Dragonheart впп-8

by Тодд Маккефри

  “I don’t know,” Fiona told her honestly. “At — ” She paused again, then plunged on. “ — at Fort Weyr we had eighteen that were feverish when I left and — ”

  “Eighteen?” Jaythen cut her off, snorting derisively. “That’s nothing!”

  “How long are they ill?” Arella asked.

  “We don’t know for certain,” Fiona told her. “None have recovered.”

  “It’s only eighteen,” Jaythen said dismissively.

  “There’s more,” Arella decided, gesturing for Fiona to proceed.

  Fiona took a deep breath before continuing, “The Weyr is understrength. We’ve only seventy-two fighting dragons — ”

  “What?” Arella cried in surprise. “There are more than that at Fort Weyr today!”

  “Did you lose that many dragons to Thread?” Jaythen asked.

  Fiona shook her head. “We lost most of them to the sickness.”

  Arella turned to Jaythen with an expression of horror. His sneer slid off his face and his whole demeanor changed as he asked quietly, “How many?”

  “Since we first identified the illness, we’ve lost one hundred and eleven dragons,” Fiona told them grimly. “Some died from Threadscore, but most from the sickness.”

  “What about the other Weyrs?” he asked respectfully.

  “I don’t know about all of them,” Fiona replied. “Some have cut themselves off from the rest of Pern.” The two wherhandlers nodded in sympathy. “We’re not the worst hurt. That would be Ista — I hear that they have barely one wing’s worth of fighting dragons.”

  “How can they protect the holders?” Arella asked.

  “Benden and Fort Weyrs have agreed to fly in their aid,” Fiona said. “But we don’t know how much longer we can hold on. We’ve less than a Flight ourselves and even with — ” She cut herself off abruptly. Should she tell them about the watch-whers and their night flight?

  “Even with what?” Arella prompted.

  “Our last two Falls were at night,” Fiona said in preparation.

  “Dragons don’t see well at night,” Jaythen remarked thoughtfully.

  “Watch-whers do!” Arella exclaimed. She jerked her head toward Fiona and grinned. “Mikal and M’tal, Benden’s Weyrleader, have been prodding Mother to train the watch-whers to fight Thread at night.” Her grin faded and she shook her head. “But she refuses.”

  “Maybe she’ll change her mind,” Fiona said hopefully. She knew that watch-whers had flown Thread at night but she didn’t know if those watch-whers had any relation with the ones here, now, at the wherhold.

  “I don’t think she will,” Jaythen said.

  “My mother is old and set in her ways,” Arella explained. “The Plague and Mikal’s death have been hard on her.”

  Jaythen, who had been silently grappling with his own thoughts, spoke up again. “What I want to know, future girl, is what we have that you want.”

  “If you’re really from the future then you know what happens,” Arella said, eyeing Fiona speculatively.

  “Not entirely,” Fiona admitted. “I know what happens to me and to those around me that I care about.”

  Arella gave her a dubious look, so Fiona continued. “As you say, I’ve four Turns in this time — do you expect that I would be learning every single thing that goes on in Pern at such an age?”

  “A Lord Holder’s daughter?” Jaythen snorted. “I’d expect you to know more than your Turns would suggest.”

  “I do,” Fiona agreed. “But I learned most of that when I was older.” She paused reflectively. “At this age I was just discovering Forsk’s lair.” She smiled at the memory. “She was the biggest thing I’d ever seen and her eyes were — ”

  “You met Fort’s watch-wher?” Jaythen interrupted.

  “I used to sleep with her,” Fiona told him, smiling fondly. “Father got so annoyed, but not nearly as angry as when I took her off after tunnel snakes.”

  “You caught tunnel snakes with a watch-wher?” Jaythen repeated, astonished.

  “Not until I was older,” Fiona confessed. “I think I had just turned six when I caught my first one.” She grinned. “Don’t tell Father or he’ll forbid me altogether. But I earned a quarter-mark each!”

  “Are you saying he didn’t forbid you?” Arella asked with all the protectiveness of a parent.

  “Well, he was always surprised at how I always seemed to have spare pocket money,” Fiona confessed, “but I was careful never to spend too much.”

  “And he never forbade you?”

