Who?
“It is time to bring them home,” a voice spoke low in her ear, respectful, soothing, loving. Lorana.
The man whose body was wrapped around hers was too short to be T’mar. Fiona recovered her senses enough to realize that T’mar was still in bed, eyes slitted open but otherwise motionless.
Who?
An arm touched her shoulder, soft, warm, not the man holding her. Fiona felt the love of that touch. Even as she started to recover from the frenetic events that had so completely controlled her, Fiona recognized the depth of that love. And as she did, with a mental gasp, she knew without doubt whose body was twined around hers.
Kindan.
Don’t, a voice touched her softly, stilling her incipient alarm. The voice sounded something like the strange voice Fiona had heard so many times before, but she realized, just then, that it was only Lorana’s voice; it had none of the echo she had come to associate with that other voice.
Kindan must have felt her stiffen, for he suddenly surged backward, away from her.
“No,” Lorana spoke aloud. Fiona felt the arm that had touched her shoulder slide around her side and felt the tension as Lorana moved her body closer to them, holding them together in her arms. “This is my moment, too.”
We must bring them home now, Lorana continued in thought. Fiona reached out to Talenth and felt, to her surprise, not just Zirenth but the presence of Lorana and Kindan, and the fainter presence of T’mar all bonded with the bronze and, through him, with her.
We must come back now, Fiona said to Talenth. She felt her gold’s languorous response, Zirenth’s delicate, loving agreement, and then the two broke their grasp, spun upright, and started a glide back toward the Weyr.
Fiona opened her eyes quickly to see Kindan’s blue eyes focused intently on her. She settled her clothes. Kindan blew a rueful snort but followed her actions. When she glanced up again, he was looking at her once more, his eyes dancing.
“You arranged this, didn’t you?”
“Kindan!” Lorana said. “When dragons rise, passion flies.”
“You felt it,” Fiona said to Lorana. “You felt it all.”
“I did,” Lorana agreed. She looked to Kindan. “And you felt Zirenth’s passion. You responded as a dragonrider.”
“But T’mar—”
They all turned guiltily toward the still form of the bronze rider.
“I saw his eyes open earlier,” Fiona said.
Kindan frowned.
“I felt him,” Lorana said. She turned to Kindan. “I think the mating flight roused him.”
“One would hope,” Kindan replied feelingly.
Outside, the air darkened and Zirenth landed on the ledge. They drew aside to allow the bronze dragon entrance to his weyr. He blew a quick breath of thanks in their direction, peered into T’mar’s quarters, and made a soft, wistful sound at his still form, then curled up swiftly into a deep sleep.
A bugle from nearby alerted them that Talenth had also returned, and at a motion from Fiona, they moved outside to watch the gold land and scamper into her weyr.
“You were marvelous!” Fiona called as they entered after her. Talenth turned to greet them, her eyes whirling with the green of contentment, her body radiating a newfound strength and maturity.
I’m tired.
“Get some rest, love, you earned it.”
“We should get someone to check on T’mar—” Kindan began, only to be interrupted by the sound of feet approaching from Fiona’s quarters.
“The flight went well?” Seban asked, his arm draped over his daughter’s shoulders. Close behind were M’tal and H’nez, who had left the room when their dragons had lost their chase of Talenth.
“Zirenth flew her,” Kindan said in answer to the ex-dragonrider’s unspoken question.
Seban’s eyes widened. “Zirenth? And T’mar?”
“Please check on him,” Fiona said. Seban nodded quickly, his expression full of curiosity. Fiona took pity on him, blushing lightly as she said, “Zirenth flew Talenth with aid from Kindan and Lorana.”
“A good mating flight,” M’tal’s voice boomed out. He nodded toward Fiona respectfully.
“But it solves nothing,” H’nez said, brooding. “Zirenth flew Talenth: Does that make T’mar Weyrleader?”
“So it would seem,” M’tal agreed.
“But he is not capable,” H’nez protested. He gestured irritably toward Fiona, Kindan, and Lorana. “So incapable that we don’t see him where he should be.”
“He was there,” Fiona said softly. “And what he could not do himself, he ceded to Kindan for him.”
