Dragongirl (18 page)

M’tal must have sensed her worry for he told her gently, “This is not something to be decided this day.” He added, “In fact, after the Fall, I’d like to invite Salina here to see if Telgar suits her.”

“I think that would be an excellent idea,” Fiona said. She turned back to Norik. “I suppose, if Kindan agrees, you could possibly go to Benden then for the same purpose.”

Norik nodded, looking relieved.

M’tal glanced over at Fiona thoughtfully before saying, “Perhaps it were best if I talked to Kindan on this matter.”

“Of course,” Fiona said. She glanced at Bekka, who seemed agitated over something. “What is it?”

“Well,” Bekka said nervously, darting a look at Lorana, “if she’s staying, we’d better find a midwife.” She added, “I’ve watched many times, but I don’t feel ready just yet.”

“We’ve three midwives, lass,” Norik assured her, rustling her hair fondly. He turned back toward Fiona as he added, “I’ll miss her most of all.” Then he turned back to Bekka. “Though how you can say that Lady Lorana is with child and hope not to get beaten for it is beyond me.”

“She is,” Bekka said emphatically. “My mother and I used to play a game, I had to guess whether and when.” She pursed her lips as she added, “She’s about three sevendays along.”

“That’s too early for any to tell!” Norik chided her. Bekka gave him a haughty look. The harper laughed. “You’re a caution, you are.”

Fiona only half-listened to their banter, her eyes turning to Lorana. She remembered the hand gesture. She’d seen it before with other expectant mothers.

“Caranth flew Minith,” M’tal murmured close to her ear. Fiona turned to him, realizing that the bronze rider had been watching her carefully.

“I’m glad for her, then,” Fiona said, trying to sound as if she meant it. She’d caught the older rider’s meaning easily enough and was perversely irritated that he should make the comparison between herself and Tullea.

“Being a weyrwoman sometimes means putting your hopes behind those of others,” M’tal told her sympathetically. He patted her shoulder. “But it doesn’t mean that you should be miserable.”

“Being a weyrwoman means doing my duty,” Fiona replied, her eyes grim. She rose from her seat and said in parting, “And, if you’ll excuse me, I must be attending to it.”

“W
hat’s got you so upset?” Xhinna asked as Fiona approached her. “Nothing,” Fiona snapped, keeping her eyes from straying toward Lorana. “Shaneese suggested that your young ones might be good help setting up the aid tables.”

Taria moved over to them with an inquiring look on her face.

“The weyrwoman wants our help with the aid tables,” Xhinna told her. She leaned closer to Fiona. “I suppose Shaneese figures that if the little ones help, it’ll shame the older ones into helping?”

“Something like that,” Fiona agreed. Raising her voice, she said, “We’ll have riders from High Reaches Weyr and they may need our help, too.”

Fiona watched with amusement as the word spread from one excited child to another along the table and, finally, to the cooks and helpers in the hall. She sensed a mixture of apprehension and pride growing in the hall—pride that High Reaches was coming here, apprehension that they might not find the sort of welcome they deserved. Suddenly, every adult in the cavern was bustling, some rushing off to others. Fiona glanced meaningfully to Xhinna, who merely shook her head, unsurprised.

“Thread won’t fall until afternoon,” Fiona said. “But it’s best for us to be ready now.” She glanced at Terin, who caught her eye and rushed over to her. “We’ll need someone to see to the firestone.”

“I can spare you some of mine,” Xhinna offered, gesturing to the youngsters.

“No,” Fiona said. “Better to have them help with the tables. We need stronger backs.”

Terin sought out Shaneese and found that Mekiar was ready to help with the firestone, having organized a group of sturdy weyrfolk already.

Fiona was busy laying out medicinal supplies and bandages when a shadow alerted her to another presence. It was Lorana.

“Can I help?”

“It’ll be messy,” Fiona warned.

“I’m used to it from Benden,” Lorana said. “Although with forty dragons I think we can hope for few injuries.”

“We might even get away with none,” Fiona agreed. She glanced around at the tables set up nearby. “In which case all this effort will be for nothing.”

“I would be happy with that.”

“So would I,” Fiona said with a grin. Her expression slipped as she added, “I just hope it’s not too bad.”

“You never really get numb to all the pain and screaming,” Lorana said absently.

Fiona gave her an intense look. “They say that you can feel dragons.”

Lorana nodded.

“What’s it like?”

“It’s like breathing,” Lorana told her. “Sometimes it hurts, sometimes it’s marvelous, but always it’s just something I do.”

