While she was busy coordinating the establishment of their quarantine—including the acquisition of this tent from Lord Mendin, who was much put out when later informed that the tent and everything in it would have to be burned once the quarantine was lifted—Janir and Emorra had been busy answering questions from the four corners of Pern. A prime concern was controlling the curiosity of uninfected fire-lizards. They had to be directed to come to either the College or Fort Hold—not the Drum Tower.
The Drum Tower’s watch—after the tower itself had been disinfected thoroughly with hot ammonia—had been strengthened to provide continuous coverage of the place set aside for the tent, which housed Wind Blossom, Emorra, Tieran, Kassa, and their fire-lizard patient.
Rain beat down upon the tent. The interior was dimly lit by glows. Through the flap at the front of the tent, Wind Blossom could see that it was getting lighter outside, and she guessed dawn would come in a few more hours.
Tieran was sleeping oddly, one arm gently draped over a bulge in his blanket—the fire-lizard.
Kassa, who had the current watch, gave Wind Blossom a nod, then returned to her brooding by the stove. In their time together, Wind Blossom had come to respect the young woman and to understand that Kassa had been willing to look beyond Tieran’s disfigurement to the young man beneath the surface.
Emorra started in her sleep, and her eyes opened. Catching sight of her upright mother, she wearily sat up in her own cot.
“Are you all right, Mother?”
Wind Blossom waved a hand dismissively. “I’m fine,” she said. “The fire-lizard is probably also fine.” She gestured toward the lump in Tieran’s blanket.
“Then why are you up?” Emorra asked, a touch acerbically.
Kassa turned from her place at the fire to follow their conversation attentively.
“I had a dream,” Wind Blossom confessed. “A nightmare, really.”
Kassa looked up at Wind Blossom expectantly.
“Dragons?” Emorra asked, her body going tense.
“Something wrong with dragons?” Kassa repeated. “I dreamed that, too.”
When the others looked at her, she shrugged. “Daydreamed, really. I was awake, staring into the fire.”
“It—the dream—felt odd, it startled me awake,” Emorra confessed.
Wind Blossom sighed. “It was nothing,” she decided. “We are all worried, especially now that the little brown seems to have recovered. It’s natural.”
Emorra gave her a skeptical look.
“I’ve never had a dream like this before,” Kassa said. “My dreams aren’t as vivid as this.”
“It’s probably just nerves,” Emorra said. “We are not sleeping in our usual quarters.”
“Maybe,” Kassa allowed.
“I, for one, will rest easier when we discover the owner of the fire-lizards,” Emorra said.
Early on, Wind Blossom, Emorra, and Tieran had examined the brown fire-lizard and noted with admiration the carefully reset break in its wing. It was obvious from that alone that these two fire-lizards belonged to someone. Tieran insisted on keeping the brightly decorated bead harness that the fire-lizard had worn, convinced that it was vital to identifying the owner.
The harness had been sterilized in boiling water for over thirty minutes and would be sterilized once more before Wind Blossom ended the quarantine.
“Go back to sleep, Mother,” Emorra said, lying back down on her bed. “It’s not yet dawn and the weather looks no better than yesterday.”
In consultation with Janir, Emorra, and Mendin, Wind Blossom had decided that the quarantine could end when the fire-lizard showed no signs of illness for more than a week, and when the weather was good enough to burn their encampment. She hoped it would be a warm day, because the final decontamination treatment promised to be a chilly affair.
Wind Blossom had informed the others in quarantine of it the week before, so they had had plenty of time to get over their shock. She had arranged with Janir to get them a mild acid solution. When they were ready for the final decontamination, they would strip, remove all body hair, leave the tent, and scrub each other with the acid solution.
The acid would instantly turn the oils of their skin into soap and kill any germs on their bodies. It would be a very chilling process, and Emorra had argued against that treatment for her mother, but Wind Blossom had been adamant.
“So we’re all going to be standing around out there naked as the day we were born?” Kassa had squawked.
“What about the fire-lizard?” Tieran asked.