“He’s not even a dragonrider—how can we call him Weyrleader?”
“This discussion needs to come later,” M’tal declared, pointing H’nez toward the door. “Now it is time for the dragons to return to the weyrs, and for their riders to rest.”
“Hmmph!” H’nez snorted, but he preceded the other bronze riders to the exit.
“Kindan?” Seban repeated, glancing toward the harper in surprise.
“Lorana can talk with any dragon,” Kindan said, his own face flushing with embarrassment, “and formed a link with Zirenth into which I was drawn.”
Seban glanced at Fiona, then back to the harper. A smile blossomed on his face. “Then congratulations are due to all!”
“T’mar stirred, I think, during the flight,” Fiona said. “Would you please check on him and keep him company?”
“Of course.”
What now? Fiona asked herself as she eased into the warm tub. What do I do now? I didn’t mean for this to happen.
Lorana and Kindan had a bond; she had no right imposing herself on it. And yet … if it hadn’t been for Lorana, T’mar’s Zirenth would have gone between forever, and just as surely as the dragon died, the rider would have been lost with him.
She couldn’t lose T’mar. She cared for him too much. And the Weyr needed him, needed him as Weyrleader. H’nez was too rigid, too much like the old leadership.
But … Lorana. What about her? Surely she deserved better than—
Don’t.
Talenth? Fiona thought, reaching out to her queen only to find the slow, steady sleepy feeling in return. The gold was asleep. Lorana?
Lorana had given her a gift beyond measure when she’d arrived with the cure to the dragon sickness: She’d saved her beloved Talenth. And now, she’d given another priceless gift again. Was that what Tenniz meant with:
A dragon gold is only the first price …?
Was this part of the price Lorana must pay? Fiona’s brows furrowed in anger at the thought. No, she would not let it be. She was no thief of hearts, and she would do everything to avoid hurting this woman, who had paid so much already.
With determination, she scrubbed herself down, rinsed, and rose from the bath, dressing quickly. She needed to be seen by the rest of Weyr and to check with Shaneese in the Dining Cavern. Besides, she was sure that Kindan and Lorana would be grateful for some time to themselves.
She went through Talenth’s weyr to check on the sleeping queen, who looked well-pleased with herself even as she snored, deep in slumber.
“Good flight, Weyrwoman!” J’gerd called as he spied her entering the Dining Cavern.
“Thank you!”
It was the first of many such accolades Fiona accepted, maintaining a graceful air even while entertaining the notion sardonically that she had had very little to do with the outcome.
As if in answer, the ex-dragonrider, Mekiar, sat gruffly next to her, nodded brusquely in her direction, saying, “Seen many mating flights. You did well, didn’t let her gorge, let her fly high, made it look easy.”
Fiona found her cheeks heating at the potter’s compliment.
“You did well,” M’tal chimed in agreement as he pulled up the chair opposite Mekiar and sat.
“I’d be surprised at any less than thirty eggs, and a queen among ’em,” Shaneese added from behind Fiona’s shoulder, startling Fi
ona with her quiet approach. The headwoman reached around Fiona and set a plate of fresh scrambled eggs in front of her and another plate of fresh, hot rolls to the side. As a garnish, she plopped down a small bowl of sliced red peppers.
“Try them if you need more waking,” Shaneese challenged.
“Fresh klah should be enough,” Fiona said, eyeing the red hot peppers warily.
“How many mating flights have you seen?” Shaneese snorted disrepectfully.
Fiona shook her head in acknowledgment but reached instead for the black pepper and sprinkled some on her eggs.
“If this isn’t enough, I’ll try the other,” Fiona promised. She took a mouthful and savored it, closing her eyes in relish. When she opened them again to reach for another bite, she noticed M’tal eyeing her thoughtfully.
“How long have you been tired?” he asked, his voice soft but not concealing some intense urgency.
“Ever since I Impressed Talenth,” Fiona said with a shrug. “I thought it was from timing it back to Igen.”
“Do you get edgy, irritable?”
“Sleepy, muzzy-headed,” Fiona said. “Some days worse than others.” She couldn’t suppress a grin. “Today, I feel more awake than not.”
