Chap. 368 The Western Gather

K’ndar was just finishing breakfast when P’jar approached his table with a loaded tray. He put it down across from K’ndar and asked, “Got room for me, mate?” K’ndar grinned, making a show of perusing the virtually empty hall.

“Well, I dunno, it seems pretty crowded here this morning,” he said.

“Where is everybody?” P’jar asked.

“I’m not sure. I guess most of them sleep in on rest days.”

“Sluggards,” P’jar said, as he began demolishing his breakfast, “Where I’m from, we’ve got half a day’s work done by now.”

“Same here,” K’ndar said, “I like having the place empty, it lets me plan my day without being interuppted.”

P’jar flinched.

“Not meaning you! So, how do you like it here at Landing? I’ve not had a chance to talk to you up til now.” K’ndar said, recovering from the unintended gaffe.

“It’s taken me two weeks just to get my bearings around this place. I bet the escorts got tired of me wandering about in circles. No, it would be rectangles, what? Reception has been amazingly kind to me, considering I see the kids running for cover when they see me coming back AGAIN.”

K’ndar laughed. “If it hadn’t been for my fire lizard, I’d STILL be wandering about in rectangles. The bolsters on the corners help a lot, I live at 2001 Belior, everything is in alphabetical order on the horizontal axis and numbered, starting at 1000, going vertical and up. Every corner has a named and numbered bolster, the first three numbers of a four number address. But, you opted to live in the mountain, right?”

“Aye,” P’jar nodded, chewing, “Falconth’s big for a brown, and he prefers living at a height. So much of the mountain is empty weyrs, and without inhabitants, they all look alike. But Lord D’nis’s weyr is a few over to my left and Lord T’balt’s is to my right, so when we fly in, all Falconth needs do is look for two big bronzes and go in the middle. Like book ends.”

He sipped at his klah.

“Then there’s the work. I swear, Raylan’s been stockpiling projects since Lefsa? the woman who was botanist before me? She moved out to my area, she’s at Western Hold now. Odd sort of woman, I’d say, but fortunately I didn’t have much to do with her. I don’t know much about her other than, well, like my mum used to say, ‘poor thing, she means well.” I think she had more heart than experience, a lot of her data is either incomplete or incomprehensible. Between dodging Raylan and trying to make sense of Lefsa’s research, and getting lost every other try, it’s a wonder I’ve found time to eat.”

K’ndar nodded, feeling a twinge at the idea of gossiping.

“Lefsa was silly, almost as if she’d never really matured. She later claimed to be a taxonomist rather than a botanist. I figured out why. She was afraid to go bush whacking, and we both know you’re not going to find the interesting stuff alongside the pathway. Did you see any of the work done by a blue rider named L’ichen?”

P’jar nodded emphatically. “Now there was a field botanist after my own heart. His data is almost mechanical, it’s so precise, but Raylan said everyone suspects he was timing it from the future.”

“Yes. And if you think Lefsa was strange, she was perfectly normal compared to L’ichen. I absolutely believe he was from the future. Tellingly, we’ve not seen him since.” Wondering if he should broach what might be a sensitive subject, he asked tactfully, “What do you mean, dodging Raylan?”

P’jar unconsciously looked around to see if they were being overheard. They weren’t.

The big man cleared his throat. “I didn’t mean it to sound that way, but it feels as if he doesn’t trust me. I feel like I’m a weyrling again, he’s just waiting to catch me screwing off when I’m supposed to be doing something like cleaning the latrine.”

K’ndar nodded, wondering how far he should trust the man.

“He can be that way, P’jar. It’s not personal, trust me. He’s just a bit, well, angst ridden. I don’t know if it’s pressure from his boss, but he’ll hover over you until you’ve proven that you’re not skyhooting off, then he’ll ease up.

