Chap. 296 Big Lagoon, Little Kids

Chap. 296 Big Lagoon, Little Kids

Rather than waiting for the team to assemble at Landing, K’ndar had told the team to all meet at Big Lagoon.

“You want to be there first,” D’nis said from Corvuth’s back, as K’ndar was harnessing Raventh, “It doesn’t look good for the team leader to be the last one to show up.”

“You’re right. Thank you sir.”

“Wish I could come with, K’ndar. There are times T’balt and I have to insist on leaving the meetings to exercise our dragons. The groundpounders just don’t understand.”

He stroked the neck of his bronze, Corvuth.

“It probably would do Corvuth good to go on a long flight like this. How much time do you intend to spend this morning?”

It most definitely would. Why don’t we go with them?

D’nis heaved a sigh.

Duty.

Sometimes I wish your duties didn’t keep me grounded.

I know. I’m sorry. I don’t like it, either. But we do have this morning for flying.

Why don’t we go with them?

Yes. Why not? I DO have the morning scheduled for ‘dragon time’. Nothing says I can’t do it as part of the survey! Ah, I can even say it’s part of the job. Four sets of eyes on disputed boundaries are better than three.

“I’ve planned on our surveying every other day, sir. Lord Toric’s hold is enormous. I estimate it to be 300 by 100 km. Our dragons can fly 50 kilometers per hour, but I don’t feel it necessary to push them that hard. Nor do I want to rush things, I don’t want to miss something significant. Ordinarily I’d say we would do 100 kilometer increments, like we did with the steppe and Western Continent expeditions, but this survey we’re obligated to look at every spot on the borders.”

“Yes.”

“So, I’m hoping to get in a maximum of 150 kilometers per research day. But again, it depends.”

“I think that’s a good plan, K’ndar. It gives you room to investigate things more deeply if needed, and yet you have the flexibility to skip over areas that are obviously uninhabited or uninhabitable. For instance, that marsh south of Big Lagoon, it stretches for a very long way.”

“Sixty kilometers, I estimate. By the egg, sir, had we had to do this on foot and with transits, it would take forever.”

“I believe it took Piemur four weeks just to make it from Big Lagoon to Southern Hold on foot.”

K’ndar nodded.

Corvuth wants very badly to come with us Raventh said.

“Just take it day by every other day, K’ndar. There’s no time limit on this.”

“Sir, Raventh just told me Corvuth wants to come with us.”

D’nis nodded, feeling so very odd, that he was about to ask to join a team composed of what used to be his subordinates. But times have changed, he thought-and so have I. For this one specific outing, I am not expected to make any decisions.

It felt freeing.

“He does. And so do I, K’ndar. Being a Lord Councilman is not an easy job, nor is it one I like. I do too much listening to petitioners and people griping, I do too much trying to mediate or arrange a happy medium and seldom reaching that point with disgruntled Holders, I do too much sitting, I do too much of not what I want to do. But it is what it is, for the moment. In the old times, I wouldn’t even have been allowed to discuss this with you. But times are changing, and for the better, in my opinion. And I do have the morning scheduled for what T’balt and I have started calling dragon maintenance. I’d be lying if I said I don’t want to tag along.”

“Sir. Please. I would be honored to have you with us,” K’ndar said, without hesitation.

“I promise to not interfere,”D’nis said, laughing, feeling almost as if he were a weyrling again.

K’ndar sputtered in indignation.

“Lord Councilman. If you see me missing something, or doing something wrong, I INSIST you ‘interfere’. You’ve taught me a lot, I trust your judgment, and I don’t have an ego that needs stroking.”

Somehow he felt relief at feeling a huge weight of responsibility lifted from his shoulders. Even if D’nis was ‘merely’ a tag along.

One of you has to be leader Raventh said.

K’ndar felt the nudge.

Are you ready to give orders to a bronze?

Raventh quailed.

No

Tell K’ndar there is no need for orders. I am coming with you because I want to Corvuth said.

The two men exchanged glances at their dragon’s remarks.

“Sir, I feel as if I’ve been promoted over you.”

D’nis grinned. “This is what a change of command feels like, K’ndar. One day I was Weyrleader and the next I was ‘just’ a bronze rider, and it was due to two Oldtimer’s dragons mating. Don’t worry about dragon rank. I’m doing this for my and Corvuth’s sanity, and I’ll be very happy just to ride along.”

He sobered, thinking of how his Weyrwoman and partner, Danelle, had died and how the woman who’d engineered it had taken over as Weyrwoman. His eyes involuntarily reddened at the thought of Danelle.

