Dragonquest by Anne McCaffrey Read Free Book Online

the haughty Fort Weyrwoman was miraculous, considering Lessa’s temper. F’lar supposed that his Weyrmate felt responsible for uprooting the Oldtimers. But the final decision to go forward in time had been theirs.
    Well, if Lessa could endure Mardra’s condescension out of gratitude, F’lar could try to put up with T’ron. The man did know how to fight Thread effectively and F’lar had learned a great deal from him at first. So, in a determinedly pleasant frame of mind, F’lar walked down the short passage to the Fort Weyr Council Room.
    T’ron, seated in the big stone chair at the head of the Table, acknowledged F’lar’s entry with a stiff nod. The light of the glows on the wall cast unflattering shadows on the Oldtimer’s heavy, lined face. It struck F’lar forcibly that the man, had
never
known anything but fighting Thread. He must have been born when the Red Star began that last fifty-Turn-long Pass around Pern, and he’d fought Thread until the Star had finished its circuit. Then followed Lessa forward. A man could get mighty tired of fighting Thread in just seven short Turns. F’lar halted that line of thought.
    D’ram of Ista Weyr and G’narish of Igen also contented themselves with nods. T’bor, however, gave F’lar a hearty greeting, his eyes glinting with emotion.
    â€œGood evening, gentlemen,” F’lar said to all. “I apologize for taking you from your own affairs or rest with this request for an emergency meeting of all Weyrleaders, but it could not wait until the regular Solstice Gathering.”
    â€œI’ll conduct the meetings at Fort Weyr, Benden,” T’ron said in a cold harsh voice. “I’ll wait for T’kul and R’mart before I have any discussion of your—your complaint.”
    â€œAgreed.”
    T’ron stared at F’lar as if that hadn’t been the answer he’d anticipated and he’d gathered himself for an argument that hadn’t materialized. F’lar nodded to T’bor as he took the seat beside him.
    â€œI’ll say this now, Benden,” T’ron continued. “The next time you elect to drag us all out of our Weyrs suddenly, you apply to me first. Fort’s the oldest Weyr on Pern. Don’t just irresponsibly send messengers out to everyone.”
    â€œI don’t see that F’lar acted irresponsibly,” G’narish said, evidently surprised by T’ron’s attitude. G’narish was a stocky young man, some Turns F’lar’s junior and the youngest of the Weyrleaders to come forward in time. “Any Weyrleader can call a joint meeting if circumstances warrant it. And these do!” G’narish emphasized this with a curt nod, adding when he saw the Fort Weyrleader scowling at him, “Well, they do.”
    â€œYour rider was the aggressor, T’ron,” D’ram said in a stern voice. He was a rangy man, getting stringy with age, but his astonishing shock of red hair was only lightly grizzled at the temples. “F’lar’s within his rights.”
    â€œYou had the choice of time and place, T’ron,” F’lar pointed out, all deference.
    T’ron’s scowl deepened.
    â€œWish Telgar’d get here,” he said in a low, irritated tone.
    â€œHave some wine, F’lar?” T’bor suggested, an almost malicious smile playing on his lips for T’ron ought to have offered immediately. “Of course, it’s not Benden Hold wine, but not bad. Not bad.”
    F’lar gave T’bor a long warning look as he took the proffered cup. But the Southern Weyrleader was watching to see how T’ron reacted. Benden Hold did not tithe of its famous wines as generously to the other Weyrs as it did to the one which protected its lands.
    â€œWhen are we going to taste some of those Southern Weyr wines you’ve been bragging about, T’bor?” G’narish asked,