She was halfway up the ramp to her ledge, wondering what she was going to say to Tannaz, wondering whether Melanwy would still be with her, when she heard a noise from her weyr and looked up.
There was a figure standing in the archway, looking startled. For a moment, Fiona felt a rush of thoughts race over each other: Was it Kentai? Had someone heard Talenth coughing? Or . . .
The figure dropped its head in shame and started down the ramp toward her. It was a dark-haired girl who looked vaguely familiar, though Fiona couldn’t recall having met her.
“I—I was just tending the glows,” the girl mumbled as she reached Fiona.
Fiona’s anger came back then, redoubled. She lashed out her hand and grabbed the girl’s wrist. “No, you weren’t!”
The girl’s eyes flashed briefly, then she lowered them again and just stood there, trying to free her trapped hand with the other.
“What’s your name?” Fiona demanded.
The girl stopped her struggling. At Fiona’s commanding look, she swallowed and said, “Xhinna.”
Still holding the girl’s wrist, Fiona turned back to her weyr. “Come on.”
“I’ve got chores to do,” Xhinna protested. “I’ll get in trouble.”
“You’re in trouble now,” Fiona told her. “More won’t matter.” She paused to look back at the girl she was pulling along. “You wanted to get a look, didn’t you?”
Xhinna tried out a look of incomprehension, but then gave it up; her face settled into a scowl as she murmured, “She should have been mine.”
Talenth? Fiona called. Are you okay? She felt only the young dragon’s sleeping mind. Aloud she said, “The dragon chooses the rider—you know that.”
As they entered Talenth’s weyr, Fiona cast a quick around the large chamber. The glows were still dim, left over from the night before, but she had expected that. Nothing had been disturbed.
“Have a good look at her,” she instructed the dark-haired girl. “But don’t wake her. She’s still asleep and she’ll want oiling the moment she’s up.”
“She’s big,” Xhinna said in awe as she sidled around the weyr toward the entrance to Fiona’s sleeping quarters. Fiona saw Xhinna’s darting glance into the other room, saw the look of longing in her eyes.
Recognition suddenly dawned. “You were the candidate who chased after her,” Fiona exclaimed.
Xhinna’s face darkened in shame. “I was afraid she was going to get away,” she confessed miserably. “And it would have been my fault.”
“Your fault?” Fiona thought that was going too far.
“I shouldn’t have been there,” Xhinna said, grimacing. “I wasn’t Searched.”
“Nor was I,” Fiona remarked, not seeing any harm in that.
Xhinna swallowed hard and raised her eyes to meet Fiona’s as she admitted, “I stole the robe from the laundry and snuck in with the others.” Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. “Melanwy said I shouldn’t have been there, that I might have ruined everything.”
“Shh!” Fiona hissed, bringing a finger to her lips. “Melanwy’s next door with Tannaz and Kalsenth.”
Xhinna’s eyes widened in fright and she mouthed a wordless, “Oh!”
“I thought,” Fiona began softly after a long moment in which they both stood still, listening guiltily for any sounds that they might have been heard by Melanwy or Tannaz, “that all weyrfolk were allowed to be candidates at a Hatching.”
“I’m not weyrfolk,” Xhinna murmured in reply. Fiona gave her a surprised look, so Xhinna explained quickly, still in a furtive voice, “They found me all alone in the wild when I was just a baby.”
“But you’re younger than me,” Fiona said in confusion. “It couldn’t have been the Plague.”
Xhinna shrugged. “No one knows. Perhaps my parents or my mother only just survived; perhaps something else happened, not the Plague.”
“But you were raised here,” Fiona protested.
“Not to hear the others tell,” Xhinna said. “The boys tease me, the girls shun me, and Melanwy . . .”
Fiona urged her to continue.
“Melanwy wants to send me away,” Xhinna said so quietly that Fiona had to lean forward to catch her words.
“But she’s not the Weyrwoman!” Fiona protested.
“Nor was Cisca until a few Turns back,” Xhinna replied. “And while Nara was around, Melanwy was headwoman. Everyone listened to her. She said I wasn’t like most other girls.” She paused for a long time before she raised her troubled eyes to Fiona’s. “And she’s right.”
