving it to the dragons to decide on the next Leader. She'd insisted that
she had no personal preference. She had been sincerely attached to B'ner and
was probably still grieving for him. There had certainly been no lack of
suitors.
K'vin had sent Charanth aloft in the mating flight because all the Telgar Weyr
wing leaders were expected to take part, as well as bronze riders from the
other Weyrs. He had no real wish to lead a Weyr into a Pass; he considered
himself too young for such responsibilities. He had observed from B'ner that
the normal duties of an Interval were bad enough, but to know that a high
percentage of your fellow-riders would be injured, or killed, that the lives
of so many people rested on your expertise and endurance was too much to
contemplate. Some nights, now, he was racked by terrifying dreams, and
Threadfall hadn't even started.
On the occasions when he was in Zulaya's bed, she had been understanding and
calmly reassuring.
"B'ner worried, too, if that's any consolation, Kev," she said, using his old
nickname and soothing back sweat-curled hair as he trembled with reaction. "He
had nightmares, too. Comes with the title. As a rule, the morning after a
nightmare, B'ner'd go over Sean's notes. I figure he had to have memorized
them."
"I've seen you do the same thing. You'll do well, Kev, when push comes to
shove. I know it." Zulaya could sound so sure of something, but then she was
nearly a decade his senior and had had more experience as a Weyrleader.
Sometimes her intuition was downright uncanny: she could accurately predict
the size of clutches, the distribution of the colours, the sex of babies born
in the Weyr and, occasionally, even the type of weather in the future. But
then, she was Fort Weyrbred, a linear descendant of one of the First Riders,
Aliana Zuleita, and knew things. It was odd how the golden queens always
seemed to prefer women from outside the Weyrs, but sometimes a queen had a
mind of her own and chose a Weyrbred woman in spite of what had become custom.
However, just like his predecessor, he constantly reviewed accounts of the
individual Falls, how they differed, how you could tell from the Leading Edge
of Fall that this would be an odd one. Most often the accounts were dry
statements of fact, but the prosaic language did not disguise the presence of
great courage: especially as those first riders had to figure out how to cope
with Thread, easy or hard.
The fact that he was a several times great-nephew of Sorka Connell, the First
Weyrwoman - and Zulaya pointed this out more than once - constituted a
secondary and subtle reassurance to the entire Weyr.
"Maybe that's why Meranath let Charanth catch her," Zulaya said, her face dead
serious but her eyes dancing.
"Had you, I mean... did you think of me... I mean...", K'vin tried to summon
appropriate words two weeks after that momentous flight. He had been
overwhelmed by her response to him that night. But afterwards she had seemed
very casual in her dealings with him, and she did not always invite him into
her quarters, despite the fact that their dragons were inseparable.
"Who thinks at all during a mating flight? But I do believe I'm glad that
Charanth was so clever. If there is anything in heredity, having a distant
great-nephew of Fort Weyr's First Weyrwoman - AND from a family that has put
many acceptable candidates on the Hatching Grounds - as Telgar's Weyrleader
gives us all a boost."
"I'm not my many times great-aunt, Zulaya", She chuckled.
"Fortunately, or you wouldn't be Weyrleader, but blood will tell!" Zulaya had
a disconcerting directness but gave him no real hint how she - the woman, not
the Weyrwoman - personally felt towards him. She was kind, helpful, made
constructive suggesnons when they discussed training programmes but so
impersonal, that K'vin had to decide that she hadn't really got over B'ner's
death yet.
He himself was obscurely comforted that his distant great aunt had managed to
survive Fall, and he would attempt to do the same. As, he was sure, would his
two siblings and four cousins who were also dragonriders, though no others
were Weyrleaders. Yet. Still, if his being of the Ruathan Bloodline which had
produced Sorka, M'hall, M'dani, Sorana and Mairian offered reassurance to his
Weyr, he'd reinforce that at every turn during the Pass.
Now, at probably the last large Gather Pern would enjoy wider Threadfree skies
for the next fifty years, he watched his Weyrwoman leave the group of Telgar
holders she had been talking to and stride towards him across the open
eourtyard.
Zulaya was tall for a woman, long-legged - all the better for bestriding a
dragon's neck. He was a full head taller than she was, which she said she
liked in him: B'ner had been just her height. It was her colouring that
fascinated K'vin: the inky-black curly hair that, once freed of the flying
helmet, tumbled down below her waist.
