“Fly well!” Fiona called as the eight dragonriders mounted their dragons.
T’mar and K’rall sketched salutes at her and then, at K’rall’s command, the small wing lifted and went between.
“I hope they’re not too tired when they return,” F’jian remarked as they returned to their duties. Fiona gave him an inquiring look. “Well,” he said with a shrug, “they’re going to have to time it to get back before the traders arrive.”
Fiona nodded glumly, then lifted her head up. “Which means we need to get the storeroom ready now. ”
F’jian groaned in response and Fiona slapped his shoulder affectionately. “Just wait until your dragon is old enough to fly . . . then you’ll be able to collect the ice and store it yourself.”
“That might not be so bad,” F’jian responded wistfully.
“The ice is indeed marvelous but we can’t trade it,” Azeez said first thing the next morning after T’mar had proudly displayed it.
K’rall and T’mar both opened their mouths in what would certainly have been an indignant outburst but Fiona cut across them, directing her comments to Mother Karina, “Where does this ice need to be for a good trade?”
Karina smiled and nodded toward Azeez.
The byplay wasn’t lost on Fiona who smiled in response. “You thought I wouldn’t foresee this?”
Azeez stiffened as Karina laughed and shook her finger at him. “I told you she was trader!”
“That’s as may be,” Azeez replied tetchily, “but it doesn’t alter the situation.”
“Of course it does!” Karina replied, biting off more laughter. She pointed a finger toward Fiona, saying, “Go on girl, tell us what you’ve devised.”
“Some of this ice we’ll trade, to be delivered when and where you say,” Fiona said, putting extra emphasis on the when. Karina nodded, expecting no less. “But we’ll hold back a hundredweight for trade with the wherhold.”
“Ah!” Karina exclaimed.
Fiona eyed Azeez. “You know where it is.”
“Yes,” Azeez agreed. His eyes shifted away from her.
“What is it you don’t want to say?”
Azeez sighed. “They have little reason to like dragonriders.”
“And what do you recommend?” T’mar asked, bristling with ill-suppressed anger.
Azeez said nothing, glancing first to Karina, then to Fiona.
“Send a girl,” Karina said finally.
“No,” Fiona corrected her firmly, “you want to send me — a Weyrwoman.”
K’rall and T’mar gasped.
“Kindan mentioned some of the problems that Aleesa had when he knew her — not too long ago in this time,” Fiona explained quickly.
Karina frowned at her thoughtfully.
“He said that the Telgar Weyrleader felt that the watch-whers were unnecessary and a burden detracting from his rightful tithe,” Fiona recalled. “And so Aleesa hates dragonriders, fearing that they want to destroy the watch-whers forever.”
“She’s touched in the head,” Azeez declared. He started in surprise when Fiona nodded in agreement.
Again, Karina laughed. “Come, Azeez! And how many times do I have to remind you that little pitchers have big ears?” she teased, jerking her head at Fiona. “This one grew up dandled on a Lord Holder’s knee, listening to every conversation of importance for a whole Hold while being groomed to take over.” She laughed as she caught Fiona’s look.
“Oh, lady, do you think I didn’t guess?” Her eyes twinkled as she continued. “Anyone who heard Lord Bemin’s staunch support for Lady Nerra over her older — and completely useless — brother would have to be witless not to divine his reasoning.”
Fiona thought of mentioning Kelsa and her future half-sib but decided that Karina knew far too many secrets already. Let Tenniz tell her, if it came to him.
“You are holding something back,” Karina said with a cackle. “You look just like Tenniz when he doesn’t want to tell one of his Sightings.”
“I am,” Fiona admitted. “See if he can see it himself.” She glanced curiously at Mother Karina. “And where is he, by the way?”
“He is busy with trader matters in another location,” Karina replied with a negligent wave of her hand. She smiled challengingly at Fiona. “Perhaps you can see where yourself?”
Fiona snorted in response to Mother Karina’s jest.
Beside her, T’mar cleared his throat. “If you are saying that we should send Fiona — ”
“I think it’s an excellent idea,” Fiona said, cutting him off. “When do we go?”
