In all that time, Faranth had never again risen to mate. No one had commented on it, considering it merely due to Faranth’s age. Only Wind Blossom knew differently.
The reason was one of many secrets that she and Sorka had shared over the years, and a part of one of Wind Blossom’s few true friendships.
As the first queen dragonrider and the most experienced geneticist, Sorka and Wind Blossom had maintained a working relationship during the years after the first Fall at Landing. But the creation of the watch-whers had soured most of the dragonriders on Wind Blossom, Sean in particular, and Sorka’s dealings with her had become businesslike.
Wind Blossom maintained detailed records of all the original dragons and their hatchlings, tracking growth and watching for any signs of genetic defects. When the colony reestablished itself in the north, and Admiral Benden redirected the technical staff away from her studies, Wind Blossom found herself without specific duties.
Admiral Benden had suggested publicly that she consider diversifying into the medical profession, perhaps considering nursing or technical lab work. And, the Admiral had added with a smile, Wind Blossom should remember her duty to the colony and her genome: Had she considered how she would fill her child-rearing obligations?
Wind Blossom’s meek response was taken for acquiescence—and perhaps a tacit admission that her loss of valuable technical gear during the Crossing had made her a pariah.
She dutifully left her lab and took on a trainee role with one of Fort Hold’s doctors, working hard to achieve her eventual rating as a general practitioner.
Still, Wind Blossom kept track not only of dragon bloodlines but also of the watch-whers and their progress. She was often asked for advice on the handling of “Wind Blossom’s uglies,” as they were called.
Emily Boll, in particular, expressed interest in the watch-whers. “I saw them fly the other night,” she told Wind Blossom once in private. She smiled at the smaller woman.
Wind Blossom nodded. “I, too,” she replied, suffused with pleasure at the memory.
Emily grabbed her hand. “It must be hard for you,” she said with warm sympathy.
“It is my job,” Wind Blossom replied with only the hint of a shrug. “I do what you and the Admiral ask of me; I carry the burden my mother has left me.”
“Well, it seems damned unfair to me!” Emily declared, scowling fiercely.
Wind Blossom made no response.
“Oh, I know it’s all part of the plan,” Emily went on. “And how much we need it. You showed me the numbers yourself, but it still seems wrong that your contributions and efforts should either go unnoticed or vilified.”
Again, Wind Blossom did not answer.
“Wind Blossom,” Emily said, gripping her wrist tightly, “you can talk to me. I know all the plans. When we’re alone, you can tell me anything. It’s not right that you keep everything locked up inside you, and it’s not fair. In fact, as Pern’s leading psychologist, I say that for your own good.” When Wind Blossom said nothing, Emily continued softly, “And I say it as one who knows how much you’ve suffered.”
For the first time ever, Wind Blossom broke down and collapsed into Emily’s arms. For how long she cried, she did not know. Afterward, Emily gave her one last hug and a bright smile, but they said nothing.
When the Fever had struck, Wind Blossom’s skills as a doctor were in high demand. She drove herself harder than any other, often surviving for weeks on end only on naps snatched here and there. And she spent as much time as she could tending Emily Boll.
Wind Blossom and Emily were both too honest to deny that the old governor of Tau Ceti would not survive this infectious siege. Wind Blossom prescribed what palliatives she could and did everything in her power to make the older woman’s passing as painless as possible.
Late in the night, when Wind Blossom and Emily had convinced poor Pierre de Courci, Emily’s husband, to take some rest, Emily tossed fitfully on her bed.
“If I’m going to die, I wish I’d hurry up,” she said bitterly after one more wracking cough had torn through her body.
“Maybe you will recover,” Wind Blossom suggested. When Emily glared at her, she persisted, “It’s possible. We don’t know enough about this illness.”
She regretted her last sentence even as Emily gathered about her the indomitable aura of “The Governor of Tau Ceti” and demanded, “How many have died, Wind Blossom? Pierre wouldn’t tell me. Paul wouldn’t tell me. Tell me.”
