Dragonsblood (50 page)

blunder in singing “Wind Blossom’s Song” may have soured Lorana on

him.

The dragons? K’tan snorted his opinion of that prospect. While he got the

impression that Lorana was more in tune with the dragons than anyone he’d

heard of, even in the Ballads, he couldn’t see them, dying in such droves,

providing her with a reason for living.

And what of me? K’tan asked himself.

You will stay,
Drith told him groggily. Even in the distance, K’tan could pick

out the Drith’s raspy cough from all the others.
You will stay, she will stay.

You must. Both of you.

K’tan was surprised at his dragon’s fierce tone.

The answer is here,
Drith continued.
You and Lorana must find it.
K’tan

wondered how much of Drith’s conviction was simply a reflection of K’tan’s

own beliefs.

We will find it,
he promised his dragon.
Lorana will recover soon, and

we’ll find it. Rest up, old friend.

In the distance, K’tan could hear Drith’s answering rumble turn into another

long, raspy cough.

K’tan shot out of his chair and headed for the door.
I’m coming, Drith!

No,
Drith responded.
I must do this now while I still can.

“No!” K’tan shouted both out loud and in his mind.

I will always love you,
Drith told him fondly.

And then—he was gone.

“No!”
K’tan shouted again, reaching with his mind to follow Drith. He jerked

as he felt another
presence
join him, searching in the darkness of
between

for the brown dragon. Together they roamed, searching all that they could

find—but there was no sign of Drith.

Gasping for breath, K’tan found himself once again feeling his body. “Drith,

no!”

“Come back!” Lorana cried in unison with him.

Across the room, K’tan—Ketan—locked tear-soaked eyes with Lorana.

“I tried,” Lorana called to him, struggling to get out of her bed. “I tried, K’tan,

but he fought me. He wouldn’t come back.”

Ketan stumbled back to Lorana’s bedside.

“I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “I
tried.
”

Ketan grabbed one of her hands and stroked it comfortingly, his need to

reassure her overcoming his own grief.

“I know, lass, I know,” he told her. “I felt you there with me.” He closed his

eyes and reached once more for his beloved Drith. Nothing. For a long

moment, Ketan wished he could follow his dragon, realized he would have

ridden Drith on that last journey
between
if he’d had the chance. With a

chilling shock, Ketan realized that Drith had known that, too. “We must end

this.”

Lorana’s hand tightened on his, and the ex-dragonrider opened his eyes

again to see a look of fierce determination in her red-rimmed brown eyes.

“We
will
end this,” she promised.

NINETEEN

Symbiont: A life-form that lives in harmony with its host, often performing

valuable functions for the host, e.g.:
E. coli
in the human gut.

College, First Interval, AL 58

Tieran spotted M’hall and Brianth circling through the clouds above and sent

Grenn up to them.

“Tell them it’s safe, but to land at a distance,” Tieran told his fire-lizard.

Grenn gave him a
chirp
to show that he understood and flew on up to the

huge bronze dragon.

Moments later, Brianth landed, cautiously far from the still-smoldering

remains of the young queen, and M’hall approached on foot. The Benden

Weyrleader’s jaw was set, and his eyes bleak.

“Did Wind Blossom order this?” he asked Tieran as he neared.

“Yes,” Tieran said. “The queen fell from the sky and was dead either from

the impact or before that.”

M’hall peered closely at the remains. “It seems small for a queen. Are you

sure it wasn’t a green?”

“It was a queen,” Tieran replied firmly. “Not just from the color but

there”—he pointed at the blackened skull—“you can see from the shape of

the skull and the teeth that it’s a young dragon, months old, probably less

than six—”

“Less than six?” M’hall was amazed. “And that big? A six-month-old queen

shouldn’t be
that
big.”

“But it was,” Tieran replied. “That would be about the size expected at

about the thirtieth generation, or so.”

“The thirtieth generation?” M’hall repeated, amazed. “How would you

know?”

