The Dolphins of Pern (30 page)

Readis surfaced. “It’s all stirred up, sand everywhere. Can’t see a thing. And Caddie’s been walking about. He might have buried it.”

“Buried it?” T’lion’s voice broke octaves in his anxiety.

“Easy, T’lion, easy,” Readis said, took three deep breaths, and then dove.

T’lion could barely see the holder lad swimming, so murky was the water. He began walking about the area where he thought they had been standing, hoping he might kick it up. But Gaddie couldn’t’ve kicked it. He had been holding up the dolphins, and his hind feet would have been farther out.

“Gaddie, call Afo. Tell her we need her.”

Gadareth obligingly bellowed. That his bugle was heard was obvious when two of the seamen working on the
Fair Winds
waved back at them. But not a single dorsal fin came streaking toward them.

“Try underwater, Gaddie. Afo
must
hear you. We need her help.”

Afo did not come, though Gadareth called her in air and underwater every time T’lion asked him.

And Readis, who kept diving, going in ever increasing circles out from the spot where they thought the precious book might be, was becoming so hyper-ventilated
and pale under his tan that even T’lion knew he should stop.

“One more dive is all I’ll let you take,” the dragonrider told his younger friend. “You look awful”

“If only we’d had the mask …” And Readis’s look was accusing.

“I’m trying, I’m trying,” T’lion explained, his voice tense, his mind in a whirl as he thought of how Persellan was going to react to the loss of his invaluable book.

Then Readis took his usual deep inhalation and dove, appearing for that instant more like a dolphin than a boy.

“Lucky last!” Readis shouted as he exploded out of the water. In the hands held high above his head he had the book.

“Don’t get it any wetter than it is!” T’lion cried, reaching out in a thankful gesture at sight of the lost object.

But when Readis put the soggy book in his hands, dark runnels of water over their hands told them that considerable damage had been done the contents. T’lion groaned as his trembling fingers flipped open the cover. He flipped it closed immediately, rolling his eyes and groaning again.

“It’s ruined. Ruined! Persellan will flay me!”

“It came from Aivas’s files, didn’t it? Well, then it only needs to be reprinted,” Readis said in an effort to relieve his friend’s dismay.

“Only?” T’lion repeated. “Do you have any idea of how long someone has to wait to get something
only
reprinted?”

Readis shook his head, determined to supply a remedy. “I’m up there all the time, T’lion. I can re-copy what needs to be done directly from the disks.” Then he added by way of reparation, “And maybe include some animal treatment stuff at the same time.”

“Oh, I dunno,” T’lion said, appalled at the damage a moment’s inattention had caused.

“Good thing you had it so we’d know how to put her guts back in.”

“We won’t know until she gets better—and works right—if we did,” T’lion replied, shaking his head and staring down at the book, which was still shedding inky drops of water.

“Let’s get out of the water, and see if we can’t dry out some of the pages in the sun,” Readis urged, and they both headed back to the shore. “I mean, we have a duty to dolphins, too, you know.”

“Do we?”

Readis gave his friend a startled look. “I think we do. They came with us, didn’t they? They didn’t have to, but they came to help us with the marine explorations. They’ve done them, but our responsibility doesn’t end there. Does it? Huh? No more than our responsibility to dragonkind will end when Thread stops.” He looked a little embarrassed when T’lion turned to give him an odd stare, his jaw dropped in surprise at Readis’s vehemence. “That is, when it does,” Readis amended. “I mean, we—humans—created the dragons. We owe them, too, you know.”

T’lion’s slow grin spread across his face. “I wish more of us humans thought the way you do.”

Readis ducked his face in embarrassment. “I’ve known dragons all my life, better than most holder
children do. I’ve scrubbed more.” Then he squinted up at the angle of the sun. “Here. Let’s prop the book up here so it gets the sun. I’d better dry off, too,” he added, noticing the water marks on his hands. “Or Dad will sure know where I’ve spent time when I should have been back helping him and Mother.”

“D’you think the book’ll dry out enough?” T’lion said anxiously as he settled the book on a broad leaf so that sand wouldn’t damage it further. The inner pages had been sufficiently pressed down so that only the edges showed their immersion. But the ink had blurred somewhat, even on the illustrations.

