Dragonheart

by Todd J. McCaffrey

  “I’m doing fine!” Terin protested loudly.

  “You are,” Fiona agreed diplomatically. “Except that you hardly sleep, and when you do you’re tossing and turning and you’re always to bed last and up first.”

  “I toss and turn?” Terin asked in surprise, a hand rising to her cheek in mortification.

  “And talking,” Fiona added. She grinned at her friend. “Do you think that every time I end up sleeping with Talenth it’s because I want to?”

  “I could move out—”

  “No, you will not!” Fiona declared loudly. She turned to Karina. “I see no problem with this notion.”

  “Traders and weyrfolk,” N’jian muttered, shaking his head. “It’s not been done.”

  “I’ll bet it has,” T’mar said. “Remember that when our ancestors crossed here from the Southern Continent, everyone lived in the same place—” He nodded toward Fiona. “—Fort Hold. It wasn’t until much later that Fort Weyr was established.”

  “So the traders and the dragonriders were certainly living together for part of the time after the Crossing,” Azeez agreed.

  “We have nothing to hide,” Fiona said, glancing quellingly toward N’jian.

  “Our ways are different, Weyrwoman,” he responded unapologetically. By way of illustration, he jerked his head toward a group of blue and green riders who were laughing together over some shared joke.

  “Trader ways are different, too,” Fiona countered. She waved a placating hand toward the brown rider. “Oh, I don’t say there won’t be problems or the occasional difference, but I think it will be a great help to the Weyr.”

  Her emphasis on the last word was not lost on N’jian who considered her response for a moment before nodding reluctantly.

  “We asked because we would like to help with the wedding,” Mother Karina explained.

  “Traders don’t like settling in one place for too long,” Azeez said.

  “Not all traders mind a bit of a rest,” Karina corrected him. She turned to Fiona. “It’s customary for new mothers to rest in one place for three months—longer if possible.”

  “We’d be delighted to help,” T’mar said with a nod toward Fiona.

  “And the wedding?” Karina inquired.

  “The older riders shouldn’t tarry too long,” N’jian reminded T’mar.

  “We can’t hurry their wedding,” Fiona reminded him.

  “With all respect, Weyrwoman,” N’jian replied, his lips twitching upward even as he sketched a bow from his chair, “you can.”

  “And did,” T’mar added.

  Fiona threw up her hands in surrender. She turned to Mother Karina. “You’ve met Nuella, haven’t you?”

  Karina nodded. “We came from there.”

  “By dragonback,” N’jian added. “They left their caravan and several traders behind.”

  “Setting up a new depot?” Fiona guessed.

  “Did you get any ideas from Nuella or Silstra, then?” Terin asked, her fork hovering near her mouth.

  “Eat, child!” Karina ordered. She waited until Terin had emptied her fork before continuing. “I spoke with Silstra—she is quite a trader—and she thinks that sometime before Turn’s end would be best.”

  “Turn’s end would be the latest we could keep the older riders here,” T’mar said.

  “That doesn’t leave much time,” Fiona said, startled.

  “Indeed,” Karina agreed. “Which is why I offered our services to Silstra.” She allowed herself a small smile. “And as soon as we can get our mothers settled into the Weyr, we’ll be able to set them to making suitable wedding clothes.”

  “That’s right!” Fiona exclaimed in sudden memory. “Kindan said that traders were at Silstra’s wedding!”

  “Silstra thought it fitting,” Karina allowed, looking pleased.

  “So we’ve less than seventeen days,” Terin declared before hastily swallowing her next mouthful.

  “It would help to get an exact date,” Fiona said thoughtfully.

  Terin rose quickly and pressed her hand on Karina’s shoulder before dashing to the hearth. Fiona didn’t have time to wonder at the odd gesture, because Karina leaned in close at that moment to say conspiratorially, “And who would be best at getting that date?”

  “I suppose it would be me,” Fiona confessed with mixed emotions. She wasn’t sure she could soon handle another day as exciting as this one had proved. T’mar glanced at her—or, rather, at a point over her shoulder—and grinned.

  “What?” Fiona demanded, perplexed. Her confusion grew as everyone at the table started to rise and noises from behind indicated that all those in the Cavern were getting to their feet.