“You’ll have to explain to him that we’ll need to do the same thing to him, too,” Wind Blossom said.
“If you tell him that he’ll get an extra treat after we’re done, and especially oiled as well, maybe he’ll stand for it,” Emorra suggested.
Tieran looked dubious. There had been too many times when he’d been afraid that the fire-lizard would take off between never to be seen again. He had spent many sleepless nights worrying about that until the fire-lizard’s fever had broken.
Tieran had woken that morning to a head softly rubbing against his cheek and a plaintive cheep. Small green eyes whirled. As Tieran stared in amazement, his heart beat faster and faster with the hope that this fire-lizard would stay with him. And so the little brown had.
Now Wind Blossom regarded her daughter thoughtfully, considering whether she would take her advice and go back to sleep. Just as she had made up her mind and was ready to lie back down, Emorra’s eyes opened again and she said, “What would happen if the dragons did get infected?”
Wind Blossom gestured for her to continue, noticing that Tieran had awakened and, like Kassa, was listening intently.
“Threadfall’s over; the dragons don’t have to fight,” Emorra said. “If the infection is just in the lungs . . .”
“Are you suggesting that the shock of between killed the queen fire-lizard?” Wind Blossom asked.
Emorra frowned. “If so, would going between kill infected dragons?”
“So the dragons would be unharmed as long as they could be prevented from going between?”
“If the infection itself isn’t deadly,” Emorra agreed. “And hopefully the dragons would build up an immunity.”
“True, but the immunity would not be expressed in the germ plasm,” Wind Blossom countered.
“Meaning what?” Kassa asked, her brow creased in irritation. She had done her best to try to follow their various discussions for the past sevenday, but it was difficult for someone not trained in medicine.
“She means the next generation of dragons would be just as likely to catch this infection,” Emorra explained. “Assuming, of course, that it ever mutates sufficiently to infect dragons instead of fire-lizards.”
“No,” Wind Blossom said, shaking her head. “There is little doubt that an organism that attacks fire-lizards will also attack dragons and watch-whers.”
“But the dragons are so much bigger!” Kassa objected.
“There is something to that,” Wind Blossom conceded with a nod of her head.
“Do you mean that there would have to be many more of the organisms—”
“Bacteria,” Wind Blossom corrected.
“Why bacteria?” Emorra wondered.
“Because the infection in the fire-lizard was suppressed with an antibiotic,” Wind Blossom replied with a look of exasperation. “If it were viral, the antibiotic would not have worked.”
“Of course,” Emorra said, and grimaced, feeling like an especially dim pupil in front of an acerbic teacher. “I’m tired, Mother. My mind’s not working at its best.”
“Obviously,” Wind Blossom agreed tartly. She looked at Kassa. “Your point about size was a good one. It is quite likely that there would have to be more bacteria on a dragon before the infection manifested itself.”
“And that gives the dragon’s immune system more time to build antibodies,” Emorra pointed out. “So maybe this infection wouldn’t affect dragons o
r watch-whers.”
“Perhaps,” Wind Blossom allowed. “But would you risk all of Pern on a possibility?”
Kassa worked on the question. The answer left her horrified. “Are you saying that if the dragons got infected, they could all die—and leave Pern defenseless against Thread?”
“We hope it won’t come to that,” Emorra said fervently.
“But that is why we must know more about this fire-lizard and its owner,” Wind Blossom declared.
“Why not look at its harness,” Tieran suggested sleepily. The others all jumped.
“I didn’t meant to disturb you,” Wind Blossom apologized.
“Fine,” Tieran replied grumpily, “then stop talking and let me get back to sleep.” He turned over and then turned back again, looking at Wind Blossom. “I thought I heard you say that the fire-lizard’s illness was bacterial.”
“I did.”
Tieran gave her a surprised look. “I can’t see why you say that. What if the bacteria infection was only opportunistic?”
Wind Blossom’s eyes widened as she considered his question. “That is certainly a possibility,” she admitted.