  “No,” Fiona said, smiling at the memories. “I was very careful to arrange it that he never got around to it.” Arella gave her a perplexed look and she explained, “I mean, whenever the subject came up, I made it clear that I understood the dangers involved and my responsibilities to be an example for the Hold.”

  “And never quite got around to saying that you wouldn’t go after tunnel snakes!” Jaythen snorted appreciatively. He turned, grinning, to Arella. “Almost as devious as some others I could mention!”

  “Doubtless all women,” Arella agreed with an evil grin. “Something you should bear firmly in mind.”

  Jaythen’s grin slipped. Arella savored his reaction before turning back to Fiona.

  “But, as you did with your father, you have avoided answering the question of what are you doing here.”

  Fiona thought for a moment, weighing her options and choices. Finally, she chose the direct approach. “We want to trade for your queen egg.”

  “Why? If, as you say, you have a queen of your own, what makes you think you can have two?” Arella replied.

  “What are you offering in exchange?” Jaythen demanded.

  “The queen is not for me,” Fiona said to Arella. To Jaythen she said, “I’m offering you a permanent hold of your own, a place where you will be welcomed and honored by all.”

  Arella leaned back hard against the wall behind her, her eyes closed, an expression of hope lighting her face.

  “Who are you to make such offers?” Jaythen demanded angrily, jabbing a thumb toward Arella. “Who are you to raise her hopes so high?”

  “I am Fiona, Talenth’s rider,” Fiona declared, raising her head and voice in pride, “Weyrwoman.”

  “Weyrwoman?” Arella repeated, opening her eyes and leaning forward even as she wiped the tears from her cheeks. “We know all the Weyrs. Which Weyr claims one so young as you as its Weyrwoman?”

  “Anyway, that’s a Weyr in the future,” Jaythen added dismissively. “Your promises can’t be kept until then.”

  “I am Weyrwoman of Igen Weyr, here and now,” Fiona told them. “Igen has been abandoned!” Jaythen exclaimed. “How can you — ”

  “We came back in time,” Fiona cut across him angrily. “Our injured riders and dragons and our weyrlings, even our youngest. We’re here now to recover and mature. We’ll stay here until the youngest weyrlings are ready to fight Thread.”

  “That’ll take Turns!”

  “Yes,” Fiona agreed. “And through all those Turns, I will be and am Weyrwoman of Igen Weyr.”

  “So if the egg wouldn’t be for you,” Jaythen said, returning to her offer, “then who?”

  “I think it’s dangerous to know too much of the future,” Fiona said. “But I’m pretty sure that you’d approve of her. Anyway,” she continued, and then stopped.

  “What?” Arella prompted.

  Fiona sat still for a moment, debating whether she should tell them. Finally, she nodded to herself. “You must keep this a secret, all right?”

  Jaythen and Arella eyed her suspiciously, neither agreeing nor objecting.

  “I only saw the queen when they flew Thread at night,” Fiona said.

  Arella turned to Jaythen, eyes glowing. “I told you! I told you they would fly against Thread!”

  “You swear this, on your honor?” Jaythen asked Fiona.

  “Of course!”

  Something seemed to ease inside him, as though his heart had start
ed beating more strongly, and his expression grew less guarded and more hopeful.

  “Who flew the queen?” Arella asked.

  “Nu — the woman to whom I want to give this egg,” Fiona replied.

  “That’s the second time you started with ‘Nu,’ ” Arella observed slyly. “You can’t mean that miner girl.”

  “She’s already got a green; do you expect her to bond with another?” Jaythen demanded.

  “The person I know has been bonded with a gold for all my memory,” Fiona answered honestly.

  “This queen egg will hatch soon,” Arella said. “And if we don’t find her someone with whom to bond, she’ll — ”

  “Be lost between, ” Fiona finished.

  “We think that some watch-whers go wild and live by themselves,” Jaythen told her, shaking his head. “But not golds. Aleesa says that a gold must have a person.”

  “So, future girl,” Jaythen surmise grimly, “you’ve come to bargain with something Aleesa won’t want, in hopes of delivering a queen egg to someone who already has a watch-wher of her own — are you sure you don’t want to amend some of your tale?”

