Chap. 285 Figuring L’ichen Out

Chap. 285 Figuring L’ichen Out

I’ve finally figured out what is so different about Landing, he thought.

Landings’ dragonriders had done an hour of airborne maneuvers, aka drill. D’mitran had joined them.

I would never have believed that I’d like drill, he thought as he walked, but it feels good. Is it because everyone is trained, experienced? Is it because it’s a strictly dragon rider activity, where we don’t have to explain things?

Or is it because I can just stop thinking and let my training kick in?

It is the second. You stop thinking about work and just think like a rider.

Yes. You’re right. I stop worrying about work, about the survey. But I like it, too, because we no longer fight Thread.

“Just because we’re Landing staff, now,” D’nis had said after unharnessing Corvuth, “doesn’t mean we have to stop doing the social gathering after a drill. So, after you’ve rubbed down your dragons, if you would, please, all join me at the caverns? I’ve completed building a fire pit in one of them, there’s plenty of stone benches to sit on, so bring a sheepskin and we’ll all meet like we used to when we were still fighting Thread.”

“I’ll bring a keg of ale,” D’mitran said. He hoped his wife wouldn’t object. She always had a good meal waiting for him, no matter if he worked late.

Francie said, “I’ll bring something to eat!”

Everyone whooped.

Siskin perched on his shoulder, he walked towards Mt. Garben in the evening sunlight. What is so different about Landing? It’s such a strangely laid out place, he reflected. It’s so severely geometric, like a grid. I’m forced to walk north when it would be shorter to walk north-east, but that’s how the walkways were laid out. Buildings are side by side, with a small commons inside a rectangle. It’s easy to find my way, now that I know how it’s numbered and named, but it has no character. But that’s not all, there’s something missing.

No Weyr or Hold, no Crafthall or cothold, was so severe in its lay out. Volcanic cones and craters had no rhyme or reason as to their placement, so people had merely adapted to living in and around them. Boulders, those too big to be moved, were walked around, and served as irresistible playgrounds for children. Tunnels through the cones were shortcuts to the livestock paddocks and pens, the dragon lakes, the gardens.

But that wasn’t all if it.

His footsteps echoed in the ‘canyons’ created by the buildings.

That was it. No one was outside. Everyone who lived at Landing retreated into their quarters for the evening. Even I’ve done it, he thought.

If I were home at the weyr-he still considered Kahrain Weyr as his second home-I’d probably be in the pavilion D’nis had designed and had built after the hurricane. Kids would be there, playing, teens talking in low tones to keep Mum and Dad from hearing, adults sitting around the central fire pit, klah or ale or wine in their hands. There’d be people sitting in front of their cottages or cave, enjoying this lovely evening, calling out a hello. Fire lizards would be flitting about, playing. Dragons would be lounging on the jutting ledges to their weyrs in the cliff sides. Once in a while an adventurous child would be climbing the weyr’s cliff face, an anxious mother promising death if the child didn’t come down right this moment.

There would be older folks in the dining hall, chatting over a cup of klah and some of Oscoral’s or Lindea’s baking. The air would be redolent of fresh baked bread just out from the massive ovens. There’d be a chess or a card game going on apart from the rest of the folks. In warm weather, someone would be out on the sea, fishing or just enjoying the water. Dragons would be in the sea as well, the youngest ones with their Weyrlings enjoying being out of class for the day. I’d hear the horses in their paddocks, I’d be able to go and ride if I wanted.

Landing is mentally stimulating, but it’s still sterile. Maybe in the coming years, trees will grow up in the commons, some people had already started using them for vegetable gardens or raising small animals. But for now, what is there to do if you don’t have family here, or have something to do other than work?

A Weyr is like a big family. Here? People are from all over. They’re friendly, but they have no connection to it other than as a place to work, and after a long day of work, the last thing I want to do is talk about it.

He saw Corvuth, D’nis’s bronze, laying on his ledge outside their weyr, halfway up the side of the mountain. A bit further away, G’aryk and Leana’s dragons were on their ledges. The sight was comforting. It looked a lot like home.

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“Hello, K’ndar!” Francie called. Her three fire lizards swooped overhead, Siskin joining them. G’aryk and Leana were there, Leana with a pile of what she called ‘nitting’ in her lap. He remembered the warm, bulky sweater he’d been given at Tillek Sea Hold. “That looks complicated,” he said, and she laughed. “I’ve been doing this so long I don’t even think of it. My fingers do the work.”

G’aryk grinned. “She’s good, too. I tried it, once. I made a strip of wool about a hands width wide and about two meters long.” They laughed.

T’balt was there. K’ndar knew very little of him other than he was a Councilman, like D’nis. He had a small chess board set up on a bench next to him. “Hello, K’ndar!! Want to play?”

