“I will,” T’mar declared, then turned and vaulted up to his perch on Zirenth’s back. He urged Zirenth into the air, found his place with his Wing, and made the hand signal for the dragonriders of Telgar to go between, back in time, to fight a Threadfall they’d not anticipated, a Threadfall they’d been fighting for over an hour already.
A silence descended upon the Weyr and Fiona turned to Lorana. “He will come back, won’t he?”
Lorana looked at her a long time before turning away, saying sympathetically, “He hasn’t been injured yet; I can no more see the future than you.”
“We should set up the aid stations,” Fiona said after a moment, turning to Shaneese and the weyrfolk.
She gave good coordinates, Zirenth said in approving tones as they burst out into the hot morning air over Keroon. T’mar nodded silently as he gazed out over the flight of Istan dragons arrayed before them.
Ginirth says they fly well, Zirenth relayed. T’mar snorted, guessing that behind that observation lay H’nez’s question: What were they doing here? M’tal was in the lead, flying well and—
As suddenly as T’mar could think, a clump of Thread whirled around in a dangerous looping arc, at first unseen in the distance, and was entangled around M’tal. T’mar heard Gaminth’s bellow of pain, saw the bronze rider slump even as the Thread burnt through his wher-hide and into his flesh—and then dragon and rider were gone.
T’mar barely had time to realize that the same thing had happened to three other Istan riders at the same moment—two of them wingleaders—before he cried out, “’Ware, Thread!”
Zirenth lurched suddenly, arching his neck, his muscles straining mightily as his wings fought to gain even more height and his mouth opened in a long arc of flame burning a clump of Thread out of the sky that just a moment before had threatened to engulf them the same way M’tal had been surprised.
Later, T’mar could never remember issuing any orders, but somehow he reoriented his wings upward and in an instant they were far above the Istan riders, dragon flames reaching even higher to sear the steady line of Thread that could just be discerned against the glare of the sun.
Have them get above us! T’mar told Zirenth, who relayed the order to the recovering Istan riders. They went between, returning almost immediately above and behind the Telgar riders. A moment later he issued the same order to his dragons and the two Weyrs leapfrogged until they were as high as they could fly and T’mar could feel his lungs straining for air, his cheeks tingling with the lack, and the color in his eyes wavering, threatening to turn gray.
High enough, T’mar said. He gazed at the Thread in front of them and grunted as he saw it falling in steady, predictable streams.
Some must have gotten through, he reminded himself. We’ll have to send sweepriders later.
But for the moment they could fight Thread, teetering at the very heights at which a man could breathe, every moment wary of going too high or straying too low.
T’mar could sense Zirenth’s concern and felt an echo come in from H’nez through Ginirth, It’s hard to fly this high.
T’mar chuckled at the understatement and then laughed aloud as he saw the Wings tearing into Thread, flaming it into nothingness.
At least we’re on top of the Thread, T’mar said, patting Zirenth lightly on the neck and peering around him to assure himself that the fight was now firmly in hand.
“They’re flying high,” Fiona remarked absently as she and Lorana found a moment alone together. “It will wear the riders out even more.”
Lorana nodded lightly and Fiona narrowed her eyes speculatively. She gestured to Shaneese. “Lorana needs to sit.”
The headwoman nodded and sent a weyrgirl sprinting off with a wave of her finger. The girl came back just as quickly, puffing under the load of one of the canvas chairs, but she smiled brightly as she set it up and conscientiously guided Lorana into it.
“How are the eggs, my lady?” the girl asked, greatly daring.
“They’re doing well,” Fiona told her with a smile. “Perhaps after this Fall is over, we’ll let you have a look.”
“I’m only a girl,” the youngster replied, deflated. “I can’t imagine a queen will want me.”
“It still doesn’t hurt to look, does it?” Fiona asked.
The girl thought it over and shrugged. “It’d be better if I was a boy,” she said after a moment, frowning. “And even if I were, I’d be too young yet.”
“Dragons pick who they will,” Fiona said, gesturing to herself with a grin and then glancing significantly toward Lorana.
