Dragonsblood

by Todd McCaffrey

  “He’s wheezing—he’s got an infection,” Tieran said. “He needs antibiotics.”

  “Which one?” Wind Blossom asked. “How can you know the right sort of antibiotic? What dosage level?”

  Tieran gritted his teeth. “There is only one and you know it. The general-spectrum antibiotic. Maximum dosage for his body mass.”

  “There isn’t that much of the general antibiotic left, Tieran,” Wind Blossom said, voice barely carrying over the wind and the rain. “If we use it and it’s not enough, the fire-lizard will die. And even if it lives, that antibiotic was being saved for your surgery.”

  Tieran remained silent, focused on an internal debate.

  When he spoke again, it was with a harsh certainty. “It’s the only chance he has, Wind Blossom.”

  NINE

  Jump,

  Cup air,

  Bound into the sky.

  A wink

  Between; beyond the eye.

  Benden Weyr, Second Interval, AL 507

  Two dragons burst into existence under the low clouds near Bay Head. One was gold, the other, bronze.

  “I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Tullea grumbled to her dragon. She looked around and found B’nik’s Caranth sidling up on their right side. Her eyes darted to the seashore and the nearby rain-soaked fields. “I can’t understand why I let B’nik talk us into this.”

  Because you love him, Minith replied with a hint of questioning in her tone.

  Tullea laughed and patted her beautiful gold dragon’s neck. And you wanted some exercise, she said, smiling despite herself.

  “She’ll rise to mate soon,” B’nik had told her calmly not a sevenday before. His eyes were clouded with an unasked question. Tullea knew the question but perversely decided to keep the answer to herself. Oh, she was pretty sure which dragon Minith would mate with, but she felt a sneaky thrill at the notion of keeping B’nik on tenterhooks. Besides, she thought to herself, it’s really the dragons’ choice.

  “A well-fed, well-worked dragon will fly farther and lay more eggs,” B’nik had reminded her this morning when he’d asked if she wanted to go searching. “And we can drill on reference points.”

  Tullea grabbed at the chance. Minith, at a little over three Turns old, had just matured enough to be flown and to go between. After three Turns of constant feeding, oiling, and loving, Tullea was more than ready to enjoy the fruits of her labors.

  Besides, she admitted to herself, she loved to fly.

  So do I, Minith agreed, once again reading Tullea’s private thoughts.

  But the weather is awful, Tullea thought sourly to her dragon.

  I don’t mind it, Minith said.

  Tullea snorted. Of course not! You think the cold of between is just fine!

  The cold of between is cold, Minith replied, with a hint of reproof in her tone.

  “Well, this is worse,” Tullea growled aloud, looking toward B’nik.

  The bronze dragonrider was waving excitedly and pointing to the ground below. Tullea looked but saw nothing—no, there was a bunch of rags on the beach. B’nik’s Caranth pinwheeled tightly downward on one wing tip, and Minith, with no urging from Tullea, happily followed. As they got closer, Tullea noticed that the rags had legs and arms sticking out from them.

  Perhaps they had found J’trel’s stray after all. Good, Tullea thought to herself, then we can go home!

  “B’nik and Tullea have found someone,” K’tan said as he entered Harper Kindan’s quarters.

  “J’trel’s stray?” Kindan asked, rising from his stool and gently hanging up the guitar he’d been playing. “Come on, Valla,” he called to the bronze fire-lizard dozing on his bed. The little bronze stirred, stretched, and leaped into the air, hovering near Kindan’s right shoulder.

  K’tan shrugged. “They should be here now.”

  The two walked out of Kindan’s quarters and out to the Weyr Bowl. The sun had broken through the morning mist that had settled in the Bowl, but the air still held a chill.

  Above them two dragons burst into view and spiraled down. Gold Minith landed first, followed by bronze Caranth.

  Valla took one look at Minith, gave a surprised squawk, and disappeared. Tullea wasn’t fond of fire-lizards.

  K’tan gestured to Kindan, and the two jogged toward the bronze dragon. Kindan could see that B’nik was holding someone in front of him.

