Dragonheart

by Todd J. McCaffrey

  “I suppose a nap’s not a bad idea,” Terin agreed. She made a shooing motion toward Fiona. “You go; I’ll keep an eye on things here.”

  As Fiona settled a clean sheet over herself, grateful that the weyrlings had found mattress stuffing before their excursion to the Snowy Wastes, Fiona replayed T’mar’s return in her mind one more time before drifting off to a fitful sleep.

  When she woke, hours later, the sun was on the horizon and the day fading away.

  Talenth, she called, as she slipped into her shoes, how is T’mar?

  Awake and waiting for you in the cavern, Talenth replied. I told him you are coming.

  Does he have any idea—no, wait, I’ll ask him myself.

  Fiona hurried along to the Kitchen Cavern. T’mar, seated at the raised Weyrleader’s table in the back of the room, nodded to her as she entered. J’keran and J’gerd were seated with him.

  “We were just discussing our trip,” T’mar informed her as she sat at the table.

  “And?”

  T’mar shook his head. “We’ve no idea why it was so exhausting for us.”

  The dragons are fine, Talenth volunteered.

  “Well, you’d been out riding before, hadn’t you?” Fiona said. “Perhaps going from the intense heat to the extreme cold and then back again—”

  T’mar interrupted her with a shake of his head. “I’ve made journeys like that before without this ill effect.”

  Fiona sighed, at a loss for ideas. It was almost as if whatever had affected her and T’mar and some of the other weyrlings a while back had affected those who went to the Wastes even more. Sudden inspiration caused her to gasp, but she shook her head when T’mar narrowed his eyes at her expectantly. Instead, she cut her eyes to the two older weyrlings.

  “J’gerd, J’keran, for now if there are no more problems, I’d like you to get the older weyrlings ready to receive the traders,” T’mar told them. After they had left, he turned to Fiona. “Well?”

  “It’s just that you and I have been talking for a while now about the dangers of being in the same time twice,” Fiona began slowly. “What if that happened this time?”

  T’mar frowned.

  “When was the last time you went to the Snowy Wastes?” she persisted.

  T’mar shrugged. “I think the last time was in the winter when we practiced recognition points.”

  “And when do you think you went to the Snowy Wastes today?” T’mar frowned. “It was—”

  “Was it now, in this Turn, or then, ten Turns in the future?”

  T’mar’s jaw dropped and his eyes widened as his certainty gave way to confused possibility.

  “And wouldn’t that mean that you and the weyrlings had gone between times twice today?” Fiona continued, triumphantly. “And that you were double or triple-timing yourself ten Turns in the future?” She paused to let her point sink home. “And wouldn’t that cause you to be extremely tired and dizzy?”

  “Yes,” T’mar agreed slowly, “that seems reasonable.” He frowned. “But I only know recognition points in the future!”

  “Is that a problem?”

  “It is when it comes to drilling the weyrlings—your weyrlings—as they get older,” T’mar said bitterly. “If it caused this much trouble with the older weyrlings, imagine what it would do with those going between for the first time.”

  “The second time,” Fiona corrected absently. “They’ve gone between once already.”

  T’mar glowered at her.

  “So how hard is it to learn the recognition points for this time?” she asked.

  “It’s not so much that as unlearning the old points,” T’mar replied. “And we’ve no way to know when we are.”

  “How will we get back to Fort Weyr at the right time?”

  “I hadn’t really thought of it,” T’mar admitted. “I had only thought to come back when we left; I don’t know how we’d come back three days later.”

  “I’m sure we’ll think of something,” Fiona said. “For the time being, though, I think we should concentrate on our current problems.” She grinned at him. “Like how best to make use of your ice!”

  “You sound like you have some suggestions,” T’mar returned with a grin of his own.

  “I do,” Fiona agreed, raising her hand high and beckoning to Terin. “And I’m sure Terin will have more.”

  Azeez and Mother Karina greeted the wingleader and Weyrwoman effusively as T’mar and Fiona ushered them into the Kitchen Cavern.

  “We have news!” Azeez cried as soon as he saw them.