Despite his being married to a dragonrider, he doesn’t, well, he does now, I hope, he doesn’t know how self-disciplined we dragonriders are. You have to make him understand that. I’m not boasting, but, if you’re like me, I hate being micromanaged. Tell me what you want done and leave me to get on with the job. I’ll get it done. It only takes a few incidents for him to realize you are dependable.”

He felt a strange sense of sagacity. No one has ever asked me for advice about life at Landing, he thought. Or anything else, for that matter.

“It’s possibly why Lefsa left. She was a nice person, I suppose, but she had issues. She was fairly scatterbrained. Maybe some of that was due to that lout she was married to, but she could be annoying. I was so new here I didn’t pay attention, but I believe Raylan was constantly having to ride herd on her.

The best advice I can give, P’jar, is to prove to him that you can be trusted to do your job without needing hand holding and he’ll back off,” he said.

“Thanks, K’ndar, I knew I could get straight talk from you.”

“Don’t be afraid to stand up on your hind legs and roar if he gets too pushy, but honestly, he’s a good bloke to work for,” K’ndar said, remembering how he’d had to do just that.

For several moments, P’jar relished the fresh fruit on his plate. We don’t get this at home, he thought. There are advantages living closer to the equator than Western Weyr.

“Ever been to Western Weyr, K’ndar?” P’jar asked, after easing his hunger pangs.

He shook his head. “Never. I’ve wanted to, I know the Hold breeds some excellent horses there. Francie’s horse is steppe bred, from somewhere near Western Hold.”

P’jar nodded. “That’s true, although I confess, I don’t know much about horses other than I do know how to ride. I grew up on Western Hold, my family farms arsters.”

“Arsters. Arsters? What’s arsters?”

“It’s a shellfish. They’re native to Pern, although apparently Terra had something very similar before they went extinct, so the colonists called them arsters.” He looked at him strangely. “Is my accent that bad?”

“Well, I will admit that very few Westerners come this far east, so, yes, I guess so. Is it spelled ay ar ess tee ee ar?”

“Nay. Oh why ess tee ee ar.”

“Ah,” K’ndar said, “Yeah, we pronounce it OY ster. I’ve heard of them, but apparently they don’t like the northern coastline.” He resisted the urge to tease the dragonrider. “So do I have an accent, to you?”

“Yes, but then, everyone here has the same one, so I guess I stand out, no, is it speak out? from the crowd.

It’s strange how quickly we seem to have changed the language, considering Western wasn’t even colonized until thirty years ago. When the Oldtimers moved South to Toric’s Hold? After a decade of his noise many of them got sick of Toric and headed west. As for the arsters, I’m not surprised they don’t grow on the north coast, the water is too warm. Arsters like it cold. And the west coast has frigid waters. The only people who actually swim in those waters are surfers, and they’re insane to begin with.”

“Surfers?”

“Wave riders. It’s incredible what they do. I tried it several times but just don’t have the knack. That and I learned early on the ocean will kill you if you give her a chance. The surfers dare it all the time. Say, being that it’s a rest day, what say we fly out to Western? You’ll see surfers, guaranteed, and besides, the Hold’s holding a Gather and they’re usually a lot of fun. Are you in?”

“Uh,” he hesitated, “Western’s about twenty hours behind us, time zone, right?” It’s the middle of the night there.”

“K’ndar, are you serious? You worry about time zones?”

“Of course I do. The time changes knock me for a loop. Every time I have to take Rahman back to Western Continent, it affects me.”

P’jar looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “K’ndar, no. Where are you getting this idea?”

K’ndar bridled at his tone. “I’ve been that far west, P’jar, and leaving here at oh dark thirty means I get there at bed time.”

“Why are you, um, I don’t understand, K’ndar.”

“P’jar, you’ll find out that being a dragonrider at Landing isn’t like being in your home weyr. Most dragonriders stay right in their home Weyr, the farthest they go is to the edges of their Weyr’s designated Thread fall zones, so there’s no worrying about what time it is elsewhere. Now that you’re here, you’ll go all over the planet and each place is in a different time zone.”

