Chap. 332 The Jump

Chap. 332 The Jump

The crowd had dispersed, most to the dining hall.

“Amazing. The trial was supposed to last most of the day, but still this meal is ready, even on such short notice! This roast beast is terrific,” D’mitran observed.

K’ndar nodded. “Credit Grafton, our headman, with that,” he said, feeling odd that he used the collective ‘our’. I still don’t feel as if I belong here, he thought. I still feel like a fake.

“Is he a scientist?”

“No, but, he’s a polymath, I suppose? He’s simply amazing, D’mitran. He’s blind, he lost his eyes to Thread as a kid, but he has the most phenomenal memory, has his finger on every pulse in the complex, and seems to have this incredible ability to get to the heart of a problem. This must have been easy for him. No one ever needs to worry if you hear that Grafton’s in charge.”

“He’s blind, you say?”

“Aye, his eyes were burned out, his face badly scarred. He was lucky not to have lost his nose or lips. But he doesn’t need his eyes, it seems. He has a bronze fire lizard, named Fafhrd, to serve as his eyes. Fafhrd is everywhere, he’s even allowed in places no other fire lizard is allowed. And he knows it. When they’re outside, he flies ahead of the man, leading him. Fafhrd’s a fire lizard only in size, in all other respects he’s a very alpha bronze dragon. See, there he is, now.”

Over their heads, the bronze soared to perch on a ledge high up on the wall, one of many installed after Landing’s administrators realized that fire lizard owners weren’t going to relegate their pets to some outside perch. He hovered in front of the three fire lizards that were already on ‘his’ ledge. The three suddenly launched-bolted would probably be the better word-and regally took his place on his strategic viewpoint.

“They didn’t argue, did they?” D’mitran said, laughing.

“They wouldn’t dare,” K’ndar chuckled. As if hearing him, the fire lizard looked directly at the two dragonmen.

D’mitran awkwardly saluted the fire lizard, feeling strange-and even stranger when the fire lizard nodded its head, as if in acknowledgment.

“Hmm. Okay. Where’s your Siskin?”

“He’s over there, to the north? Look at how many of them are here! He’s keeping busy, chatting up the greens. Administration had to impose regulations keeping fire lizards out of certain areas but gave up when it came to the dining hall. As long as they don’t try to snatch your meal, they’re tolerated. Those of us here who have a lizard-and not many do-know where they’re allowed, and we also know that Fafhrd has made it clear that he is NOT your regular fire lizard and he WILL go where he chooses. Although I believe Grafton has ‘asked’ Fafhrd to stay out of the Council’s chambers when they’re in session.

No one has ever had reason to dispute Grafton’s decisions. I don’t play chess, as you know, but if he does, he’s the type who’s always six moves ahead of you. You know how it is-the last people you want to piss off are the cook and the headman. I think Fafhrd has ‘instructed’ all these visiting fire lizards where they may and may not go, and I think they obey.”

“Is he here?” D’mitran looked over the crowd.

“Who, Grafton?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t see him, but that’s not unusual, D. He doesn’t come out of his quarters very often. You and I are used to seeing people injured by Thread, but some people aren’t, I guess, and I have to admit he IS hard to look at. His face healed long ago but it’s grotesque, just the same. He got a full face of Thread.”

“What’s he like?”

“Um-like a human bronze. No, more like a human gold dragon. You immediately feel about two millimeters tall in his presence, even though he’s very soft spoken and gentle. Somehow, though, you know to not lie to him. Ever. He has the administrative qualities of Hariko, the understanding of human nature of Oscoral, and the judicial mind of a councilman like Lord Lytol. He scared me spitless the first time I met him. He knew all about me without my ever having told him a thing about me. He is possibly the most imposing and aware human I’ve ever met-and yet, he’s half my size, and probably thrice my age.”

“Is it always this crowded? It’s like a Gather.”

“Usually, no, but today is not your typical Day at Landing. They are all talking about Tovar.”

“Aye. He pissed off a lot of people, K’ndar. To include me.”

“I was so afraid that he’d work his way off the hook,” K’ndar said. “But I also feel, well, of two minds. We saw the criminal at work, we saw what kind of work ethic he had at Tillek, then his wife says how good a husband he was. I don’t know what to think, now.”