  “She’s very cold,” the bronze rider called out as he lowered the woman down to them.

  “Where are her fire-lizards?” Kindan asked as he and K’tan took hold of the unconscious body.

  “We saw no sign of them.”

  Lorana woke, warm. And dry. A small, warm lump nestled against her back and she felt blankets wrapped around her. She smiled lazily and turned to face the fire-lizard lump, wondering if it was Garth or Grenn—

  With a shock she saw that it was neither—and then she remembered.

  The little bronze took one look at her expression and leaped into flight and between out of sight.

  Lorana sighed, eyes bleary with tears that did not fall. She had sent Garth and Grenn away. She had been certain she was about to die and she had wanted to save them.

  And now she was alive and they were—? She closed her eyes and focused her mind, questing for them, looking for them.

  A fire-lizard’s squawk distracted her, followed immediately by a dragon’s bellow.

  “You’re awake,” a voice called from beyond the doorway. A man strode into the room. He looked to be a few years older than Lorana, and was dressed in harper’s blue. The bronze fire-lizard hovered over his shoulder. The man had keen blue eyes and jet black hair. He was taller than Lorana and rangy, his body hinting at a wiry strength.

  “Valla?” the man addressed the fire-lizard. The bronze chattered back at him in obvious agitation. “Valla, she needs food. Go tell Kiyary our guest is awake. Valla, will you go?”

  The fire-lizard gave Lorana one more concerned look and chirped a warning before vanishing between.

  “Fire-lizards are not the best messengers,” the man observed dryly. He looked down at her. “I’m Kindan.”

  As she began to sit up, Kindan put out a restraining hand. “Don’t try to get up—you’re too weak.”

  Lorana was already in motion, but she stopped as soon as she discovered the truth in his words: She felt as weak as a leaf.

  A noise outside the room heralded the arrival of another person—a middle-aged man with the lean, muscular look of a rider. His brown hair had only a few strands of silver in it, and his brown eyes were kind.

  “I’ve brought food,” he announced, setting the tray he was carrying on the bedside table. He picked up a pot and poured some of its contents into a cup. “Though I suggest this herbal, first. A starved stomach needs to learn to eat all over again.”

  With a wordless gesture, Kindan helped Lorana sit up, rearranging pillows underneath her.

  “I’m K’tan,” the man said as he handed the cup to her. “The Weyr healer.” He shook his head sadly. “You required much of my art these last six days.”

  “Thank you,” Lorana told him gratefully. “I’m Lorana.”

  The healer and the harper exchanged looks, and Lorana got the impression that they had just silently agreed to shelve some question they had.

  “Let me help you,” Kindan said, sitting carefully on her bedside and handing her the cup of tea.

  Gratefully, Lorana sipped the tea. The liquid was just lightly warmed, and her throat welcomed its soothing presence.

  K’tan regarded her carefully as she drank. After a moment she pushed the cup away.

  “Thank you,” she said to Kindan. To the healer she said, “This is very good.”

  K’tan inclined his head in acknowledgment.

  Suddenly Valla appeared, chittering. The fire-lizard took in the somber scene and closed his mouth instantly, giving Kindan such a regretful look that Lorana smiled.

  “Is he always such a character?” Lorana asked, h
er eyes twinkling.

  “He’s usually much worse,” Kindan agreed. “I think he’s on his best behavior because—”

  “I was on death’s door,” Lorana said, guessing what he hadn’t said.

  “You’ll get better now,” K’tan declared firmly. “If you can finish the tea, there’s some broth here you might try.”

  “And then I’ll fall asleep,” Lorana surmised.

  “You’ve been this ill before,” K’tan guessed.

  “The Plague.” She remembered how hard she and her father had fought to save her mother, brother, and sister. And how, after battling for a fortnight, they’d lost first her sister, Sanna, then her brother, Lennel, and finally her mother.

