“Maybe they don’t have one to spare,” Xhinna said. “Jirana, we can’t risk the Plague—”
“They look like they’re starving,” Jirana said, referring to the small knot of people stretched out not far from the flagged tent. She turned and pointed east. “There, isn’t that the Red Star?”
Xhinna turned her head to follow the girl’s finger and picked up the dim light of a red orb nearly obscured by the brilliance of the morning light. Yes, it was the Red Star.
“How many Turns is it from our Pass?” Jirana asked, glancing back over her shoulder at Xhinna.
“Tazith says we’ve gone back seven Turns,” said Xhinna, who was beginning to catch on to the younger girl’s reasoning. Jirana nodded and smiled.
“Then we’re ten Turns before the start of the Pass, and the Plague ended two Turns before this.”
“So why is the fever pennant flying at the Hold?”
“Xhinna, this is where we need to be,” Jirana said. “You’re going to have to trust me on this.”
Xhinna pursed her lips tightly, sending a different image to Tazith even as she said, “Little one, I can’t.”
A moment later, dragon and riders were gone from the morning sky.
“Xhinna!” Jirana cried as soon as they burst back from between. “What did you do?”
“I have to leave a message,” Xhinna said as Tazith, at her request, started a lazy downward spiral.
Jirana spotted what was below them. “That’s the Red Butte, isn’t it?”
Xhinna nodded.
“You brought us forward in time,” Jirana said in surprise. She gestured down to the plateau. “My father is buried there. You brought us here to the time after he died.”
“I know,” Xhinna said. “I had to find out,” she added, more to herself than to the child in front of her. “I had to know that we could make the jump forward again.”
“And you didn’t tell me.”
“Little one, what good would it have done to tell you?”
“At least I’d have known.”
“I thought that if you knew, your fear might help trap us,” Xhinna told her.
“But there was no trap, was there?” Jirana said. “At least, I didn’t feel anything.”
“No, it was like a regular jump between times,” Xhinna agreed.
“So you know that K’dan’s right—that the knot is only at that one time, when D’gan’s Weyr jumped to fight Thread and Fiona’s Weyr jumped forward.”
“Yes,” Xhinna said, not hiding the relief in her voice. “And I can leave a message for Fiona in the future.”
Deftly, Tazith landed on the wide plateau and Xhinna jumped down. Immediately, she reached up for Jirana, who objected, “I can get down by myself.”
“You’ll take my help or you’ll stay up there,” Xhinna said. “I won’t bring you back to your mother with a broken leg.” As Jirana relented and threw her legs over the blue’s side, Xhinna added, “Beside, the ground is harder than you’d think.”
On the ground, Jirana took quick note of their surroundings. “It’s hot up here. And dry.”
Xhinna nodded. “We won’t stay long.”
“Over there,” Jirana said, pointing east.
The plateau was large and riddled with crevices. Xhinna looked at her doubtfully. “How can you know?”
“I was here, in my dreams,” Jirana said. She gave Xhinna a sad look. “I left an offering for my father.” Without another word, the youngster strode off, her face set in determination.
Xhinna followed after, raising a hand to her brow to better shield her eyes from the sun.
“It’s there!” Jirana shouted, breaking into a run just as Xhinna spotted a whiter patch among the rocks. Xhinna picked up her pace, not quite running—having a care for her footing and the heat—and soon saw the white rocks that Lorana had used to cover Tenniz’s shallow grave.
“I’m here, Father,” Jirana said, standing by the cairn. “I’ve Seen and I know what it’s like.” She made a small, sad noise. “I’m sorry I couldn’t have told you.” Oblivious to the sound of Xhinna approaching behind her, she continued, “Did it make you sad, too, knowing all those things?”
“Jirana?” Xhinna said, kneeling beside the young girl. “What is it that you Saw?”
“The first thing a person Sees is their death,” Jirana said.
“Oh.”
Jirana reached behind her and caught Xhinna’s hand in hers. “It’s not as bad as you think,” she said. “I was old—older than you.”
“What else?”
“I can’t say,” Jirana said stoutly. “I can’t break time any more than Fiona can.”