“The sooner the better,” Azeez replied. “Our information is that Aleesa is dying.”
Fiona nodded; from what little she’d heard of the events that had unfolded — would unfold — the news was not unexpected to her. She caught Karina eyeing her carefully and shook her head slyly.
“Her gold has clutched and there’s a queen egg,” she said.
Azeez gasped while Karina merely smiled, saying, “We were only told that Aleesk had clutched. Nothing was mentioned about what or how many eggs.”
“I don’t know how many eggs, only the queen,” Fiona confessed.
“You know how this all happens, don’t you?” Azeez asked accusingly.
With a shake of her head, Fiona replied, “No, I only know how it ends, not what events transpired along the way.”
“Just like Tenniz,” Karina murmured quietly.
“Except that, unlike Tenniz,” T’mar interjected, “we know because this is our past.”
“But we only know those things that were important to us or brought to our attention,” Fiona added. She glanced at T’mar, then K’rall, reading their glum expressions.
“We must find another way,” K’rall urged, glancing down at her. “We cannot risk — ”
Fiona silenced him with an upraised hand. “Karina already knows enough to trade for Turns to come,” she told him. “No sense in giving her more for free.”
She turned her attention to the traders.
“Do you know where the wherhold is now?” she asked. “Well enough that we can fly to it?”
“We know a place where you can land,” Azeez admitted. “But we have no traders that we’d trust with this secret nearby, else we’d have them introduce you and bring you into the camp.”
“From what we’ve heard, you must hurry,” Karina added.
“But we’ve got all the time we need,” K’rall said airily.
“No,” Fiona said. “We’ve seen the effects of too much timing. ”
“Even now, I can feel the effects of just being in this time twice,” T’mar said, rubbing the back of his neck wearily. His eyes narrowed as he added, “I didn’t feel this drained until recently.”
“When?” Fiona asked urgently. She made a conciliatory gesture to the traders who looked unnerved.
“Since Hatching Day,” T’mar said with growing certainty.
“That makes sense,” K’rall said. “Until you’d Impressed you wouldn’t feel time the way a dragonrider does.”
“Terin isn’t affected at all,” Fiona observed in confirmation. Then she shook her head. “We should have this conversation later.”
“Agreed,” T’mar said. K’rall nodded emphatically.
“For now, the question is how long will I need to be gone and who will handle my duties while I’m away?” Fiona stated.
“I hadn’t realized we had decided that you would leave,” K’rall protested.
Fiona sensed T’mar stiffening beside her, ready to add his weight to K’rall’s argument. She spoke before he could. “As Weyrwoman, I am responsible for the well-being of this Weyr.” She paused and let out a deep breath. “If we do not do this, I do not see how we can feed the Weyr, heal the dragons, and return to help.”
“We could find something,” K’rall suggested.
“We know what happened,” Fiona said. “The only thing we don’t know is how. ”
“But that ‘how�
� could mean your life!” T’mar exclaimed, shaking his head. “I don’t see that it’s worth the risk.”
“It’s my choice to make, though, isn’t it?” Fiona stepped away from the two wingleaders, standing beside Karina and looking back at them.
“As I recall, Kindan said that one of those wherholders actually shot an arrow at M’tal’s Gaminth,” K’rall replied grimly.
“Which is why it’s well that Talenth is too young to fly, isn’t it?” Fiona interposed sweetly. “It will just be me: one unarmed, harmless young girl.”
“There’s still time to back out,” T’mar told her the next day as he lowered her down Zirenth’s side at their landing point. Azeez had assured them that they were out of sight of the wherhold but less than a kilometer away.
“I wouldn’t linger, all the same,” Mother Karina had observed when they had discussed the plan.
Fiona glanced back up at T’mar, shaking her head. She’d made her pledge; she wouldn’t back out. “I’d know.”
“I’ll bet your father wishes you were a boy,” T’mar replied, shaking his head in admiration.
“I’m quite happy being a woman,” Fiona said, smiling.
T’mar looked ready to respond but thought better of it. “Zirenth and I can be here whenever you need.”