“That he was like everyone, multidimensional,” D’mitran said. “I think he may have used his wife, his cot at Tillek Sea Hold, as a cover for his activities. Or perhaps he really did love her, and took care of her. It’s like my mum used to say, you don’t soil your own bed.”

“I’m so happy he suicided. It made everything so much easier. I was still on sabbatical, but I noticed all these people coming in, on horseback, dragonback, by ship and wagon. Then last night, Lord Lytol called me-ME!-with a polite invitation to attend today.”

D’mitran snorted. “An ‘invitation’ from the most storied man on the planet outside of F’lar and Robinton, isn’t one to be rejected.”

“Right. What astonished me was when I learned you were bringing him here dragonback. He’s been at Singing Waters all this time? I thought he was at Southern Weyr, the new one.” He shook his head. “Bringing him dragonback had to have been torture for him. Was that intentional? Put a dragonless man on a dragon, as a parting kick in the arse?”

“K’ndar. You know Lord Dorn wouldn’t do that. He’s not a pushover, but he’s not a cruel man, either. Nor, for that matter, am I.” He felt irritation at the noise. Everyone seemed to be talking at once. I hate having to shout to converse, I can barely hear K’ndar.

“Woof. I’m full. It’s so damned noisy in here. Is there a place outside we can talk?” He put down his utensils and loosened his riding belt.

“Yes, it’s a new ‘park’, they call it. Let’s take our trenchers back up to the kitchen, and let someone else have these seats,” K’ndar suggested. “It’s much quieter outside.”

He sent a ping to Siskin, who dropped off his ledge and landed on his shoulder.

Once they were outside, the quiet eased the ringing in his ears.

“Ah, these benches look new. And these trees, they’re growing like mad.”

“They are. Sit and tell.”

D’mitran sat down and stretched. “Yes, this is much better. Now then, remember, when we caught Tovar, Southern Weyr showed up in force. At first they were going to take Tovar to the Southern Weyr’s new weyr, but Lord Dorn called me on my data link while you were elsewhere and asked that Tovar be handed over to him, at Singing Waters, and Southern’s Weyrleader agreed, gratefully, it seemed to me.

He said they are still working on their new weyr, and had no way to incarcerate a man. That, and he said, “I can’t guarantee that he will be unharmed in my Weyr. We suffered much from this man’s activities, and I wouldn’t be surprised if someone didn’t come at him in the middle of the night. Lord Dorn can have him.” So we launched, as you remember, with Firoth flying bareback-but he never came out of between.”

K’ndar’s heart hurt. “I know. I heard. Poor Firoth. Raventh said Tovar broke a part of his skull.”

“That part of their skull, K’ndar, you know, between their ears-it’s thin. It doesn’t need to be thick. When he hit Firoth, Careth literally jumped, then he was furious. He said the same thing Raventh said, that “Firoth’s head was broken.” It’s a terrible thing to do a dragon.”

K’ndar nodded, his chest twinging just at the thought. “I know about the thin skull. That’s how my Uncle Fland’s Lanarth was killed, D’mitran. They were fighting Thread, Fland went between. A weyrling had tossed a full bag of firestone to another rider, and it ripped open and Uncle Fland and Lanarth came out of between just underneath it. Lanarth caught the full load, right on his head.”

He paused, feeling the pain even though it wasn’t his to suffer.

“Oh, no,” D’mitran said, softly.

“Lanarth was killed instantly and Uncle Fland was unconscious. Even so, he rode the dragon to the ground, poor Lanarth’s body taking most of the impact. Uncle Fland was badly injured. He never flew again, he still limps and his leg pains him often. I’m sure you remember him-and he can’t bring himself to come near a dragon. I feel so bad for him, I did even as a kid when I had no idea why he limped. Now I can only imagine how horrible it must be to survive a dragon’s death.”

D’mitran shook his head in admiration. “That’s one shaff of a dragonrider, to stay aboard even when he’s unconscious. The next time you see him, convey my condolences. Or maybe not-I don’t want to open old scars. Even so, K’ndar, Lanarth’s death was an honorable one. Not like Firoth’s. He was, um, well, murdered by Tovar.”

“Yes.”