  Terin approached with F’dan—they were bearing a large platter between them. On the platter was a large cake with icing, and too many candles to count quickly.

  “Happy birthday, Fiona!” Terin cried as she put the cake in front of her.

  “But—it’s not my birthday!” Fiona exclaimed loudly, her voice not carrying over the roar of the riders cheering her on.

  “Yes, it is,” T’mar told her, grinning wildly. “You’ve been here one hundred and seventy-eight days now, and that, added to your time at Fort Weyr, is a whole Turn.” He gestured toward the candles. “You’ve turned fourteen.”

  “Make a wish!” the crowd urged.

  “Blow them out!”

  Still confused and overwhelmed with surprise, Fiona gave a gracious sigh, drew a deep breath, and blew the candles out.

  Afteward, as everyone finished congratulating her, she looked over to Terin and smirked widely.

  “What?” the young headwoman asked nervously. “You aren’t mad, are you?”

  “Oh, no,” Fiona exclaimed, her eyes dancing impishly. “I’m just recalling that you’ve twelve days until your Turning!”

  Soon enough, Fiona reassured Talenth as she hovered over the Star Stones perched on Zirenth’s back. You’ll be flying soon enough.

  I wish I could go with you, Talenth repeated morosely.

  Well, how about the first place we fly to will be the wherhold?

  I’d like that, Talenth agreed.

  I have to be there, Fiona told her again. Nuella has asked me to stand by her side. She paused, adding worriedly, You will be okay without me?

  I’m tired, Talenth replied sounding testy. I’ll sleep.

  Sleep and grow strong, Fiona told her encouragingly.

  I wish I was bigger.

  Soon enough, love, soon enough, Fiona assured her, sending a tender caress with her thoughts. How are the children?

  The littlest ones are in your bed, I think they think I’m too big for them, Talenth told her, her spirits lifting. But the older ones are warm and comfortable.

  Mother Karina had been speechless when Fiona had suggested that the trader children spend the night in her weyr, those wanting to sleeping with Talenth.

  “I sleep with her all the time,” Fiona assured her. “She’s completely safe. And I’m sure she’d love the company.”

  “But trader children . . . sleeping with a queen!” Karina repeated, eyes wide in amazement.

  “She likes the company and,” Fiona added with a wry grin, “it makes her feel older to have youngsters to watch over.”

  Karina and the other traders had difficulty looking at the queen, who was much bigger now than any of their herdbeasts, and thinking of her as young. But as Fiona knew all too well, Talenth had only been out of the egg little more than ten months now.

  “Anyway, she’s going to have to learn,” she said, hoping to clinch the argument; learning had a special place in Karina’s thinking.

  “Why, are you planning on having lots of children?” Karina asked, and her eyes twinkled at Fiona’s sudden blush.

  “That’s for the future,” Fiona told her, trying to will the heat out of her cheeks. “I was thinking that once we’re back at the Weyr, she’ll appreciate the company of the younger weyrfolk.”

  “And you’ll have a s
teady supply of helping hands,” Terin observed tartly.

  “Are you complaining?” Fiona asked, brows raised. When Terin shook her head quickly, Fiona added, “Anyway, it’s not so much for me as for her and the children.” Her eyes glowed. “I remember sleeping with Forsk when I was a child . . . I never felt so loved or peaceful.”

  “You’re an odd one,” Karina said. “You seem happiest when in the center of a pile of warm bodies.”

  “It keeps the cold away,” Fiona replied. More honestly, she added, “It feels like family would feel to me.”

  Karina eyed her speculatively. “And you didn’t have that growing up the only child of the Lord Holder.”

  Fiona said nothing.

  “Well, if it pleases you, Weyrwoman,” Karina allowed at last, “I’ll see if the children are up for it.”

  “Up for it!” Terin exclaimed in disbelief. “You’ll be able to trade a whole sevenday’s chores and their best behavior for the honor.”

  “And they’ll think they got the better of the bargain,” Karina had agreed with a grin.