  “And we brought supplies,” Mother Karina added.

  “We have some news of our own,” T’mar told them. “But first, come sit with us.”

  “You must be tired after your journey,” Fiona added solicitously as she gestured to the high table. She smiled at T’mar as she continued, “We’ve had a chance to explore our surroundings and prepare some refreshments.”

  “And something to trade, I imagine,” Azeez said as he carefully seated Mother Karina and then himself.

  “Klah?” Fiona asked, offering the pitcher.

  “It’s too hot for klah,” Mother Karina replied.

  “Tea, then?” Fiona offered, picking up another pitcher. “We’ve made a nice infusion of herbs and some of the orange rinds you left us. It’s quite refreshing.”

  “What’s in the third pitcher?” Mother Karina asked, eyeing it suspiciously.

  Fiona poured herself some of the klah before responding. “In this heat, I have to agree that warm klah is not too pleasant,” she began, reaching for the third pitcher. “But iced klah—” and she poured two lumps of ice into her mug “—is entirely different.”

  She raised the mug and passed it to Mother Karina. “Perhaps you’d agree?”

  “Ice?” Karina repeated, eyeing the bobbing lumps in the mug. “It’s the middle of summer—where did you get ice?”

  “Perhaps you’d care for a new treat, made with sweet cane and orange peel,” Terin suggested, bringing forth a covered dish and ceremoniously displaying a bowl full of crushed ice sprinkled with the orange flavoring. “It’s quite tangy.”

  “You have this much ice, that you can make sweets with it?” Azeez asked in surprise.

  “You should try the ice,” Fiona said, spooning out a portion into a bowl and putting it in front of him.

  “Most of our ice we use to keep our injured riders cool,” T’mar added. “A large block properly placed can cool a whole room.”

  “A block of ice?” Karina repeated. “For cooling?”

  “I imagine you could use it in your caravans,” Fiona said. “We could probably arrange a trade—”

  “Weyrwoman, you most certainly could,” Azeez agreed, dubiously lifting a spoon of the shaved ice to his mouth. He chewed it slowly, carefully, his expression growing ever more enraptured. “This is marvelous.”

  “So you think we could trade with it?” T’mar prompted.

  “Of course,” Karina agreed. She took a sip of the iced klah. “This is good!”

  “How many kilos can you get for us?” Azeez asked.

  “Can you deliver it where we ask?” Karina added, glancing sharply at the other trader.

  “Obviously quantity and delivery will have to be discussed,” Fiona said with an airy wave of her hand. “But for now, perhaps you would like to tell us of your journey?”

  Dinner that evening was an ebullient affair with weyrlings and those older riders able to walk mixing together with the traders, each group finding the other alien and fascinating.

  “It is good to see dragonriders in this Weyr again,” Azeez said as he leaned back from the table, replete with Terin’s best cooking.

  “Not that traders were ever invited to dine at this Weyr,” Karina added darkly.

  “Times change,” T’mar said, not doubting that D’gan would never have considered issuing such an invitation when he’d been Weyrleader at Igen.

  “Yes, they do,” Azeez agreed.
/>   “We have news,” Karina said, glancing to Azeez.

  “It is not all good,” Azeez warned. “We have spoken with our traders and they agree to try your plan of transporting special goods by dragon.” He paused, eyeing T’mar before continuing. “We have also spoken with some holders. The news there is not so good. They are shorthanded from the Plague and many of their fields lie fallow. What food they get they either consume themselves or give in tithe to Telgar Weyr. They have nothing to spare.”

  T’mar shifted uneasily in his chair, his expression dark.

  “What about the wild beasts, those that were left to roam after the Plague?” Fiona asked.

  “Those that you can find, you can have,” Azeez said with a shrug. “None could stop you.”

  “But how will you find them?” Karina asked. “If holders see you herding them on your dragons, they are quite likely to count them as tithe to the Weyr.”

  “And I suspect D’gan will not be happy,” T’mar observed.

  “He’ll probably accuse them of lying, which will cause them further hardship,” Mother Karina said.

  “So we are on our own for cattle,” T’mar surmised.