P’jar shook his head. “Let me guess, you’re gauging that based on the map in Flight Ops.”

“Well, yes,” he said, defensively, “Don’t you?”

“I don’t need to, you don’t need to.”

“I do, now, like I said, I’ve been to a lot of Holds and Weyrs. Like right now, it’s dark at Western. It’s what, twenty two hours behind us.”

“K’ndar. That map is flat. It reads from left to right, yes? Western on that map starts at zero one hundred, the east coast, about what, two hours from here, is twenty four hundred. But the people who made that map forgot to factor in the time zones for the ocean between Southern’s east coast and Western’s west. Did the cartographers think that there was no time in the middle of the ocean? That whole map is wrong. It’s biased to land based data, NOT land AND sea. And it’s flat.”

“But,” K’ndar started, his mind reeling. How could a map be wrong?

“Pern is ROUND, K’ndar, round like a ball. If it’s twenty four hundred hours on the east coast, it’s zero six hundred at Western. Six hours over the ocean, K’ndar! You’re not obligated to only fly west because the map shows it. You can fly east just as easily. Western is AHEAD of Landing in terms of what time it is.”

The epiphany was like a pishnuck to the head. He flushed in embarrassment and astonishment. Yet in the back of his mind he knew there was a logical reason why he’d grown accustomed to using the time zones. As usual, the thought stayed hidden.

His eyes met P’jar’s. They looked embarassed.

I’ve humiliated him, P’jar thought. I didn’t mean to. He’s a good cobber, I like him a lot. And stars knows I need a friend here.

“Shards. Since the very first day of Weyrlingschool, the first time I saw a full map of Pern, yes, it’s been left to right, Western at the far left and the steppe, our east coast all the way to the right. And when I’ve flown to Far Western Continent, its’ been with the vector as being northwest, because that’s the way it is on the map,” he stammered, trying to salve his pride.

“It never occured to me to fly east. Between is between, it doesn’t matter what direction. I’m an idiot. I’m more than an idiot, I’m a moron,” he moaned. “No wonder no one taught me about time zones at Weyrling School. Duh.”

The reason taunted him from its hidden crevice.

P’jar laughed. “Nah. Maps lie, K’ndar. The maps we saw in Weyrlingschool are flat because it’s an easy way to portray the continents, NOT the planet. If the map was a true representation of Pern, well, that’s backwards. If Pern were flat, and they added time zones for the ocean, the map would be utterly true. But we all know every planet in the galaxy, every star, is round.

For that matter, every map I’ve seen is very good at showing Northern Holds and weyrs. Not Southern, because, well, Southern was re-inhabited what, fifty years ago? When F’nor went back in time to raise up more dragons? The mapmakers haven’t really given us Southerners more than a passing glance. There’s folks up north who think we’re still rubbing sticks together to make a cooking fire. Even now, Southern is portrayed as mostly wilderness.”

“That is true, it mostly still is. I’ve discovered several new animals, just by knocking around, and many of them act as if they’ve never seen a human, or a dragon, for that matter, before.”

“Aye. So if someone from, say, Terra, were to see the maps that are all over Pern, he’d very likely think that no one lives on Southern. And we both know differently. By the way, why DO you vector with the time zones?”

“Argh, it’s a good reason, I just, can’t get my brain to spit it out. It’s Right There,” he said, tapping his forehead.

“I don’t, and I don’t know anyone who does, so it must have something to do with Landing,” P’jar said.

The thought flashed into clarity.

“That’s it! That’s it! It’s Rahman, the astronomer? He likes me, I’m his usual transporter. I’ve taken him back and forth to Far Western continent several times as he runs the telescopes there. He always wants to get there at sundown, he’d prefer even later, but you know how it is, we don’t like to fly after dark.”

Yes. Yes. Now I feel better, he thought.

