Dragongirl (16 page)

T
hey were surprised to hear voices as they climbed up the queens’ ledge and past the sleeping Talenth.

“So you were the only girl?” Jeila’s voice could be heard clearly.

“Fiona was there, too,” Terin said. “After a while, we had the traders staying with us—”

“Really? In the Weyr?” Jeila sounded surprised and impressed. “You know, I’ve trader blood.”

“Hush! Someone’s coming!”

“It’s just us,” Fiona called as they entered her quarters. “We didn’t mean to interrupt. We’re going to the Records Room.”

Terin groaned and explained to Jeila. “Anytime she goes into the Records Room it means trouble.”

“Can I come?” Jeila asked, throwing off her blankets and sitting up.

“Bekka?” Fiona said, cocking her head to the young weyrgirl. Bekka examined the older woman’s forehead for heat, took her pulse, and checked her eyes.

“How do you feel?” she asked the young weyrwoman.

“I feel tired but otherwise fine and a bit fidgety,” Jeila confessed. Fiona glanced at her sharply: She felt fidgety herself.

“Well, you’re definitely not pregnant,” Bekka declared. Everyone turned to her in surprise. “It’s really all I know, now.”

“Whether someone’s pregnant?”

“My mother’s a midwife,” Bekka explained nonchalantly. “After a while, you just know.”

Fiona saw the way Bekka’s eyes lingered on Lorana and how the older woman’s lips tightened in surprise. Fiona glanced toward M’tal and the bronze rider met her eyes with a slight, confirming nod of his own. The air went out of Fiona’s lungs with a finality that surprised her. He’d told her that Kindan and Lorana had formed a bond; why did it bother her so much now to see the truth?

“Are the Rooms over there?” M’tal asked Fiona politely, rescuing her from another awkward moment.

“Yes,” she said. “I haven’t had a chance to—”

“Shaneese had them cleaned the other day, my lady,” Terin told her.

“Perhaps I should stay here with Terin,” Lorana said. She glanced at Fiona. “I could see this box that your Tenniz left.”

“Why don’t you go on,” Fiona called to the others. “I’d like to see this as well.”

Kindan and Lorana exchanged a quick glance, after which Kindan nodded and followed the two bronze riders to the Records Room.

“The box is over here,” Terin called out cheerfully, pulling it down from the shelves. She continued breathlessly, even as she placed it on Fiona’s worktable, “I wonder what you’ll get and what your message will be. I hope yours makes more sense than ours.”

With an inquiring look at Fiona, Lorana opened the box and reached inside to pull out the final envelope, the one with her name on it.

“It’s heavy,” Lorana said nervously, and then she opened it and poured out its contents. Something golden and long, rod-like, dropped into her hands. She held it up and turned it until she made sense of the shape.

“That’s odd,” she said, as she held it up for the others to examine. It looked something like the twined serpents and staff symbol of a healer, but the top was shaped more like a dragon’s head. The workmanship was brilliant but seemed somewhat incomplete. Fiona wondered at the small holes at either side, one third of the way up and one third of the way down.

“It looks like something else should hook there,” Terin said, her eyes narrowing.

“What’s the note say?” Fiona asked.

Lorana smoothed the note out on the table, and as she read it, her face drained of all color. Anxiously, Fiona moved behind her to read over her shoulder:
The way forward is dark and long. A dragon gold is only the first price you’ll pay for Pern
.

“M
ine said that it would turn out all right,” Fiona said, trying to reassure Lorana. “I’m certain it will.”

Lorana gave her a small smile.

“Perhaps he was wrong,” Terin said. “After all, he seems to think I’m going to be needing this.” She fingered her gold dragon fitting longingly.

“He must have felt he was right,” Lorana said, gesturing at the box, “to go through all this trouble.” Her lips pulled into a frown as she added, “And he
did
know that I was going to be here.”

“We can’t be certain of that,” Fiona said. “He could just have expected me to deliver this.”

“Fiona,” Lorana turned to her bleakly, “he knew that I’d paid with dragon gold. How many others knew that?”

Fiona couldn’t argue her logic. “Whatever is needed, I’ll do,” she swore. She waved angrily at the note. “This will not be! You’ve paid enough already.”