  “No,” Azeez said shaking his head. “But you cannot expect to get cattle from the local holders.”

  “We could buy them somewhere else?” Fiona asked.

  “You could trade for them,” Karina agreed. “If you had something to trade.”

  Azeez held up a restraining hand before T’mar or Fiona could speak. “Ice will only go so far,” he told them. “It is a luxury, and if there is too much of it, questions will also be asked.”

  “What about the watch-whers?” Fiona wondered. “If we get them, what then?”

  “You could trade a watch-wher egg for a quarter-herd or maybe even a half-herd of livestock,” Azeez said with a shrug of his shoulders. “But can you get one?”

  “What if we could get gold?” Fiona asked.

  The two traders abruptly sat upright and leaned forward. “Gold would buy many things,” Azeez agreed. “It might not buy cattle directly, but it could buy things that could buy cattle.”

  “Where would you get gold?” Karina asked, her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

  Fiona smiled at her and tapped her nose knowingly. “Craft secret.”

  “How soon could you get it?” Azeez asked.

  “Not any time soon,” Fiona admitted. “For the time being, we’ll have to trade in ice.”

  “That will work for a month, maybe two, but for Turns . . .” Azeez shook his head.

  “We will need to do most of our trading at night,” Mother Karina said. “Not only to keep your ice cold but to keep our trades from prying eyes.”

  Fiona saw T’mar sit bolt upright and was convinced that he had the same startling thought that crossed her mind, but she glanced at him warningly as she said, “Well, if you want us to trade at night, you’ll have to teach us how to navigate by the stars.”

  Azeez and Mother Karina exchanged a quick look, then Azeez shrugged in acquiescence. “It will be our pleasure.”

  “That knowledge has already been traded for,” Karina said as she caught Fiona’s look of surprise. She and Azeez exchanged glances, and then the old woman sighed sadly.

  “It made sense for us to trade on the knowledge we gained from you,” Karina admitted, her eyes downcast. “But it gives us mixed feelings.” She paused, consideringly. Finally she raised her eyes to meet Fiona’s. “We traded some fire-lizard eggs, knowing what we know of the future. One was a queen egg.”

  “It wasn’t mine,” Fiona said, her eyes all the same blurry with tears. Quietly she continued, “I got my fire-lizard eight Turns later. I named her Fire and loved her very much.” She wiped her eyes and shook her head to clear her mood. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she was from your queen’s clutch. Do not regret it. I don’t.”

  “Well,” Mother Karina said, wiping her eyes as well. “It was a wrench to let the egg go.”

  “And,” Azeez said, “as we traded on the knowledge you’ve given us, we consider that we owe you trade.”

  “I see,” Fiona said, glancing toward T’mar.

  “We come from a time ten Turns in the future,” T’mar reminded the Traders. “Don’t make the mistake of trading on that too much.”

  “I’m not sure you made a good trade,” Fiona said by way of agreement. “Not only did you lose a chance at many clutches, but you also lost the joys of a fire-lizard.”

  “Your dragons will not accept fire-lizards near them,” Azeez said. “We decided to resist the temptation.”

  “Beside,” Karina added, “without fire-lizards, we will need to develop different means of communications.”

  “Not to mention that they hate the sandstorms,” Azeez reminded her drily.

  “We should talk more of trade,” Fiona said, gesturing for Terin to bring her slates. “We have a list of things we can offer.”

  “And a list of things you need, no doubt,” Mother Karina added with a gleam in her eyes.

  T’mar waited until the next morning, when the traders were gone, to ask the question he had for Fiona. “What is it that you didn’t want to say in front of the traders?”

  “Well,” Fiona said, her lips curved upward with satisfaction, “it’s just that I realized that these traders have spent Turns navigating the desert by the stars.”

  “And?”

  “Well, we know that the Red Star is one of those stars,” Fiona continued, “and that the moons and planets and other stars all move in the sky in determined patterns.”

  “Yes,” T’mar agreed impatiently.

  “So,” Fiona continued, smiling sweetly, “why can’t we use the stars to tell us when as well as where we are?”