“Okay, that makes sense. I didn’t mean to make you feel stupid, K’ndar. I just wondered why you’d go through all that trouble for no reason. But still, when I go east or west, which, okay, I’ll admit it, I never had to, really, I never left Western Weyr until I got hired here. I just push the dragonstones like they’re seen in daylight, no matter where it is.”

“But, P’jar, that means timing it. And I’m sure you know Benden Weyr has forbidden us to time it except in EXTREME emergencies.”

P’jar looked at him with an unfathomable expression.

“Maybe it’s good that I was raised far, far away from Benden’s influence, anything Northern way of thinking. Us Westerners, K’ndar, we’re orphans. The Hold is small and my Weyr even smaller, and for whatever reason, WHEN we had Thread fall, it was so slight, as if it were the very edges of a big cloud. Consequently, we’ve been ignored for so long we’ve learned to cherish our independence. Most of us dragonriders have diversified, sort of like Landing is doing, like you, being a biologist as well as a dragonrider. I agree that Benden Weyr is the defacto leader of Pern, I’m not going to be the one who says they don’t know what they’re talking about. I wouldn’t want the job of being a weyrleader of ANY Weyr, not just Benden.”

“That’s me. But everyone listens to Benden’s leaders. It’s just..normal.”

“Yes, but K’ndar, even Benden Weyr’s leaders can be wrong, and in this case, they are. Think of it. We time it all the time. ALL of us dragonriders do, without thinking. Lessa and F’lar, I trust that now, they do understand the ramifications, of time travel, so the ban is for strictly safety’s sake. It’s dangerous, no doubt.

Can you imagine the wreckage if someone went back in time in order to kill Lessa before she could bring the Old Timers forward? None of us would be here. And don’t forget, there’s always some dumbarse Weyrling who thinks he’ll time his way out of a curfew violation. I’m sure you’ve heard tales of Weyrlings or even experienced riders just disappearing forever.

But in general, when you think of a dragonstone, let’s say, Lemos Hold because that’s been on everyone’s lips the last two weeks, you don’t think, oh, I have to do the math, it’s six hours behind Landing, and if it’s six in the evening here, it must be noontime there, right? No, you push the dragonstones to your dragon and he sees it in daylight. It doesn’t matter what time it is when you leave here, it’s daytime when you get there. It’s just that the day is a bit shorter or longer, and you catch that back up when you get home.”

He laughed at K’ndar’s expression. “Shut your mouth, mate. You’ll catch flies that way.”

______________________________________________________________

They came out of between over a rocky coastline. Far to the south, glacier capped mountains soared through the clouds. The sun glittered on towering, curling waves that crashed into the rock strewn shoreline. There was no sandy beach upon which to lounge and build sand structures. Much of the coastline was composed of high cliffs, streaked white with the guano of countless seabirds and enormous sea wherries. He watched them plunge into the sea in great clouds, rising from the depths with fish. The ones that came up empty mouthed chased the more successful hunters.

To his right, he saw a large harbor, with a natural jetty tempering the ocean’s onslaught. Two ships rode at anchor. Close to the shore, he could see a series of frameworks in the water, looking like drowned chess boards. Two small boats were working their way up one of the edges.

The Hold and Weyr were a long ways from the shoreline. The Weyr’s honeycombed rock face was so much like Kahrain Weyr K’ndar felt nostalgia pinging his heart.

The Hold’s main road was lined with canopies and tents, and a large crowd of people moved amongst them. He could hear singing, children squealing as they played some Gather game, and the beat of a drum.

He could see wagons on a road, going to and from the shore. Some people were on horseback, and he could see draft horses with empty wagons, near the shoreline. What were they waiting on? He could see no skiffs near the ships.

He heard the watch dragon’s call.

Falconth is talking to the watch dragon Raventh said. Siskin, secure behind Raventh’s head, chittered.

He wants to go fishing.

“Let me land first,” P’jar called, “Due to the Gather, the dragons have all been sited a bit south of the regular dragon bowl.”