K’ndar saw it in his eyes. He still hurts, he still blames himself. As if he was in any way responsible?

“Those were bad days, sir. And good-the day Jenmay died was one of the happiest of my life,” he said, shivering at the thought of the harridan who’d inveigled her way into Weyrwoman.

“Despite the hurricane?”

K’ndar shrugged. “Because of the hurricane! Thank the stars for the hurricane! Jenmay had it coming. Her gold didn’t. But, sir, when you came out and said bugger that old hag, we’re evacuating, starting right now, I thought I’d break my face laughing. EVERYONE felt the same way. Even the kids.”

“I admit, it felt wonderful. You should have heard her shriek! I owe it, though, to Corvuth. I’d allowed tradition to stymie common sense. He asked me, what can she do to you?”

K’ndar looked at Corvuth and bowed. “Thank you, oh wise dragon. All of Kahrain Weyr owes you.”

The bronze rumbled, laughing in his dragon way.

He felt the huge sense of joy. Only a dragonrider can understand this feeling. I feel so sorry for those humans who will never feel it.

“Right, then,” K’ndar said, “My Lord, are you prepared to join my survey team?”

He settled his backpack and stepped up on Raventh’s bent knee. Siskin swooped down and took his accustomed perch behind Raventh’s head.

D’nis nodded. “What is it Rahman the Starsmith says? Lead on?”

“MacDuff!”

He was amazed at the Lagoon. From his perch on Raventh, he could see a stretch of sandy beach bordering the lagoon. It was crisscrossed by shorebirds, busily stitching the sand. Over head, a flock of the big sea wherries circled overhead, immediately intrigued at the sight of Siskin.

Siskin hissed, and stayed close to K’ndar’s head. Wherries would readily attack and kill fire lizards, but wouldn’t dare doing so to a dragon.

The barrier to the sea was composed of large, guano covered crags of rock. Birds and wherries were perched atop each one, some preening, some bickering with a neighbor. One of the barrier rocks formed an unusual silhouette of what someone’s fevered imagination had thought resembled a horned cow, and designated that as the lagoon’s dragonstone. There were breaks in the barrier, allowing the sea in during high tide to mix with the influx of the fresh water from the river.

He dismounted and followed a path through head high sedges to the edge of the lagoon. It opened onto the beach. The beach was strewn with dried sea grasses, feathers, bones, cracked claws and shells of all sorts: the detritus of ocean beyond.

The beach ended at the edge of the water, replaced by basalt rocks, worn smooth by eons of pounding surf. They were pockmarked with countless tide pools. The tide was out and he could pick his way from rock to rock out almost to the barrier.

On the seaward side of the barrier, the surf pounded against the rocks, furious at being cut off from the shore. Foamy water flushed through the narrow breaks in the barrier, covering the rocks and getting his boots wet.

He was astonished to see brilliantly colored fish in the tide pools. Small invertebrates scuttled here and there. The air was laden with the smell of fish, both alive and dead, drying sea grasses and above it all, the scent of the sea itself. Small sea birds wandered on the surface of the rocks, hunting prey. Far out to sea, he could hear the smaller species of sea wherries plaintive ‘skeeeer’ as they coursed over the waves.

Siskin launched from his perch. He landed on a rock ahead of K’ndar, twisting his head at the sight of the fish just below the surface of the water. Then he unhesitatingly plunged in, snatched a crab that K’ndar had not seen despite looking right at it, and emerged, chittering in happiness. A large sea wherry dived at him, but he dodged it with a hiss and fled to the safety of Raventh’s forelegs. No wherry would dare attack him when he had his giant cousin to protect him.

“Beautiful day to start a survey,” D’nis called.

Beautiful day to start investigating the fabulous biome, K’ndar thought, but I can’t do it today. I’ll come back next rest day. This is absolutely fascinating.

Siskin looked up from his crab and whickered. At the same moment, Raventh bugled a greeting to Careth as the dragon appeared from between.

He hurried across the slippery rocks to meet up.

“Don’t run on that stuff, K’ndar, it’s probably slippery,” D’nis called. Careth set his wings and landed with a thump. D’mitran looked surprised. Two dragons? That’s obviously Corvuth, and D’nis? What is this?

It is Corvuth. He wants to fly with us today Careth informed him.

