Dragongirl (52 page)

“Like B’nik,” Lorana agreed.

“Like all those who got to see their own deaths hours before they went to them,” Fiona said. She sighed, eyes downcast as a litany of faces came to her mind: faces sad but resigned—those of the riders; faces fearful and forlorn—those of the bereaved. “He can no more escape his fate than they.” She sighed, walked around the table and dropped into the seat opposite. Lorana looked up at her. “You know, T’mar told me that some of the riders—the ones who had timed it—actually waved at themselves in farewell, tried to comfort their past selves.”

Lorana gazed at her, shaking her head.

Fiona tried a different tack, saying, “Tullea’s no different from any of those who get this bad news.” She shook her head sadly. “She’ll recover in time.”

“I don’t know,” Lorana said. “I think she’s so desperate, so … hurt—in pain—that she really would follow him
between.”

“And there’s only that one new queen at Benden,” Fiona said by way of agreement. She grimaced, adding, “I don’t see her binding the wounds that would leave.”

“No, Lin needs seasoning before she’d be able,” Lorana agreed. The new junior weyrwoman at Benden was far too unsure of herself to take charge in Tullea’s stead.

Fiona shrugged. “Well, there are mature queens in the other Weyrs, if it comes to that.”

“I’d be happier if there were another way.”

“Another way,” Fiona said half to herself. “Another way.”

“M’tal saw him and then T’mar …” Lorana began thoughtfully.

“With a whole Wing, no less,” Fiona pointed out.

Lorana nodded then glanced up at Fiona, lips curved up in a thin smile as she added, “And Tullea’s forbidden his Wing to go with him.”

“So he found another Wing, how hard would that be?” Fiona tossed back with a shrug. She frowned again, adding, “And anyway, we don’t know
when
he timed it—”

“What?” Lorana asked, sitting upright in her chair.

“We don’t know
when
he timed it,” Fiona repeated, scarcely hiding her exasperation.

“We don’t even know
if
he timed it.”

“If?”

“We know that someone did,” Lorana said, “but all that anyone saw was a man wearing the Benden Weyrleader’s jacket.”

“So maybe it was a different Weyrleader?” Fiona asked. “From a different time?” She frowned, shaking her head. “It could be but we won’t know until it happens.” She smiled wanly at Lorana and said with a sniff, “For all we know, it could just as easily have been someone who stole B’nik’s jacket.”

“It was just a thought,” Lorana said with a quick shrug. She looked down at the slates once more, sighed, and stood up, swaying slightly with the awkward weight of the baby. She gave Fiona a pleading look, saying, “Would you clean up here? I’m not—I must—”

“Go!” Fiona said, waving her away. She’d heard enough about “peeing for two” to understand. I’ll probably know about it firsthand soon enough, she mused as she reached for the scattered slates and started to put them away. A smile crossed her lips and she started humming happily.

“W
ell, as of this evening, you’ve seventy-two fighting dragons,” Fiona said proudly to T’mar as they gathered together for dinner. She quirked a quick grin, adding, “C’tov
tried
to get back to flying, but I sent him to his quarters.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear that he’s eager,” T’mar said, glancing at the wingleader, who was seated glumly at the end of the table. He raised his voice to carry, saying to him, “I’m sure that Kindan appreciates your help with the weyrlings.”

“I’ve learned a great deal,” Kindan said, sending a thankful nod in the bronze rider’s direction. C’tov waved a hand in acknowledgment.

“Seventy-two is a good deal less than I’d like,” T’mar said to Fiona.

“I’d prefer three hundred and, if wishes were dragons, that’s what we’d have,” Fiona said.

T’mar pursed his lips grimly, nodding. He glanced at Lorana, telling her, “If it weren’t for you, we’d have none.”

“I know,” Lorana said quietly, looking no happier. T’mar shot a look at Fiona, to which the Weyrwoman responded with a quick shake of her head.