“I’ll be fine,” Fiona assured him, reaching up for the carisak that she’d handed him as she’d clambered down. T’mar handed it over to her and she hoisted it, scampering away from Zirenth.
“Circle around north,” T’mar instructed her, “so that if they see me leaving, they won’t suspect you were brought here by dragon.”
Fiona waved in acknowledgment and started off. As the wind from Zirenth’s wings buffeted her, she turned back to sketch a quick salute to T’mar, but she wasn’t sure if he saw it before he went between.
She turned back again to resume her trek and paused with a deep sigh.
Talenth? she called.
I’m here. Her queen’s instant response calmed her in a way that no words of her own or any other’s could.
How are you doing?
Well, Talenth replied, her tone surprised that Fiona need ask. But if you’re going to be gone much longer would you ask Terin to oil me?
Of course, Fiona responded, grinning to herself. She was becoming accustomed to Talenth’s draconic ways, particularly the young queen’s fading memory. She didn’t bother to explain to Talenth that it would be easier for the queen to ask Terin directly, preferring to send the request to Seyorth, who’d agreed to listen for her. The older bronze sounded both quite pleased that she’d asked him and quite amused with the young queen’s self-absorption.
It is done, Seyorth told her. He added humorously, The headwoman was surprised to hear from me.
Thank you, Fiona told him, a smile crossing her lips as she imagined Terin’s frightened squeak when the bronze dragon spoke in her mind.
Anything, Weyrwoman, Seyorth responded. Fiona was stirred by the depth of commitment the bronze’s reply involved and thrilled to hear him so easily label her Weyrwoman.
With one parting mental nod, Fiona turned her attention back to the ground in front of her. It was wild, uneven, and took her longer to traverse than she had expected. By the time she was near the wherhold, she was hot, sweaty, and thirsty.
She debated digging into her carisak for her flask and wondered why she hadn’t hung it from her side the moment Zirenth had gone between, but finally decided that she should wait and ask for water when she met someone.
She had just started forward again when an arrow flew across her path.
“Now that is just enough!” Fiona shouted loudly, her anger and irritation echoing around her. Dimly, in the distance, she heard the strange bugle of a watch-wher, answered by several others. Shaking her head, she said to herself, “Shards, I didn’t mean to wake them!”
She glanced around for a sign of the bowman who had shot at her but saw nothing.
“I need to talk with Aleesa!” Fiona shouted toward where the arrow had originated. “It’s important.”
“You need to leave,” a man’s voice responded, not from where the bowman had fired, “while you still can.”
“What makes you think Aleesa is here?” a woman’s voice demanded from where the arrow had been fired.
“Oh, this is too much,” Fiona muttered angrily to herself. She was scared, but she was angrier than she was scared and she knew that that meant someone was going to come off the worse for it — and not her. Loudly, she said, “Look, I’m sorry about the fire-lizards but — ”
Another arrow whizzed past her, this time coming from the man’s position.
“No, by the First Egg, you will not scare me!” Fiona shouted, her voice echoed by the bugles of watch-whers. Her anger flowed from her like a storm as she raged on, “I am Fiona, Talenth’s rider, Weyrwoman of — ”
“Of what?” the woman’s voice demanded.
“We have no use for a Weyrwoman,” the man added.
“You have use for me !” Fiona roared back.
“I know all the Weyrwomen’s names, there is no Fiona,” the woman declared.
“I am Lord Holder Bemin’s daughter,” Fiona snapped back.
“Your first story was better: Bemin’s daughter can’t be more than two Turns,” the woman said bitterly.
“I come from the future,” Fiona said, backtracking. “I am Bemin’s daughter and I Impressed a queen dragon.” She couldn’t help adding, out of a sense of honor, “And, anyway, in this time I’ve just turned four.”
“You?” the woman snorted. “A queen?”
“Is she here?”
“Of course not!” Fiona snapped. “She’s not old enough to fly.” “So, Fiona from the future, rider of a gold and daughter of a Lord Holder,” the woman began, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “if your dragon is so young, how did you get here?”