Fiona was disturbed by the other girl’s intensity, by a nagging suspicion that Xhinna was trying to tell her some deep secret, something important. She examined the younger girl: dark hair fell just beyond her shoulders and framed a swarthy face and dark, intelligent eyes. Her nose was pretty and lightly freckled.
“I don’t like Melanwy,” Fiona told her honestly. “I know that she’s old and addled and deserves respect but . . . she seems so mean all the time!”
Xhinna let out a gasp of surprise, her expression brightening.
Fiona turned back to Talenth, who had started twitching. Gesturing to her dragon, she asked the other girl, “Have you seen enough?”
Xhinna’s expression made it clear to Fiona that the younger girl could never see enough of the queen dragon but Xhinna only said, “Yes, thank you.” She turned away. “I’d best be going.”
“Come back any time you want,” Fiona called after her. Xhinna stiffened, as though stung by the words, so Fiona added, “I mean it.”
The younger girl stopped and turned back, her expression full of surprise. “Really?”
“Really,” Fiona replied. She grinned. “Although if you come when Talenth’s awake, I’ll make you help oil her.”
Xhinna’s face lit in a smile, her eyes dancing. Fiona was amazed at how much happiness transformed the girl’s face.
“I could bring fresh glows,” Xhinna offered shyly.
“As long as you don’t get in trouble,” Fiona replied. Then she remembered Xhinna’s Hatching Ground admission and corrected herself. “I mean more trouble!”
Xhinna looked pained until she recognized Fiona’s teasing tone, and then she grinned again. “I’m always in trouble,” she replied. “At least with the glows, I can use you as an excuse.”
“Absolutely!” Fiona agreed. She cocked her head as a new thought struck her. “In fact, perhaps we can arrange for you to help me.”
For a moment, Xhinna looked absolutely stunned, then her face clouded once more. “Like a drudge?”
“No,” Fiona corrected her, her tone turning a bit sharp, “like a friend.” She paused and raised her eyebrows at the girl. “They do have those at the Weyr, don’t they?”
“Some do,” Xhinna allowed.
Fiona guessed that Xhinna added in her thoughts, “just not me.”
“Who would I talk to?” Fiona asked.
Xhinna’s face darkened once more before she answered, “Melanwy.” Fiona’s surprise must have shown, for Xhinna added, “Since the Hatching, she’s had me report to her directly.” Her tone changed to a remarkable approximation of Melanwy’s croaking: “ ‘The honor of the Weyr must be maintained.’ ”
Fiona bit back a chuckle.” That sounds just like her,” she said. Then she asked, “Why aren’t you with her now?”
“She sent me away,” Xhinna responded bitterly. “She’s in there with Tannaz, just waiting for—”
“What?”
Xhinna took a deep breath and a quick step back toward Fiona, to whisper, “She’s just waiting for Kelsanth to die.”
Then, as if the enormity of the admission overwhelmed her, Xhinna raced away back toward the Kitchen Cavern.
When Fiona was done tending Talenth, she walked back through her rooms and into the rear corridor. She paused for a moment outside Tannaz’s quarters, then moved noisily into the room, calling, “Hello! Tannaz!”
She heard an answering voice coming from Kels
anth’s lair and followed it.
Melanwy glanced up sourly from a chair set against the near wall while Tannaz stood wearily at Kelsanth’s head, stroking the ailing queen’s eye ridges.
“What do you want?” Melanwy demanded.
Fiona ignored her and walked over to Tannaz. “Is there anything I can get you?”
Tannaz looked over to her blearily, shook her head and turned her attention back to scratching Kelsanth’s eye ridges.
“You need to eat, Tannaz,” Fiona said to the older Weyrwoman. “Why don’t we send for some food?”
“It’s awfully dark in here,” Melanwy declared loudly. She stirred in her chair. “Where’s that dratted girl with the new glows?”
Fiona continued to ignore the old headwoman, keeping her attention on Tannaz. “Would you like to take a bath?” she asked, gesturing toward the bathing room. “I could watch her while you do.”
Listlessly, Tannaz shook her head.