Xhinna wrapped her free arm around the child’s chest and hugged her tightly.
“Tell me what you can,” she suggested.
“I did,” Jirana said, turning suddenly in her arms and staring Xhinna in the face, her face grim, “and you didn’t believe me.”
“We have to be careful,” Xhinna said, a little defensively.
“You don’t trust people,” Jirana said. “You try to do it all yourself.” She shook her head and then turned back to her father, saying, “Maybe you can do it, but we can’t.”
“Are you talking to me or your father?” Xhinna asked in a soft, encouraging voice.
“Both of you,” Jirana said. “He’s dead, so he can’t hear me; you’re afraid, so you won’t hear me.”
She dropped Xhinna’s hand and moved out of reach, turning to say, “What message are you going to leave?”
“Once I leave the message, we can go back to Crom,” Xhinna said, trying to find a way to placate this suddenly too-strange child.
“Not to the same time,” Jirana said. “They’ll have seen Tazith and they’ll be scared.”
“Scared?”
“They’ll think he was scouting.”
“For whom?”
“For whoever is hiding in the Hold.”
“Dragons are beholden to the Weyrs, Jirana,” Xhinna said, trying to gently remind the child of the facts. “A dragon wouldn’t scout for a Hold.”
“Unless the Weyr ordered it.”
“But Crom’s beholden to Telgar and—” Xhinna broke off as Jirana nodded. Telgar, ten Turns in their past, was still led by D’gan.
“Nerra rules Crom,” Xhinna said.
“Now she does,” Jirana agreed, “in our time, Turns in the future.”
Xhinna pursed her lips tightly.
“Did you ever find out how she came to rule Crom?” Jirana asked.
“She took the Hold back from her brother, who had blockaded himself inside while the holders starved,” Xhinna recalled. And then her eyes went wide. “Oh!”
Stoutly Jirana declared, “I told you we were in the right time.”
Tazith vetoed Xhinna’s first image, telling her it was too close to when they’d left, so she imagined them once again over the knoll but ten minutes later than when they’d left. She paused for a long time before giving Tazith the order to jump back in time.
“They could still be dying here,” Xhinna said. “We could be wrong—”
“Then we’ll die,” Jirana said. “It’s possible.”
“I thought you—”
“Xhinna, the Sight doesn’t show what will happen, only what might happen,” Jirana said. “My mother told me that, and she was told by my father.”
“But the hatchlings, this queen of yours—”
“There are might be’s, not certainties,” Jirana told her. She shook her head as they slowly glided toward the ground, adding, “I could be wrong. I’m new at all this.”
“ ‘Every day is new,’ ” Xhinna said, recalling an old song she’d once heard at Fort Weyr, Turns earlier.
“ ‘And so are we,’ ” Jirana finished, turning back to give Xhinna a big smile. “Are you going to trust me?”
“Let’s see what happens first,” Xhinna temporized. She glanced about the camp. “Why are they all just standing there?”
�
�I think they’re too sick to move,” Jirana said.
“With the Plague?” Xhinna cried, thinking to tell Tazith to claw his way back up.
“No, hunger,” Jirana said, shaking her head. Tazith touched the ground. “Let me go to them,” the little girl said, gesturing for Xhinna to help her down.
“What?”
“If I’m wrong, I’ll wave you off,” Jirana said. “That way Tazith won’t lose you.”
“No,” Xhinna said firmly, sliding her right leg over Tazith’s neck and sliding down. On the ground she reached up for Jirana. “We’ll do this together.”
Jirana smiled in thanks, threw her legs over, and let Xhinna catch her as she slid down.
Once they were both standing on their own feet, Xhinna ordered Tazith back into the air. When the blue rumbled in protest, she patted his foreleg and said, “Jirana says we’ll be safe, so up you get!”
Call if you need me, Tazith said.
Stay behind the knoll, Xhinna reminded him as he rose higher into the sky.
If I stay here too long, I’ll have to land, the blue responded.
Fly in circles for a bit, Xhinna said. I’m sure we’ll know one way or the other before you get exhausted.
