Dragongirl (31 page)

“I suspect they’ll be busy enough looking out for themselves,” K’lior said.

“I hadn’t thought of them flying this Fall,” Fiona admitted anxiously, adding a moment later, “But we need all our dragons and I doubt we could keep Zirenth on the ground.”

“I didn’t mean to alarm you,” Cisca said. “I’m sure they’ll do fine.”

“It’s a night Fall,” K’lior said by way of agreement, “and the air here is cold, so much of the Thread will be dead.”

Less than a month had passed in the present time since the two night flights that Fort Weyr had fought with the aid of Nuella and the watch-whers, and even though Fiona’s memories of the events were faded by the three Turns she’d spent back in time at Igen Weyr, still her recollection of the anguished cries of riders, dragons, and watch-whers was a searing memory. She fought to suppress a shudder of fear.

Cisca sensed her feelings and wrapped her in a hug. “You’ll do fine, Weyrwoman.”

It was only after they’d left that Fiona realized that the Fort Weyrwoman hadn’t suggested that Kindan and Lorana would be safe.

FIFTEEN

Weyrfolk, keep your riders true
,
Help them to their battle hew
.
Aid them, keep their troubles few
And thus grow their strength anew
.

Telgar Weyr, next morning, AL 508.2.16

J’lantir and the three Istan wings arrived early the next morning. Shaneese and the Telgar weyrfolk had worked through the night to prepare the additional one hundred and forty-five weyrs required for the welcome influx of fighting strength.

“We’ve found enough of our weyrfolk who’d like to swap for warmer climes that we’ve no worries providing space for their weyrfolk,” Shaneese had assured Jeila as she grew anxious at the scope of the whole affair.

“It’s like we’re getting a whole new Weyr!” Jeila said, eyes wide.

“Well, we’ve been poaching from Fort, High Reaches, and Benden,” Fiona said. “I think it’s about time we stole from Ista as well.”

The junior weyrwoman had snorted in response and recovered her humor, only repeating darkly, “But I still don’t know why you left the arrangements to
me.”

“I have it on highest authority that it’s a Weyrwoman’s duty to be sure that her replacement is well-trained,” Fiona told her, grinning. “After all, you never know when you’ll need a new one.”

Jeila grabbed her right arm tightly with both of hers and implored, “Promise me you’ll give me some warning before you do anything!”

“I’ll try,” Fiona temporized, her grin slipping. “But there are times …”

Like the night before. She hadn’t expected to find Kindan awake; she’d been avoiding him, not certain if she ever would find the courage to discover if his prior passion was only dragon-flamed, but Lorana practically threw them at each other, insisting that she had to help in the Kitchen Cavern.

In the morning, Fiona was surprised to find that Lorana had crept in with them sometime during the night.

“Are you all right?” Fiona asked as she felt Lorana shift against her.

“I’m fine,” Lorana said.

“You are?” Fiona asked. Confused, she added, “Then why did you … you don’t mind?”

“No,” Lorana said. Fiona pressed herself against the older woman in thanks.

“Besides,” Lorana added, “if anything were to happen to me, I’d need to know that there was someone there for Kindan. And the child.”

“Always,” Fiona said firmly, realizing how much trust Lorana placed in her: That Lorana would choose her as a surrogate. “And in response, I’ll ask—”

“I’ll love any child of yours, no matter who the father,” Lorana said. “You’re a special one; Kindan’s right to love you.”

“Love me?” Fiona could only mouth the words.

“Of course,” Lorana said. “Hasn’t he always?”

“I thought he loved me for my sister, for Koriana,” Fiona said.

“Maybe once,” Lorana said. “But after the mating flight, no.”

“But he doesn’t seem to even notice me!”

“Notice you?” Lorana asked, smiling.

“I mean, until last night.”

“He did,” Lorana said. “But I don’t think he understands yet.”

“That he loves me?”

Lorana shook her head. “That he doesn’t have to choose.”

“I always thought that I would be married to a Lord Holder, one man, and maybe one love,” Fiona said.

“So did I,” Lorana said. “And I think I’ve found him.” She made a face as Fiona started to protest. “He wouldn’t be the man I love, if he weren’t in love with you, too.” Her eyes twinkled as she added, “What was it that little one said? ‘I’ll help you grow your heart.’”

“Aryar,” Fiona recalled fondly.

“You help me grow my heart,” Lorana told her. “Besides, I’ve never heard of two people
speaking
to each other the way we have.”

“I found no mention of it in the Records.”

“Perhaps we should ask Kindan.”

“I think Masterharper Zist,” Fiona said. “I think we shouldn’t tell Kindan just yet.”

“Perhaps not,” Lorana said. “We wouldn’t want to shock him
too
much just now.”

“Did you tell him about the baby?”