“I’m going to get you some food,” Fiona declared, and turned to leave, only to find Melanwy blocking her way.
“Didn’t you hear her?” the old headwoman blared angrily. “She said she didn’t want any.”
“She didn’t say that, Melanwy,” Fiona replied calmly, noting with surprise that she was nearly as tall as the old woman. “She didn’t say anything.”
“Then don’t get her anything!” Melanwy ordered.
“I’ll bring some food,” Fiona replied firmly. Her temper flared and she stretched to her full height, her eyes flashing. “And you’ll have respect for a Weyrwoman, no matter what your years!”
Either Fiona’s words or her tone got through to the old woman. Melanwy stepped aside, wearily sitting back down in her chair, shaking her head. “It won’t help, you know. She won’t eat.” Fiona looked at her. “I already tried.”
Fiona was surprised to hear that admission from Melanwy but her anger still flared, so she snapped back, “But you’re not a Weyrwoman.” Melanwy’s eyes widened. Fiona turned back to Tannaz. “If need be, I’ll have her dragon tell her to eat!”
And, with that, she turned about, strode past Melanwy and Tannaz, and headed down the ledge to the Weyr Bowl, realizing that she could get to the Kitchen Cavern faster that way than going back through her own weyr.
When she arrived, she found Zirana and explained her need. “And do you know where I can find Xhinna?”
“Xhinna?” Zirana repeated in surprise, shaking her head. She gave Fiona a probing look. “What do you want with her?”
“I’ll need help carrying this, and Melanwy’s snarking about the glows,” Fiona explained.
“Melanwy? Is she bothering you?”
“She’s with Tannaz,” Fiona replied in a tone that made it clear she thought that was worse.
Zirana frowned for a moment, then made up her mind. With a firm nod, she grabbed Fiona by the shoulders and pushed her toward the back entrance to the cavern. “You go back there, listen for children, you’ll find Xhinna,” Zirana told her. “I’ll get the food ready.”
“Thanks!” Fiona called back as she trotted away.
“She’s no relative of mine, that girl!” Zirana called after her.
Fiona could almost hear Zirana thinking of saying more and then deciding against it. Why was the cook so alarmed about Xhinna?
She passed through the back archway and was surprised to find that she was in a large corridor with branches left and right as well as straight ahead. She knew that there were more living quarters carved into the hard stone of Fort Weyr than she’d seen so far, but even with her foray to the medicine stores, she hadn’t quite realized their full extent. A breath of air and some light from the straight corridor informed Fiona that it connected somewhere with the outside of the Weyr and the road that led down to Fort Hold itself.
She cocked her head and listened. Faintly, from the right, she heard the sound of children laughing. She followed it. It was a number of minutes before she found herself outside a large room. Peering in, she saw more children than she’d ever seen at once in the Weyr.
Some were running around, others were grouped together, some were constructing with blocks, and some were playing games Fiona didn’t recognize. Toward the back wall, she noticed a very large cluster of children sitting and listening raptly to someone who was pacing and gesturing before them. It was Xhinna.
Fiona moved closer and waited quietly for Xhinna to finish her storytelling. At last the younger girl stopped speaking, and as the children began murmuring to one another, Fiona approached. Some of the children saw her.
“It’s the Weyrwoman!” “Weyrwoman Fiona!” Fiona was surprised by their whispers and the looks they gave her.
Then she felt a tug at the base of her tunic and looked down to see a small hand connected to a tiny, solemn-eyed child who couldn’t have had more than four Turns.
“Are you really a Weyrwoman?” the little girl asked.
“Yes, I am,” Fiona said, kneeling down to meet the girl eye to eye. The little girl backed up a step, startled.
A boy toddled up beside her, clearly a sibling. He was older but not by much. “Is your dragon going to die?”
“Dennon!” Xhinna’s voice boomed above her as Fiona struggled to regain her composure. The question had shocked her, chilled her to the bone in a way that going between had never done. Xhinna squatted down beside Fiona, placed a hand on her shoulder, and gave her a brief squeeze, all the while saying to Dennon, “It’s not polite to talk like that!”