“We need to go there,” Jirana said, pointing toward the tent with the Crom flag.
They had only a couple hundred meters to go, but to Xhinna it seemed much farther. She could see people rise and then fall back down onto the dusty ground as she passed; she could see others not even moving. If this wasn’t the Plague, it was, as Jirana had said, starvation, Xhinna thought. All around her the people were gaunt, tired, their eyes dim, hollow.
They were stopped at the entrance to the tent by a tall, strong man who stood in their path.
“State your business.”
“We ride in Search,” Xhinna said, straightening her spine in a vain attempt to match the other’s height.
“Search? A girl?” the man asked. He glanced to the air. “Where are the bronzes?”
“Why come here?” another called from the crowd that was slowly gathering.
“Did you bring any food?” a woman added.
“No,” Xhinna said. “I’m sorry, we didn’t know.”
“What, does Fenril tell you that everyone is well-fed now?”
“I haven’t spoken with Fenril.”
“You are from Telgar, are you not?” the guard demanded, glancing down at the short dirk hanging from her belt. “That’s the Telgar mark on your dirk.”
“I—” Xhinna paused, trying to figure the best way to proceed.
“What, are you a renegade?” a voice from the crowd called out.
“D’gan would never let a girl near a dragon, unless it was a queen,” the guard said, his eyes probing Xhinna’s.
“The dragon chooses the rider,” Xhinna said.
“A blue rider—we would have heard of this,” someone else called from the crowd.
“What’s your name?”
“Xhinna.”
“That’s not a Telgar name.”
“It’s not a dragonrider name, even,” another added.
“Xhinna …,” Jirana said, her voice tinged with fear.
“We ride in Search,” Xhinna repeated to the guard. “Will you let us pass?”
“What of your friend?” the guard asked, glancing down at Jirana, who looked away.
“She’s trader born,” Xhinna said, hoping that would ease their way.
“Trader!” a voice from the crowd called. “Have you come to trade, little one?”
“Please,” Xhinna said to the guard, “let us pass.” Above them, Tazith bellowed, sensing her disquiet. “Tazith, shh!” she said aloud, even as she relayed the thought to the blue.
The guard’s eyes flickered from Xhinna, to the blue in the sky, and then back. “That’s really your dragon,” he said in surprise.
“Of course he is!” Jirana exclaimed.
“No girl rides a blue,” the guard declared. But he was already stepping aside and pulling the tent flap open.
“Except Xhinna—she’s the first,” Jirana said as she reached for Xhinna’s hand and half-tugged her into the tent.
Inside, they stopped dead. All eyes were on them, and it was obvious that their conversation with the guard had been heard by everyone.
Xhinna gazed around the room, looking for a familiar face. At the far end, one chair stood apart from all the others, but no one sat on it. The chair was roughly made—bits of wood and cloth lashed together—but the cloth was of good fabric, as though the builder had tried to make up for the poor quality of the wood.
Finally she recognized the woman she’d been hoping to find. “My Lady Nerra?”
The others in the room mumbled, and two large men moved in front of the young woman protectively. The woman raised her arms and pushed her way between the men.
“Who are you? How do you know my name when I swear we’ve never met before?”
“That’s Lady Nerra?” Jirana said in a stage whisper. She nudged Xhinna. “Bow, you must bow!”
Xhinna turned to see the little trader bowing low before Nerra and then, apparently deciding that it wasn’t good enough, going down to one knee, all the while tugging at Xhinna.
Xhinna stood her ground, saying to Jirana, “If you know Lady Nerra, then you know she sets no great store in ceremony.”
“I don’t?” Nerra said, arching one brow haughtily.
“Not—” Xhinna caught herself before she could say “in my time” and finished lamely, “so I’ve heard.”
“Then you’ve heard wrong,” the entrance guard said, his voice booming as he made his way to stand between Xhinna and Nerra.
“Stand aside, please, Jefric, and let me speak with your lady,” Xhinna said, putting an arm on the man’s side with gentle pressure. To her surprise, he moved.
“How did you know my name?” he demanded, his hand going to the hilt of his sword. “Did Fenril send you?”