“Have I?” Lorana asked her softly. She met Fiona’s blue eyes squarely with her almond-brown ones. “What price would you pay to save Pern?” She turned to Terin. “What price would you pay?”

“But it’s not fair!” Terin said. “You’ve paid more than anyone!”

“Have I?” Lorana asked, gesturing toward the Records Room and Kindan. “Hasn’t Kindan paid as much? Or Salina, or Seban? Or all those who have paid, even with dragon gold?”

“All the same, I agree with Terin,” Fiona said. “It’s not fair.”

“No,” Lorana said. “And as you’ve promised to help me, I’ll ask that you—both of you—say nothing of this to Kindan.” She met Fiona’s eyes. “He’s paid enough already.”

“Very well,” Fiona said. She chewed her lip thoughtfully before finding the courage to ask, “Does he know? About the child?”

Lorana shook her head. “It’s far too early for anyone to know.”

“Except Bekka,” Terin corrected with a giggle.

“You
do
seem to surround yourself with the most amazing people,” Lorana told Fiona.

“Just lucky,” Fiona said with a shrug.

“Luck?” Lorana said. “Or something more?”

Fiona shrugged again. “Whatever it is, I’m grateful for my friends.” She looked toward the Records Room. “We’d best join them unless you want Kindan to ask why we’ve been here so long.”

“What should I do about this?” Lorana asked, gesturing to the brooch.

Fiona thought quickly and pulled out her brooch, passing it to Lorana. “Here, wear this.”

“It looks just like Kindan’s!” Lorana exclaimed as she examined it.

“Which is why I think there must have been a mistake,” Fiona said. She felt Lorana’s reluctance and told her firmly, “Look, if you don’t wear it, Kindan will wonder.”

With a sigh Lorana took the harp brooch and attached it. “I don’t like lying to him.”

“You’re not lying,” Fiona assured her. “You’re wearing a brooch.”

“And if he asks about yours?”

“I’ll tell him it’s none of his business,” Fiona said waspishly. She shook her head and gave Lorana an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, but I’ll handle it.”

“You probably will,” Lorana said. She grinned, then, and gestured for Fiona to lead the way. “Just as you’ll figure out what to tell him about the note.”

“Oh, that’s easy!” Terin piped up. “Just tell him that it said that you’d pay a dragon gold to save Pern.”

Lorana and Fiona turned back to face her, eyebrows raised.

“Well, it’s not a lie, is it?” Terin said.

F
ortunately, when they entered the Records Room they found all the others deep in concentration as they combed the older Records.

“They’re mostly either too new or too faded to be useful,” Kindan said as he irritably replaced a stack of musty Records, shaking his head. “The weather here is harder on paper than it is at Benden.”

“Igen had clean Records,” Fiona said.

“Perhaps we should go there?” H’nez said.

“That might be a good idea,” Kindan said, his eyes slipping toward Fiona before returning quickly to the Records.

“But I’ve got some numbers to go by …” His words trailed off as he grimaced over a slate filled with numbers and terse lettering. He found another slate, glanced at its contents, and absently wiped it clean before transferring a cluster of numbers to it.

“Can someone check my numbers?” Kindan asked after a moment. Something in his tone alarmed Fiona. She reached for the slate, even as she said, “I’m not all that good with numbers.”

The numbers were dragons lost in a series of Threadfalls compared with Weyr strength. She did a quick tally of each, divided the total losses by the total strength and then glanced at Kindan. “My numbers say nearly three dragons in every hundred.”

“Three in one hundred?” H’nez asked, surprised.

“Per Fall,” Fiona added grimly.

“So a full-strength Weyr lost nearly fifteen dragons every Fall?” M’tal said, gesturing for Kindan’s slate and reading through it quickly. He put it down and glanced around. “Is there a clean slate about?”

Fiona passed him one and a stick of chalk. M’tal’s eyes narrowed in thought as he drew numbers on his slate. Finally, he glanced up at the others. “That’s better than Benden’s average; we’ve been losing five for every one hundred.”

“But we can’t be sure how much of that was due to the illness,” Kindan said.

