Dragongirl

by Todd J. McCaffrey

  “I will,” Lorana promised as she leaned forward and kissed the crown of Aryar’s head. “But first you must sleep.”

  Aryar let out a great, contented sigh, nestled her head into Lorana’s shoulder, and fell asleep.

  Fiona kept Lorana’s hand loosely in hers even as she fell back to sleep, feeling warmer and more comfortable than she had since … since the last time Kindan had visited Fort Hold back when she was still little.

  The sound of feet moving quietly and the rustle of fabric roused Fiona enough that she squinted one eye open. She smiled as she made out Kindan’s form in the darkness and heard him quietly settle next to Lorana with Aryar sleeping, snug, between them.

  When Fiona woke again, it was morning. Sunlight filtered wanly into the Weyr and lit Talenth’s lair with a cold, drowsy light.

  She woke because she was cold. Lorana was standing up beside her, saying softly to Taria as the other tried to quietly corral the children, “How can I help?”

  “We’ll manage,” Taria assured her tersely. Fiona could sense that the youngster did not want her competence questioned.

  “She’s not trying to correct you,” Fiona told her muzzily. “She’s trying to help you.”

  “We’d be glad of it,” Xhinna spoke up as she herded a small group of children toward Fiona’s quarters. She gave Fiona an inquiring look to which Fiona replied, “Of course they can use the bath!” She smiled impishly at the youngsters arrayed before her. “We wouldn’t want stinky children wandering around today, would we?”

  The youngsters giggled and agreed loudly before trundling off, their faces full of glee.

  Lorana looked back toward Fiona and then at Xhinna, who gestured for her to precede her. “I’ll be right behind you, weyrwoman.”

  “It’s just Lorana, now,” Lorana corrected.

  “I’m sorry,” Xhinna said, flustered, “I didn’t mean—”

  Lorana raised a hand and shook her head. “No harm done.”

  She smiled as she strolled briskly after the youngsters, following them into Fiona’s bathroom.

  Xhinna paused long enough to give Fiona an anxious look. Fiona responded with an encouraging smile and a deliberate nod toward the bathroom and the now-loud children inside.

  “Aryar has the right of it,” Fiona said to herself as Xhinna disappeared, still not entirely relieved.

  “That with our love, she’ll grow her heart back?” Kindan spoke up, startling her. Fiona realized that the harper had been awake in the other room for the whole exchange, merely feigning sleep, and now, the way his eyes explored her left her feeling uncomfortable; his maleness, the spicy smell of him, unnerved her.

  “Yes,” she said, rising from her position all too near to him and moving toward her quarters. Her eyes flashed as she looked back at him and snapped, “You, of all people, should know that!”

  Kindan’s look of hurt and confusion almost made her relent and return to him. Almost.

  “He’s supposed to be a harper,” Fiona murmured to herself as she followed the sounds of splashing into her bathroom and saw that it was full of children, mostly bathing, all wet.

  How are you today, Talenth? Fiona asked as she turned back to her bedroom and pulled out fresh riding gear.

  I’m feeling much better, Talenth replied. Are we going to fly today?

  Oh, dear heart, I doubt it, Fiona told her, a small smile flashing across her lips. I think that Jeila and I should stay here. When we have three queens, then we’ll have a proper queens’ wing.

  That will be nice, Talenth agreed. A moment later, she added, Tolarth asks what can Jeila do to help?

  Have her meet us for breakfast and we’ll plan from there.

  I did, Talenth responded. After a slight pause she added, He is quite confused.

  He? Fiona wondered to herself.

  Kindan.

  She remembered another time, Turns back. A time before she’d gone to Igen, when hatchling Talenth had woken, creeling.

  What is it? Fiona had asked, rushing to the young queen’s weyr.

  He hurts, Talenth had said with a whimper.

  I’m sorry, Fiona had said, not knowing how else to respond.

  He hurts and you feel it, Talenth had said. How is it that you feel it?