“When the Council summoned Tovar, I advised Lord Dorn that we should probably take him horseback, but Lord Dorn had already decided to do just that. Horses are faster than a wagon and he didn’t want to chance Tovar escaping if they had to stop somewhere for the night.”

He stopped and threw his shoulders back.

“Ah, the wind smells fresh,” he said, “it’s great flying weather.”

From here he could see the dragon meadow. Raventh and Careth were side by side, discussing some dragon business, it appeared.

“Do you want to go flying? Careth could use it, and I’m not expected back until this afternoon.”

“D’mitran! Not before you tell me the whole thing.”

“Okay. Once we got to Singing Waters, you wouldn’t believe how Tovar looked. Just the few moments between changed him. He looked as if he’d been on a month long binge. He was in deep shock. I don’t think he felt a bit of the flight or between. Lief’s men took him without a struggle, he almost collapsed in their arms. Careth said he kept ‘screaming for Firoth in his mind,” calling for Firoth, begging the dragon to speak to him.”

“And he..”

“Didn’t. We waited for several moments, wondering where Firoth was. Then Careth and the rest said Firoth had suicided, he never came out of between.”

“I know.”

K’ndar remembered seeing Tovar hit his dragon, Firoth, when the brown dragon refused to launch.

“Tovar was, well, it was like all the life had left him, that he was dead but his body hadn’t figured it out yet. He was like a walking shadow of a human.

I went to see him a couple times in his cell. Lord Dorn’s a good man, he doesn’t allow any mistreatment or abuse of prisoners, but Tovar seemed to have lost his mind. He never attempted to escape, never gave the watchman a bit of trouble. He walked. Walked in circles, muttering, wearing a trench in the dirt floor that’s ankle deep.

Dorn lets his prisoners outside for a couple hours, with two watchmen, one on foot and another on horseback with a rope-and a crossbow. Lord Dorn’s chief jailer is that big man, you remember from Betzil’s trial? He heard confessions and relayed them to Lord Dorn. He plays an excellent game of being a deaf, stupid lout, but he’s not, K’ndar. Laconic, yes. Stupid? Not on your life. He doesn’t miss a thing and he’s smart as a whip. I wouldn’t press my luck with him, not even armed. But Tovar wouldn’t come out. He’d pick at his food, it was as if it was his body desperately attempting to keep him alive, rather than Tovar actively eating out of hunger.

I’d try to ask him questions, try to get him to respond, and when he’d meet my eyes, there was nothing in them, K’ndar.”

D’mitran shook his head, disturbed at the memory. “It was like looking into a deep well. I knew he could hear me, but he’d look right through me. He’d just look, not say a word, not a peep. Just acknowledge, only slightly, that a person had spoken to him, then he’d turn and go back to pacing.”

“Huh,” K’ndar said, entranced.

“All this time we’d been waiting until the Council had time to conduct the trial,” D’mitran said. “Finally we got the word, bring him here. Lief entered the cell with his men, said, “You’re going to Landing for the trial, hands out to chain up. You’ll be going horseback and I warn you, do not try to escape. You can sit upright in the saddle, but if you try to escape, we’ll chain your legs and sling you over the back of a horse like a sack of oats. Your choice.”

Then Tovar said, “No. I want dragon transport.”

Lief knows as well as I do how dreadful it is for a dragonless rider to board someone else’s dragon. “No, it’s okay, we have a horse for you,” he told Tovar.

Tovar refused to chain up, kept saying, “No, I want dragon transport.”

So Lief told Lord Dorn, who asked me if I would take him dragon back-it would make life a lot easier, he said, and I said, of course, I’ll take him at daybreak as long as he’s chained up. I called F’mart on the datalink, requesting dragon transport for Lief’s men. No way was I going to trust Tovar by myself, and Lord Dorn insisted his strong men come with. F’mart wanted to come, too-you know how he is, always itching for a fight-but he had to excuse himself. Duty called, you know.

His dragons arrived within twenty minutes. All of three riders were adult weyrlings, I know Weyrlingmaster B’rant would never hand such responsibility to a kid.

They led him out to me and Careth. He didn’t resist, didn’t hang back, in fact he seemed revitalized, almost eager. “This is going to hurt you, Tovar, are you sure?” I said, in a tone I usually reserve for dogs. “You don’t have to ride dragonback.” He said, “I want to.”