  So now, as Zirenth went between in the last of the twilight, saluted by the luckless rider perched on his watch dragon near the Star Stones, Fiona still felt anxious over leaving Talenth behind, but was comfortable in the knowledge that her queen was surrounded by awed, amazed, and—she was certain—soon to be loving companions.

  The cold, silent nothingness of between was replaced in a sudden rush by the warm, noisy air over the wherhold as Zirenth spiraled quickly toward the landing place. Before them a specially erected trellis, lined with glows, stretched outward from the entrance of the wherhold to a raised platform at the end of the walk, where Zenor and Nuella would exchange their vows. Here and there, Fiona picked up the brighter glows of watch-wher eyes, brilliantly reflecting what little light there still was.

  She deftly picked her way past the trellis and headed into the wherhold where, as she had half-expected, pandemonium reigned. The smells arising from the kitchen and the tenor of the overwhelming babble assured Fiona that whatever problems there were did not emanate from that location.

  “I’m here!” Fiona called loudly, her voice echoing down the corridors. Hearing no response, she turned toward Nuellask’s lair.

  She had just about arrived when a pair of arms reached out and pulled her inside.

  “Good!” Silstra cried as she slid Fiona out of sight.

  “What is it?” Fiona asked as her eyes adjusted to the faintly lit gloom.

  “Did you know that M’tal would be here?” Nuella demanded, her voice pitched much higher than normal.

  “No,” Fiona admitted. “But I should have guessed, come to think of it.”

  “And C’rion of Ista!” Silstra added, looking far more panicked than Fiona would ever have guessed possible.

  “And Kindan,” Nuella added, her tone somewhat mollified.

  “Kindan?” Fiona squeaked. “What if he recognizes me?”

  “We figured it out,” Nuella said, gesturing for Silstra to explain.

  “You’ll be the crafter girl you pretended to be when M’tal met you,” Silstra said tentatively.

  “But M’tal said that he thought I looked so much like Koriana he thought about introducing me to Kindan!” Fiona wailed.

  “What’s the harm in that then?” Silstra asked, cocking her head assessingly. “You’re nearly the same age—it might be good for him.”

  “I’m the same age now!” Fiona exclaimed. “When I go back to my time, he’ll be ten Turns older. Besides—” She cut herself off hastily.

  “You know something of the future involving him,” Silstra guessed shrewdly.

  “I want you beside me,” Nuella said. “I don’t think I can do this on my own.”

  “That’s silly, and you know it,” Fiona declared undiplomatically. She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth and her expression showed it. “What I mean is that you’re more than able, Nuella. I’m flattered that you want me by your side but—”

  “If you can’t be there . . .” Nuella began, her eyes wide with fear. “Then Silstra will have to manage everything; Sula’s doing the cooking and there’s no one else—”

  “What about Terin?” Silstra asked, glancing toward Fiona in a way that made it clear she’d already tried this suggestion.

  “Won’t Kindan be with Zenor?” Fiona asked suddenly.

  “Y-yes,” Nuella allowed.

  “Then there won’t be a problem,” Fiona told them. “He’ll be so busy with his duties and I’ll be so busy with mine that we won’t have any time to exchange pleasantries.”

  “That’s good for the ceremony, but what about after?” Silstra wondered.

  “I’ll get T’mar to take me dancing,” Fiona said, almost glad to have a reason to spend time with the bronze rider.

  “That’s another thing—all those dragons!” Nuella sniffed. “How are we going to explain them?”

  “We won’t,” Fiona said with a shrug. “Any colors the riders are wearing belong to Fort Weyr but I doubt they’ll be seen in the dark.”

  “So how will you explain them?” Silstra asked.

  “If pressed, we’ll say that they’re from Fort Weyr,” Fiona said. “That’s no lie.”

  “And if not pressed?”

  “Well, it would seem to me that C’rion will think that M’tal arranged it and M’tal will think that C’rion arranged it,” Fiona replied, her lips curving upward.

  “That will only work if you keep the riders away from the Weyrleaders,” Silstra said.

  “Yes,” Fiona agreed reluctantly. “I suppose you’re right.”

  Talenth, Fiona called, please tell T’mar that M’tal and C’rion are here.

  He says that he’s already seen them, Talenth replied a moment later.