  Fiona glanced at Arella and saw the same look on her face as on Jaythen’s — and neither looked promising.

  “This will happen, I know it,” she swore firmly even as she wondered if, somehow, the future came about in an entirely different way — one that didn’t involve her or Igen Weyr. And if that was so, how would the weyrlings be fed or supplies for the wounded be found? Desperately, she asked, “Can I talk to Aleesa? Please?”

  Arella glanced to see Jaythen’s reaction and, when he shook his head, sighed and repeated the motion.

  “My mother is old and tired,” Arella said. “What you offer is nothing she’d want to hear and I won’t have you upsetting her.”

  Jaythen rose, gesturing toward the cave’s exit. “It’s best if you leave now.”

  Tears of rage and disappointment threatened to overwhelm Fiona. She sat there, shaking her head. “No,” she murmured to herself. “No, it has to be this way!”

  With the speed of a tunnel snake, Jaythen whipped around, wrapped his hand tightly around her arm, and yanked her off the floor. “No, it doesn’t, holder girl!” he shouted, propelling her toward the exit.

  Fiona turned back, determined not to leave only to find herself twirled tightly against his chest, a gleam of metal suddenly visible down by her neck, just below her line of sight.

  “Don’t think I won’t!” Jaythen whispered in her ear, his words filled with a desperation and a longing that seemed like madness to Fiona.

  “Jaythen!” Arella screamed. The room was suddenly full of children, all peering wide-eyed at the scenario.

  “She comes here and makes promises she can’t keep and then thinks to defy us!” Jaythen yelled, his words deafening in Fiona’s ear. He twitched and Fiona felt a sharp pain at her throat, as Jaythen pressed his blade tightly against her skin. Fiona gasped.

  Talenth! she cried.

  “Jaythen, you can’t, she’s a dragonrider!” Arella cried imploringly.

  “Dragonrider!” Jaythen spat out the word. “And what have they done for us? Sent us packing, disdained and denied us at every chance, or used us like pawns for their own ends.” He eased his knife back for a moment, then pressed in again tightly, as he added, “Killing this one — even if she is a rider — would only be a partial payment for all the wrongs they’ve done us these Turns past.”

  A sudden raucous bugling and crying erupted all around them, echoing deafeningly.

  “Jaythen, if you kill me, more than one will die,” Fiona found herself saying. “More than all who live here, more than all who are now in Igen — maybe all Pern.”

  She paused, her blood pounding in her veins even as she forced herself to speak calmly, quietly, using all of the power that Cisca had cautioned her against, saying, “Put the knife down.”

  “You’d best do it now,” an elderly voice said harshly from behind them. “Or by the First Egg, I’ll send your Jaysk between forever.” Aleesa.

  The clatter of the knife as it fell on the stone floor was so strange to Fiona’s hearing that it took her a moment to understand what it meant. Gently, slowly, she raised her hand and pushed Jaythen’s away from her throat, moving to the opposite side of him as she did.

  “You’d best run now, girl,” Aleesa said. “And forget that you ever learned the way here.”

  Fiona shook her head stubbornly. “I can’t do that.” She found herself looking at a frail old lady who reminded her eerily of Melanwy — it was the eyes, she thought. There was only the slightest hold on life left in them, as though she’d already taken her last ride between.

  “Please, we need your help,” Fiona begged, adding when it looked like the old woman was going to deny her, “We can help you, too.”

  Aleesa laughed, a dry, heaving, cackle that was totally without mirth. “How can you help me ?”

  “Not you,” Fiona replied. She gestured to the others in the room. “Them. The watch-whers and wherhandlers.”

  Aleesa eyed her consideringly for several moments, then nodded slowly.

  “Aleesk woke me,” she said. “She said she’d heard the dragon, the voice that Mikal mentioned when his mind was wandering on its last path.”

  She smiled knowingly at Fiona, slowly raising a finger and wagging it at her. “He told me something else, in secret.”

  She turned to Arella, her attention focused on her so tightly that it was as though neither Jaythen, nor Fiona, nor any of the others existed. “Do what she says,” she ordered her daughter. “Do whatever she asks, take whatever she offers.”