“Well,” T’mar continued, “with Fort’s eighty-six and our seventy-two, we’ll be close to two full Flights in strength.”

H’nez raised his eyebrows at that appraisal: The total number was a full Wing short of two Flights. Beside him, Jeila shook her head quickly, and he grimaced, and resumed his meal without comment.

“Where’s Terin?” T’mar asked, peering down the table and spying F’jian eating glumly by himself.

“She’s in her new quarters,” Fiona said casually. She tilted her head toward the Weyrleader. “Actually, that brings up a good point: We should reconsider the disposition of the lower-level weyrs.”

T’mar raised an eyebrow and motioned for her to continue.

“Traditionally,” Fiona continued, putting a tone of disdain on that word, “the Weyrwoman and Weyrleader have lodged in the weyrs to the north of the Bowl nearest the Hatching Grounds.”

T’mar nodded.

“The junior weyrwomen have all lodged on the opposite side, where we’ve now got you quartered.”

“But your quarters are there, too,” T’mar said.

“True, as is the Records Room that we’re also using as the Council Room,” Fiona said. “But to the north there’s a perfectly good room for the Council to meet in, and another large room with access from both the Weyr Bowl and the Weyrwoman’s quarters for the Records.” She made a face. “I think the current arrangements are a holdover from when Igen integrated with Telgar.

“But with Terin in her quarters, we’ve now got all four of the junior weyrwomen’s quarters filled, and the senior Weyrwoman’s and Weyrleader’s quarters remain empty.”

“So what do you propose?” T’mar asked. He quite liked being close to the Kitchen and Living Caverns—the life of the Weyr centered there—but he could see how crowded they were getting and understood Fiona’s hidden hope that they would soon have enough queens to fill all queen weyrs.

“I don’t know,” Fiona admitted. “Obviously the traditional thing to do would be to move you and me out into the quarters on the north side of the Weyr.”

T’mar chuckled: It was obvious that Fiona was no more enamored of that prospect than he.

“I suppose we could do with the extra exercise,” Fiona said thoughtfully, adding with a flash of her eyes, “after all, no one would want us to get
fat
, would they?”

“No, I suppose not,” T’mar replied diplomatically. “And I suppose the weyrs are large enough, maybe even larger than our current quarters.”

“But I’ll miss the ease with which I can talk with Jeila and Terin,” Fiona said.

“I’m sure that
they
will need exercise, too,” T’mar quipped, working to control his smirk. His expression slipped as a new thought came to him. “Of course, that will put us near the weyrlings.”

“Yes,” Fiona agreed blandly.

T’mar gave her a probing look, for rarely was the Weyrwoman bland, and thought on the implications. Being nearer the weyrlings would mean being nearer to Kindan, the Weyrlingmaster. That would put Lorana closer. In fact, the only one who would stand to lose from it would be Shaneese—the headwoman was in no danger of getting fat, having barely a spare gram on her. Still, T’mar admitted privately to himself, the same could be said of Fiona, although in her case she tended more toward wiry strength than even the dusky-toned headwoman.

“If you’re thinking of offering to stay in your weyr for a while longer,” Fiona said, guessing all too accurately at the thrust of his thoughts, “consider that that would put you near Terin and Jeila and ask yourself how that might impact their partners.”

“I’ve no—” T’mar started in protest. He cut himself short as he saw Fiona’s eyes dance once more in amusement. It was true that he was not so foolish as to attempt to dally with the other weyrwomen—Jeila was far too attached and both were far younger than he preferred.

His attachment to Fiona was still something of a mystery to him. What had started as a simple act of kindness had solidified into something that caused him much pain, but which he knew would cause him even more pain to finish. He met her eyes frankly and peered deeply into them, once again amazed at their depths. She was, in far too many ways, still a child and yet … she was Weyrwoman to her core, more so even than Cisca or Sonia.

“I wouldn’t want to be that far from you,” T’mar said. He caught Fiona’s shudder of joy and she reached for his hand, grabbed it tight in hers. She let it go a moment later, glancing around to be sure that no one had noticed.