Xhinna’s eyes narrowed. “Fenril’s still in the Hold?”
“Where else would he be?” Nerra asked, stepping forward, her gaze focused on Xhinna. “What do you know?”
Xhinna glanced down at Jirana, reached to touch her on the shoulder, and beckoned for her to rise. Jirana made a face, but obeyed.
“My lady, I know too much,” Xhinna said. “I must be careful what I say, so that I don’t do any harm.”
Jirana nudged her. Xhinna made a restraining motion with her hand.
“We can’t tell her,” Jirana said in a poorly managed whisper.
“Tell her what?” Jefric asked. He looked down at Jirana and then knelt before her. “Tell her what, little one?”
Jirana squirmed under his gaze, but said nothing.
“My lady, we must ask—is there still Plague?” Xhinna asked, driven by some nagging memory.
“It’s been nearly two Turns since any succumbed,” Jefric growled. “And still the gates of Crom are closed against us.”
“Fenril’s drunk most of the cellar and spends every night whimpering in fear,” Xhinna said.
Nerra’s head whipped up. “Who told you that?”
Jirana gasped and pulled on Xhinna’s hands, dragging the taller girl down so she could whisper in her ear. “Two Turns!”
“Yes,” Xhinna said, smiling at Jirana, “I had the same thought.” She stood and, with her hand, pulled Jirana once more to her side. “My Lady Nerra, would you like to be restored to your Hold?”
“Hah!” Jefric barked a laugh. “And how do you propose to do that? Are you going to scale the heights or—”
“Jefric,” Nerra said in a calm, commanding voice. The guard stopped and looked at her. When she had his attention, she said, “She rides a blue.”
“Come nightfall,” Xhinna said, “Tazith could carry four at a time.” She glanced toward Jefric. “If the gates were open, could your men take the Hold?”
Jefric’s face slowly cracked into a grin. “Of course, my lady.”
“Winglea
der,” Nerra said, pointing to Xhinna’s shoulder knots.
Xhinna blushed. “How many would you need to open the gates?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
“Four, Xhinna,” Jirana piped up in exasperation, “don’t you—”
“Jirana! Time!” Xhinna reminded her tersely. The little girl closed her mouth with a snap and then, with exaggerated motions, pantomimed that she was sewing it shut. Xhinna turned her attention back to Nerra. “If we could wait until darkness …”
“That would give us time to prepare,” Nerra agreed. She cocked her head at Xhinna. “And what would you want in return?”
“I ride in Search,” Xhinna reminded her.
Nerra started to shake her head. “Most of my people are sick, and the men will be needed in the fields—”
“We’re not looking for men,” Jirana piped up.
“My friend speaks the truth,” Xhinna said.
“There’s a queen on the sands?” Nerra asked, surprised.
“Not yet,” Jirana chirped. “But—”
“Jirana!” Xhinna told her quellingly. Jirana’s shoulders slumped and she looked chagrined. Xhinna turned back to Nerra. “If things go as we hope, we might be able to take more later.”
“I see,” Nerra said, her brows creasing. She moved toward the fabric-covered chair that had stood empty all this time, gestured for Xhinna and Jirana to take seats nearby, and then sat. She turned toward Jefric, saying, “Do you know what to do?”
“With the gates open, we’ll have no problems,” Jefric affirmed.
“You won’t—,” Jirana began but bit her words off before Xhinna said anything.
Nerra glanced at Xhinna, then back to Jefric. “Why don’t you get the others ready, then?”
Jefric hesitated until Nerra told him, “I’ll be fine.”
“Very well, my lady,” Jefric said, giving her a full bow before smartly turning on his heel and moving toward the entrance. The others fell in behind him, and soon the tent was empty except for Nerra, Xhinna, and Jirana.
“So … we are alone,” Nerra said in the silence.
“We still need to be careful what we say,” Xhinna told her apologetically.
“ ‘You can’t break time,’ ” Jirana quoted in agreement.
Nerra’s eyes widened. “You’re from the future?”
“The less you know, my lady, the better it is for everyone,” Xhinna said.
Sky Dragons: Dragonriders of Pern Page 12