When he mounted, I made him sit backward. I didn’t trust him to not try and strangle me from behind. But all he did was flinch when he touched Careth.

There was something in his eyes, K’ndar, a look I’d seen only once before in my life, and it took me right back to…then.”

He sighed.

“The times I met him before he killed Firoth, K’ndar, despite what his wife said, all I saw in him was ruthlessness and cunning. He was evil. When we were supposedly a team, at Tillek Sea Hold, I never trusted him. I always felt my neck hairs prickle, the ones that said, ‘beware, he’s behind you.”

K’ndar nodded. “I felt it, too, D. My mum used to say, “always trust your gut, it will never lie to you’. My gut was always saying, don’t trust this man any further than you can throw him. And I’m convinced he was exactly what the rivermen said; “Toric’s man”. I bet my boots he was sending artifacts and other things of value to Lord Toric.”

“Yes. But then….”

D’mitran paused for several long moments. He began to tap his knee, trying to dispel some inner pain. K’ndar met the man’s eye-and saw it was looking inward.

“His eyes, K’ndar,” D’mitran started, then was silent for long moments. About the time K’ndar thought he wasn’t going to continue, the brown rider spoke.

“When I was a kid,” D’mitran said, “me and a handful of boys from our weyr went wher hunting. Wild wher, of course, not the poor things that we’d take as eggs, geld and spay as babies and feed them the offal from our livestock, chain them in dark caverns for their whole lives. Those poor beasts go insane. Now, with fire lizards, there’s no real need for a watchwher.

No, for whatever reason, me and my weyrmates decided to take our practice bows and kill a wher. Not to eat, mind you, they’re not edible, even if one is starving. Whers were ‘bad’, they were dangerous, something to be eradicated. Yes, we knew that one isn’t supposed to kill an animal unless one is defending oneself. We let that go by the board.

We found one, a young male, out on his own for the first time in his life. At first he ignored us, but we wouldn’t leave him be. We pestered him, filled his ass with arrows and finally we cornered him in a rockfall where he had no where to go except past us. He charged us. Don’t ever let someone tell you they’re cowards, no, they’re not. They’re smart and brave as any lion.

One of the boy’s arrows, not one of mine, pierced his spine just ahead of his hips and he went down, paralyzed from there back. Even so, he’s roaring, and dragging himself, he kept coming. We shot and shot and not once did our arrows hit something vital. He was backing us up, we were terrified. I kept waiting for him to die and he didn’t. Now we were torturing him, K’ndar, he’s bleeding from over twenty, thirty wounds, and there’s anger, and pain in his eyes-and something else. That look, from a beast, an animal, very clearly said what it felt.

It was bewilderment. He was asking me, why are you hurting me, I’ve never seen you creatures before in my life. It was pleading for mercy-and we refused to give it.”

He looked at K’ndar, tragedy in his eyes. “The poor thing alternately roared and moaned in pain. It had stopped being fun, now what were doing was just savage cruelty, and it was horrible to see his suffering. I realized we weren’t competent hunters but just a bunch of bungling kids, ‘hunting’ with practice bows and target arrows, nothing that would kill the animal outright. The wher refused to die. If it had, we could have lied our way out of it, we knew the wherries would strip a carcass clean in a few hours. But it seemed it wouldn’t die but suffer for days, and now we were in deep shit-our parents would inevitably find out that we’d disobeyed.

It had been easy to stand back and shoot arrows into an incapacitated beast, but none of us had the courage to actually approach him close enough to administer a killing stroke. So we got angry, because we were embarassed. We blamed the wher-yes, a beast full of our arrows, helpless and yet brave enough to keep trying.

Finally, one of the boys rode back to the weyr and got the Herdmaster, he was the only one we could think of who could kill the wher.

I have never in my life seen a man so angry. He took one look at the wher, and turned and cursed us boys. “Every arrow in its backend, you monsters? This isn’t self defense! He was running away from you. This is nothing but outright cruelty!” he shrieked.

Then he approached the wher and without hesitation, reached out and stroked its head, right between the eyes, soothing it like we soothe our dragons. It stopped roaring, K’ndar, it calmed down, it could have grabbed or bit him, but it didn’t. It looked at him with what can only be called begging for release. He killed it with one quick stab into the brain stem and the poor beast collapsed with a sigh.