“But you didn’t always.”

“Actually, I think I did,” Lorana told her. “I only knew what I was doing after I Impressed Garth and Grenn.”

“Your fire-lizards?”

A ghost of a smile crossed Lorana’s face as she nodded. “When I thought I was dying, I sent them away to save them.” Lorana explained how she’d been lost overboard in a storm, how the fire-lizards were sick even then, and how she’d sent them away from her.

“I would have done the same,” Fiona said, even as, privately, she wondered if she would have had the courage.

“Somehow Grenn survived.”

“He survived?”

“He went back in time, the First Pass or the end of it,” Lorana said. “I think he was sick then and his sickness alerted them to our problem.”

“So you saved Pern three times,” Fiona said. Lorana looked at her quizzically. “Kindan told me all about it. First, when you sent your fire-lizard back as a warning, and then when you lost your queen—you said your locket had a piece of your riding harness in it—and finally when you called”—Fiona paused, looking at Lorana in growing surprise—“you called across time, didn’t you?”

“I must have,” Lorana agreed. “I wasn’t trying to do that. I was trying to save D’gan and the others, to save Caranth and, instead …”

“And that’s how Wind Blossom and Emorra—five hundred Turns back in time—knew what to put in the Ancient Rooms found at Benden. And how you found the cure to the illness,” Fiona finished when it was clear that Lorana was unable to speak. She reached out to the older woman and touched her gently on the shoulder.

Lorana looked up and met Fiona’s eyes.

“Thank you,” Fiona said, her eyes sparkling with emotion. “I’m sorry you lost your queen, but you saved mine and if there’s anything I can do …”

Her words were cut short by Ginirth’s bugle, immediately echoed by the other dragons as they swarmed down into the Bowl.

“It’s time,” Fiona said. Silently she asked Talenth to take station as watch dragon and was surprised to see H’nez’s grateful look as he climbed aboard his great bronze.

“Is that a habit of yours?” Lorana asked, gesturing to Talenth.

“Well, someone’s supposed to keep watch,” Fiona said, wondering at Lorana’s tone of surprise. She thought about it for a moment and decided that she’d probably developed the idea from all her time with her father’s guards at Fort Hold—a Hold, or Weyr, should always have someone responsible looking out for its safety. Not to mention those times when she and Talenth had stood guard back in time at Igen Weyr—in penance to T’mar for one of her more foolish stunts.

The cold winter sun had done its job of burning through the early morning fog and was now, triumphant, nearly mid-sky, highlighting Talenth’s gold hide and burnishing it to a brilliance that even the harsh glare of Igen’s desert sun couldn’t rival.

Suddenly the air above the Weyr was full of dragons—bronzes, browns, blues, greens—all arrayed in formation, wing after wing. High Reaches Weyr had arrived.

A gold sparkle separated itself from the amazing display of color and dropped quickly into the Weyr Bowl.

Talenth bugled a greeting that was answered by the gold as she passed by.

Lyrinth
, Talenth told Fiona unnecessarily.

High Reaches’ senior queen settled quickly nearby and her rider jumped off. Fiona had a momentary glimpse of long dark hair punctuated by a shocking white forelock streaming behind a running figure before she found herself confronted by a pair of intense green eyes that scanned her quickly, dismissed her, and turned themselves upon Lorana.

Weyrwoman Sonia was several centimeters shorter than Fiona. Her body was tight, muscled, wiry, an intense reflection of an intense personality.

“You must be Lorana,” Sonia said. She stopped her forward motion, suddenly as still as a stone.

“Weyrwoman,” Lorana said with a nod by way of greeting.

Fiona was surprised at the ex–queen rider’s wariness. Sonia surprised her further when she barked a quick laugh and declared, “Tullea’s a bitch.”

Sonia ignored Fiona’s startled gasp, keeping her attention on Lorana, eyeing her reaction critically. Somehow satisfied by Lorana’s surprise, she continued, “It’s not a requirement for Weyrwomen, even seniors.”

“Cisca’s nice,” Fiona said. Sonia turned her eyes to her briefly and dismissed her with a flick of her head before returning her attention to Lorana. Fiona’s eyes narrowed at the insult.

“I wanted to thank you for what you’ve done,” Sonia told Lorana. “I’m sure you haven’t heard it enough yet.”

Fiona’s temper flared and her eyes flashed angrily as she thought that perhaps Lorana’s worries about the manners of senior Weyrwomen were not so misplaced after all.