“What’s your name?” Fiona asked. She guessed that this person was Arella; she’d heard Kindan speak of her. The man was probably Jaythen.
An arrow whizzed by her in response. “You need to stop asking questions and leave.”
Didn’t Kindan say something about Arella having a watch-wher?
Talenth, would you bespeak Arelsk and say who I am, Fiona thought to her dragon.
Arelsk is a green, did you know that? Talenth asked conversationally, indicating that she’d passed the message. She is quite nice, really.
“If you are Arella, as I think, then check with Arelsk,” Fiona said out loud, sending a mental appreciation back to Talenth. “My Talenth has spoken with her.”
A moment later, bushes parted in the distance and a woman rose with a bow in her hand. She strode toward Fiona, her bow still cocked, but the arrow pointed to the earth.
“Why are you here?”
“Your mother is dying,” Fiona said, not knowing how much time they had, “and Aleesk has clutched a gold.”
Arella stopped midstride, raised her bow toward Fiona, then lowered it again, her face the picture of surprise. “How did you know?”
“For me, it’s already happened,” Fiona told her. “I did not lie: I am from the future, I Impressed a queen, and I am Lord Bemin’s only surviving child.” She was surprised at how important this last statement was to her. She gestured to the other bowman’s position. “Is that Jaythen over there? Or Mikal?”
Some of Arella’s wariness returned. “Mikal is dead.”
“The Plague?”
Arella shook her head. “It weakened him, but he survived. Old age took him.”
“He was babbling about something from the future,” Jaythen said as he rose from his hiding place. He glanced askance at Fiona as he added, “ ‘A queen too young to fly.’ ”
“Those were his last words,” Arella said, eyeing Fiona carefully.
“No, his last words were: ‘You must listen to her,’ ” Jaythen corrected her, striding toward the other two, glancing up and down at Fiona. “I couldn’t see how a queen could talk,”
he admitted. “Now I wonder what you have to say?”
A smile crossed Fiona’s lips as she sent a silent thank-you to the late ex-dragonrider, wondering to herself if his Sight came from trader blood. “First, could I get something to drink? I’m parched.”
Half an hour later, Fiona was seated cross-legged on the dirt-packed floor of a dimly lit cavern, drinking from a mug of cool water, aware of many eyes inspecting her, most of them young.
“There’s more of them every time a green or gold rises,” Arella murmured as she affectionately tusseled the hair of one of the younger boys, who bore a marked resemblance to her. She eyed Fiona speculatively. “You’ve not experienced a mating flight yet, have you?”
Fiona shook her head. Jaythen snorted at some secret joke, and Fiona eyed him disdainfully.
“Bet you’ll have less of a swagger when you do!” Jaythen declared knowingly. Fiona glowered in response.
“Jaythen!” Arella growled at him, shaking her head and apologizing to Fiona: “Men don’t know anything.”
“I’ve noticed,” Fiona replied, keeping her eyes firmly on Jaythen.
The wherhandler held her eyes for a moment longer, then laughed. “You’ve nerve enough, that I’ll grant!”
“ ‘Needs drive when Thread arrives,’ ” Fiona responded, quoting the old saying.
“There’s no Thread here,” Jaythen declared.
“Yet.” Fiona’s tone was implacable. Jaythen bristled, but Arella calmed him by placing a hand on his knee, her eyes challenging Fiona to continue.
“Where I come from we’ve been fighting Thread for nearly three sevendays now,” Fiona told them. She paused at the brink of telling them of the dragon sickness — so far no one in this time had been told of it. And yet, how could she explain why she’d had to banish the fire-lizards?
“We’ve been losing dragons not only to Thread but also to a sickness,” she said finally, plunging into the heart of the matter. She continued quickly, “The fire-lizards caught it first, which is why I had Talenth send yours away — we don’t know how, where, or when they got the illness.” She shrugged. “We don’t even know if they gave it to the dragons.”
“How many dragons have this illness?” Arella asked, ignoring the suspicion roiling from Jaythen in nearly visible waves.
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