“You were the one who told me to know what you’re talking about before you open your mouth,” he observed grumpily, rolling back in his bed again.
Kassa regarded Wind Blossom with wide eyes, waiting for the older woman to flay the young man with her tongue. She was disappointed. Wind Blossom raised an eyebrow at Tieran, shrugged, and lay back down in her cot.
Emorra and Kassa exchanged amazed looks and then Emorra, too, closed her eyes.
Presently, it was quiet once more in the tent. In her memory, the whole conversation began to assume an unreal air as Kassa waited for dawn to properly wake them all.
“Food’s here!”
Moira’s shout woke them several hours later. Tieran and the fire-lizard were the first out of the tent.
“How are you today, Tieran?” Moira asked.
She had volunteered to bring their food every day since the quarantine had started, rain or shine—and it was mostly rain. Tieran was very grateful for her dedication.
“What’s the news?” he asked, carefully taking the basket of food from where Moira had left it and carrying it toward the tent.
“The weather is supposed to break in three days,” Moira said. “Maybe if Wind Blossom says—”
“If the fire-lizard is still well, that would be a good time,” Wind Blossom said, slipping out of the tent. “Please tell Janir.”
“I will,” Moira replied with a bob of her head. “Janir sends his apologies and says that he’ll be along later in the day.”
“Janir is always busy,” Wind Blossom said. Tieran gave her a look, not quite certain how to take her statement. “Please tell him he must make a stockpile of nitric acid—”
Moira looked confused.
“My mother means HNO3,” Emorra said, stepping out of the tent to stand beside Wind Blossom. She looked at her mother. “Why should he do that?”
“Precaution,” Wind Blossom said. She looked back to Moira. “Tell him to get at least thirty barrels.”
“Thirty barrels,” Moira repeated with a nod.
“Quickly,” Wind Blossom added.
“Very well, I’ll tell him,” Moira answered. She turned to leave. “I must get back to the College, to start the next meal.”
“Someone wake Kassa,” Emorra said, “or Tieran will eat her breakfast, too.”
Janir came by that afternoon, stopping a good ten paces upwind of the tent. Tieran was on watch and called to the others.
It was raining, a cold, steady drizzle. Emorra carried an umbrella to cover their group; Janir protected himself with an umbrella of his own.
“Moira said that you wanted thirty barrels of nitric acid, is that right?” Janir began.
“Yes,” Wind Blossom answered simply.
“Why?” Janir asked. “I thought burning the tent and its contents would sterilize the area enough.”
“Not for the tent, for emergencies,” Wind Blossom corrected.
“For other fire-lizards,” Emorra said.
“Or dragons,” Wind Blossom added. “Have we heard any news?”
“About other fire-lizards getting sick?” Janir asked. At Wind Blossom’s nod he replied, “No.”
“It’s hard to believe that this infection is an isolated incident,” Wind Blossom said.
“Maybe we were lucky,” Emorra suggested.
“How much luck can we have?” Wind Blossom asked. “Do you want to bet on luck when one of the fire-lizards is dead and all our antibiotics are gone?”
“Has anyone asked which Holds are beading their fire-lizards?” Tieran wondered suddenly, holding up the bead harness that the fire-lizard had worn. The little brown saw it and gave a chirp of recognition.
“We’ll get it back on you soon enough, little one,” Tieran told him apologetically. The fire-lizard made a small noise and rubbed his head affectionately against Tieran’s hand.
Janir shook his head. “We’ve heard nothing so far.”
“It’s been nearly three weeks,” Emorra said with a touch of heat in her voice. “How long can it take?”
“The holders aren’t being as responsive as we’d like,” Janir confessed. Wind Blossom quirked an eyebrow.
“There’s some feeling that this is a bit of a tempest in a teapot,” he explained. “There have been no reports of holders even considering putting bead harnesses on the fire-lizards. There just aren’t all that many of them, and everyone pretty much recognizes each fire-lizard.”
“Then where did he come from?” Wind Blossom demanded. “Are there others like him? Other sick fire-lizards?”