K’ndar returned to the narrow beach. It was bordered by a mix of dragon high, plumed sea grasses and a species of sedge. He inadvertently brushed his arm against one of the sedges as he followed the narrow path back to the where the dragons had landed. Something sharp scraped his arm through his sleeve. He stopped and touched one of the sedges gingerly, grateful for his riding gloves. The sedges were concave, the edges serrated in such a way that they could easily interlock if one edge was turned upside down. He checked his arm, but it was unharmed other than a few lines where the serrations had touched him.

Raventh bugled again. B’rost on Rath, Risal behind him, appeared in the sky.

Careth, Corvuth and Raventh all moved aside to give Rath landing room on the sand.

This area had no sedges but was spangled with late blooming beach flowers in amongst knee high grasses. Sand had build up in miniature dunes at their windward side, anchoring the beach. Tiny insects bustled about, and a hunting vespid-he wondered if it was the same species that had stung him in the jungle-purposefully flew just above the sand. He was surprised to see it land and enter a tiny burrow. Vespids dig burrows?

Yes. I most definitely must return, he thought.

The blue dragon swirled downwards, light as down. Rath was big, for a blue, a point B’rost had taken great pains to mention when they were in Weyrlingschool. Funny, he thought, that we no longer worry about who’s dragon is bigger, or faster, or has more endurance anymore. The blue landed and said hello to the other dragons.

“My Lord D’nis, good morning! And you, K’ndar! Good morning!” B’rost called.

Risal, behind him, said “Morning, all!”

“Before you all ask,” D’nis said, having dismounted, “I am coming along for the ride. I’m just a tag along.”

D’mitran grinned. “Looks like the old steppe team is back in force!”

They heard children’s voices.

“Hello, hello!” “Dragons, hello!”

D’mitran said, “A handful of kids, inbound through the vegetation.”

A group of children emerged from the tunnel formed by the vegetation. They carried sacks and knives. Many of them were wearing conical hats, made of what appeared to be the same species of plant as that they’d just passed through.

“Dragons! Hello, dragons!” The children stopped, awed at the sight.

“Hello, there! Where are you from?” K’ndar called.

One boy stood in front of the others. “Big Lagoon Hold, of course! We’re coming to harvest arsters for dinner. What are you doing here?” he directed at Risal.

Risal glanced at K’ndar, wondering how much she should admit. He shrugged. “We’re surveyors,” she said.

“What’s a surveyor?”

K’ndar shot her a warning glance.

“Surveyors run transects using latitude and longitudinal coordinates,” she said.

The boy’s eyes glazed.

“Oh. I don’t know what that means. Is it fun?”

B’rost laughed. “No. It means using math.”

The crowd of kids groaned. “Oh, I don’t like math.”

“Me, neither.”

“We used to have a harper who wanted us to do math but Lord Toric told Lord Corba to send him off, so we don’t get school anymore. That makes me mad,” said a little girl.

“Ssh,” said the older boy, shushing her. It wasn’t smart to criticize one’s Lord Holder.

K’ndar felt a thrill of despair. No, really? Another holder, refusing the let the kids learn?

“She didn’t mean it, sir,” the boy said, fear in his eyes.

“I know, don’t worry. We aren’t here to get anyone in trouble,” K’ndar said.

“Do your dragons flame the lat, um long, um,” a girl asked.

“Oh, not at all. They’re just numbers, not a thing.”

“That doesn’t sound very interesting.”

“It’s not. So, what do you do in Big Lagoon Hold?”

“We make baskets.”

“Baskets?”

“Yes. We hafta go out and cut down all these sedges? and they’re sharp, the edges cut your hands if you don’t wear gloves. But after we soak them in freshwater, they soften up, then the crafters weave ’em into baskets and then they dry and they don’t cut your hands up anymore.”

“And we make other things, too. Like screens that let the breeze come in but not the sun,” said a little girl.

“And hats! My mum makes ’em and they fit on your head and keep the sun out of your eyes and you don’t get headaches,” another girl piped, pointing to the cone on her head.

“That’s smart! I think I’ve seen your baskets,” Risal said. “You make the very best baskets. I’ve seen where you can fill some with water! and they don’t leak.”

“Aye. Iffen you weave ’em right, they won’t leak, but maybe a little,” the boy said, proudly.

“An’ iffen you line ’em with sea grass things stay nice and cool,” said the little girl.

“Also we harvest numbweed but I don’t like making the salve. But Lord Corba says we’re going to make a lot of it and everyone else will come and buy it because no one likes cooking it.”

“I saw the numbweed plain when we were flying in,” B’rost said.

“So Lord Corba is your Lord Holder?”