  After the fever had taken her mother, she and her father had cried in each other’s arms. Neither she nor Sannel had wanted to live. And then she’d caught the plague herself and her nightmares intensified to fill her waking days. The only pleasant thing had been her father’s face peering down at her as he gently wiped her forehead or held her up and spooned down broth. She had wanted to go, to join her mother and siblings, but she couldn’t—the thought of leaving him behind was too much. And the fever had passed, and she’d recovered.

  She sensed a motion or a change in posture from Kindan and looked at him carefully. His face had many smile lines on it, but it was carefully schooled; she could see the pain he was hiding and she knew that this man had seen people—many people—die.

  “Will I live?” she asked him quietly.

  Her memory came back to her in a rush: the storm, Colfet, her plunge overboard, her blind thrust at the fire-lizards . . .

  “Has anyone found Colfet?” she asked suddenly, trying once more to sit up. Kindan held up a restraining hand but she struggled against it. “He was all alone on the launch and his arm was broken.”

  Kindan gave her a startled look, followed immediately by careful scrutiny. Beyond him, Lorana felt K’tan tense with worry.

  “The dragonriders found nothing,” K’tan told her softly.

  “Please ask them to keep searching,” Lorana implored.

  “I shall talk with the Weyrleader,” K’tan promised.

  Lorana turned her eyes to Kindan. “My fire-lizards? Did they get to safety?”

  Kindan shook his head. “There’s been no word of them.”

  Lorana slumped back into the bed.

  “Here, try some more tea,” Kindan told her softly, raising the cup once more to her lips. When she’d finished the cup he asked her, “Do you want to try some broth, too?”

  Behind him, K’tan shifted, his tension easing. “I’ll be going,” the healer told them. He glanced at Lorana. “I’ll check in on you later.”

  He gestured toward Kindan. “You’re in good hands.”

  Lorana woke, tired but alert. The room was dark. The only light came faintly from a glow in the farther room. Something had startled her into wakefulness. The lump at her back—Valla—was a warm and comforting presence.

  Suddenly the fire-lizard tensed up, and in a rapid motion sneezed, loudly and violently.

  Do dragons get coughs often? Lorana’s own words echoed in her memory.

  The fire-lizard sneezed again.

  “Kindan?” Lorana called.

  “Kindan,” she shouted, her sense of urgency heightened, “there’s something wrong with Valla!”

  She heard his startled movement from the room beyond as he roused himself out of bed. Valla needed the healer, Lorana decided. She felt about with her mind amongst the sleeping dragons in the Weyr, found the right one, and said, Kindan has need of the healer.

  “He seems hot, nearly feverish,” K’tan said minutes later as he examined the fire-lizard. Kindan had uncovered every glow he could find and the room was bright with light for the healer’s examination.

  K’tan shook his head. “I’ve never seen the like—not in fire-lizards.”

  “Did your fire-lizards cough, Lorana?” Kindan asked her, his eyes full of concern and worry as he stroked his fire-lizard. A wave of sadness washed over Lorana: She had tried several times to reach the minds of her fire-lizards, without success.

  “No, but J’trel’s Talith did,” she replied.

  Kindan and K’tan exchanged worried looks.

  After a moment, K’tan said to Kindan, “I don’t know what to do.”

  “My father used to make a brew for herdbeasts,” Lorana suggested, then made a face. “I don’t know if it would work for fire-lizards, though.”

  “It might be worth a try,” K’tan said with a shrug.

  “Do you remember the ingredients?” Kindan asked. Lorana nodded.

  Kindan trotted off to the outer room and rummaged about for stylus and paper, which he brought back to Lorana. She wrote quickly, in her fair hand. K’tan leaned over, scanning the list as she wrote.

  “We have these ingredients,” he said when she finished. He took the list from her and headed for the door. “I shall have a brew presently.”

  Kindan turned to watch the healer leave, gauging how soon he could hope for his return. When he turned back to Valla and Lorana, he was surprised to see her hunched over the paper, stylus drawing furiously.

  “This is Colfet,” Lorana said as she finished the drawing. She handed it up to him. “I thought perhaps it might help in his search.”

  “I had forgotten that you drew,” Kindan admitted. “When we heard from Ista Weyr, they mentioned the drawings you’d done for Lord Carel at Lemos.”