Then he turned to us. I will never, never in my life forget the look on that man’s face. I can’t even describe it. He looked at us-we were all crying-and he said,

“You’re all lower than fish shit. I’ve never beaten any thing, man or beast, but you all deserve one. Do I strop you here and now, or do I let your fathers do it? You choose, boys.”

For me, it was too late. My father showed up. Even worse, the Weyrleaders showed up. They didn’t say a word-they didn’t have to. The looks on their faces….”

He shook his head. “I truly believe the only reason we weren’t banished was due to our age.”

“My dad comes up to me. He seemed to grow two meters tall.

He looked at the poor wher and then at me. He didn’t say a word. I was flooded with shame, K’ndar. Shame. He wasn’t angry. He just had this inscrutable look, wondering, maybe, what sort of person had he produced. Then, he pulled his belt off, and in front of my friends-who, by then had their own fathers to deal with-my dad gave me the one and only beating of my life. He whaled on me like I was a thieving dog that had stolen dinner off the bench. K’ndar, it hurt, but what hurt worse was my shame, the look in the wher’s eyes as he suffered. I wanted to die, K’ndar, I hoped my father would kill me. I think for a moment, he wanted to, but I know, now, he pulled his blows. The funny thing, if you can call it funny, was that I WANTED him to hit me until I felt better.”

He allowed the grief to swell in his throat. This is my debt, to forever regret what I did. Even after all these years, I am still tormented by the look in the wher’s eyes as we tortured him.

Then the men said, “Okay, boys. You killed it. Now you eat it. Here and now. Either you eat this beast, or you bury it. No shovels. Use a digging stick, or your bare hands. Start.”

Dig a hole for that big beast, with our bare hands! I’ll never forget it. The entire time-it took two long, hungry days, we dug day and night-that poor beast lay there, stinking, our activities keeping the giant wherries from scavenging. His dead eyes were constantly on our backs, watching our efforts. I could hear it, even when it was dead. What did I do to you to deserve torture? Why did you hurt me?

“Since then? Well, when I saw some of the things Tovar did, or that monster Scar, I swore I’d kill him, but honestly, K’ndar, I can’t. I can’t even kill an insect without thinking, is this right? I’ve never hunted since. Oh, I’ll gut and skin and clean a beast that someone else has killed, but I’ll never draw a bow on an animal ever again.”

K’ndar felt the man’s grief. D’mitran tore himself back to the present.

“This morning, I looked into Tovar’s eyes, and I knew. I knew why he was willing to undergo the pain of riding a dragon, after his own dragon had suicided rather than continue to live with the man who hurt and betrayed him.

I think he felt shame, K’ndar, if it was possible for him to have that emotion. I knew he didn’t want to live with it any longer.

I knew what Tovar was going to do while between, and I couldn’t say no.

I said “I understand.”

He said, “Thank you.””

I told Careth, so that he didn’t try to prevent it. He would, you know, he’s very protective of passengers.

And, of course, Tovar jumped. We went between and I felt Careth sort of buck, and when we came out of between, he was gone. He wanted to join Firoth, I think, to beg his forgiveness, if that’s possible after death. All of Pern should be grateful that Tovar finally did the right thing, took responsibility for his actions and resolved it on his own.”

K’ndar was speechless. Tears ran down D’mitran’s cheeks. He looked skyward, blinking. He cleared his throat, then looked down at his hands.

“I told you that story, K’ndar, to do what my mother used to say, ‘share the pain.” I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” K’ndar protested, feeling humbled that D’mitran trusted him with such a painful confession. “I understand. It’s what you felt with Tovar, right?”

“No, not for Tovar. He had it coming. It was the look in his eyes that reminded me of the wher. Long after the bruises my dad gave me were healed, I still hurt, I will never forget what I did to that wher.”

He looked at K’ndar. “The very worst part of it, K’ndar, wasn’t the digging. No. It was the memory of what the Herdmaster said that is burned into my mind forever.”

D’mitran gulped, then said, softly, “He stroked its wild head, and looked into its eyes, and just before he plunged his dagger into its brain, he said “I’m so sorry.”