Western Weyr’s dragons were an indication on just how small it was. He counted two golds, five bronzes and a lot of greens. No blues or browns?

There are five browns, not counting us, and about twenty blues. They’re further south of the rest.

Any reason why?

Raventh was silent for a moment.

They are getting ready for a race.

A race? Like a horse race?

No! A DRAGON race!

He dismounted. Siskin launched from Raventh’s head, chittering in consternation.

He wants to go fishing, but he knows how bad the sea wherries can be, they’ll steal his catch.

He doesn’t HAVE to have fish, I’m sure there’s something here he can find and eat.

As if hearing them, a large insect flushed from underneath Raventh’s forepaw. Siskin pounced on it and immediately killed it.

“Guess that answers that, Sis?” as the blue crunched it.

P’jar came up to them. “He’s a hunter?”

“Aye. All fire lizards are.”

“I’ve heard about them. He’s handsome.”

Siskin looked at him and chipped.

“He understood me?”

“Yes. They’re highly intelligent, but they don’t talk to us in words, like dragons. Just images, feelings, that sort of thing.”

They watched as Siskin contentedly devoured the insect.

“Raventh said something about dragon racing?”

The man laughed. “Aye, and that was one of the reasons I wanted to come back today. I’m going to race in about forty five minutes. It’s fun, K’ndar, you ought to try it. We break it down into colors, except for the golds, they don’t race, they’re stationed here, they start the race and call the winner as he crosses the finish line, behind us.”

He pointed at a ridge line that was surmounted by a line of stone pinnacles. “The greens have already raced. I think the blues race in about half an hour, they race around those stone pinnacles, the Five Fangs. You horse folk call the similar race ‘pole bending.’ Whereas browns, we go straight line distance, out to the tallest pinnacle. The best event, though, is the bronzes. They race high and far, like when they’re chasing a gold. That is the last race, I’m expecting they’ll start half an hour after the browns.”

“I’ve never heard of it. I’m not sure I’d want to try, not on such short notice.”

“There’s nothing you need that you don’t already have, K’ndar. It’s how fast can your dragon fly. But,” he frowned, “it might be too late to enter Raventh anyway. We so seldom get visitors. But what the hey, it can’t hurt to ask, it’s a while before us browns race. Do you want to? I’ll talk to the stewards. “

K’ndar weighed the concept.

“Come on, mate. It’s fun. It costs three marks to enter your dragon, and if you win, you get it all back. Winner takes all. If you don’t have the money, I can lend you some.”

“Thank you,” K’ndar said, still flustered, “I have money. Let me, um, think?”

I could beat them, Raventh said, guaging the five browns on the ground. They’re all bigger than me.

“That’s all right, Raventh is sure he could beat Falconth and every other brown, but I think I’d just watch.”

P’jar laughed. “Falconth says to tell you, ‘don’t bet on it.”

But he probably can beat you, Falconth, he said to his dragon, he’s got wings like a raptor. He looks fast even just here on the ground.

I don’t want to try him.

Spoilsport.

Yes.

“Come on, K’ndar, race with us. It’ll be fun, and afterwards after the bronzes race, you can try arsters, we can cruise the Gather.”

“The browns race just one leg out, one back?”

“Aye. See that pinnacle a couple kilometers out, usually there’s a big flag flying from it?”

“Um, no. I see five pinnacles, spread out.”

“Aye. The Five Fangs. I’m talking about the tallest, it’s furthest west along that ridge line. The blues race what they call a slalom, it’s like pole bending on horseback. Which I’ve never done, horse racing, mind you. There’ll be a big flag on it, it’s down right now. When it goes up, that means it’s three minutes to start. The race itself is simple. Go left around the flagged pinnacle, keep two wing lengths horizontally from other dragons, two dragons vertically. Stay in your lane, if you purposefully block another dragon’s flightpath you’re disqualified.”

“How far out is it?” he asked, wishing he’d brought his binocular.