“No,” Lorana said, amusement spilling out of her voice. “I was hoping we could present him with a double event, as it were.”

Fiona giggled. “That
would
be nice.”

A
nd now Fiona, Lorana, and Kindan were arrayed side by side to greet J’lantir as he jumped nimbly from his perch atop bronze Lolanth. The air was still cold and the clouds above threatened rain or, more likely, snow later in the day. Dragons’ breath was clearly visible as streams of fog wisping through the air. Fiona noticed some of the Istan riders shiver and was glad she and Shaneese had preparations made to keep them warm—used, as they were, to the much warmer climate of Ista.

“Kindan!” J’lantir exclaimed, racing over to hug the shorter man quickly. “M’tal told me I’d have a surprise, but I didn’t expect it to be you!”

In the background, Fiona noted, weyrfolk spread out with mugs of warm
klah
and extra sweaters for the colder Istan riders. Fiona took a careful breath, not wanting to freeze her nose, just enough to get a good sniff of the amazing pine scent that wafted down from the trees in the mountains surrounding the Weyr. She could never get enough of that special, fresh smell.

“I suspect I’m only a part of it,” Kindan said with a smile, gesturing to Lorana. “This is Lorana.”

J’lantir’s eyes widened in recognition and he drew himself back, bowing low in front of her. “My lady, I grieve for your loss and applaud your extreme fortitude in saving all the dragons of Pern.”

Fiona could feel Lorana tense beside her. Not all, she thought, remembering that her beloved friend felt every dragon’s loss.

“Fiona, Weyrwoman,” Fiona said in introduction, distracting the bronze rider from his gaffe.

“Weyrwoman,” J’lantir returned with a brisk nod, his frank eyes clearly registering his surprise. “Aren’t you awfully young for the duty?”

“I’ve nearly seventeen Turns, bronze rider,” Fiona corrected him.

“Nearly,” J’lantir said, his brows rising with his words. “That many; I hadn’t realized.”

“I spent three Turns back in Igen,” Fiona said. She gestured to one of the weyrfolk, who handed J’lantir a steaming mug, and she added, “I remember all those warm days very fondly.”

J’lantir chuckled appreciatively, muttering thanks to his server and draining his mug with evident relish.

“We’ll try to keep you warm,” Fiona said.

J’lantir raised his bushy eyebrows in surprise and turned his head enough to see how his other riders fared. He gave Fiona a grateful nod as he saw that they were being bundled up and hastened out of the cold morning to their quarters.

“So I see!” he said.

Fiona gestured to H’nez, who stepped forward. “Weyrleader T’mar is recovering from injuries, and in the meantime H’nez is senior flightleader.”

“Flightleader,” H’nez said with a nod toward J’lantir. “I believe you outrank me.”

“I might at that,” J’lantir said.

“We’ve a Fall tomorrow; how would you like to array the wings?” H’nez asked.

“I think I’d like to get settled in first,” J’lantir said. “If you’ve any training you’ve planned for your Flight today, please proceed.”

“Gladly,” H’nez said. He turned to Fiona and nodded to her. “Weyrwoman.”

“Fly safe,” Fiona said with a wave. Once he was out of earshot, she muttered to herself, “Old stick in the mud.”

“I’ve been called that, yes,” J’lantir said, turning to her.

“Not you,” Fiona corrected, pointing to H’nez’s retreating back. “Him.”

J’lantir’s brows rose once more as he registered the comment, but before he could make any remarks, Fiona continued, “We’ve weyrs set to your disposal and fresh food if your riders feel the need, Flightleader.”

“As soon as we get settled and pay our respects to the Weyrleader, we’ll probably want to join H’nez and get a feel for the air,” J’lantir said.

“Excellent,” Fiona said joyfully. At J’lantir’s surprised look, she added, “I had a bet with our headwoman and you’ve made me a winner.”

“Glad to oblige,” J’lantir said, smiling. “Are there any other wagers I should aid?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Fiona replied innocently, glancing significantly toward Kindan. “A Weyrwoman has to maintain decorum.”

J’lantir startled at that, asking, “Aren’t you the same Fiona who was so fond of tunnel snakes as a youngster?”

“I was more fond of the marks I earned catching them,” Fiona corrected him with a grin. “However, I now have reason to believe that I was never in any danger, having been protected by my continued existence.”

J’lantir gave her a blank look, so she said, “My snake-hunting companion was someone who knew that I would live long enough to go back in time to Igen and so had no worries inciting me to greater and greater levels of danger.”

“Oh!” J’lantir said, enlightened. “Not the sort of thing one encounters often.”

Fiona nodded in agreement. “If you need anything, bespeak Talenth.”

“Or have your dragon ask me,” Lorana said.

“Yes,” Fiona said. “Lorana can hear any dragon.”

