Dragon's Fire (29 page)

Tell Telenth well done,
D’vin said.
And tell P’lel, no more fool stunts!

The chagrined green rider rejoined his wing, but his discomfort quickly evaporated in the congratulations shouted by the rest of the wing.

Telgar’s second entrant performed adequately, if a trifle slowly, as if reluctant to repeat his weyrmate’s mistake.

Ista’s rider, a grizzled veteran on a blue, seared the Threads out of the sky so quickly that it took a moment before the crowd reacted.

That’s how it’s done,
D’vin told his dragon. Hurth rumbled in agreement while D’vin tried to fix in his mind what it was about the blue dragon that had made it so effective. It almost seemed as if dragon and rider had anticipated the fall of the Thread and arrived
before
the Thread itself. Years of training, D’vin thought to himself in awe.

And then they were into the second round. The queens spread out somewhat and prepared to drop even more rope Threads for the next Pass. The first Fort and the first Istan entrants were disqualified in this round. In the third round, the queens practically doubled their original distance and the Fall was something truly frightening to behold.

In the third round, Benden’s first entrant was disqualified, then Fort’s second entrant, and finally, with a gasp from the crowd, Telgar’s last blue was disqualified.

But that still left three dragons, from Benden, Ista, and his own High Reaches, for the fourth round. As the queens spread out yet more and prepared to drop a veritable rain of Thread down, D’vin was convinced that the victory would go to High Reaches’s larger green Telenth. He could not imagine either of the two blues even completing the course, much less without error.

But they did, with Ista’s blue clearly putting in the most amazing performance. D’vin could find no fault with P’lel’s flying or with Telenth’s work, but it was obvious to him that the Istan blue dragon was simply the master of the situation.

From above he heard the queens’ bugle, announcing a tie. He looked down to the Lord Holder’s stand, wondering how Crom’s Lord Holder would decide.

“Ah,” Lord Fenner said as the sound of the queens far above floated down to them, “I was afraid of that.”

Cristov and the others looked at him expectantly.

“In the event of a tie, the Lord Holder must judge,” Fenner explained to them. He smiled deviously. “And, as Lord Holder, I have decided to enlist you all in my decision making.”

“My lord?” Toldur said.

“Indeed,” Fenner replied. “I think a show of hands amongst all of us, for first, second, and third place should do it.”

Toldur caught Cristov’s look of surprise and whispered down to him, “I’ll bet you didn’t expect to be judging dragonriders today, did you?”

Cristov gulped.

“Just do your best,” Kindan told him. “It’s not as though they’ll find out.”

“And be grateful that our own Weyr dropped out of the running, or our decision would be more difficult,” Masterminer Britell added.

Cristov sidled over to Kindan and asked softly, “Have you ever done this before?”

Kindan shook his head, a nervous smile plastered on his face.

“For first place, all those for Ista?” Lord Fenner asked. He counted easily, as all hands were up. “As I expected, then,” he said contentedly. “And all those for High Reaches for second place?” Again, all hands went up. “That would leave Benden in third place,” he said. “Harper, if you would so arrange it. Be sure to wave each flag high over the stand before you put it in its placeholder.”

Kindan nodded and removed the Ista Weyr pennant from its stand and waved it high from side to side.

As the crowd roared its approval, Lord Fenner said, “See, we’ve chosen wisely.” He waved back at the crowd before turning once more to Kindan. “And now, Harper, if you’d be so kind to wave the Crom Hold pennant, that will let the dragonriders know to come down.”

Kindan gave the Lord Holder a surprised look, and Fenner laughed. “I’ve not lost my senses! They’re only coming down for a break, young harper. The Games will start up again in a half hour. That’ll give the riders a chance to slake their thirst and fill their stomachs before the next event.”

D’vin waited until the Fort and Benden Weyr riders dismounted in front of the Lord Holder’s stand before ordering his riders down. After he dismounted, he bowed to the Lord Holder.

“Greetings from High Reaches Weyr,” D’vin called.

“Greetings to you, bronze rider,” the Lord Holder called back with a jaunty wave. “There are refreshments in the stalls. Please invite your riders to take what they need for their comfort.”

“I will, thank you,” D’vin replied. As he turned, he caught sight of two youngsters in the stands and turned back again, surprised. “Are these your heirs, my lord?”

Lord Fenner laughed. “No, indeed! These two scallywags hail from Camp Natalon. Kindan’s the harper, and Cristov is the miner.”

“Do you mine firestone?” D’vin asked. He had hoped to strike up an acquaintance with one of the firestone miners.

“No, my lord,” Cristov said, blushing in embarrassment. “We mine coal at Camp Natalon.”

“He’s being modest, my lord,” Fenner said, clapping Cristov on the back. “Camp Natalon has the best coal in all Crom.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear that,” D’vin said. He nodded to Cristov. “Good to meet you, miner.” He turned away and then back once more. “My Lord Holder, could you point me to a vendor of bubbly pies?”

Lord Fenner looked surprised by the question, so D’vin explained sheepishly, “I’ve not had one in a long time and just caught a whiff as I landed.”