  Arella gave her a long, troubled look, which Aleesa met unwaveringly. Finally, Arella nodded in acquiescence.

  “So we just give in?” Jaythen asked warily, glaring over Fiona to Aleesa. “Again we let the dragonriders do as they please?”

  “No,” Aleesa told him forcefully, pointing her finger straight at Fiona, “you’ll do what she says.” When Jaythen drew breath to argue, she cut him off with a chopping motion. “You know better than to raise a hand to a woman, or did you forget why we helped Kindan?”

  “You helped me that day,” Fiona said, forcing her voice to be calm and controlled, turning around and raising her eyes up to the older man. “If Kindan hadn’t defeated Vaxoram, none would have survived at Fort Hold .”

  “Or here,” Arella said. “If it weren’t for Kindan standing up for a woman’s right to follow her dreams, there would have been no one to remember us, no dragonriders to come to our aid.”

  Jaythen let out a low, wordless growl.

  “Nothing can change, Jaythen,” Fiona said to him imploringly, “if you will not allow for change in your mind.”

  “Things change,” Jaythen said, shaking his head. “They get worse every new dawn.”

  Fiona stared at him in utter bafflement for a moment, then looked at Arella. “Does he speak for all of you?”

  “No,” Arella said. “But his words ring true.”

  “Then let it be different,” Fiona declared. She reached a hand to Jaythen. “Make a difference. Choose to change things and make things better instead of worse.”

  “Shards, you’re worse than Kindan!” Arella exclaimed.

  Fiona shook her head in resignation. “This I know,” she said, catching Arella’s eyes. “I know that there will be a wherhold, in my time, somewhere near Plains Hold. And I know that Nuella will be the leader.”

  “Nuella rides a green,” Arella said, shaking her head but sounding wistful.

  “I don’t think she does anymore, or for not much longer,” Fiona replied sadly. “I don’t know what happened, a cave-in or snakebite or both, only that she lost Nuelsk.”

  “So what is her watch-wher called?” Aleesa asked, eyeing Fiona carefully.

  “Nuellask,” Fiona replied.

  Aleesa mulled her response over silently for several moments as if debating with herself. Finally, she said to Fiona, “Y
ou speak of the future. I will tell you of the past. When Mikal passed away, he said several things, some of which sounded feverish.” She shook her head in reverence for the man and the memories. “I didn’t understand his last word because I thought it was two words, like a question, but he spoke it like a statement.”

  “Nuellask,” Fiona guessed. “They say there are some who can travel to the future without a dragon or watch-wher.”

  Aleesa heaved with dry, wheezing laughter. “They say!” she repeated, smiling and pointing at Fiona. “You know more than you let on, little weyrling. You know someone, but you don’t want to say who.”

  “Craft secret,” Fiona admitted. She tossed her head up in apology. “If it were my craft, I would feel differently, but as it is not, I will respect their wishes.”

  “Ha!” Aleesa snorted. “You have just declared them traders!” She smiled triumphantly as she observed the look on Fiona’s face. “I’ve a good idea who, even, but keep your secret, youngling.” She turned to Arella. “I like this one — she’s got nerve and she’s not afraid to use it.” Her gaze returned to Fiona. “Just be careful, weyrling, that you don’t stick your neck under any more knives.”

  Fiona found herself rubbing her neck unconsciously, her eyes darting toward Jaythen and then to the knife still on the ground. Would she have talked him out of it if Aleesa hadn’t appeared? She wasn’t certain, but she thought so. Fiona swallowed as the import of her thoughts struck home. She could see how she’d be willing to risk all again, risk without thinking, simply because she was certain that she wouldn’t fail.

  “Ah!” Aleesa chuckled, her eyes taking in Fiona’s reaction. “You do learn!”

  “I’m stubborn and will fight for what I believe,” Fiona admitted. “But I am willing to listen, willing to reconsider.”

  “Except in this,” Aleesa guessed.

  “No, even in this,” Fiona replied. “Only in this, I have knowledge of what will be that compels me.”

  “You know what will be but not how it will become,” Arella guessed, her lips pursed thoughtfully.

  “I think I have the right idea of how it will become,” Fiona persisted.

  “And that, my little weyrling, is your danger,” Aleesa told her, nodding firmly.