He shook his head. “No thank you, sir, I have no idea how to play,”

The northerner shook his head. “Seems like I’m the only one here at Landing that can.”

“You could play the database,” G’aryk said.

“Aye, and it’d whip my arse, it would. I’ve tried it. It’s merciless.”

“Klah?” D’nis said, indicating a stone table at the back of the cavern loaded with baked goods, a bottle of wine and a pitcher of klah. He looked relaxed, and happy. K’ndar shook his sheepskin out on an empty stone bench next to the fire. D’nis had cunningly chosen a blown out volcanic dome for the fire pit. The smoke rose straight up and exited the cavern through an opening in the ceiling. Even though it wasn’t cold yet, still, somehow, a fire was a comforting thing to be next to. He snagged a mug of klah and a berry pie. Next time I’ll bring something, I don’t know what, he thought. Maybe a cheese? He took a bite. It was delicious.

He motioned to Francie, with a muffled ‘yours’?

Francie nodded. K’ndar rolled his eyes skyward in gustatory ecstasy.

“We need to do this more often,” she said, “just us dragonriders.”

They all nodded. K’ndar noted that Raylan and T’balt’s partner were missing. Not that he had any problems with someone’s weyrmate, but he, too appreciated that it was just dragonriders. I’d missed this, too, he thought. Like dragons, sometimes dragonriders just need to be with dragonriders.

“I miss it,” T’balt said. “After a hard fight with Thread, it was a way to unwind, to relax, to let the fear drain while listening to the other riders tell their “There I was” stories. Drill was a terrific idea, D’nis, and Mondevuth needs the work. Now I need it just to shut my brain up, with all the problems managing Pern entails. Petitions. Territorial disputes. Sometimes I think Thread was easier. It was more dangerous but at least it was mindless and followed the rules.”

“I did, too,” Leana said. “I suppose I could be called old minded. I liked the quarters, with all the amenities, that I was given when we first moved here, but there wasn’t enough room for two dragons, never mind one! Besides, I like living in a cave. It’s what I grew up doing.”

“I know. We all know. Some people have been born and raised here, they don’t know what it’s like to live in a cave. I don’t have the amenities you do, K’ndar, Francie, the automatic lights, for instance, but, it’s what I grew up in, and it’s comfortable. And quiet. I shut off my datalink when I leave the office and don’t turn it back on til morning,” D’nis said.

Being the most junior and youngest of the riders, K’ndar felt a bit reticent about speaking up. He looked at D’nis. “Thank you for doing this. I had the oddest feeling on my way here, I felt almost homesick for the weyr.”

“You’re welcome. Living in that building, I can easily imagine it. It’s different here, for certain. It’s not as homey a feeling. A Weyr, a Hold, is like living in a large family. Here, you’re alone. Even with a dragon in your head and heart.”

“Is D’mitran coming?” Francie asked, “He said he’d bring his ale.”

“I don’t know. His family is at Singing Waters Hold but,”

“But he’s here,” said a voice behind them. They all turned to look at the tall brown rider. He had a sheepskin in his backpack and a small keg of ale in his arms.

He grinned and placed the keg on the bench. “”My wife threatened me with sleeping outside with Careth if I didn’t come to meet with you! Go, go, she says, swiping my backend with her broom, “dragonriders need to be with dragonriders. Who’s up?” he called, brandishing the tap to the keg.

Everyone but K’ndar called out a ‘me!”. G’aryk got up to help broach the keg and was the first to get a mug. His eyes widened in appreciation.

“Whoa, this is top notch stuff, D’mitran. You made it?”

“Aye.”

“You’re a master, you are.”

“Thank you.”

They all spent a while just enjoying the conversations with the rest. Then D’nis held up his hand.

“I hate to interrupt, but one of the reasons I wanted to gather just us riders is something that Jansen brought to my attention earlier today.”

They all groaned. “Seriously, sir? Work after drill? Work after work?”

“I know. I know, but it involves a dragonrider. Not ours. Not anyone we know. Just, well, K’ndar, tell us what you know of L’ichen.”

K’ndar, caught unawares, choked on a mouthful of klah. D’mitran came over and pounded him on the back. Siskin, perched high above the gathering, dropped to just over D’mitran’s head and hissed.

“It’s okay,” he managed to sputter, “Here, lad, to me. It’s okay.” The fire lizard perched on his shoulder, glaring at D’mitran. He stroked the lizard’s head to comfort him.

The others were patient until he caught his breath, then, wondering the why of it, he related, yet again, the short time he’d spent with L’ichen., and how Raylan was so enthusiastic about the initial scan of the data.