Lord Fenner shook his head and was about to reply when Cristov’s hand shot up, pointing. “My lord,” he said, “I think if you ask that girl there, she’ll lead you right.” He waved and shouted to the girl, the one upon whom he’d bestowed his half-mark earlier. “Could you lead my Lord D’vin to the bubbly pies, Halla?”

Halla’s stomach had rumbled in anticipation as she followed her nose to the bubbly pies. A miner half-mark entitled her to four, so she paid for two and got a quarter-mark back. She ate one pie immediately despite its burning warmth, and then turned to scan the crowd for her benefactor and quarry.

She was surprised to see him on the Lord Holder’s stand. What did Moran want with this one? she wondered. Still, orders were orders, especially from Moran, so she worked her way close to the stand, careful not to be obvious and also not to jostle her second pie.

The Lord Holder’s stand was constructed on a high knoll, giving it not only a great view of the Games but also of the whole Gather spread below. Halla had to work carefully to keep herself close enough to the stands to hear what they were saying but far enough in the crowd to avoid being spotted.

So she jumped when Cristov called her name. She couldn’t help shivering in fear. Had she been discovered? Had Moran been apprehended? Had he turned her in to save his own skin?

She was ready to run, almost ready to drop her precious bubbly pie, when the full extent of his words registered with her.

“Bubbly pies?” she repeated blankly, drawing closer to Cristov and the stand, like a moth to a flame.

“Yes, Lord D’vin would like some. Could you lead him to the baker?” Cristov repeated, frowning at the young girl. She was terrified. To assuage her fear, he offered, “Would you like me to come with you?”

Dumbstruck, Halla nodded. Cristov muttered excuses to the others and climbed down the stands. He gestured for the dragonrider to precede him, but D’vin politely demurred.

The crowd parted for them and they approached Halla. “My lord, this is Halla,” Cristov said.

“Halla,” D’vin said, with a nod. Halla could only nod in reply. “Can you show us the way?”

Halla nodded again, and turned. She strode off, glancing over her shoulder to see if they were still following her.

How could this happen? she asked herself. Now I’ve got a
dragonrider
following me!

In fact, she realized as she glanced around again, the dragonrider had caught up with her and was walking at her side.

“Do you come from Crom Hold, Halla?” D’vin inquired.

“No, nearby,” she said.

“Are you excited about the Games?”

Halla nodded. D’vin, sensing her reticence, let the conversation drop and trudged along beside her companionably, waving politely to anyone who called out or acknowledged him.

D’vin paused and sniffed the air. “Bubbly pies! I can smell them.”

“We’re close,” Halla agreed, feeling some relief at the prospect.

“We’ll need you to lead us back,” D’vin warned her. “I got quite lost in all that crowd.”

Halla’s eyes grew round in alarm.

Meanwhile, Cristov had been watching her closely. Suddenly, he asked, “Did we ever meet before, Halla?”

Should I tell him? Halla wondered. Or, she thought fearfully, did he see me up at the mine?

“Once, three Turns ago,” Halla said.

“Is Jamal your brother?” Cristov asked, his face brightening. When Halla nodded, Cristov continued excitedly, “No wonder I recognized you! You look just like him! It’s been ages since I’ve seen him!” He looked around wildly. “Where is he?”

Halla’s face fell and Cristov’s expression changed. “He’s all right, isn’t he?” he asked. “He had the cast on his leg when we met, but he’s all right?”

“The break got infected,” Halla murmured.

Cristov stopped dead, grabbing Halla’s arm in alarm. “Where is he?”

Halla pointed to the cemetery. “He died not long after he met you,” she told him. “He’d hoped to see you again.”

“I’m sorry,” Cristov told her miserably. “I never knew.”

“How are you getting along, then?” D’vin asked. His gaze took in the state of her clothing, and the gauntness of her frame.

“I’m making do, my lord,” Halla said, dipping her head in an apparent gesture of respect but really trying to hide her eyes from the dragonrider’s probing glance. To change the subject, she looked up again and pointed. “There’s the baker, my lord.”

“Thank you,” D’vin replied, picking up his pace. Sonia’s words from months back echoed in his head:
I swear, D’vin, you’d take in every stray that crossed your path!

The baker was so pleased at D’vin’s patronage that she sent to the tent next door for fresh berry juice and set a special table out in front of her stall just for them.

Neither Halla nor Cristov were used to such deferential service, but D’vin did everything he could to make them feel at ease, while praising the baker’s and juicemaker’s efforts loudly to the bustling crowd.

Halla watched the dragonrider surreptitiously, surprised at his easy ways and the manner with which he dealt with the merchants. It was clear to her that he knew his praise would help their sales, and that he didn’t overdo it—he said just enough to ensure that both vendors would have plenty of custom for the rest of the Gather.

Cristov watched neither of them. Instead, he explored his last memories of Jamal. Memories of a Gather three Turns past.

“Cristov?” D’vin’s voice startled him.

“My lord?”

“Was he a good friend?” the dragonrider asked softly.

Cristov shook his head. “He might have been,” he said, “but we never got the chance to find out.” He looked up. “My father didn’t approve of him.”