T’lion groaned as they surveyed the ravages. “Persellan’s not going to like this.”

“I said I’d make good.”

“You oughtn’t to have to. I borrowed the book without permission. You didn’t.”

“You wouldn’t have borrowed it if I hadn’t insisted we heal the calves.” Readis’s chin was at an aggressive angle. “We’re in this together.”

“You most certainly are,” said a new voice, and the two young men swung around to see Jayge and Temma come striding out of the jungle that bordered the cove. “What’s all this about dolphins’ needing medical assistance? Where have you been? Kami’s been back hours and she said she came with you.”

Readis sprang to his feet, trying to conceal the waterlogged book from his father’s sight. “Ah, well, oh!” he floundered.

“I told T’lion I’d come when I could,” Temma said, cocking her head and looking from one to the other. Then out to sea. “No dolphins to mend?”

“We did it,” Readis said. “I mean, T’lion’s
watched Persellan and there were bloodsuckers trying to … and it was the calves, and they were hurt with awful gashes … guts hanging out …”

“So you decided that those mammals of yours needed attention sooner than injured humans?” Jayge had crossed his arms over his chest at his most forbidding.

Readis swallowed. He had not often had occasion to suffer his father’s disapproval or chastisement, but he knew the pose from those times Jayge had dealt with recalcitrant Hold workers or those whose behavior had not met his standards. Now he raised his chin.

“Yes, sir. They bleed and hurt the same as we do, and there was no one else bothering about
them
and plenty of people, including Aunt Temma, to tend to human hurts. No one was badly hurt, were they?” Readis asked Temma.

“No,” Jayge answered. “But you should have found that out first, before you even thought of coming here.” He frowned at his son. “You’re my son and will be Holder. What sort of an example are you setting—he waved toward the sea and its denizens—“by coming here first before you knew what help was needed in your
Hold!”

“When we overflew the Hold, it looked like you had matters in hand. But no one was looking after our dolphins …”

“Our dolphins?” Jayge’s expression became even more forbidding. “Since when do ‘we’ own dolphins?”

“The pod—the ones that use these waters—they’re ours, in a manner of speaking.”

“Sir, the fault was mine,” T’lion interrupted, and was waved silent by Jayge.

“Why are you involved in this, T’lion?”

“He’s been—” Readis began.

“Dragonriders are able to answer for themselves, Readis.”

“But he—”

“I’m liaison for the dolphins in the Eastern Weyr waters, Holder Jayge,” T’lion said, stiffening to an erect position. “We heard at Landing that there were injuries in this pod and help was requested. So I …”

Jayge frowned. “How would they know at Landing …”

Before Readis could capitalize on his father’s misunderstanding and absolve himself of his apparent defection by intimating that someone at Landing had given him the orders, T’lion continued. “Actually, sir, we found out at Monaco Bay, not Landing. Readis and Kami were there, hoping to hear word from Paradise River that all was well here.”

“So you got a message at Monaco Bay that dolphins at Paradise River were injured?”

“Yes, sir,” T’lion replied.

Jayge’s frown got darker. “So Master Samvel didn’t give you permission to leave, Readis?”

“Master Samvel told me that Readis was down at Monaco,” T’lion said, temporizing as he suddenly realized what Readis had been trying to imply.

Jayge shook his head. “Will you boys stop answering for each other? So, you are absent from school as well as derelict in your duty to your Hold, Readis. And you, T’lion, where were you supposed to be when you were busy healing the dolphins?”

“I went down to Monaco Bay when I heard that’s where Readis and Kami had gone,” he replied.

“I repeat, where were you ordered to go?”

“Cove Hold,” T’lion said, “but plenty of folks were helping out there and no one was …” He hesitated

“Helping these dolphins,” Jayge finished. “Both of you need to get your priorities in order. I shall expect you to report your afternoon’s activities to T’gellan, T’lion. You’d better report to where you should be before the day ends.” A Holder could not presume to give a dragonrider, even a young one, direct orders that did not deal with Threadfall, but Jayge was coming close.

“Ah, yes, sir.” T’lion hesitated. He needed to take the book back with him, damp as it was, but he also didn’t quite like the idea of displaying the damaged thing to anyone.