M’tal shared her grin with one of his own.
“T’mar felt the same, and many of the weyrlings,” Fiona said, wondering what had caused the bronze rider to consider this particular issue interesting.
“Headaches?”
“Yes,” Fiona said, her eyes narrowing. “Do you know something?”
“Tullea had similar symptoms,” M’tal said, stirring in his chair, a frown on his face. “She had been acting odd pretty much since she’d Impressed her Minith—three Turns back.”
“And?” Fiona asked, raising a hand and motioning peremptorily for the ex-weyrleader to continue.
M’tal’s eyes flashed briefly with amusement before he continued, “Sometimes, Weyrwoman, you have flashes of her behavior.”
“I take it you don’t approve.”
“Only when it’s uncalled for,” M’tal said. He waited for her response, but she merely smiled at the gibe and pleaded with her eyes for him to continue. M’tal relented, pursing his lips for a moment as he recovered his thoughts, before saying, “Now I wonder if some of your behaviors aren’t related in another way.”
“Timing?”
“Tullea went back three Turns in our time to High Reaches Weyr,” M’tal said. “It seems that being in the same time caused her bad temper in both times.”
“But we went back in time—” Fiona began in protest.
“So far,” M’tal agreed.
“You think that perhaps some time soon we will go back in time again? Now?” A moment later, Fiona expanded, “I mean to this now?
Why?”
“I have no idea.”
Fiona distracted herself with another bite of food. She chewed carefully and took a drink of her klah before continuing, “What effect would timing have on Talenth?”
“I don’t know,” he said with a frown. “I assume that you’re referring to her eggs.”
Fiona nodded and then sighed, shaking her head. “I can’t see myself leaving Talenth with a clutch on the Hatching Grounds.”
“Perhaps you will take her someplace else,” Mekiar said, looking from Weyrwoman to bronze rider and back.
“But where?” Fiona asked. “It can’t be Igen—there are riders recovering all through the last ten Turns.”
“Perhaps it is something else,” M’tal said, his expression troubled.
“Else?” Fiona said. “Worse?”
“It’s never wise to borrow trouble,” Mekiar reminded them.
Fiona snorted acidly. “No, certainly when we’ve enough of our own already!”
A noise from the entrance attracted her attention and she turned in time to see Kindan and Lorana saunter through the entrance. Something in Lorana’s walk made Fiona curious and she sent a thought toward Talenth, only to find her queen still deep in slumber. Thwarted, Fiona tried an experiment and focused her attention on Lorana.
The dark-haired woman glanced up toward her, her eyes dancing, cheeks flushed.
Caranth flew Minith!
Fiona whipped her head back around to catch M’tal’s eyes, but the bronze rider showed no signs of having heard the news.
“Caranth flew Minith,” Fiona told him. “Did you know?”
M’tal looked abstracted for a moment, then shook his head. “No, Gaminth is still sleeping.” He quirked his eyebrows up at her. “How did you know?”
Fiona turned her head toward the approaching pair and M’tal followed her gaze.
“You guessed?” he said. “Just because they’re late?”
“Lorana can talk to any dragon,” Fiona said by way of broaching her new notion.
“Yes.”
“That’s rare, very rare,” Mekiar said, glancing toward the approaching couple. “The last one who could was Torene of Benden, wasn’t she?”
“I believe so,” M’tal said with a note of home pride in his voice. “But, as far as I know from the Records, Torene could only hear and talk to the dragons.” He paused, forcing a quick grimace from his face. “It appears that Lorana can also feel the dragons.”
“It’s not all bad,” Lorana said as she and Kindan drew within earshot. Kindan gestured for her to take the seat near M’tal while he strode quickly to sit opposite her beside Mekiar.
“Did you say that Caranth flew Minith?” Fiona asked, even as Shaneese efficiently bustled about with two more place settings and fresh mugs.
Lorana grinned, her eyes dancing. “You heard! I thought maybe you did, but I wasn’t sure!”
I heard, Fiona thought, glancing at Lorana and smiling when she noticed the woman’s reaction. She turned to M’tal. “If a person can talk to all dragons, is there any reason that they might not also be able to talk to people the same way?”