“I don’t know,” Wind Blossom replied honestly. “They’ve started mass burials. The last count was over fifteen hundred.”
“Out of nine thousand?” Emily gasped. “That’s over one sixth of the colony!”
Wind Blossom nodded.
Emily’s eyes narrowed. “It’s going to get worse, isn’t it?”
Wind Blossom said nothing.
“The dragonriders? Are they all right?” Emily demanded. When Wind Blossom nodded, Emily sighed and lay back on her bed, eyes closed. After a moment she peeked up at Wind Blossom, her lips curved ruefully, and said, “Your doing, isn’t it? The dragonriders? Some of that Eridani immune boost?”
“Only some,” Wind Blossom admitted. Apologetically, she added, “There was not enough for you.”
“I wasn’t on the list,” Emily said. “Paul and I had talked about this years back. Is Paul all right?”
“He fell ill last night,” Wind Blossom told her.
Emily closed her eyes again—in pain. When she opened them, she told Wind Blossom, “Get Pierre. You will do an autopsy, find the cure.”
Wind Blossom was horror-struck and for once it showed. “I—I—Emily, I don’t want to do that.”
Emily smiled sadly at her. “Yes, dear, I know,” she said softly. “But I must ask it of you. I did not bring these people here to fall at the first—no, second—hurdle.”
Wind Blossom reluctantly agreed. “It is my job,” she said. “But please tell your husband, it would be too much for me.”
Emily nodded. “I understand, and I’ll do that,” she replied. “Now, what to do for your future . . .”
“I shall go on,” Wind Blossom answered. “It is my job.”
Emily snorted. “Yes, your job, but what about your life? What about a family? Come to think of it, how old was your mother when you were born? How old are you now?” She paused, thoughtfully. “More Eridani genetic tricks?”
“Yes,” Wind Blossom agreed, “more Eridani genetics. It is necessary.”
“And secret, no doubt, or I would have heard more sooner,” Emily commented. “Where I am going, no one will ask me anything. Would you be willing to satisfy my curiosity?”
Wind Blossom shook her head. “No, I do not want to do that.”
Emily’s eyes widened in surprise. “Well, I can’t force you,” she said.
Wind Blossom nodded. “It would be painful for me.”
“A pain-induced block?” Emily barely contained her revolt at the concept.
Wind Blossom shook her head. “No, nothing like that. To talk about it—I am shamed.”
Emily’s eyes narrowed. “Not about your uglies? Not about the last batch of dragons?”
Wind Blossom waved those examples away with a gesture of derision. She looked Emily squarely in the eye. “Do you know how badly we have failed?”
“Failed?” Emily shook her head. “All your work has been brilliant.”
Wind Blossom was silent for a long while. When she spoke again, her voice was quiet, near a whisper. “In the Eridani Way we are taught that harmony is everything. A good change is invisible, like the wind. It belongs—it seems like an obvious part of the ecosystem.
“You remember the ancient tailor’s saying: Measure twice, cut once?” she continued.
Emily nodded.
“The Eridani would say measure a million times, then a million times more and see if you can’t possibly find a way to avoid the cut. ‘A world is not easily mended,’ they say.
“It is drill
ed into us.” Her hands fluttered upward, as though to talk on their own, only to be forced back into her lap with a sour look when she noticed them. “It was drilled into my mother. Into my sister—”
“You had a sister?” Emily interrupted. “What became of her?”
“She is back on Tau Ceti, Governor Boll,” Wind Blossom replied flatly.
“I was governor of Tau Ceti,” Emily said. “Here, I am just Emily, Holder of Boll.
“So, you left a sister on Tau Ceti,” she mused. She narrowed her eyes cannily. “To watch the Multichords?”
Wind Blossom shook her head. “To watch the world.”
“So every time an Eridani Adept adds a new species to an ecosystem, a child must stay behind to watch?” Emily’s voice betrayed displeasure.
“No,” Wind Blossom corrected. “Every time an ecosystem is altered there must be those that watch it and bring it back into harmony.”
