Dragonsblood (21 page)

wanted some exercise,
she said, smiling despite herself.

“She’ll rise to mate soon,” B’nik had told her calmly not a sevenday before.

His eyes were clouded with an unasked question. Tullea knew the question

but perversely decided to keep the answer to herself. Oh, she was pretty

sure which dragon Minith would mate with, but she felt a sneaky thrill at the

notion of keeping B’nik on tenterhooks. Besides, she thought to herself, it’s

really the dragons’ choice.

“A well-fed, well-worked dragon will fly farther and lay more eggs,” B’nik had

reminded her this morning when he’d asked if she wanted to go searching.

“And we can drill on reference points.”

Tullea grabbed at the chance. Minith, at a little over three Turns old, had just

matured enough to be flown and to go
between.
After three Turns of

constant feeding, oiling, and loving, Tullea was more than ready to enjoy the

fruits of her labors.

Besides, she admitted to herself, she
loved
to fly.

So do I,
Minith agreed, once again reading Tullea’s private thoughts.

But the weather is
awful, Tullea thought sourly to her dragon.

I don’t mind it,
Minith said.

Tullea snorted.
Of course not! You think the cold of
between
is just fine!

The cold of
between
is cold,
Minith replied, with a hint of reproof in her

tone.

“Well, this is worse,” Tullea growled aloud, looking toward B’nik.

The bronze dragonrider was waving excitedly and pointing to the ground

below. Tullea looked but saw nothing—no, there was a bunch of rags on the

beach. B’nik’s Caranth pinwheeled tightly downward on one wing tip, and

Minith, with no urging from Tullea, happily followed. As they got closer,

Tullea noticed that the rags had legs and arms sticking out from them.

Perhaps they had found J’trel’s stray after all. Good, Tullea thought to

herself, then we can go home!

“B’nik and Tullea have found someone,” K’tan said as he entered Harper

Kindan’s quarters.

“J’trel’s stray?” Kindan asked, rising from his stool and gently hanging up

the guitar he’d been playing. “Come on, Valla,” he called to the bronze

fire-lizard dozing on his bed. The little bronze stirred, stretched, and leaped

into the air, hovering near Kindan’s right shoulder.

K’tan shrugged. “They should be here now.”

The two walked out of Kindan’s quarters and out to the Weyr Bowl. The sun

had broken through the morning mist that had settled in the Bowl, but the air

still held a chill.

Above them two dragons burst into view and spiraled down. Gold Minith

landed first, followed by bronze Caranth.

Valla took one look at Minith, gave a surprised squawk, and disappeared.

Tullea wasn’t fond of fire-lizards.

K’tan gestured to Kindan, and the two jogged toward the bronze dragon.

Kindan could see that B’nik was holding someone in front of him.

“She’s very cold,” the bronze rider called out as he lowered the woman

down to them.

“Where are her fire-lizards?” Kindan asked as he and K’tan took hold of the

unconscious body.

“We saw no sign of them.”

Lorana woke, warm. And dry. A small, warm lump nestled against her back

and she felt blankets wrapped around her. She smiled lazily and turned to

face the fire-lizard lump, wondering if it was Garth or Grenn—

With a shock she saw that it was neither—and then she remembered.

The little bronze took one look at her expression and leaped into flight and

between
out of sight.

Lorana sighed, eyes bleary with tears that did not fall. She had sent Garth

and Grenn away. She had been certain she was about to die and she had

wanted to save them.

And now she was alive and they were—? She closed her eyes and focused

her mind, questing for them, looking for them.

A fire-lizard’s squawk distracted her, followed immediately by a dragon’s

bellow.

“You’re awake,” a voice called from beyond the doorway. A man strode into

the room. He looked to be a few years older than Lorana, and was dressed

in harper’s blue. The bronze fire-lizard hovered over his shoulder. The man

had keen blue eyes and jet black hair. He was taller than Lorana and rangy,

his body hinting at a wiry strength.