Tieran shrugged. “Wind Blossom explained it,” he said. “There were limits

on the original work they had done and they knew that the first generations

would be smaller than the final generations. That,” he added, pointing to the

skeleton, “is close to as large as they get, though.”

“Where is its rider?” M’hall asking, looking around for another burn circle.

“There was no rider,” Tieran told him.

“Could it have been an accident? A queen so young going
between
?”

M’hall asked in vain hope.

Tieran shook his head. “I don’t know,” he answered. “But if it did, then it was

sick with what looked to be the same thing this one—” He reached up to

stroke Grenn, who had perched again on his shoulder, reassuringly. “—was

ill with.

“Thirty generations would be over four hundred years from now,” he

added.

M’hall whistled in awe. “You’re saying that this dragon and your fire-lizard

come from four hundred years in the future?”

Tieran nodded, opening his hand. “I pulled this off the dragon’s riding

harness.”

M’hall gave Tieran a questioning look and, at the young man’s nod, picked

up the small object and peered at it intently.

“That’s the Benden Weyr mark,” he said instantly, pointing at a small

section on the silver oblong. “Those other marks look like”—he glanced up

incredulously at Tieran—“the same ones on your friend’s beadwork! Animal

healer.”

“That’s what I thought,” Tieran agreed.

To his surprise, Tieran did not find himself on duty escorting all the various

craftmasters, Holders, and Weyrleaders past the newly-raised mound that

marked the queen dragon’s final resting place and on into the College’s

Dining Room, hastily rearranged as a meeting place. Instead, he found

himself bustling back and forth between Wind Blossom, Emorra, and Janir,

carrying notes, bearing messages, and generally being run off his feet.

The undercurrents in the room were deep and numerous. Just from his own

hearing, he knew that the Lord Holders not only warred with themselves

over the disposition of Colony resources but also had numerous issues of

trade to resolve. The Weyrleaders seemed united, if somewhat restless,

willing to follow M’hall’s direction.

But the real issue was Wind Blossom’s. Those who hadn’t actually seen the

dragon’s burnt skeleton were dubious of the claim, although not quite willing

to voice out loud their lack of faith in Wind Blossom’s reasoning or abilities.

It promised to be an interesting and perhaps contentious session. Tieran

caught a whiff of the snacks Moira and Alandro were baking and was

surprised when his stomach gave a disgusted heave. Apparently this

interesting session meant more to him than he was willing to admit.

The tables of the Dining Room had been arranged in a large oval. Emorra

and the other collegians were gathered at the end nearest the kitchen.

Opposite them were the Weyrleaders. In between, on the left and on the

right, were the leaders of the Holds.

Tieran was surprised when the first person to speak was Emorra.

“Does everyone have a copy of the agenda?” she asked. Hearing no

dissent, she continued. “Very well, I propose we start with the first item: the

issue of the queen dragon and Wind Blossom’s findings—”

“It seemed awfully small to be a queen,” Lord Kenner of Telgar noted

quaveringly, glancing around the room nervously, his beak-like nose

bobbing this way and that.

“That’s because it was an immature dragon,” Tieran responded. “Judging

by its teeth, it was under six months old, probably as little as two.”

“And you agree with this assessment?” Mendin asked, looking pointedly at

M’hall.

M’hall nodded. “Yes.”

Mendin turned back to Tieran and nodded for him to continue. Tieran

looked at Emorra and raised an eyebrow.

Emorra continued. “It is our opinion—”

“Whose?” Mendin demanded challengingly.

“The medical staff and faculty at this College,” she replied testily. “Kindly let

me continue uninterrupted.”

Mendin looked ready to argue the point but desisted after catching sight of

M’hall’s glare.

“It is our opinion that the queen dragon was a hatchling from somewhere

between the thirtieth and fortieth generation,” Emorra said. The Lord

Holders gave her blank stares, while the Weyrleaders who hadn’t heard this

before all sat bolt upright in their chairs.