“Wouldn’t they all have died or recovered from the infection by now?” Janir asked her.
“What if the infection can be passed to dragons?” Emorra demanded. “What then?”
Janir raised his hands. “No dragon has gotten sick like this—”
“Before now,” Wind Blossom interrupted him, “I have never seen a fire-lizard sick like this. Ever.”
“But he recovered, didn’t he?” Janir protested. “I’m sorry, Wind Blossom, but you know the backlash we got from Mendin over what will happen to his best festival tent—”
“Not important,” Wind Blossom cut him off. “We must find out where this fire-lizard came from. We must know more about this infection. We must know how it spreads, what its symptoms are, and how fatal it is.”
“Right now you have a baseline of fifty percent mortality,” Janir pointed out.
“And this one survived only with the last of the antibiotics,” Emorra added. “We don’t know if a fire-lizard could survive unaided.”
Wind Blossom raised her hands and said, “We know how hard the human population was hit by the Fever Year forty-two years ago. Can you imagine what would happen to the dragons if half of them died?”
Janir’s face slowly drained of all color.
ELEVEN
Bronze for golds,
Brown, blue, for greens,
So do the dragons
Follow their queens.
Telgar Weyr, End of Second Interval, AL 507
And you’re sure, D’nal, that the watch dragon has her orders right this time?” D’gan sneered. They were up high at the top of Telgar Weyr, where the watch dragon was posted.
“Yes, I’m sure,” D’nal, the object of Weyrleader D’gan’s derision, replied. “No more fire-lizards will come into the Bowl.”
“No!” D’gan shouted. “No more fire-lizards are to come anywhere near the Weyr!”
D’nal nodded, his fists clenched tightly to his side. D’gan stared at him, jaw clenched, until the shorter rider took a backward step involuntarily.
“How will the holders communicate with us if they can’t send their fire-lizards?” L’rat, leader of the second wing at Telgar, asked.
D’gan raised an eyebrow at L’rat’s question and saw the other dip his eyes, unwilling to ma
tch D’gan’s look. He snorted. “They’ll light beacons and raise the call flags,” he replied. “The useless flitters were no good with messages anyway.”
“No one really knows, D’gan, if the fire-lizards brought the illness,” K’rem, the healer, said.
“Well, then, we’ll find out, won’t we?” D’gan returned sourly.
Fifteen. Fifteen dragons had died in the past sevenday, three of them so sick that they could not even go between but expired in their weyrs.
“They were useful for communicating with the Masterhealer,” K’rem added.
D’gan vetoed the idea with a shake of his head. “The Masterhealer concerns himself with people, not dragons.”
“We should tell the other Weyrs—” L’rat began.
“We will tell them nothing!” D’gan roared. He turned away, facing east, away from the Weyr Bowl behind him, away from his Wingleaders, his face into the wind.
“But surely they will have the same problems,” D’nal said.
“Listen, all of you,” D’gan said angrily, whirling around, jabbing a finger at each of them. “Telgar Weyr will take care of itself,” he declared, pointing at D’nal. He turned to L’rat, saying, “I will not have that addled M’tal or that cretin C’rion making fun of us, telling us what to do.
“Remember how they chided when we brought the two Weyrs together? How jealous they were that they hadn’t thought to absorb poor Igen when our last queen died? How envious they were once we started winning the Games, Turn after Turn?
“We are the largest Weyr, the strongest Weyr, the best-trained Weyr,” he said, emphasizing each point by slapping a clenched fist into the palm of his other hand. “We will be the best at fighting Thread,” he declared. He turned eastward toward Benden Weyr, then south toward Ista Weyr. “And then they will come asking us for advice.”
To the healer he said, “If you can figure out a way to defeat this illness, then we’ll have something to talk to the other Weyrs about.”
K’rem pursed his lips tightly. L’rat and D’nal exchanged troubled looks.
“K’rem, have you isolated the sick dragons?” D’gan asked.
Dragonsblood Page 19
