island. When I refused, he said that he’d be satisfied that I’d done my duty to the Hold if I told him where the rebels had made their camp. His argument was that we overfly the island during a Pass so we’d see where they were, and that information would assist him in suppressing the rebellion. When I refused, he started to harass some of the older bronze riders, suggesting that I’m too young to know my duty to the Lord Holder.”
“I trust he’s had no joy on that score,” F’lar said sharply.
K’van shook his head. “No, they told him that such action was not a Weyr responsibility. Then—” The young Weyrleader hesitated.
“Then?” F’lar prompted grimly.
“He tried to bribe one of my blue riders with the promise of finding him a suitable friend.”
“That is enough!” F’lar’s expression darkened, and he irritably pushed hair back from his forehead. “Lessa!” he called, beckoning urgently to her.
When F’lar explained K’van’s problem, she was equally incensed.
“You’d think he’d know better by this time not to try to bully dragonriders,” she said, her voice crisp with anger. When she saw K’van’s apprehensive expression, she gave him a reassuring touch. “It’s scarcely your fault Toric is as greedy as a Bitran.”
“Desperate, more like,” K’van said with the hint of a smile. “Master Idarolan told me that Toric had offered him a small fortune in gems and a fine harbor if he’d sail a punitive force to the Island. But he wouldn’t. And, furthermore, he’s told all the other Shipmasters that they’re not to help Toric in this matter. They won’t, either.”
“Toric has ships of his own,” Lessa said irritably.
K’van had relaxed enough to grin. “But none large enough to transport a sufficiently large force to be effective. His landing parties have been ambushed and either wounded severely enough to make them useless or imprisoned by the rebels.” His grin grew broader. “I’ve got to hand it to Denol—he’s clever. But I wanted to tell you what’s been happening before lies or rumors got back to you—or other Lord Holders complained about our attitude.”
“Quite correct, K’van,” F’lar said.
“We’ll have to find time to visit Lord Toric,” Lessa said, a steely look in her eyes. Then she smiled, a nasty smile that made K’van relieved that it was not directed against him. “Lord Toric
needs
a full report on Aivas and what’s happening here at Landing. I think we’ll inform him ourselves, F’lar?”
“I’m not sure when,” F’lar said with a sigh. “But we’ll make the time somehow. K’van, just keep your Weyr out of Toric’s squabble.”
“I shall!” And there was no doubt in the Benden Weyrleaders’ minds that he would. K’van had been a determined and responsible youngster, and now that he was grown to manhood, those traits were refined. He would stand against Toric simply because Toric didn’t think he could.
“Now, place this plug,” Aivas told Piemur, illustrating the appropriate one on the monitor, “in this female socket!” When Piemur had complied, Aivas went on. “There should be a green light on the base of the monitor.”
“There isn’t,” Piemur said in a voice that was almost a wail. He sighed gustily, hanging on to his patience.
“Then there is a faulty connection. Remove the cover and check the boards, mother, input-output, and memory,” Aivas said. It didn’t help Piemur’s temper that Aivas seemed totally unruffled by yet another failure. It simply wasn’t normal for an entity to be so bloody methodically insensitive. “Machines must first be properly assembled before they can function as they were designed. That is the first step. Be patient. It is only a matter of discovering which is the faulty connection.”
Piemur found that he was trying to bend the screwdriver in his hand. He took a deep breath and, not daring to look to either side of him, where Benelek and Jancis were
“I trust he’s had no joy on that score,” F’lar said sharply.
K’van shook his head. “No, they told him that such action was not a Weyr responsibility. Then—” The young Weyrleader hesitated.
“Then?” F’lar prompted grimly.
“He tried to bribe one of my blue riders with the promise of finding him a suitable friend.”
“That is enough!” F’lar’s expression darkened, and he irritably pushed hair back from his forehead. “Lessa!” he called, beckoning urgently to her.
When F’lar explained K’van’s problem, she was equally incensed.
“You’d think he’d know better by this time not to try to bully dragonriders,” she said, her voice crisp with anger. When she saw K’van’s apprehensive expression, she gave him a reassuring touch. “It’s scarcely your fault Toric is as greedy as a Bitran.”
“Desperate, more like,” K’van said with the hint of a smile. “Master Idarolan told me that Toric had offered him a small fortune in gems and a fine harbor if he’d sail a punitive force to the Island. But he wouldn’t. And, furthermore, he’s told all the other Shipmasters that they’re not to help Toric in this matter. They won’t, either.”
“Toric has ships of his own,” Lessa said irritably.
K’van had relaxed enough to grin. “But none large enough to transport a sufficiently large force to be effective. His landing parties have been ambushed and either wounded severely enough to make them useless or imprisoned by the rebels.” His grin grew broader. “I’ve got to hand it to Denol—he’s clever. But I wanted to tell you what’s been happening before lies or rumors got back to you—or other Lord Holders complained about our attitude.”
“Quite correct, K’van,” F’lar said.
“We’ll have to find time to visit Lord Toric,” Lessa said, a steely look in her eyes. Then she smiled, a nasty smile that made K’van relieved that it was not directed against him. “Lord Toric
needs
a full report on Aivas and what’s happening here at Landing. I think we’ll inform him ourselves, F’lar?”
“I’m not sure when,” F’lar said with a sigh. “But we’ll make the time somehow. K’van, just keep your Weyr out of Toric’s squabble.”
“I shall!” And there was no doubt in the Benden Weyrleaders’ minds that he would. K’van had been a determined and responsible youngster, and now that he was grown to manhood, those traits were refined. He would stand against Toric simply because Toric didn’t think he could.
“Now, place this plug,” Aivas told Piemur, illustrating the appropriate one on the monitor, “in this female socket!” When Piemur had complied, Aivas went on. “There should be a green light on the base of the monitor.”
“There isn’t,” Piemur said in a voice that was almost a wail. He sighed gustily, hanging on to his patience.
“Then there is a faulty connection. Remove the cover and check the boards, mother, input-output, and memory,” Aivas said. It didn’t help Piemur’s temper that Aivas seemed totally unruffled by yet another failure. It simply wasn’t normal for an entity to be so bloody methodically insensitive. “Machines must first be properly assembled before they can function as they were designed. That is the first step. Be patient. It is only a matter of discovering which is the faulty connection.”
Piemur found that he was trying to bend the screwdriver in his hand. He took a deep breath and, not daring to look to either side of him, where Benelek and Jancis were