Dragonquest by Anne McCaffrey Read Free Book Online Page B

insistence.”
    T’bor rose to protest before F’lar could stop him, but D’ram waved him to be seated and sternly reminded T’ron that the Fort Weyrleader had set the time, not F’lar of Benden.
    â€œLook, we’re here now,” T’bor said, banging his fist on the table irritably. “Let’s get on with it. It’s full night in Southern Weyr. I’d like . . .”
    â€œI conduct the Fort Weyr meetings, Southern,” T’ron said in a loud, firm voice, although the effort of keeping his temper told in the flush of his face and the brightness of his eyes.
    â€œThen conduct it,” T’bor replied. “Tell us why a green rider took his dragon out of your Weyr when she was close to heat.”
    â€œT’reb was not aware she was that close . . .”
    â€œNonsense,” T’bor cut in, glaring at T’ron. “You keep telling us how much of a traditionalist you are, and how well trained your riders are. Then don’t tell me a rider as old as T’reb can’t estimate his beast’s condition.”
    F’lar began to think he didn’t need an ally like T’bor.
    â€œA green changes color rather noticeably,” G’narish said, with some reluctance, F’lar noted. “Usually a full day before she wants to fly.”
    â€œNot in the spring,” T’ron pointed out quickly. “Not when she’s off her feed from Threadscore. It can happen very quickly. Which it did.” T’ron spoke loudly, as if the volume of his explanation would bear more weight than its logic.
    â€œThat is possible,” D’ram admitted slowly, nodding his head up and down before he turned to see what F’lar thought.
    â€œI accept that possibility,” F’lar replied, keeping his voice even. He saw T’bor open his mouth to protest and kicked the man under the table. “However, according to the testimony of Craftmaster Terry, my rider urged T’reb repeatedly to take his dragon away. T’reb persisted in his attempt to—to acquire the belt knife.”
    â€œAnd you accept the word of a commoner against a rider?” T’ron leaped on F’lar’s statement with a great show of surprised indignation and incredulity.
    â€œWhat would a Craftmaster,” and F’lar emphasized the title, “gain by bringing false witness?”
    â€œThose smithcrafters are the most notorious misers of Pern,” T’ron replied as if this were a personal insult. “The worst of all the crafts when it comes to parting with an honest tithe.”
    â€œA jeweled belt knife is not a tithe item.”
    â€œWhat difference does that make, Benden?” T’ron demanded.
    F’lar stared back at the Fort Weyrleader. So T’ron was trying to set the blame on Terry! Then he knew that his rider had been at fault. Why couldn’t he just admit it and discipline the rider? F’lar only wanted to see that there’d be no repetitions of such an incident.
    â€œThe difference is that that knife had been crafted for Lord Larad of Telgar as a gift to Lord Asgenar of Lemos Hold for his wedding six days from now. The blade was not Terry’s to give or withhold. It already belonged to a Lord Holder. Therefore, the rider was . . .”
    â€œNaturally you’d take the part of your rider, Benden,” T’ron cut in with a slight, unpleasant smile on his face. “But for a rider, a Weyrleader, to take the part of a Lord Holder against dragonfolk—” and T’ron turned to D’ram and G’narish with a helpless shrug of dismay.
    â€œIf R’mart were here, you’d be—” T’bor began.
    D’ram gestured at him to be quiet. “We’re not discussing possession but what seems to be a grave breach of Weyr discipline,” he said in a voice that overwhelmed T’bor’s protest. “However, F’lar,