“Yes, Weyrwoman,” the girl agreed dutifully.
Fiona snorted at the response and the girl gave her a startled look. “I’ll tell you this: It’d be hard to imagine a dragon Impressing someone who’s so certain she won’t.”
The youngster pondered upon that for moment and then nodded solemnly. “Yes, Weyrwoman.”
“So stop with the long face, and come find me tomorrow, and we’ll see if the queens are ready yet to accept visitors!”
A shriek broke quiet of the Weyr and Fiona glanced up as the first casualty returned to the Weyr.
“I never imagined I could be so tired!” H’nez said as Jeila hauled him into bed later that day. “It’s not even evening and I can—” he yawned widely “—hardly keep my eyes open.”
“The air, timing it, and the stress of fighting,” Jeila said in terse explanation as she drew the covers over him.
“Three days,” H’nez said, fighting back another yawn. “Three and we fight again. How can we be ready?”
Jeila shushed him, leaning down to brush his lips with her own. “Sleep. Rest and we’ll talk later.”
She straightened up, giving her mate an expectant look, surprised that he didn’t have some martial retort ready, but instead the soft, jagged sound of his snores rose up in response. She smiled lovingly, then her expression changed as she asked herself, how could they fight again in just three days?
“I don’t feel as bad as some of the others,” T’mar said the next morning at breakfast, as if in answer to Fiona’s unspoken question of the night before. Fiona quirked an eyebrow questioningly and the Weyrleader shrugged.
“I think it’s because I’ve felt so exhausted these past several Turns that the stress of timing it and flying in thin air didn’t affect me as much as the others,” he said, with a jerk of his head toward H’nez’s empty place.
Fiona reached for the klah and topped off both their mugs with a grin, saying, “Well, if it’s only that bad …
“They’ll be ready enough for the next Fall.”
“Only if we don’t have to time it beforehand,” T’mar cautioned.
“On the other hand, if you do have to time it, you might want to tap those who are suffering from this exhaustion,” Fiona said, “if they too prove as unaffected as yourself.”
T’mar raised his hands and spread them wide in a warding gesture, saying, “I wouldn’t consider myself all that well-rested.”
“But you could fight again, if you had the need.”
T’mar accepted her notion with a grimace, saying, “I’d prefer to leave it to another Weyr.”
“True,” Fiona said and was silent for a moment as she spoke with her dragon. “I’ve had Talenth relay the news to Melirth at Fort and Lyrinth at High Reaches.”
“Good thought,” T’mar said. “We should have done that last night.”
Fiona’s eyebrows rose in agreement, adding dryly, “So Sonia has just told me.”
“They know about M’tal, don’t they?”
“Of course,” Fiona said. The loss of a Weyrleader was the sort of news that traveled instantly through all the Weyrs. She shook her head sadly, saying, “It must be a double blow for Dalia, on top of losing C’rion.”
T’mar nodded, his lips pursed tightly. “At least she’s got S’maj,” he said a moment later. “He’s a seasoned rider; that should be some help.”
“But Bidenth won’t rise unt
il after her clutch has Hatched, so there could be a lot of friction beforehand,” Fiona said. She frowned, adding, “I can’t recall all that many bronzes at Ista, come to think of it.”
T’mar thought for a moment. “S’maj’s Capith isn’t much younger than M’tal’s Gaminth.”
“Age has nothing to do with a mating flight.”
“But it can affect the size of the clutch,” T’mar said, “particularly if both dragons are elderly.”
“You know,” Fiona said, shifting abruptly in her chair, “I hadn’t realized how few bronze dragons we now have.”
T’mar bit off a quick retort, instead cupping his chin in his hand thoughtfully. “Not all that many more than the queens themselves,” he agreed after a moment.
“There are more bronzes at Fort, Benden, and High Reaches,” Fiona said.
“Particularly true for Fort, but not so much now with a queen egg,” T’mar said. “Benden probably has the most bronzes per queen, Ista has the least with just the two bronzes and two queens.”