“We appreciate your help, Weyrwoman,” Fiona spoke up, calling upon her memories of her father in his moments of diplomatic fury. “Is there anything we can provide you with or will you be returning to your Weyr for lunch?”

Sonia glanced at Fiona with a look of amusement before turning back to Lorana, and asking, “Is there anything we can get you?”

“Weyrwoman Fiona has already seen to my needs, thank you,” Lorana said, shifting her position to stand closer to Fiona, resting a hand on her shoulder.

“Sonia!” a voice shouted and a blur of a figure flung itself onto the dark-haired Weyrwoman. It was Jeila. She stepped back from the embrace quickly, saying, “It’s good to see you here!”

“Jeila,” Sonia said. “What brings you here?” Before Jeila could answer, the Weyrwoman guessed, “Tullea?”

“I asked for her to be here so that we could use Tolarth’s blood for the cure if necessary,” Lorana said. “Jeila did not feel well, so we had her stay the night here.”

“And where will you spend this night?” Sonia asked, cocking her head questioningly toward Jeila. The other weyrwoman’s eyes slid over to the Telgar riders, picking out H’nez.

Fiona was surprised by her own feelings when she noticed the other girl’s look—how
dare
she? Lorana’s hand tightened on her shoulder comfortingly while Fiona fought to control her jealousy—even as she sought to analyze the strength of the emotion. It wasn’t like her; she had no real feelings for H’nez—did she?

Sonia took in the tableau with one quick look and smiled. “Oh.”

Jeila flushed and met Sonia’s eyes with a suffused look on her face.

“Tolarth is close to rising,” Sonia said to Lorana by way of explanation.

“As is Fiona’s Talenth,” Lorana said.

Sonia held up a hand to Jeila. “Are you hoping to be Telgar’s senior?”

Jeila snorted and shook her head, her free hand moving behind her toward Fiona. “I would be happy to be Fiona’s second.”

“Really?” Sonia said, her tone prickly with surprise.

Fiona felt somewhat vindicated by Jeila’s declaration and Sonia’s sudden reappraisal, but before she could fully appreciate it, Sonia angled her head toward her and asked, “And do you feel ready to assume such a burden?” She examined Fiona critically from head to toe. “You seem rather young for it.”

“She was Weyrwoman at Igen,” Terin spoke up, having moved, unnoticed, toward the knot of weyrwomen.

“And you are …?” Sonia asked, her eyebrows raised demandingly.

“Terin was my headwoman,” Fiona said. She smiled at the younger girl before explaining to Sonia, “She’s a bit impetuous but she means well.”

“So you
were
her headwoman,” Sonia said. “And now?”

“I am,” Shaneese said, stepping forward, attracted by the same play of emotions that had attracted Terin. She bowed to Sonia. “We’ve met before, Weyrwoman.”

Sonia’s eyes narrowed as she strained for recognition, then she brightened. “Shaneese! Weren’t you Lina’s headwoman?”

“I was,” Shaneese said, a look of sadness crossing her face before she continued, “and now I’m Fiona’s.”

“I see,” Sonia said in a doubting tone. She made a tossing-away gesture with one hand, dismissing the issue, asking Shaneese, “Do we have some time for
klah?”

“I could bring it here,” Shaneese offered, “or you could join us in the Dining Cavern.”

“Come to the Cavern, Weyrwoman,” Fiona said decisively, slipping her shoulder out from under Lorana’s hand and grabbing it with her own to urge the ex–queen rider to accompany her. “We still have plenty of time before the Threadfall and I’d like to show you something that you might find interesting.”

“Really?” Sonia repeated, clearly intrigued by Fiona’s excitement.

“I’ll stay here,” Jeila said, glancing at H’nez, who was making final arrangements with his wings. “Until they’re off.”

Fiona felt that Jeila was making her some sort of offer, but she couldn’t quite fathom it. She hesitated, feeling that perhaps she should wait, but Jeila waved her on. “I’ll keep watch for you, Weyrwoman.”

The dark-eyed woman’s declaration was so firm, so warm, that Fiona smiled once more in response, nodded in agreement, and led the others off toward the Dining Cavern.

Talenth, could you ask Mekiar to attend us?
Fiona asked. Beside her, Lorana jerked and Fiona realized that the other woman had heard the exchange. She clenched Lorana’s hand in hers, her eyes darting up to Lorana’s, dancing with joy at the notion that the other woman could share her moments with her queen.

“Talenth enjoys company,” Fiona told her quietly.