“More than one?” Emily asked.
“Of course.”
“But here, on Pern—Tubberman?” Emily was surprised. Then she grew thoughtful. “I’d always wondered why it was so easy for him to gain access to such valuable equipment. I realized that the Charter permitted it, but it had seemed odd at the time that no one had been guarding the equipment more zealously.”
Wind Blossom agreed, secretly relieved that the conversation had turned in this direction. She discovered, in talking with Governor Boll, that she was not ready to reveal all her secrets.
Pierre came back with a tray a few minutes later and the conversation lapsed, failing completely when Emily choked on a bit of food and slipped into a coughing fit as her tortured lungs protested the extra effort.
Pierre looked at Wind Blossom. “Is there anything you can do?” he implored.
“I have some medicine that can help the pain but—”
“She told me about the casualties, Pierre,” Emily interrupted her.
Pierre bit his lip and gave Wind Blossom a bitter look.
“I asked—it is my duty, you know.”
Pierre looked into Emily’s eyes, then nodded sadly. “At this time, I would have preferred to keep the pain from you, love.”
“I know,” Emily said. “And so did Wind Blossom. But I had to know. It helped me to make a decision. Two, in fact.”
Both Pierre and Wind Blossom looked at her.
“I have already asked Wind Blossom to perform an autopsy on my body,” Emily said.
“I do not want to do this,” Wind Blossom told Pierre. His eyes wide, he looked long at her face, saw that her own eyes were rimmed with tears, and nodded.
“Anything that can help the rest of you,” Emily said. “It is my job, my last duty.”
“I see, ma petite,” Pierre responded. “It shall be as you ask. And the other decision?”
“You can help, here,” Emily said. She looked at Wind Blossom. “Is it true that we don’t have a complete knowledge of the Pern herbal remedies?”
“We have none!” Pierre exclaimed, only glancing at Wind Blossom for confirmation. “You are not suggesting—”
“It is a bad idea,” Wind Blossom interjected. Emily and Pierre both gave her startled looks. “I appreciate the thought, but how would we know if a herbal was exacerbating the illness or helping it? Also, in your state, it would take too long to determine if the herbal was having any positive effects. It would be bad science, Governor.”
“Even to try palliatives?” Emily asked in a small voice. “You see, I just don’t think it’s fair to give me the painkillers when you could give them to others who might survive.”
“You’ve earned the right to them!” Pierre protested.
“That’s not the point, love,” Emily said, dropping her voice and reducing the tension in the argument. “Again, if I can’t be saved, why should we waste valuable painkillers on me and not on others?”
“What you say is true,” Wind Blossom agreed, earning a withering look from Pierre. “But, as I am the doctor on scene, triage is my responsibility.”
“But you have admitted that I am not going to survive,” Emily protested.
“How do you think we will feel if we have to watch you die in great pain?” Wind Blossom asked softly. “It is not only your decision.”
Emily threw open her hand in a gesture of defeat. “But,” she tried one last time, in a small voice, “there are children—”
Wind Blossom leaned over the bed and grabbed Emily’s open hand in hers. “I know,” she said, the iron control over her voice threatening to break. “I have held their hands as they . . .”
Pierre leaned across and laid an arm on her shoulder. “I am sorry, Wind Blossom, I did not think—”
Wind Blossom straightened up, her face once again masklike. “I cannot save them if I surrender to grief.”
“My point exactly,” Emily persisted, a look of triumph flashing in her eyes.
Wind Blossom nodded. “There are some infusions we make now, like the juice of the fellis plant—”
“I have some here,” Pierre said.
“If you would agree, we could substitute those known herbals for our standard medicines.”
“I like that,” Emily said. “We could test dosage levels while we’re at it, couldn’t we?”
And so they arrived at the treatment. Wind Blossom wrote the original prescription and Pierre filled it. Once Emily had taken her first dose, Wind Blossom begged other duties and left them.
She returned three more times during the night. The first time she returned, they agreed to up the dosage and added something to ease the cough. The second time, Emily seemed asleep.