“And we’ve lost quite a number of bronzes in the past half-Turn,” Fiona said, raising her eyes to catch T’mar’s. “We’re likely to go on losing them, as they’re usually wingleaders, too.” She shivered. “What if we lose them all?”
“I suppose you’d have to make do with a brown.”
“Even if a queen would let a brown catch her, wouldn’t the clutch just naturally be smaller because the mating flight would be shorter?”
“Probably,” T’mar agreed with a grim look of his own. “Although, if we keep losing bronze dragons at this rate, we—rather, you—may find out before too long.”
“Perhaps we should consider conserving our bronzes,” Fiona suggested. T’mar shot her a look that she shrugged off, saying, “Just as we do with our queens.”
“So if a Weyr’s strength in bronzes falls to just one, you’d recommend keeping that bronze out of a Fall?” T’mar asked, adding, “I’d like to see you explain that to someone like S’maj.”
“They need someone at Ista to cheer them up,” Fiona said, clearly having reached this conclusion without reference to the rest of the conversation. “Someone like M’kurry.”
“So, are you now going to tell K’lior how to arrange his Weyr?” T’mar asked giving the younger woman a glowering look.
“No, I’ll leave that to Cisca,” Fiona said. She rose from her chair.
“Where are you going?” T’mar asked, anxious at the implications of Fiona’s actions.
“I’m going to talk with Lorana and Kindan if they’re awake,” Fiona said with a victorious smile at his discomfiture.
“And if not?”
“I promised one young girl a chance to view the eggs on the Hatching Grounds,” Fiona replied easily. Her eyes twinkled as she caught the quick turning of heads at her words.
“I expect she’ll have lots of company,” T’mar said in agreement, glancing around at the eager weyrfolk.
“We’ll start small,” Fiona said to him as the girl who’d spoken with her yesterday came scampering up and curtsied, eyes shining with delight and anticipation. “And with small groups, too.” She looked down at the youngster. “Ready?”
“Now, Weyrwoman?” the little girl squeaked in surprise.
“Right now,” Fiona told her crisply, turning toward the Weyr Bowl in the direction of the Hatching Grounds. She glanced down at the girl’s feet. “You’ve sandals on, so you shouldn’t be bothered by the heat of the sands.”
“And I’m wearing white, my lady,” the girl chirped, pulling at the edges of her dress in emphasis.
“It’s a bit early for that,” Fiona said. “The eggs won’t hatch for a while yet.”
“And I’m too young,” the girl added by way of agreement.
“I wouldn’t know as I’ve no more idea of your age than I do of your name,” Fiona told her, smiling to remove any sting from her words.
The youngster blushed mightily. “I’m sorry, my lady! I’m Darri, and I’ve nearly eight Turns.”
“Do you know Xhinna and Taria?”
The youngster nodded mutely.
“Well, can you run and get them?” Fiona asked. “Bring them to the Hatching Grounds when you come back.”
Shaneese, who had moved closer to get an ear on the conversation, spoke up warningly. “They’re in one of the back playrooms.”
“Tell them to bring whoever’s with them,” Fiona told Darri, adding to Shaneese, “It will be all right.”
The young girl gave the headwoman a questioning look. Shaneese shrugged and waved her off. After the youngster had scampered away, Shaneese said to Fiona, “Just remember, my lady, that the behavior you encourage is what will persist.”
Fiona smiled. “I’m counting on it,” she said. “I won’t be at all surprised if I’m shortly deluged with all sorts of requests.”
Shaneese’s eyebrows rose in surprise.
“Which,” Fiona continued, her smile growing broader, “I will soon delegate to Xhinna and Taria.”
“Oh!” Shaneese said. She smiled, adding, “I can see how that will work on many levels.”
Fiona gave her a quick nod and grinned. “I rather thought you might.”
“But what if the queens get too bothered?”
“Then they’ll let Xhinna—or Taria—know,” Fiona said. Anticipating Shaneese’s next question, she added, “I’ve already spoken with Jeila about this and she agrees.”
“So those two young ladies will be hearing directly from the queens?” Shaneese asked, mulling the notion over. Fiona nodded. “It will add to their duties.”