  Lorana blushed slightly and feebly waved the compliment aside. “They weren’t that good.”

  She shifted her attention again, rapidly making a new sketch. “What I really wanted to do was this.”

  She showed the new drawing to Kindan. Two small six-legged creatures were on the page.

  He raised an eyebrow inquiringly at her.

  “I was hoping to draw every animal I could find on Pern, to understand their differences and similarities.”

  Kindan bent again to the drawings. “I recognize this one,” he said, pointing. “I’ve seen it around in fields here.” He pointed to the other one, shaking his head. “But—where did you find that?”

  “Igen seashore,” Lorana replied. She gestured at the differences and gave him a condensed version of the same observation she’d given J’trel nearly a month before.

  “I’m impressed,” Kindan said. He looked at the drawing again and then back at her. “Do you draw in colors?”

  “Colors?” Lorana repeated in surprise. “I could never afford colors.”

  K’tan returned at that moment, bustling into the room quickly.

  “Here we are!” he called, placing a tray with a steaming brew in Kindan’s hands. “Have your little one try this.”

  It took all of Kindan’s coaxing to get the first drop of the brew into the fire-lizard’s mouth. Then Valla snorted indignantly and, with a red-eyed glare, blinked between.

  “I don’t think he liked it,” K’tan observed dryly.

  “It doesn’t taste that bad,” Lorana said defensively. “I tried a drop myself!”

  “The trick now is to get him back,” Kindan said with a sigh.

  “So he can finish the medicine,” K’tan added.

  Kindan twitched a frown. “I had better go after him.”

  “I could stay with Lorana,” K’tan offered.

  “No,” Lorana said. “I’m fine. If I need anything, I’ll tell Drith.”

  K’tan’s eyes widened, and Kindan turned to her in surprise.

  “You spoke to Drith?” the healer asked. “He told me I was needed—that was you?”

  Lorana nodded.

  “I’d better go,” Kindan repeated, clearly torn.

  “Go, find your fire-lizard,” K’tan said, passing the mug of brew to him. “See if you can convince him to try some more.”

  Kindan took the mug and trotted away.

  As Kindan’s footsteps faded away, K’tan looked back to Lorana and chose his next words carefully. “Can you speak
to any dragon?”

  “I think so,” Lorana said. “I could talk with Talith.”

  “There’s a Hatching soon,” K’tan began. “And a queen egg—”

  “J’trel thought I should be a weyrwoman,” Lorana said, shaking her head. “I don’t know if I’d be any good,” she admitted. “But I’d like to see a Hatching.”

  K’tan gave her a searching look and then nodded.

  “Right now, you need your sleep.” He gestured for her to lie back down. “I’ll turn the glows down on the way out.”

  After K’tan left, Lorana tried to get back to sleep. She couldn’t. She kept mulling over the events in her life. She felt sorry for Kindan and his sick fire-lizard. She felt responsible.

  She knew, from her work with her father, how some herdbeasts would get sick and pass the sickness on to others. She knew from bitter experience that people could also pass sickness from one to another.

  Her father had taught her that the best cure for sickness among herdbeasts was isolating the whole herd if one became ill.

  “Even the healthy ones?” young Lorana had asked in amazement.

  Her father had nodded. “They might be healthy today and sick tomorrow. That’s why the quarantine. We keep the sick from the healthy.”

  “And if they don’t get sick?”

  “Well, we leave the herd isolated long enough to be sure no more beasts are getting ill,” he’d told her.

  When the first incidents of Plague had been reported, and worried rumors were flying thick amongst holders and crafters, Sannel had said confidently, “This is a human illness. It may affect the herdbeasts, but it won’t affect the dragons or fire-lizards.”

  Lorana knew that had something to do with the differences between native organisms and those transplanted from Earth. Could it be, though, that humans or herdbeasts could carry an illness that would affect fire-lizards?

  She tried to shake the worrying thoughts away, tried to find sleep, but she couldn’t. To distract herself, she tried searching once more for Garth and Grenn. The effort left her sweating; her failure left her crying.