The hair framed a wide, highcheekboned face, set off the beige of her smooth
skin and large, lustrous eyes that were nearly black; a wide and sensual mouth
above a strong chin gave her face strength and purpose which reinforced her
authority with anyone. She strode, unlike some of the hold women who minced
along, her steel-rimmed boot heels noisy on the flagstones, her arms swinging
at her sides. She'd had time to put a long, slitted skirt over her riding gear
and it opened as she walked, shpwing a well-formed leg in the leather pants
and high boots.
She'd turned the high riding-boot cuffs down over her calves and the red fur
made a nice accent to her costume, echoed in the fur trim of her cuffs and
collar which she had opened. As usual, she wore the sapphire pendant she had
inherited as the eldest female of her Blood.
"So, did P'tero win M'leng's undying affection with that stunt?" she demanded,
an edge to her voice. They've gone off together and she looked in the
direction of the two riders who were headed towards the temporary tents along
the row of cots.
"You might have a word with both later. They're afraid of you," K'vin said,
grinning.
"For that piece of stupidity, I'll make them more afraid," she said briskly,
hopping a step to match his stride. "You really should learn how to scowl
menacingly." She glanced up at K'vin and then shook her head, sighing sadly.
She had once teased him that he was far too handsome to ever look genuinely
threatening, with the Hanrahan red hair, blue eyes and freckles. "No, you just
don't have the face for it. Be that as it may, Meranath's going to give out to
Sith for allowing a blue to put himself in danger."
"Get'em where it hurts," K'vin said, nodding, because Meranath was even more
effective as a deterrent with the dragons than any human could be, even the
dragon's own rider. Damned fool stunt!
"However," and now Zulaya cleared her throat, "the Telgarians thought it was
Just marvellous!" she added in a gushing tone. "Especially since they won't
get much chance to see the dive in real action." Now she grimaced.
"Well, at least Telgarians believe," K'vin said.
"Who doesn't?" Zulaya demanded, looking up at him.
"Chalkin, for one."
"Him!" She had absolutely no use for the Bitran Lord Holder and never bothered
to hide it.
"If there's one, there may be others for all the lip service they give us."
"What? With Second Fall only months away from us?" Zulaya demanded. "And why,
pray tell, do we have dragons at all, if not to provide an aerial defence for
the continent? Oh, we provide transportation services, but that's not nearly
enough to justify our existence."
"Easy, lady," K'vin said."You're preaching to the dedicated."
She made a disgusted sound deep in her throat and then they had reached the
steps up to the upper Court. She put her hand through his arm so that they
would present the proper picture of united Weyrleadership. K'vin stifled a
sigh that the accord was only for public display.
"And Chalkin's already into that new bubbling wine of Hegmon's," Zulaya said
irritably.
"Why else do you think he came?" asked K'vin as he deftly guided her away from
the Bitran, who was smacking his lips and regarding his wine glass with greedy
speculation.
"Though today's also a chance for his gamesters to profit. One thing sure, I
hear tell he's not on Hegmon's list," she said as they reached their table
which the Telgarians shared, by choice, with the High Reaches Weyr and Hold
leaders and those from Tillek. The senior Captain of the Tillek fishing fleet
and his new wife completed the complement at their table.
"That was quite a show you put on," said the jovial ship's master, Kizan,
"wasn't it, Cherry, m'dear?"
"Oh, it was, indeed it was," the girl replied, clapping her hands together.
While the gesture was close to an affectation, the young wife was clearly awed
by the company she kept at this Gather and everyone was trying to help her
cope. Kizan had let it be known that she came from a small fishing hold and,
while a capable ship's master, she had little experience with a wider world.
"I've often seen the dragons in the sky, but never so close up. They are so
beautiful."
"Have you ridden one yet?" Zulaya asked kindly.
"Oh, heavens, no," Cherry replied, modestly lowering her eyes.
"You may, and soon", her husband said."We came overland here to Fort for the
Gather, but I think we'd better see how good our credit is."
"Very good, Captain," said G'don, the High Reaches Weyrleader, "as you've
never applied to us half as much as you're entitled to."
Mari, his Weyrwoman, nodded and smiled encouragingly at Cherry's almost
horrified reaction.