“All the same, it lends credence to your number,” H’nez said.

Lorana had been working on a separate slate of her own. “It tallies with the queens’ clutches, too.”

The others looked at her in surprise, so she explained, “Well, it makes sense that the queens would have to replace the losses. So a quick tally of clutches should roughly match the losses … and it does.”

“With—what? Five queens in six Weyrs?” Kindan asked.

“Thirty queens,” Lorana agreed.

“We’ve only eight.”

“We can make more,” Fiona reminded them, her lips quirked upward.

“But will we have the time?”

O
n H’nez’s suggestion, they agreed to say nothing of their findings to the rest of the Weyr.

“We’ve Threadfall tomorrow,” H’nez reminded them as they made their way back into Fiona’s quarters. He glanced at Lorana. “Will the dragons be fit to fly by then?”

“They could fly now,” M’tal said. “Tullea’s Minith had less time before she went back in time to High Reaches.”

“But it would be better if they rested as much as they could,” Lorana said.

“The Fall’s not until after noon,” H’nez said. “We wouldn’t have to start getting ready more than two hours before then.”

“That will be plenty of time for them to recover,” M’tal assured him.

H’nez regarded M’tal for a long moment before saying, “Thank you, bronze rider. I think we have relied on your kindness more than enough.”

M’tal looked at the rangy bronze rider with amusement in his eyes. “Are you dismissing me, H’nez?”

H’nez looked slightly flustered. “It’s just that I’m sure you have duties to your Weyr and I wouldn’t want to delay your return by imposing on your kindness.”

Lorana gave Fiona a sympathetic look.

“Lord M’tal,” Fiona said, “you are welcome to stay in Telgar as long as you’d like.” She gave H’nez her brightest smile as she added, smugly, “You might have heard that my Talenth will be rising soon and I’m sure she would be very pleased to have your great Gaminth as a suitor.”

“Fiona!” Terin murmured warningly under her breath.

M’tal inclined his head toward the Weyrwoman, his eyes twinkling as he glanced toward H’nez. “I shall certainly consider the offer, Weyrwoman.”

“I’d like to stay here,” Jeila added from where she sat in Fiona’s bed. “Tolarth will be rising soon”—she glanced toward H’nez—“and I think that Telgar would benefit from two queens.”

“But doesn’t Weyrwoman Tullea expect you back in Benden?” Fiona asked quickly, suddenly feeling less smug.

“I suspect that Weyrwoman Tullea would be glad to see Tolarth established here,” M’tal observed, inclining his head toward H’nez. “For the benefit of all Pern.”

“With two queens so close to rising—” Fiona began, feeling suddenly very outmaneuvered.

“Not to worry, Weyrwoman,” H’nez assured her. “As you know, it is easy for the other queen to take herself away temporarily.”

“You want the best for the Weyr, don’t you?” Jeila added.

“Of course,” Fiona said.

“Sonia’s Lyrinth has told me that High Reaches will fly this Fall with you,” Lorana said. She glanced toward Fiona. “If you want, you could form a queens’ wing.”

“With both queens ready to rise, that might not be wise,” M’tal said, his lips pursed tightly.

D
inner that evening was a subdued affair with undertones of tension that Fiona could not fail to notice. She was certain that some of the tension was from the spreading awareness that, although the dragon sickness had been cured, the Weyrs were still gravely understrength. Another part of the tension, Fiona guessed, was from the presence of so many new and different faces at the high table. Shaneese noticed it, too, and spent much of her time hovering near the Weyrleader’s table, eyeing Fiona anxiously.

At Fiona’s request, Mekiar was seated with them and she’d had him show some of his work to M’tal and Kindan, both of whom were impressed.

Still, Fiona found herself ceding most of the conversation to Jeila. The Benden weyrwoman was a thin-boned, animated person who charmed everyone around her, including Shaneese, who was thrilled to have another of the trader’s blood in the Weyr.

F’jian and Terin were seated nearby and locked in their own intimate conversation, only occasionally exchanging words with the others at their table. Before dinner, F’jian had made a special point to thank Lorana for her sacrifice and Kindan for his persistence—remarks that both pleased and nettled Fiona.