“Oh,” J’lantir said, thinking quickly. He turned back to the taller woman. “Then you have my heartfelt commiserations; the past few months must have been quite a trial.”

Fiona linked hands with Lorana at the same time as Kindan encircled the dark-haired woman’s waist protectively.

“I am lucky in my friends,” Lorana told him.

J’lantir nodded and, somewhat bemusedly, turned back to the remaining Istan riders.

“Oh, Flightleader!” Fiona called as he departed. J’lantir turned back to her expectantly. “As time permits, see the headwoman, she’s proper Telgar garb for the riders.”

J’lantir nodded absently, then brightened. “I shall arrange it at the earliest moment!”

Fiona nodded and waved him back to his duties.

The riders from High Reaches were the next to appear. They arrived just after the former Istan riders departed to join H’nez in drill. The sun was well in the sky and the chill of the morning had vanished.

“I wonder who they’ll send to lead the wing,” Kindan said, craning his neck and sheltering his eyes to spot the lead rider.

Fiona picked out the rider and discovered that her eyes were better than Kindan’s as she said, “He’s threadscored on the cheek. He’s missing an ear, too!”

“C’tov!” Kindan shouted, racing across the Bowl to greet the rider as his dragon landed. Fiona and Lorana followed after him, exchanging looks of surprise.

“Sonia sent her best,” Fiona said to herself as she examined the tall rider clambering down from his perch.

“She honors you,” Lorana agreed.

“Us,” Fiona corrected her firmly, reaching once more to grab Lorana’s hand and give it a quick squeeze. “I’ve got a lot to live up to.”

“You’ll do fine,” Lorana said. Fiona’s lips twitched but she made no response.

Kindan led C’tov over to them and the bronze rider bowed to Fiona. “Weyrwoman, I present you with thirty-seven of High Reaches’ best.”

“We’re honored, wingleader,” Fiona said. “You are welcome here.”

“May I pay my respects to the Weyrleader?” C’tov asked, looking beyond her to the queen’s weyr where Zirenth peered out.

“I think it would be best to wait until evening,” Fiona told him. “J’lantir and his Flight from Ista have just gone off to join flightleader H’nez in drill.”

C’tov nodded in understanding. “Then, with your leave, Weyrwoman, as soon as we’ve stowed our belongings, we’ll join them.”

“Headwoman Shaneese was expecting you,” Fiona told him, waving toward a group approaching from the lower caverns. “They’ll take your gear and stow it in your quarters.”

“Thank you,” C’tov replied, his eyes twinkling as he smiled at her. Fiona realized that disregarding the scorched side of his face was easy given the animation the bronze rider brought to his expressions, particularly his piercing blue eyes.

“My pleasure.”

“I
should have been there!” T’mar said when Fiona recounted the events to him later. He shifted nervously in his bed.

“You’re not leaving that bed until Birentir says,” Fiona told him, pressing a hand against his chest forcefully. “Even if I have to sit on you.”

“Or Birentir does,” Lorana added in agreement. “I can’t imagine he’d want to have a Weyrleader be the first patient he lost.”

T’mar lay back, fuming. “Well, at least tell me what’s going on.”

“Nothing more than you would have guessed,” Kindan told him with an easy wave of his hand. “H’nez led off the drill this morning, J’lantir has joined with a Flight from Ista, and, just recently, C’tov from High Reaches brought another thirty-six fighting dragons with him.”

“By the First Egg, we’ve got a fighting Weyr and a lamed Weyrleader,” T’mar growled, his eyes going accusingly to Fiona.

“And do you suppose, Weyrleader,” Fiona returned hotly, “that in all these Turns that situation has never before arisen?”

T’mar pursed his lips mulishly.

“The Records are pretty clear on the issue,” Kindan said. “Even here at Telgar, the Weyrleader has been injured for months at a time.”

“And?” T’mar demanded.

“And he’s appointed seconds, had reports made to him, and proceeded as best he could with due regards to his injury
and
his eventual recovery,” Fiona told him. Her voice softened as she added, “I know it’s hard, particulary with H’nez in charge, but it is part of a Weyrleader’s duty to train his replacement.”

“And you, Weyrwoman?”

“I’m doing very well in that department, thank you,” Fiona replied primly.

T’mar held her eyes for a moment more, then blew out a breath in resignation, forcing some cheer into his response as he said, “You are at that.”

“Thank you,” Fiona said. After a moment she added, “I can only imagine how difficult this must be for you.”

“Well, what cannot be changed must be endured,” T’mar said with a sigh. From his weyr, Zirenth craned his neck and blew a sympathetic sigh toward his rider. T’mar smiled at him and then turned back decisively to Kindan and Lorana. “But my incapacity is no reason that Zirenth should get out of shape.”