“Valla?” the man addressed the fire-lizard. The bronze chattered back at

him in obvious agitation. “Valla, she needs food. Go tell Kiyary our guest is

awake. Valla, will you go?”

The fire-lizard gave Lorana one more concerned look and chirped a

warning before vanishing
between.

“Fire-lizards are not the best messengers,” the man observed dryly. He

looked down at her. “I’m Kindan.”

As she began to sit up, Kindan put out a restraining hand. “Don’t try to get

up—you’re too weak.”

Lorana was already in motion, but she stopped as soon as she discovered

the truth in his words: She felt as weak as a leaf.

A noise outside the room heralded the arrival of another person—a

middle-aged man with the lean, muscular look of a rider. His brown hair had

only a few strands of silver in it, and his brown eyes were kind.

“I’ve brought food,” he announced, setting the tray he was carrying on the

bedside table. He picked up a pot and poured some of its contents into a

cup. “Though I suggest this herbal, first. A starved stomach needs to learn

to eat all over again.”

With a wordless gesture, Kindan helped Lorana sit up, rearranging pillows

underneath her.

“I’m K’tan,” the man said as he handed the cup to her. “The Weyr healer.”

He shook his head sadly. “You required much of my art these last six

days.”

“Thank you,” Lorana told him gratefully. “I’m Lorana.”

The healer and the harper exchanged looks, and Lorana got the impression

that they had just silently agreed to shelve some question they had.

“Let me help you,” Kindan said, sitting carefully on her bedside and handing

her the cup of tea.

Gratefully, Lorana sipped the tea. The liquid was just lightly warmed, and

her throat welcomed its soothing presence.

K’tan regarded her carefully as she drank. After a moment she pushed the

cup away.

“Thank you,” she said to Kindan. To the healer she said, “This is very

good.”

K’tan inclined his head in acknowledgment.

Suddenly Valla appeared, chittering. The fire-lizard took in the somber

scene and closed his mouth instantly, giving Kindan such a regretful look

that Lorana smiled.

“Is he always such a character?” Lorana asked, her eyes twinkling.

“He’s usually much worse,” Kindan agreed. “I think he’s on his best

behavior because—”

“I was on death’s door,” Lorana said, guessing what he hadn’t said.

“You’ll get better now,” K’tan declared firmly. “If you can finish the tea,

there’s some broth here you might try.”

“And then I’ll fall asleep,” Lorana surmised.

“You’ve been this ill before,” K’tan guessed.

“The Plague.” She remembered how hard she and her father had fought to

save her mother, brother, and sister. And how, after battling for a fortnight,

they’d lost first her sister, Sanna, then her brother, Lennel, and finally her

mother.

After the fever had taken her mother, she and her father had cried in each

other’s arms. Neither she nor Sannel had wanted to live. And then she’d

caught the plague herself and her nightmares intensified to fill her waking

days. The only pleasant thing had been her father’s face peering down at

her as he gently wiped her forehead or held her up and spooned down

broth. She had wanted to go, to join her mother and siblings, but she

couldn’t—the thought of leaving him behind was too much. And the fever

had passed, and she’d recovered.

She sensed a motion or a change in posture from Kindan and looked at him

carefully. His face had many smile lines on it, but it was carefully schooled;

she could see the pain he was hiding and she knew that this man had seen

people—many people—die.

“Will I live?” she asked him quietly.

Her memory came back to her in a rush: the storm, Colfet, her plunge

overboard, her blind thrust at the fire-lizards . . .

“Has anyone found Colfet?” she asked suddenly, trying once more to sit

up. Kindan held up a restraining hand but she struggled against it. “He was

all alone on the launch and his arm was broken.”

Kindan gave her a startled look, followed immediately by careful scrutiny.

Beyond him, Lorana felt K’tan tense with worry.

“The dragonriders found nothing,” K’tan told her softly.

“Please ask them to keep searching,” Lorana implored.

“I shall talk with the Weyrleader,” K’tan promised.

Lorana turned her eyes to Kindan. “My fire-lizards? Did they get to safety?”

Kindan shook his head. “There’s been no word of them.”

