The Skies of Pern by Anne McCaffrey Read Free Book Online Page B

festivities were being held. Now that the sun was down, lighting had come up so they didn’t have to watch where they put their feet. F’lessan was ahead of her, as he passed the Aivas section, but he slowed and looked to his right with a respectful bend of his head. Tai knew that he’d been very much involved with Aivas, almost from the day of discovery, so his reverence was understandable. She slowed, too, as much from surprise as to nod her own respects. Then he lengthened his stride and so did she, trying to catch up. She wasn’t a Runner, but she was no drag foot either and really wanted to catch up. Riders kept fit—it was part of their dedication to their dragons—and running was good exercise.
    She ran into the dragonrider when he abruptly stopped, rounding a curve and trying to keep from knocking over a couple who were so involved in each other that they were oblivious to their surroundings. His halt and turn were close to acrobatic as he kept her from tripping over him.
    Contrary to what Mirrim had led Tai to expect in F’lessan’s behavior, he held her no longer than was necessary for her to regain her balance. His eyes were merry with amusement as he jerked his head at the still unmindful pair, lost in their private world.
    “Let us not be an obstacle in the path of true love,” he murmured to her and gestured that they circle around the lovers. He was breathing only a little hard from the run, though no more than she was.
    They made the detour and then, the race forgotten, loped easily side by side toward the roasting pits. Diners were just beginning to assemble.
    There was always an evening breeze at Landing, and that dried the sweat on her brow as they stood in line. They arrived just before the crowd streaming from the square. By the time they wereserved roast beast and quarters of grilled avians, and took their choice from steaming bowls of tubers and vegetables, the line at the serving tables had tripled its length.
    “Where shall we sit?” F’lessan asked her, looking around.
    “Surely you’re joining your friends?”
    “Ha! No one in particular. I wanted free time at the Archives. Look, over to our right, there at the edge. A quiet table.” He raised his voice. “Hey, Geger!” A wineman glanced their way. “Serve us, will you?” F’lessan pointed and, putting his free hand on her elbow, steered her in that direction.
    The wineman converged on the table just as they arrived.
    “White? Red?” F’lessan asked her before turning to the wineman. “D’you have any Benden there, Geger?”
    “Well, seeing as it’s you, F’lessan, yes, I can get one.” The wineman put his fingers to his lips and his shrill whistle pierced the happy noise of the crowd. Across the square, where skins of wine were hung in display, another wineman looked toward them. Geger flagged his arms in a private code and the man waved in reply. “That’ll be three marks, bronze rider.”
    “What?” F’lessan demanded.
    “I’ll pay my share,” Tai said quickly, reaching for her belt pouch.
    “That’s robbery, Geger. I could have bought from the source for one and a half.”
    Tai was amused by the outrage in his voice.
    “Then you shoulda done before you got here, F’lessan. And you know three marks isn’t high for cold white Benden.” The last three words were delivered in a slow cajoling drawl.
    “But three?”
    “I’ll give—” Tai began, but F’lessan flapped his hand sharply at her.
    “Geger and I are old friends,” he said, his eyes sparkling. There was a firm edge to his voice. “Aren’t we, old friend?”
    “Even for old friends, three marks for a ’30 vintage cold white Benden is a good price at Turnover.” Geger was not to be moved by any consideration of friendship.
    “Benden marks,” F’lessan said, sticking his jaw out.
    “Benden marks are, to be sure, the best. Almost as good as Harper Hall.”
    F’lessan passed over the three marks just as the other wineman arrived with