  T’mar stared at her for a long moment and then, slowly, his lips curved up in a grin to match hers.

  “And with the stars to guide us, we can come back to Fort Weyr three days after we left!” he exclaimed. He grabbed Fiona in a great hug. “I couldn’t use the Red Star for such accuracy, but I’ll bet the traders can teach us how to use the planets! Well done, Weyrwoman, well done!”

  Fiona basked in his praise.

  Weyrwoman.

  FOURTEEN

  First flight,

  Wings delight.

  Weyrlings soar,

  Dragons roar.

  Igen Weyr, Morning, AL 498.7.8

  “The weyrlings want to start gliding off the queen’s ledge again,” Fiona said as she met T’mar for breakfast two days later.

  T’mar frowned thoughtfully then shrugged. “They’re your weyrlings, do with them what you will.”

  Fiona mouthed “my weyrlings” in surprise and T’mar laughed at her.

  “Good training,” he told her teasingly. “You never know when you’ll need it.”

  Fiona tried to come up with some response but was so overwhelmed that all she could do was splutter while T’mar watched her with dancing eyes.

  “You know,” she finally managed, “you’re absolutely right, wingleader. They are my weyrlings.”

  “They won’t be ready to really fly for another ten months,” he reminded her. “That much I will not countenance.”

  “Won’t you, wingleader?” Fiona asked, drawing out the last word meaningfully.

  T’mar smiled at her, shaking his head. “You know that flying too early would strain their wings, make them unable to fly for any time at all.” He paused, adding slyly, “It would make for a bad mating flight for your queen if she couldn’t outfly her bronzes.”

  “Talenth will outfly any bronze here!” Fiona retorted hotly. From her weyr, Talenth bugled challengingly in an echo of her rider’s declaration.

  “I’m sure she will,” T’mar agreed in soothing tones. “Provided you take care not to overstrain her before her time.”

  He stood up. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, J’gerd and I are going to meet the traders for our first instruction in the stars.”

  “Now?” she asked, frowning. “
The sun will be up in a couple of hours.”

  “Indeed,” he agreed. “But this is the time Azeez requested, so we go now.”

  “Fly well,” Fiona said, reaching for the klah.

  “You’ll be flying your own dragon soon enough,” T’mar assured her. Then he grinned, “After all, you Turn four today!”

  Fiona glanced at him in utter bafflement. T’mar gestured to Terin by the hearth. “Have you lost track of time?”

  “Terin, what’s he talking about?” Fiona demanded in exasperation. T’mar smiled once more, turned about and, with a wave, departed into the Weyr Bowl.

  “Well, he’s right,” Terin replied.

  “Four?”

  “Today is the eighth day of the seventh month in this Turn,” Terin said, sounding as though the date should be obvious to her Weyrwoman.

  “My birth date!” Fiona exclaimed. “But I haven’t Turned, I’ve only been here for—”

  Terin interrupted her with a giggle, clearly thrilled with herself, exclaiming, “Ah, but here, in this time, you’ve Turned four!”

  Fiona contented herself with a glower for her headwoman, as she tried to make sense of events. They had left Fort Weyr in the spring of the 508th Turn after Landing and gone back in time to the summer of the 498th Turn. When they had left, Fiona had . . . she paused to think through the numbers . . . five months and nine days to her birth date so she wouldn’t reach her fourteenth Turn until then, even though the date would be the third day of the twelfth month of this Turn—she’d celebrate her birthing date in the middle of winter!

  Fiona groaned.

  “Head hurts, doesn’t it?” Terin said with no sympathy. She moved the cauldron she was tending away from the hearth, dusted her hands on each other, and sauntered over toward Fiona, grabbing a stack of slates on the way.

  “I’ve done all the figures,” Terin said as she sat beside Fiona, sliding a slate over. “I’ll Turn eleven on the fifteenth day of the twelfth month—twelve days after you—”

  “But you’ll Turn one in twelve days’ time,” Fiona interjected, finally seeing the humor in the situation.

  “Exactly,” Terin agreed. “I’ve got the dates for the weyrlings—young and old—but I’m still working on getting the dates for the older riders.”