“Good,” she said. “Then it’s decided.”

“Can we wait until we aren’t so pressed for time?”

“I wasn’t thinking of starting until after this Fall,” Fiona said. “I merely wanted your decision on the matter.”

“Thank you,” T’mar said, warmly surprised that she’d wanted his decision and not his approval.

Fiona accepted his words with a nod, continuing, “And now that we’ve decided, when we’re done we’ll have two empty weyrs there, at least temporarily.”

T’mar cocked an eyebrow at her wonderingly. What was she getting at?

“I think, as we’re moving around, we should arrange it so that your wing lodges above us—they can come down the central stairs,” Fiona told him. T’mar nodded, that much seemed reasonable, but he was certain that Fiona had more and he motioned for her to continue. “That will leave us free then to move H’nez’s wing above the queens’ weyrs,” Fiona continued. “And, as we’ll have two empty weyrs there, if he wants, he could take the one nearest to Jeila.”

T’mar’s eyes widened as he caught on to her plan.

“I’m sure that would make the weyrwoman happy,” T’mar agreed with a twinkle in his eyes; it would hardly make H’nez
unhappy
. “And F’jian?”

“Well, I think it best if we consider putting his wing over the Caverns,” Fiona said, her tone losing some of its levity. T’mar gave her a startled look and she continued, “We could perhaps change that later, but for the time being, that’s a good location for him—I mean, for his wing.”

“Around the back, toward the lake?” T’mar asked. He knew full well that there were choice locations in the Weyr and places no one wanted—being located just above the lake and the feeding pens was one of the least desired locations: noisy and noisome both. It was, traditionally, the place where irate Weyrleaders or Weyrwomen placed those who had earned their wrath.

“Perhaps not quite there,” Fiona said, pursing her lips. “Although that might not be a bad idea.”

“It’s far from the wine,” T’mar said.

“Then, by all means, whatever you think best, Weyrleader,” Fiona said in the blandest of tones.

T’mar glanced down toward F’jian and wondered what, exactly, the young bronze rider had done to annoy his lady so much that the Weyrwoman wanted revenge.

“I’ll have to think about it,” T’mar said after a long pause.

“Don’t think too long,” Fiona told him warningly. “Or if you must, talk with Shaneese first.”

“Shaneese?” T’mar asked in surprise. From the sound of it, Fiona had already conveyed her impressions to the headwoman and, to T’mar’s surprise, it was clear that Shaneese had emphatically agreed with her.

“I think it’s important that the lesson be well and truly learned,” Fiona said with a sour look.

“Should we do more?”

Fiona sighed and shook her head, leaning closer to T’mar to tell him, “No, it was a foolish mistake. I just want to make sure that he doesn’t consider repeating it.”

“I’ll talk to Shaneese then,” T’mar said making it clear in his tone that he considered that only a formality.

“Best do it before you come to bed,” Fiona said. T’mar gave her another surprised look. She pushed back from her chair, having finished her meal a while back, and called out to the group, “Dragonriders, Thread falls tomorrow and I must rest!”

The riders all rose dutifully and nodded to her, eyeing the Weyrleader warily. T’mar rose, too, giving his half-eaten dessert a quick, rueful glance before adding, “A good night’s sleep would serve us all well!”

The others needed no more hints and slowly the dragonriders finished eating and, in small groups, made their way from the Dining Cavern to their weyrs, some accompanied by other riders, some by werymates and family.

Fiona was waiting for him in his quarters.

“Kindan is spending the night with Lorana,” Fiona told him. “Xhinna and the others know to call Talenth or Tolarth if they’ve need.”

“And you?” T’mar asked, gesturing to his room.

Fiona smiled and cocked her head up at him. “I’d like to stay with you tonight.”

T’mar smiled. “I’ve learned that it’s never good to disappoint the Weyrwoman.”