  “He”—Kindan? Did he still hurt now? And did Fiona still feel it? He shouldn’t be hurting now: He had Lorana. And she, Fiona, shouldn’t be feeling his hurt for the same reason. Still …

  It wouldn’t be fair. It wouldn’t be fair to Lorana, it wouldn’t be fair to Kindan. And, she thought, it wouldn’t be fair to T’mar, either.

  But does that mean it has to be unfair for me?

  Fiona shook her head, dislodging the thoughts from her mind.

  He’ll feel better when he eats, she assured Talenth absently, cocking her head toward the sounds in the bathroom and deciding that it was time for her bath.

  “It’s a good morning for it,” Shaneese said as she met Fiona at the entrance to the Dining Cavern and gestured her toward the high table. “I’ve hot klah waiting.”

  “Thanks!” Fiona called as she passed through.

  T’mar, H’nez, F’jian, and M’tal were talking low among themselves when she sat at the table. T’mar smiled at her, as did F’jian and M’tal, while H’nez gave her a quick nod before returning to the conversation.

  Sonia asks if they can meet us here, Talenth relayed to her just as Fiona had taken a gulp of klah.

  Let me check, Fiona said, swallowing quickly.

  “I think that would be a good idea,” M’tal said when she relayed the request, glancing toward H’nez.

  The wiry bronze rider looked nonplussed by M’tal’s deference. “You’re the senior rider here.”

  “Only temporarily.”

  “We’d be foolish not to take every advantage of your experience,” H’nez said, shrugging his shoulders. “And I expect that you know Weyrleader D’vin better than I.”

  M’tal turned to Fiona. “Please tell the Weyrwoman that we’d be delighted.”

  “What about the firestone?” F’jian asked. “We don’t have enough firestone for them.”

  Their own firestone problems had been temporarily solved by a loan from Fort Weyr.

  “I’ll remind them,” Fiona said, sending the message to Talenth. Fiona was just thinking how difficult it was to relay messages from one dragon to the other before getting it to the rider when she spotted Lorana entering along with Taria, Xhinna, and all their charges. For the first time since she’d seen her, the ex-dragonrider seemed at ease, almost happy.

  Her reflections were interrupted when she saw Norik bearing down on her with Bekka following in tow. The man looked intent, on a mission.

  “Weyrwoman,” Norik began as soon as he was within earshot. Fiona glanced at Bekka, but the young girl’s expression was unreadable, her gaze intent on the old harper.

  “Harper,” Fiona said, giving him a smile. “Have you a song for us today?”

  “No,” Norik said brusquely. He looked at Lorana, then spotted Kindan entering the Dining Cavern. His expression changed.

  “I was wondering—” he began, then broke off and closed his eyes in pain. When he opened them again, he met her eyes unflinchingly. “I was wondering if perhaps Harper Kindan and I could change places.” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “I loved this Weyr. But after—” He broke off, a harper groping for words. “There’s too much pain for me here.”

  “The illness is past,” Fiona began soothingly even as her heart leaped at the notion. “Surely—”

  “The memories, Weyrwoman,” Norik cut in, gesturing to those around him, “the memories are here every day for me.”

  “And it would be different in another Weyr?”

  Norik pursed his lips thoughtfully before answering, “Yes, I think so.” He grimaced. “I hope so.” The pain in his eyes was evident. “I won’t know unless I try.”

  “Kindan was assigned to Benden at my request,” M’tal spoke up softly from be
side them. Norik glanced at him in surprise. M’tal glanced toward Fiona, his eyes gentle. “It may be well for me to consider changing Weyrs. And if I did, it is possible that Kindan might choose to follow me.”

  “Lady Salina—” Fiona began but M’tal cut her off with a kindly shake of his head.

  “I believe that Salina would, just as Harper Norik, appreciate a change of Weyrs,” M’tal told her, adding, “In fact, that consideration weighs on my offer.”

  What would H’nez say? Fiona wondered, her eyes going wide with a wicked sense of delight. Then she sobered as she thought, what would T’mar think? And if Talenth rose, would it be possible for her to refuse Gaminth, a superb bronze with proven ability?

  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.”

  “What’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, s
omeone’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.