“It’s six kilometers out. What we do is everyone launches, right over our heads, we hover until we’re all in a fair line, and the golds, not a human, the GOLDS yell GO! So you hang on tight for the start! You fly out to the pinnacle, full speed, go around it and come back fast as you can. The first dragon to pass that flag just behind me? They’re the winner.”

“No going between, I bet.”

“Oh, absolutely not. That’s cheating. Funny thing, the fastest are the greens, of course, and they are the most likely to go between. They can’t stand someone being faster. And it’s usually the dragon’s idea, the girls all want to race fair and square.” He laughed.

Motanith would cheat, I think. She hates being second in anything Raventh said.

P’jar could see K’ndar weighing it.

“K’ndar. Race. Give me three marks, I’ll go down and put you down for the Browns Race. Okay? If they say no, you’ve lost nothing.”

Submitting to the inevitable, K’ndar felt in his pouch for three marks. He unconsciously checked them to see if they were real. P’jar saw it-and laughed. “I’ve been doing the same thing, K’ndar. Funny how I’d never even heard of counterfeiting until a few weeks ago.”

“Is it okay if Siskin rides while we’re racing? He doesn’t like to be separated when there’s no other fire lizards to play with.”

“If he can hang on, sure. We don’t have many fire lizards here, it’s not the right habitat for them. “

P’jar was about to walk off when he turned.

“Do you bet, K’ndar?”

“Um, no. Not usually. Why?”

“The punters have half an hour to put up their prices, they close up two minutes before post time, and I can see some of them are just now starting to mark up their slates for the blues race.

If you’re a gambler, there’s a blue named Garth. He must be pushing fifty, he and his rider came down here with the Oldtimers although they’re not Oldtimers, they’re originally from Ista Weyr. When you see him you can see the Thread scars all over him, but it hasn’t slowed him a bit. He’s still agile as yearling. Garth hasn’t been beaten the last three Gathers. I’m not wasting a bet on him, he’s going to win it. Again.”

“Um,” he started, completely unsettled. “The only time I ever bet was at a horse race. I had no idea what I was doing, I just sort of blundered in.”

“I usually bet even though I can’t read a horse. Did you win?”

“Yes.”

“Just, yes? Did you win big?”

“Is seventeen marks big?

It was P’jar’s turn to look gobsmacked.

“Did you say seventeen?”

“Well, seventeen and a half.”

“Oh my stars, shaff yes, that’s big. How did you do that?”

“I know horses better than my own name, but I got a tip from a Wanderer, he told me to bet the filly, and she came through.”

“Fair and square?”

“Aye. The Wanderers are just bipedal horses, you know. What they don’t know about horses wouldn’t fill a nutshell.”

“At what odds?”

“The filly? Thirty five to one.”

P’jar staggered. “I’ve misjudged you, K’ndar. What bollocks you have! You bet half a mark on a thirty five to one filly? I’ve never bet that much. What am I saying, I’ve never WON that much.”

K’ndar laughed. “It was dumb luck, P’jar. I was staring at the punter’s board, wondering what all those numbers meant, and some bloke behind me shoved me and said, come on idiot, shopping time is over. Make your bet or get out of line, and I just pulled out the first coin I felt in my pouch. A half mark.”

P’jar whistled. “The horse racing is this afternoon, and if you don’t mind, I’m going to stick by you.”

“It was just luck, P’jar, I can’t promise a win like that again,” K’ndar protested.

“No matter, mate, you’re a horseman. I’ll trust you to show me what to look for in a horse.”

That would take a lifetime, K’ndar thought, but he let it go unspoken.

I wonder if I should put a mark on Raventh, P’jar thought, as he headed for the stewards canopy. He’s sure to go off at big odds.

You think Raventh is going to win? He isn’t faster than me Falconth said, his tone a mix of wounded pride and dismay.

Um..no, of course not. It’s just, we’re not allowed to bet on our own dragons, see? I’m sure he’ll get beat.

By me Falconth said.