Lorana slumped back into the bed.

“Here, try some more tea,” Kindan told her softly, raising the cup once

more to her lips. When she’d finished the cup he asked her, “Do you want

to try some broth, too?”

Behind him, K’tan shifted, his tension easing. “I’ll be going,” the healer told

them. He glanced at Lorana. “I’ll check in on you later.”

He gestured toward Kindan. “You’re in good hands.”

Lorana woke, tired but alert. The room was dark. The only light came faintly

from a glow in the farther room. Something had startled her into

wakefulness. The lump at her back—Valla—was a warm and comforting

presence.

Suddenly the fire-lizard tensed up, and in a rapid motion sneezed, loudly

and violently.

Do dragons get coughs often?
Lorana’s own words echoed in her

memory.

The fire-lizard sneezed again.

“Kindan?” Lorana called.

“Kindan,” she shouted, her sense of urgency heightened, “there’s

something wrong with Valla!”

She heard his startled movement from the room beyond as he roused

himself out of bed. Valla needed the healer, Lorana decided. She felt about

with her mind amongst the sleeping dragons in the Weyr, found the right

one, and said,
Kindan has need of the healer.

“He seems hot, nearly feverish,” K’tan said minutes later as he examined

the fire-lizard. Kindan had uncovered every glow he could find and the room

was bright with light for the healer’s examination.

K’tan shook his head. “I’ve never seen the like—not in fire-lizards.”

“Did
your
fire-lizards cough, Lorana?” Kindan asked her, his eyes full of

concern and worry as he stroked his fire-lizard. A wave of sadness washed

over Lorana: She had tried several times to reach the minds of her

fire-lizards, without success.

“No, but J’trel’s Talith did,” she replied.

Kindan and K’tan exchanged worried looks.

After a moment, K’tan said to Kindan, “I don’t know what to do.”

“My father used to make a brew for herdbeasts,” Lorana suggested, then

made a face. “I don’t know if it would work for fire-lizards, though.”

“It might be worth a try,” K’tan said with a shrug.

“Do you remember the ingredients?” Kindan asked. Lorana nodded.

Kindan trotted off to the outer room and rummaged about for stylus and

paper, which he brought back to Lorana. She wrote quickly, in her fair hand.

K’tan leaned over, scanning the list as she wrote.

“We have these ingredients,” he said when she finished. He took the list

from her and headed for the door. “I shall have a brew presently.”

Kindan turned to watch the healer leave, gauging how soon he could hope

for his return. When he turned back to Valla and Lorana, he was surprised

to see her hunched over the paper, stylus drawing furiously.

“This is Colfet,” Lorana said as she finished the drawing. She handed it up

to him. “I thought perhaps it might help in his search.”

“I had forgotten that you drew,” Kindan admitted. “When we heard from Ista

Weyr, they mentioned the drawings you’d done for Lord Carel at Lemos.”

Lorana blushed slightly and feebly waved the compliment aside. “They

weren’t that good.”

She shifted her attention again, rapidly making a new sketch. “What I really

wanted to do was
this.
”

She showed the new drawing to Kindan. Two small six-legged creatures

were on the page.

He raised an eyebrow inquiringly at her.

“I was hoping to draw every animal I could find on Pern, to understand their

differences and similarities.”

Kindan bent again to the drawings. “I recognize this one,” he said, pointing.

“I’ve seen it around in fields here.” He pointed to the other one, shaking his

head. “But—where did you find that?”

“Igen seashore,” Lorana replied. She gestured at the differences and gave

him a condensed version of the same observation she’d given J’trel nearly

a month before.

“I’m impressed,” Kindan said. He looked at the drawing again and then

back at her. “Do you draw in colors?”

“Colors?” Lorana repeated in surprise. “I could never afford colors.”

K’tan returned at that moment, bustling into the room quickly.

“Here we are!” he called, placing a tray with a steaming brew in Kindan’s

hands. “Have your little one try this.”

It took all of Kindan’s coaxing to get the first drop of the brew into the