“The oddest thing we noticed,” he said, ‘was that no Weyr claims to know who L’ichen is. Not even Kahrain, where I met him. Apparently every living dragonrider is listed in the database, now, and even many of the dead, and he’s nowhere in it.”

“Hmm! He Impressed and trained where?”

“He said Benden.”

“Where was he raised?”

“A northern hold, Greystones Hold, he said,” K’ndar said.

T’balt, counting on his fingers, said, “Kahrain doesn’t claim him. You said he did Weyrlingschool at Benden, but Benden has no record of him. He’s not in Jansen’s list. Did anyone ping Greystones Hold?”

“Not yet,” D’nis said, “They’re remote and have no fire lizards, one of us should go there and find out.”

“I’ve been there, years ago,” G’aryk said, “I can go tomorrow.”

“What about his dragon? Surely he’s in that list?”

K’ndar shook his head. “Jansen was mortified that no dragons are listed.”

“That’s stupid. Dragons should be listed, too.”

“Don’t slam her, she wasn’t the one doing the data collection, but she’s going to fix it as soon as possible. We’re thinking he’s using an alias, but I can’t figure out why.”

“He’s a rogue?”

“I don’t think so. He’s just odd. And anti-social, like Miklos, only cleaner. He acted like the kids here at Landing act, no civility. He was rude to the point where I wanted to kick him, I almost HAD to kick his arse just to learn his name. But when he finally figured out who I was, from our expedition, sir, then he was willing to talk. But only about plants.”

D’nis nodded. “Today, Jansen came to me with a problem with L’ichen’s data. Mind you, I’m a dolt when it comes to managing the database, so I wondered why she brought it to me. She started really going through the data he’d turned in. The man was meticulous, neat, a very good scientist, but some of his data appeared to be wrong.”

“In what way? Not that I know a thing about plants other than the ones I can eat and the ones I don’t dare,” G’aryk said.

“The dates of his data. The database kept fretting over the dates of his data, trying to arrange it differently than oldest hide to newest notebook. Suddenly it hit me what was going on.”

“Elaborate, sir?”

“It was as if he’d been so distracted by something else that he wrote in a wrong date. At first I thought it was just a wrong number, but when it showed up on several hides, and more than once, I knew something wasn’t right. Then Elene came in while we were puzzling over it, and said that L’ichen had returned. We’d asked her and Admin to ping him about an interview the next time he showed up. She’d given him six notebooks.”

“Who wants to interview him?” Leana asked.

“Raylan,” K’ndar said before Francie could say it, “I saw his data. It’s incredibly precise, very deep, very good. Raylan wants to talk to him with the idea of hiring him as staff botanist.”

“So was he interviewed?”

“No. Elene said he turned in six notebooks, asked for more and she said, sorry, I can only give you one at the moment, I’m out. He took it and left before she could say another word. From what I gather, he wasn’t there for more than five minutes.”

They were all quiet for several moments.

“K’ndar, how old would you say L’ichen was? Middle aged? Old?” D’nis asked.

“Um, I’d hazard a guess that he was not much older than me, maybe 25? But it was hard to tell. He acted like a punk kid, not a grown man.”

“I asked Elene, she said the same thing.”

“D’nis, did you say he turned in SIX notebooks?” T’balt asked.

“I did,” D’nis said.

“He just got six new ones a few days ago!” K’ndar protested.

“Aye. The six he turned in are full of data. Cover to cover, full of drawings, coordinates, data. Full.”

“SIX?”

“Six.”

“Sir, that’s impossible. I saw how he works. He’s on his hands and knees, with a meter transect under his nose, and he counts Every Single Plant, does a soil analysis, counts the grubs, and annotates it. It must take him days and days to fill up a couple pages. He had hides from years of data collection. How could he fill up six notebooks in as many days?” K’ndar said.

“That is why I wanted to talk to just us dragonriders.”

“What about the dates, you mentioned dates were wrong?”

“That’s what Jansen noticed, and she showed me. That’s what was so odd, so much of his data was so precise, and then he screws up a date? I’ve been turning it over and over in my head since then. The erroneous dates, some of them are two years, five years from now. Some of them are from thirty years ago! It’s as if he forgot the current date.”

They all stopped, thinking the thing through. The only sound was the crackling of the fire. K’ndar watched the sparks soar up the thermal elevator, without actually noticing them.

“No,” Francie said, softly, “He had the right dates. If he’s that careful with data on plants, if all the rest of his data makes sense, why would he screw up on something as simple as the date? And then he turns in six notebooks full of data in as many days, probably just as precise as what you say the rest of it is? No, I know what he’s doing. He’s timing it. He’s here from the future. And he’s been timing it for years.”