“Well …”

T’lion grimaced. He had to leave, and leave Readis facing an angry father. So, giving a despairing sigh, he reached for the book.

“And what’s that sorry-looking mess?” Jayge asked, holding out his hand. When T’lion had reluctantly given it to him, Jayge whistled as he felt the dampness. Turning the first few pages, he then shot angry glances at both son and dragonrider as he realized how valuable it was.

“We know it’s been damaged. It fell off Gaddie’s arm,” T’lion explained. “I needed to know how to restore intestines …”

“By using your healer’s most valued possession?”
Temma asked, incensed when she saw what Jayge was looking through. “He’ll not thank you for that.”

“I can copy the damaged pages,” Readis said quickly. “I’ve access to the files. I can even add more from the veterinary sections …”

“Did you at least have permission to use the manual?” Jayge asked. “Ah, I see not,” he added, noting the guilty flush on the dragon-rider’s face.

“Persellan was nowhere about to ask,” T’lion said. “Mirrim saw me and said it was all right.”

“To take supplies possibly,” Temma put in, “but not such a valuable healer’s book.”

“I can set it right,” Readis insisted.

“That’s enough out of you,” Jayge said, turning on his son. “You’d better leave, T’lion.”

Temma took the dragonrider’s arm before he swung past her. “And the dolphins?”

“We sewed them up and they went off with their dams,” T’lion said in a muted voice.

“Sewed them up, did you?” Temma looked dubious.

“I’ve helped Persellan and I can tie the right sort of healer knots to suture securely. That was the critical need, so the bloodfish couldn’t enter the wounds.”

“The critical need?”

T’lion stiffened, regarding the older woman with an expressionless face. “I did what I could to help and we’ll see in three days if what I did was enough.”

Temma’s expression softened a little. “Happen you did all that was needed. I’d be interested to see.”

Without a backward look then, the young dragon-rider went to his pile of clothes, dressed, stuffed Persellan’s volume in his flying jacket, and clambered
aboard Gadareth. The bronze took off westward, away from those silently watching.

Readis couldn’t look at his father, but he felt Jayge’s suppressed anger in the grip he took on Readis’s arm as he pushed him toward his clothing.

“Get your shoes on!” Jayge said. “Let’s not have another thorn in your foot.”

Readis felt a hard cold feeling in his chest at that harsh remark. His father never referred to his limp, had never before reminded him of the injury or where he had taken it. But then, his father wouldn’t know that Readis felt far more comfortable in the sea, where his shriveled leg posed no disadvantage or handicap. The way home was too short for Readis to prepare himself for his mother’s condemnation. She’d make sure he never went to the cove again. She would certainly extract a promise from him to have nothing to do with dolphins ever again. It was a promise that Readis could not in conscience give. There was no way now that he would give up the contact. Today’s events had proved to him that the dolphins needed to have at least one staunch defendant in every coastline settlement: one committed dolphineer. The word had been hovering in his mind for a long time now and, in that moment, he recognized what he should do and be: a dolphineer.

As badly as Readis thought his mother would react, the actual storm that followed his father’s account of his son’s various offenses against his Hold and against parental teaching and tolerance, his consorting with dolphins, and his absence from the Landing school, brought such a tirade down on his head that he was unable to speak out in self-defense.
Until she ranted that he was without conscience, loyalty, or honor in his devious and unworthy association with shipfish.

“Dolphins, Mother, dolphins,” he said. “And I’ve always kept my promise to you.”

She halted in her ranting, her face pale, her eyes huge; if the tear streaks on her cheeks were tormenting him, her injustice had made him speak out.

“You have not!”

“I have, too. I have never been
alone
with the dolphins or in the sea. There has always been someone else with me.”

“That isn’t at issue …”

“But it is I promised you the day after the dolphins rescued me and Unclemi that I wouldn’t go by myself to swim and I never have. Not in ten Turns!”

“But you were a child! How could you remember that?”

“Mother, I remembered. I have obeyed. I have never come to harm from the dolphins …”

“But you have neglected your own family and the Hold’s needs at a time when we needed everyone’s help, everyone’s loyalty …”

“The dolphins are part of Paradise River Hold,” Readis began, but she slapped his face as hard as she could. He staggered back, rocked from the insecure balance of standing on the toe of one foot.