“It will,” Fiona agreed. “I’m sure they’ll manage just fine.”
“I can imagine some riders might complain about letting anyone wander the Hatching Grounds with only the by-your-leave of those two,” Shaneese said.
“Yes, I suppose that’s possible,” Fiona said. “Besides, the queens are agreeable.”
Shaneese raised an eyebrow as she asked, “And H’nez has no problem with this?”
“Wingleader H’nez wasn’t asked,” Fiona retorted crisply. After a moment, she relented under the older woman’s gaze and added, “But, to be honest, I don’t think he’ll mind at all.”
“And I’m certain that Xhinna and Taria will be fair about it,” Shaneese said to herself.
“Oh,” Fiona said with a grin, “I wouldn’t be at all surprised if some of their least favorite duties were … relinquished.”
“You’re not expecting them to get some of the weyrlads to watch the little ones?” Shaneese asked in wonder.
Fiona shrugged. “I imagine they’d even agree to diaper duty if the demand’s high enough.” She gave Shaneese a measured look, adding, “I think that Xhinna’s already well-proven she’s able to do a lad’s work, so why shouldn’t they have to show they can do a lass’s?”
Shaneese snorted loudly at the notion.
“And,” Fiona added a bit more seriously, “I think that those who are willing to undertake some of those more demanding duties are exactly the sort who will appeal most to a new-hatched dragonet.”
Shaneese pursed her lips for a moment, then nodded decisively. “You could well be right there, Weyrwoman.”
“Which is exactly what T’mar said when I mentioned the notion to him.”
Grinning, Shaneese asked, “And did he, before he Impressed, have to do diaper duty at Fort Weyr?”
“I certainly hope so,” Fiona replied tartly. “I have warned him that he’ll definitely be obliged when the time comes.”
Shaneese’s eyebrows rose high in surprise. “I thought—” she cut herself off. Fiona gestured for her to continue. Shaneese cleared her throat, choosing her words carefully. “I mean, and is this a duty he will be expected to perform soon?”
“Perhaps not for me,” Fiona said, surprised both at her own tone and her own feelings in the manner, “but I’ve told him that he can expect to be aiding Kindan as much as I’m aiding Lorana when her first baby comes.”
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br /> “I see,” Shaneese said. She screwed up her nerve for another question. “And this is what he wants?”
Fiona shook her head. “I’m not sure,” she admitted. “I think that he still doesn’t know himself.” Then she grinned, saying, “Not that I plan to give him any chance to object, regardless.”
Shaneese hesitated once more, then moved closer to Fiona. “Not that it’s my place,” she told the younger woman, “but there aren’t many who don’t get jealous over time.”
“I know,” Fiona agreed with a sigh. “I’m not one of them, nor is Lorana.”
She allowed a wary look to cross her face. “I’m not quite sure what T’mar wants. I think Kindan is still grappling with his feelings.”
“He probably always will be,” Shaneese said. Fiona looked up at her, trying to keep her worries from showing. “You look like the woman he first loved, you aren’t the woman he learned to love next, and yet …”
“And yet he loves me in spite of all that,” Fiona said, hoping that the words made the truth.
Shaneese nodded. “I think that’s so.” A moment later she added, “But T’mar?”
“He thinks he’s too old for me, even though he’s not much older than Kindan,” Fiona said. “And he worries that his place is with me only because his bronze flew my gold.”
“But isn’t that so?”
“I can’t say for certain, but I don’t think so,” Fiona said. She met the older woman’s eyes squarely. “He was my first, I chose him. But I think more than that, I love him because he’s honest with me and will tell me truths I don’t want to hear and trusts that I’ll listen to him and respect his words.”
“He is quite a man,” Shaneese said in agreement. She gave the young Weyrwoman a calculating look and raised her hand to wiggle a finger warningly under Fiona’s nose. “And if you do decide that he doesn’t suit you, don’t be surprised to find him with me instead.”
Fiona chuckled at the thought. “You are quite an attractive person,” she said. “And I believe that the two of you would make a good pair.” Then she chuckled mischievously.
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