M’tal turned to Lorana, then back to Fiona. “She told you?”
Before Fiona could respond, Lorana gave a large gasp and turned to M’tal. “Quickly, Jeila comes! The bronzes—”
M’tal jerked in unison to a loud, raucous bellow, which was instantly reinforced by several others.
“The bronzes are blooding their kills!” J’gerd shouted from near the doorway.
“T’mar!” Fiona cried, rushing out of her chair.
“No, stay here!” Lorana called to her, jumping to her feet. “Kindan, come with me.” She assured Fiona, “We’ll go to him.”
Fiona nodded once quickly in agreement and waited until they had turned the corner out of the Cavern’s entrance and out of her sight before sitting back down with a heavy sigh.
“I’ve never heard of so many mating flights in one day,” Mekiar said, his eyes rheumy with pain. He rose from his seat slowly and raised a hand invitingly to Fiona. “Perhaps you’d care to join me in some clay?”
It took Fiona a moment to recognize that the ex-dragonrider was offering her a chance to throw some pots on a potter’s wheel. The thought of sensuously occupying her hands and mind was deeply appealing to her. She smiled and reached for his hand.
They were seated and deeply engrossed in their work when Jeila’s Tolarth bellowed near the Star Stones, her tone lustful.
Tell them to meet in Zirenth’s weyr, Fiona thought hastily to Lorana, anxious about the one time when she, as Weyrwoman, couldn’t perform her duties as Weyrwoman.
Fiona was relieved to hear Tolarth glide toward the queen’s wing before tearing off to bellow challengingly in the pasture at the far end of the Weyr. She caught a fleeting snatch of thought from Lorana, partly accepting, mostly amused, and snorted as she realized that the older woman would probably have selected that course of action without Fiona’s prodding, and had gathered the bronze riders in Zirenth’s weyr.
Her concentration faltered and she twitched in her seat, feeling the urge to rise, to be there, to help Jeila who was not much older than herself, to know that T�
�mar and Zirenth were all right—
“Stay here, Weyrwoman,” Mekiar’s voice came to her, calmly, firmly. She glanced at the ex-rider.
“Your dragon is only sleeping now,” Mekiar reminded her. “This is Tolarth’s time. You don’t need me telling you the dangers of fighting queens.”
Fiona forced herself to sit back down, nodding slowly. She sent a quiet, fleeting tendril of thought toward Talenth and was glad to note that the gold was still slumbering, although her dreams were clearly becoming influenced by the sounds and emotions rising around her. Fiona realized that she, too, was feeling those emotions and found her breath quickening when she heard Tolarth’s challenging bugle warble as the queen soared into the sky above.
“If you put your mind to it, the clay can be your lover,” Mekiar told her softly. “Done right, you can make the most beautiful works.”
“How?” Fiona asked, aware of the rising emotions all around her, filling the Weyr as the bronze dragons—including one from High Reaches and another from Benden—bellowed and leaped into the air after the challenging queen.
“Close your eyes, still your breathing, put your mind in your fingers, shape the clay with your thoughts,” Mekiar told her calmly. She drew a breath to ask for more guidance but he forestalled her. “Hush now! Quiet, close your eyes. This is a time of silence.”
Fiona closed her eyes and—found herself soaring through the air. Startled, she opened them again. Zirenth, she had been with Zirenth. She reached out to Lorana, felt a welcoming echo tinged with concern and forced herself, regretfully, to withdraw once more.
“Lorana and Kindan are flying with Zirenth,” Fiona said quietly.
“It would have to be, if T’mar is still unconscious,” Mekiar replied, his tone not wholly devoid of emotion but also not overwhelmed by it. “Ride with them if you wish.”
Fiona caught some hint of disapproval—no, it was less than that—in the older man’s tone. Caution.
Fiona thought she understood even as she felt the passions grow. She forced her feelings back to her fingers, felt the clay, reached for some cool, wet water with which to slick up the shape she was working and felt her fingers flow once more over the shape as her leg pumped the wheel round and round.
Dragongirl Page 20