"What?" Kizan teased his bride. "The woman who sailed through a Force Nine
gale without complaint is nervous about flying on a dragon?"
Cherry tried to respond, but she couldn't find words.
"Don't tease," Mari said. "Riding a dragon is considerably different to
standing on your own deck, but I don't know many people who refuse a ride."
"Oh, I'm not refusing," Cherry said hastily, startled.
Just like a child frarffil of being denied a promised treat, K'vin thought and
struggled to keep from grinning at her.
"All of you, leave her alone," said the Telgar Lady Holder, scowling at them.
"I remember my first ride adragonback."
"Back that far, huh," said her husband, Lord Tashvi, eyeing her blandly. "And
yet you can't remember where you put that bale of extra blankets."
"Don't start on that again!" Salda began, scowling, but it was apparent to the
others at the table, even young Cherry, that the Telgar Holders often indulged
in such sparring.
"Have you not opened your wine?" asked an eager voice and they looked round at
Vintner Hegmon, a stout, grey haired man of medium height with a flushed face
and a reddened nose which he jokingly called an occupational hazard.
"Do us the honour." said Tashvi, gesturing to the chilled bottles.
Hegmon complied and, in his experienced hands, the plug erupted from the
bottle neck with speed and a plop. The wine bubbled up but he deftly put a
glass under the lip before a drop could be spilled.
"I think we've done it this time," he said, filling the glasses presented to
him.
"I say, it does look exciting," said Salda, holding up her glass to watch the
bubbles make their ascent. Thea, the High Reaches Lady Holder, did likewise
and then sniffed at her glass. "Oh, my word," she exclaimed, putting a hand to
her nose just in time to catch a sneeze.
"The bubbles tickle." Try the wine," Hegmon urged.
"Hmmmm," Tashvi said and Kizan echoed the sentiment.
"Dry, too," the Captain said. "Go on, Cherry," he urged his wife.
"It's quite unlike Tillek brews. They tend to be foxy and harsh. This'll go
down easily."
"Ohhh," and Cherry's response was one of sheer delight.
"Oh, I like this!" Hegmon grinned at her ingenuousness and accepted the
approving nods from the others at the table.
"I quite like it, too," Zulaya said after letting a sip slide down her throat.
"Rather nice."
"I say, Hegmon, wouldn't mind a refill," and Chalkin appeared at the table,
extending his glass under the mouth of the bottle the Vintner held.
Hegmon kept the bottle upright and regarded the Lord Holder coolly. "There's
more at your own table, Chalkin."
"True, but I'd rather sample different bottles."
Hegmon stiffened and Salda intervened.
"Leave off, Chalkin. As if Hegmon would offer an inferior bottle to anyone,"
she said and waved him off.
Chalkin hesitated between a scowl and a smile but then, keeping his expression
bland, he bowed and backed away from the table with his empty glass. He did
not, however, return to his own table, but moved on to the next one where wine
was being poured.
"I could..." Hegmon began.
"Just don't supply him, Hegmon."
"He's already insistent that I give him vine starts so he can grow his own,"
said Hegmon, furious at such importunity. "Not that he'd do that any better
than any of those other projects he starts."
"Ignore him," Zulaya suggested with a flick of her fingers.
"M'shall and Irene do. He's such a toad."
"Unfortunately," said Tashvi with a grimace, "he's managed to find like
minds."
"We'll settle him at the meeting", said K'vin.
"I hope so," Tashvi said, "though a man like that is not easily convinced
against his will. And he does have a following."
"Not where it matters," Zulaya put in.
"I hope so. Ah, and here's food to soak up all this lovely stuff before we're
too muddled to keep our wits about us this evening."
Zulaya waved at the wine cooler. "I doubt there's more than two glasses
apiece, scarcely enough to muddle us, though it's lovely stuff." And she
sipped judiciously. "Hegmon is generous, but not overly so. And here's our
dinner..." She sat back as a swarm of men and women in Fort colours began to
distribute platters of steaming foods among the tables. And bottles of red
wine.
"You spoke too soon about muddling, Zuli," K'vin said, grinning as he served
her roast slices from the platter before passing it around the table.