“She is in a coma,” Wind Blossom told Pierre after she took Emily’s vitals.
“I was afraid of that,” Pierre said. “She has been so hot.”
“We don’t know if the fever kills or is just an immune response,” Wind Blossom said. “Pol Nietro and Bay Harkenon’s notes show that they tried cold water immersion with no success.”
“Her temperature’s not that high,” Pierre said.
Wind Blossom nodded. “Her pulse is low and dropping. It’s almost as if her heart were—” she broke off abruptly, and collapsed to the floor.
“Are you all right?” Pierre rushed to her side, lifting her up and putting her into a chair. Her skin was pale; Pierre put her head between her knees. “When did you last eat?”
Wind Blossom tried to sit up, to push him out of her way. “No time, I must do my rounds—”
He pushed her firmly back into the chair. “You will sit with your head between your knees. You will drink and you will eat. Then maybe I will let you up.”
“Pierre! I have to go, people are dying,” she protested, but her movements were feeble.
“They will not get better if you keel over, too,” Pierre said. “Emily spoke to me after you left. How many are sick? How many doctors are there?”
Wind Blossom shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“What, do you not confer with each other?”
“Of course,” Wind Blossom said, trying again to sit up. This time Pierre let her. “But I must have been late for the last meeting and I guess no one could wait around—”
“When was the last meeting?”
“Yesterday evening,” Wind Blossom said. “I think.”
“Drink this,” Pierre said, handing her a glass of klah. “How many were at the last meeting, the one before?”
“Maybe ten,” Wind Blossom replied. “But I think some were too busy tending the sick to come.”
“Emily said that they’ve buried fifteen hundred already. How many sick are there?”
Wind Blossom shook her head. “I can only guess. Maybe twice that number.”
“Eat this,” he said, handing her a breadroll. “Are you saying that we have one doctor for every three hundred sick people?”
She nodded. “Now you see why I must get going.”
“You must rest!” Pierre said, raising his hands in a restraining motion. “Eat, drink
, and we’ll see. What does Paul—oh! He is sick, too. So who is in charge now?”
“I think maybe I am,” Wind Blossom said in a small voice. “Pol Nietro died two days ago, I think, and Bay Harkenon I last saw sick in bed herself. The dragonriders are all safe.”
“That’s a mercy,” Pierre said with feeling. “Finish that roll, please.”
Realizing that she was going nowhere until she satisfied the towering Pierre—of course, anyone towered over her—Wind Blossom tried to cram down the proffered roll.
“Non, s’il vous plaît!” Pierre said. “I spent more time making that food than you are spending eating it!”
In the end, she had two rolls and another drink—not water, some sort of fruit juice—before Pierre let her go.
The last time she returned, Pierre met her at the door.
“She is dead,” he told her woodenly. “Her heart stopped beating a few minutes ago. She told me not to try resuscitating her.” He rubbed his eyes, wiping away tears. “I was just coming to look for you. Where should I put her body?”
Numbed, Wind Blossom slipped past him into the room. She took one look at Emily and sat down in the chair beside her, head bowed.
After a moment, she spoke. “When I first saw her, she was the most beautiful person I had ever seen. She would light up the room, lift the spirits of everyone who met her. She did not allow even the threat of total annihilation to upset her.
“When the Nathi were bombing Tau Ceti day and night, it was Governor Boll who pulled everyone together. She worked tirelessly, always there, always ready—”
“I had heard,” Pierre interrupted, “but never like this.”
“I was young, still a girl,” Wind Blossom continued. “My mother was often away, unavailable. When I did see her, it was for my lessons—and her scoldings.” She sighed. “Governor Boll always found the time to say something encouraging to me. Even when cities were being obliterated, she would still find the time to talk to a young girl.”
“I did not know,” Pierre said.
“I did not tell anyone,” Wind Blossom confessed. “My mother would have been furious, and I was too embarrassed to tell Governor Boll myself.”
Dragonsblood Page 12