They were all quiet for several moments. Then the older boy said, “Lord Corba is Big Lagoon’s Holder. He’s Lord Toric’s son. My dad says we’re too big to be a cothold and too small to be a real hold. First we was our own Hold but then Lord Toric said this land was his, and if we wanted to stay here we had to look to his son as Lord Holder. So we did. It’s okay. Lord Corba is a good holder. He says as long as we tithe, Lord Toric lets us call ourselves Big Lagoon Hold. Are you from Southern Weyr? ‘Cuz you’re not Lord Toric’s dragonriders. I don’t ‘member seeing your dragons afore.”

Risal glanced at K’ndar.

“No,” he said, wonderingly, “Remember we said we’re surveying? We’re from Landing, doing science.”

“Better be careful, Lord Toric, he don’t like dragonriders who don’t look to him,” another boy said.

“Why is that?”

The boy scratched his head. “Dunno why, Southern Weyr riders allus been good to us. They do sweeps and they took my auntie to Cove Hold when she had a baby get stuck. But we don’t say nothin’ to Lord Toric ’bout them. Lord Corba says we should just be quiet about dragonriders what aren’t Lord Toric’s.”

“He says it’s cotholder biness, not ‘is father’s,” said the little girl, defiantly. An older girl shook her arm. “Shh!! Not so loud!”

The four all exchanged glances of surprise.

“Your dragons are really pretty. Maybe you can come to the Hold after?” said the little girl.

“Maybe. It’s a lot of work, we’ll probably be tired afterwards. But thank you very much,” Risal said, thinking the girl was adorable in her cone hat.

“Where are you going?”

“Well, we were planning on just following this river to see where it leads,” K’ndar said.

The older girl said, “It leads due south and ends up in a big lake. But in between is Dreadful Marsh. It’s too thick for even us marsh folk to navigate, and we know our way in the marsh better than anyone,” she said.

“How far does it go?” Risal asked.

“To the moons!!” the smaller girl crowed.

“No it don’t, silly, not all the way to the moons,” another boy chided.

“Well, it looks like it to ME,” the girl said.

“That’s cuz you’s just a little ‘un,” said another.

“I’m NOT little,” the girl protested.

“Shush,” said the older girl. She returned her attention to Risal. “It goes for a long way, even so, ma’am. Sometimes people go into it and never find their way out. Lord Toric , when he banishes someone, he has his dragonrider drop them off in the middle of Dreadful Marsh. They didn’t ever come out.”

“Yeah,” said another, “if they don’t get cut up by the sedges, they get bit by the wallawaits.”

“Wallawait?” K’ndar wondered what that was.

“Wallawaits! They’re really long, almost as long as that blue dragon. They got long jaws and big teeth, big! And they lay in the water with only their eyes up to see you and then they jump outa the water and grab your legs and drag you under til you drown!”

“That sounds like a very dangerous place.”

“It IS!”

“I think we will take your advice and just fly over it. Thank you for your help,” K’ndar said.

“You’re welcome!” The boy turned to the children. “Okay, let’s go, we’ve got to get to harvesting. Don’t slip on the rocks, and don’t lose your arster knife!!” he said. The older girl nodded and led the smaller children to the narrow path that led to the lagoon, their canvas buckets bumping on their sides. He waited until they were out of sight, then approached the riders.

“Please, sir, don’t say nothing ’bout the little uns disrespecting Lord Corba. He’s not like ‘is dad. Please. They didn’t mean no harm.” His face was a mix of dismay and pleading.

“Don’t you worry, lad. We didn’t hear any disrespect,” D’mitran reassured the boy.

The boy looked relieved.”Thank you.” He turned to follow the rest of the children, then stopped once more. “I would like to be a dragonrider, some day, at a real Weyr.”

“We’ll keep you in mind when we’re on a Search,” D’nis said. The boy smiled and followed the rest.

There were raised eyebrows all round.

“Good call, Risal,” K’ndar said. “I wasn’t sure what to say.”

“Thanks. But it disturbs me that Lord Toric is keeping harpers out.”

“Aye. And maybe Healers, too?”

“What do you mean?”

“A ‘stuck baby’ means a woman is having problems birthing,” B’rost said, “Sometimes it’s a breach birth, sometimes the baby has an arm back or a leg folded. Any healer worth his or her salt would have been able to handle that. Cove Hold is a lot closer to here than Healer Hall, but any trip between poses a danger to a woman in the middle of the birth process, never mind just trying to transport her. The baby may not survive between,” he said, shaking his head in dismay.

“And then there’s the fact, apparently, that Lord Toric has his own coterie of dragonriders, despite the boycott.”

“Rogues.”

“Yes.”