“Emorra, could you tell us what dragon generation we are at now?” Malon of

Tillek asked courteously.

“The newest generation is the sixth generation,” Emorra answered.

“So the dragon came from the future,” K’nel of Ista said.

“How can dragons travel through time?” Kenner asked.

“It is a property of their ability to teleport,” Wind Blossom replied. “Any

movement through space implies a movement through time.”

Kenner looked politely confused.

“Space and time are the same,” M’hall expanded, taking pity on the old

Holder. “We’ve done it.”

“You have?” Mendin blurted.

“Yes,” L’can, High Reaches Weyrleader confirmed. “It is quite draining on

the rider, though.”

“We estimate that the dragon came from more than four hundred years in

the future,” Emorra told the group.

“Well, that’s a relief,” Mendin declared. “We’ve got nothing to worry about,

then.” He looked expectantly around the room. “So what’s the next item on

the agenda?”

“I don’t think we should move on so quickly,” M’hall replied. He turned to

Emorra. “Is there any danger to our dragons?”

“I don’t think so,” she replied. “The young queen was immediately bathed in

acid, so all microorganisms should have been destroyed.”

“What about that fire-lizard?” Mendin asked, pointing at the brown fire-lizard

curled on Tieran’s shoulder.

“I would not have released the fire-lizard from quarantine had I considered

it still a possible source of contagion,” Wind Blossom spoke up from

behind her daughter. She met Mendin’s eyes squarely. “The fate of all Pern

is at stake.”

“Is?” Mendin repeated. “I thought you said the fire-lizard isn’t a threat?”

“We don’t know why the fire-lizard or the queen dragon found their way

back to us,” Emorra replied. “They both appear to have come from about

the same time, and there are indications that they had the same human

partner.”

“And that the partner was a rider at Benden Weyr,” M’hall added.

“Somewhere in the future, dragons are dying,” L’can marveled mournfully.

“But that’s not an issue for us!” Mendin declared. “I’m sorry to hear about it,

but we have issues we need to deal with today.”

“And this is one of them,” Emorra declared fiercely. “Twice now we’ve been

lucky.” She nodded toward M’hall and the Weyrleaders. “Every Weyr is now

on guard against any other dragons falling out of the future, but it just takes

one and the illness could spread here.”

“No, it can’t,” Tieran said to himself. He flushed as the others all looked at

him. He shrugged. “If the illness spreads here, then there will be no

dragons from the future.”

“Could you explain?” M’hall asked, gesturing invitingly.

“If the illness comes back in time,” Tieran replied, “there are two

possibilities—either all the dragons will succumb and there will be no more

dragons in the future, or the dragons will get better and pass their immunity

on, so there will be no sick dragons in the future.”

“I’m afraid there is a third possibility,” Wind Blossom said. Everyone turned

to her. “It is possible that the queen from the future is a modified

watch-wher.”

“What?” Mendin shouted. “A watch-wher?”

“I have only completed some preliminary evaluations,” she continued

unperturbedly, “but I have noticed signs of genetic manipulation in the

queen’s genetic code.”

“But if our descendants could manipulate genetic material, wouldn’t they be

able to cure this illness in the future?” Mendin asked.

“You are supposing that detailed knowledge of genetics, particularly

Pernese genetics, and the tools to manipulate Pernese genetic code would

be available four centuries from now,” Emorra said. She turned to him. “Tell

me, Lord Mendin, how many base-pairs are there in the Pernese genetic

code?”

“Why would I need to know that?” Mendin spluttered indignantly.

“Precisely,” Emorra replied. “Why would anyone need to know that four

hundred years in the future?”

Mendin waved a hand to the Weyrleaders. “Perhaps
they
would know it.”

“I don’t know it now,” M’hall confessed. He glanced at the other

Weyrleaders, who also professed ignorance. “I am more concerned with

fighting Thread and maintaining a Weyr than the genetic code of the

dragons.” He glanced at Emorra. “It would seem that the College would