“But you said Tannaz’s dragon was going to die!” Dennon protested angrily. “And they say that Asoth and the others are going to die, too!”
“Your father’s dragon will be all right, Dennon,” Xhinna assured the boy, her tone suddenly quiet and soothing.
“B-but if a queen could die, then why not a blue, too?” Dennon blubbered. Beside him, his sister started to quietly cry.
“What’s going on here?” a woman’s voice called from the entrance. Fiona looked up and recognized Ellor.
“Xhinna, what are you doing?” Ellor demanded. “I thought you were going to watch them!” Under her breath she muttered, “The mothers only wanted a moment’s peace!”
“It wasn’t my fault,” Xhinna replied, getting back to her feet. “Dennon started bawling.”
“There, Dennon,” Fiona said to the youngster, “it’s going to be all right.”
“Do you promise?” Dennon asked, his trusting eyes gazing into hers.
“Dennon,” Xhinna rasped, “she can’t—”
“I promise,” Fiona said, raising her voice over Xhinna’s. “Things will work out, even though there may be tears.”
Remember that.
Fiona stepped back, looking around the room. That voice! She’d heard it before. She reached out to Talenth: Did you say something?
No, the queen replied. She did.
Who? Cisca?
No, Talenth replied. I cannot say, I do not know her name. We haven’t met yet.
“Are you all right?” Ellor’s voice was full of concern and Fiona realized that the cook had anxiously raced across the room to her.
“I’m fine,” Fiona said, rising to her feet.
“Xhinna—” Ellor began, her voice edged with fury.
“She’s to come with me,” Fiona said. “I need her.”
Ellor opened her mouth to protest, but Fiona cut across her. “Zirana sent me to get her.”
Ellor looked like she wanted to argue, but the noise of the children distracted her. She blew out her breath in a loud sigh. “Very well,” she said, glaring at Xhinna. “Go with the Weyrwoman and mind your manners!”
Fiona needed no more urging and, grabbing Xhinna by the arm, dragged the girl along with her.
“Thanks!” Xhinna said as they entered the corridor. “Now you see what I mean about how everyone always blames me, even when I don’t do anything.”
Fiona was quiet for a moment. When she spoke, it was with an honest, deliberate voice. “Those children di
dn’t hear about dragons dying from anyone but you,” she said. “You didn’t set them off just then, but you certainly set them up for it.”
Xhinna stopped dead in her tracks. Fiona turned back to her. Xhinna’s expression was dead, haunted.
“I thought you were different,” Xhinna whispered in shock. “I thought you might really like me.”
“Oh, you’re worse than a pricklebug, you!” Fiona roared back at her. She reached out and grabbed Xhinna’s hand, tugging her along. “You take offense at the slightest bit of honesty.” She sighed loudly. “It’s like you expect everyone to be mean to you.”
“That wasn’t mean?” Xhinna asked with a sniff.
“It was true!” Fiona snapped. “You told those kids a story and you scared them. You’re responsible for that. You made a mistake—it doesn’t make you a bad person.”
“It doesn’t?” Xhinna repeated, as though the concept was new to her.
“No, everyone makes mistakes,” Fiona said, increasing her stride as Xhinna started walking beside her faster. “It’s what you do about them afterward that matters.”
“You mean you don’t hate me?”
“Because you wanted to be a dragonrider?” Fiona demanded. “Or because you like telling stories?”
“Because—” Xhinna took a deep breath before confessing in a rush, “Because I hoped that your dragon would die.”
Fiona gaped at her, dumbstruck.
“I—I thought if—if I couldn’t have her,” Xhinna stammered, “then why should you?” She looked down and began to cry. “I’m sorry. It was mean of me, and I didn’t mean . . . not really, b-but I thought if I had a dragon then maybe I’d . . .”
“Maybe you’d fit in,” Fiona finished for her. Xhinna’s head bobbed up and down, but she covered her face with her hands and her sobs continued unabated. Fiona groped for a response. The thought of losing a dragon, any dragon . . .
“You know I had a fire-lizard,” she began. She thought she saw Xhinna nod, so she continued. “She was a gold. Her name was Fire.” She paused, fighting to retain her composure. “I miss her . . . so much!”
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