  “T’mar knows,” Fiona explained. She wiped her hands together briskly, as if wiping that problem off her hands. “Now, is there any other way I can help you?”

  “Just hold my hand and don’t let go,” Nuella implored, reaching out a hand.

  “Never,” Fiona vowed, clasping it firmly.

  “Well,” Silstra said glancing around the room. “I think that everything is in order.” She glanced toward Fiona. “I’ll go tell Kindan to start the music.” At the door, she turned back. “When you hear the music, start out.”

  “Oh, he’s playing?” Fiona asked excitedly.

  “He sang at Silstra’s wedding,” Nuella said. “And I met him, when I was hiding, pretending to be Dalor.”

  “Hmm, maybe that’ll work for me, too,” Fiona said.

  “How do I look?” Nuella asked.

  Fiona knew that for blind Nuella, the question was more than perfunctory. “How about we try an experiment?” she suggested as a bold thought came to her.

  Talenth, could you relay an image to Nuellask? Fiona asked.

  I can try, Talenth responded eagerly.

  “Let me look at you,” Fiona said, turning to eye Nuella carefully in the brighter light of the hallway.

  Nuella was dressed in a fine white dress with delicate white slippers, her blond hair wrapped up around her head in a French braid bound with pretty blue ribbon.

  Fiona concentrated on her and concentrated on sharing the image with Talenth.

  Do you see it?

  A woman in a dress, Talenth told her. Is that Nuella?

  Yes, Fiona agreed. And if you can give Nuellask the image and ask her to send it to Nuella—I know she’s very young.

  She tries . . . now, Talenth replied. This is fun, she likes it too!

  “Close your eyes, Nuella, reach out to your watch-wher,” Fiona instructed. “What do you see?”

  Nuella gasped in astonishment. “Is that me?”

  “As best I can see you, as best Talenth can share the image, and as best Nuellask can send it to you,” Fiona said.

  Nuella grabbed Fiona’s hand tightly in hers. “Oh, thank you!” Her free hand reached down to her dress. “Oh, it’s as beautiful as
I’d hoped!”

  “Well, then,” Fiona said, her lips curved up in a huge grin, “the music has started. Let’s not keep your red-haired lad waiting.”

  Her face split in a huge beaming smile, Nuella walked with Fiona out into the crisp night air.

  The music swelled and suddenly was the only sound as the gathered crowd grew hushed.

  Ahead, at the raised platform, Fiona could make out the figures of Zenor and Kindan, standing side by side. Zenor had never looked more handsome. Kindan stood beside him, resplendent in harper’s blue, his gaze resting proudly on Nuella.

  “Definitely you should marry him,” Fiona whispered as they reached the first of the stairs. She added, warningly, “Step.”

  Nuella took the step easily, and Fiona guided her beside Zenor, took the hand with which she’d been guiding her, and placed it into Zenor’s outstretched hand.

  As Fiona moved to the side, Kindan moved around in front of the pair. From the shadows, C’rion and M’tal appeared on either side. Terin appeared with a small plush pillow bearing two gold rings, each crafted of three bands twined together.

  “We are here for a joyous occasion,” Kindan told the gathered crowd. “It is all the more joyous for me because we celebrate the joining of two of my dearest friends in a new life at a new and prosperous hold, the craft of their hands, and the bonding of their hearts.”

  Kindan paused and looked out down the trellis pathway. “Terregar? Silstra?”

  Fiona looked in surprise as Terregar and Silstra, arm in arm, walked quickly up the path to stand before Nuella and Zenor.

  As the hush of the crowd dissolved into excited whispers, Kindan spoke up loudly.

  “Tonight also,” he said, “it is my pleasure to announce another union.” At his gesture, Terregar handed a rolled parchment up to Zenor; a short moment later, Silstra handed a similar parchment to Nuella.

  “Actually, two unions,” Kindan corrected himself, his eyes dancing mischievously. He gestured to the rolls Zenor and Nuella clutched in bewilderment. “By order of Mastersmith Veclan, I am pleased to announce that the Plains Wherhold has been designated a smithcraft, the Goldhall of Plains Hold.”

  Zenor’s eyes went wide with amazement while the crowd gapsed in surprise.