They had finished their meal and all the wine before Paulin rose from his
table and signalled those in the upper Court to follow him into the Hold for
the meeting. Dancing was well under way in the square and the music made a
cheerful processional.
K'vin hoped the musicians would still be playing when the meeting ended.
Despite the height of her, Zulaya was so light on her feet she was a pleasure
to partner and, because he was so tall, she preferred him as her partner too.
And a full orchestra of professionals was far more entertaining than the
half-trained if enthusiastic players currently in the Weyr.
Different music, too.
"Ah," said Zulaya appreciatively as they filed into Fort's Great Hall, they've
done a great job of freshening the murals.
"Hmmm," K'vin agreed, craning his neck around and impeding Chalkin's entrance
into the Hall. "Sorry."
"Humph," was Chalkin's response and he glared sourly at Zulaya as he passed,
shrugging his garments away from touching them.
"Consider the source," K'vin said when he thought Zulaya might fire a tart
comment after the Lord Holder.
"I want to be at Bitra when the first Fall hits his Hold," she said.
"Isn't he lucky, then, not to be beholden to us, but to Benden?" K'vin asked
wryly.
"Indeed," agreed Zulaya and allowed herself to be guided to Telgar Weyr's
usual seat at the big conference table. "I wonder did anyone get any sleep in
this Hold the past week," she said, stroking the banner of Telgar's colours
that clothed their portion of the table.
"Makes such a nice display," she murmured as she pulled out the chair which
also sported Telgar's white field and black grain design.
The table itself was made up of many smaller units hooked together, forming a
multi-faceted circle: Telgar's Weyr and Hold leaders were between High Reaches
and Tillek since they were the northernmost settlements. Across from them were
Ista Weyr and Hold, and Keroon Hold, with their brilliant colours. Benden Weyr
was seated with Bitra on one side and Nerat and Benden on the other. The Chief
Engineer, the Senior Medic and the Headmaster were also included in the
meeting. Fort, traditionally the senior Hold, with Ruatha and Southern Boll on
either side, was at table centre and this time was the Chair.
"Now, if any of us still have our heads after Hegmon's fine new wine, let's
get this over with so we can get in some dancing," said Paulin, smiling around
the table.
Chalkin banged the table in front of him with a very loud "Hear, hear!"
K'vin stifled a groan. The man was half-drunk, if not all drunk; his face
flushed red.
"I'm sure we're all aware of the imminence of Threadfall."
Chalkin made a rude noise.
"Look, Lord Chalkin," said Paulin, scowling at the dissident, "if you managed
to get too much of the champagne inside your skin, you can be excused."
"No, that's exactly what he wants," said M'shall, Benden's Weyrleader,
quickly. "Then he can claim anything decided today was done behind his back."
"If he can't shut up, we can always hold his head under the tap until he
sobers enough to remember common courtesy, put in Irene, Benden's Weyrwoman.
He doesn't like getting his Gather clothes wet." Her expression suggested
she'd had experience enough to know.
"Chalkin!" Paulin said, his voice steely.
"Oh, all right," the Bitran said in a surly tone and he settled himself more
squarely in his chair, leaning forward on his elbows at the table. "If you're
going to be that way..."
"Only because you are," snapped Irene. Paulin gave her a stern look and she
subsided, though she kept narrowed eyes on Chalkin for a while longer.
"Three independent calculations were made and there's no doubt that the Red
Planet is getting closer spatially speaking."
"Is there any chance of a collision?" asked Jamson of High Reaches.
"Fraggit, Jamson," Paulin said, "let's not bring that up."
"Why not?" said Chalkin, brightening.
"Because that... improbability has already been discussed to the point of
nausea," Paulin replied. There isn't a hint in any of the information
collected by our forefathers to indicate there is any chance of a collision
between the two planets. Or that they considered the... improbability for any
reason.
"Yes, but does it say anywhere that there can't be?" Chalkin was obviously
摘要：

RedStarRisingby:AnneMcCaffreyNOTE:thisbookhastwonames,intheukwherethisbookwaspurchaseditsentitled:"RedStarRising"butintheU.S.itscalled"Dragonseye"RedStarRising1Synopsis:1Prologue1EarlyAutumnatFort'sGather2GatheratFort22LateAutumnatTelgarWeyr29LifeintheWeyrlingBarracksandattheCollege39WeyrlingBarrack...

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