Dragongirl (32 page)

Kindan cocked his head at the bronze rider inquiringly.

“If Tajen could do it when I was lamed before, why not you and Lorana now?” T’mar asked.

“No!” Fiona snapped without thinking. The others turned to her and she shook her head in confusion.

“I could do with the exercise,” Lorana said, casting a glance toward Fiona. “I think Kindan’s up to catching firestone.”

“It takes Turns of training to make a proper fighting pair,” T’mar said. “I was thinking more of reserve than fighting.”

“Or we could observe, and report back,” Kindan said.

“Dragons aren’t good with subtleties,” T’mar said.

Fiona gestured toward Lorana. “She can talk directly with me—”

“She can?” T’mar asked, surprised. His expression broadened when he noticed the same look of surprise on Kindan’s face.

“You can?” the harper asked, looking from Fiona to Lorana and back. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“We’re not sure how well it works,” Fiona said, temporizing. She glanced at Lorana and took in the other’s stance and the look of excitement on her face, and added hastily, “But this would be a good time to learn.”

“Zirenth is willing,” T’mar said. Fiona thought she heard some sudden reluctance on his part, but the bronze rider shrugged, adding, “And who am I to argue?”

“You’re the Weyrleader,” Fiona said in answer.

“And this is a way to adapt, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Fiona agreed, still reluctant. She turned to Lorana and Kindan. “But if you fly the Fall tomorrow—or any day—stay behind and report in.”

“She’s right,” T’mar said. He glanced at Kindan, smiling. “Much though I trust you both, I’d hate for either you or Zirenth to get injured.”

“Dragonmen must fly when Thread is in the sky,” Lorana quoted, her expression stolid, firm.

“And of us all, I suppose you have the best right to call yourself dragonman,” Kindan found himself saying. Fiona and T’mar nodded in agreement.

“No one knows what would happen to the dragons if anything happens to you,” Fiona warned Lorana. The older woman nodded in understanding.

“Enough of this!” T’mar said, raising both arms to wave them off. “Get your harness on Zirenth and have Fiona inspect it, then we’ll see.”

Fiona brightened at the thought, then slumped as T’mar cautioned her, “And don’t think to keep them dirt bound on a pretext.”

Glumly, Fiona nodded, following the other two out. She turned at the entrance to Zirenth’s lair, and called back to T’mar, “As soon as they’re safely airborne, I’ll come back.”

T’mar’s eyes flashed in gratitude.

A
s it was, Kindan and Lorana had no trouble at all in getting Zirenth’s fighting straps properly arrayed. Fiona, with some foresight, had them load up with eight sacks of firestone, allowing them to refuel the fighting dragons.

Jeila came running up as they completed their preparations.

“I could help,” she said, looking imploringly to Fiona. “I could fly with firestone, too.”

“Not until after Tolarth’s clutched,” Fiona told her. “Right now our two golds are more valuable as breeders.”

Jeila, pouting, agreed. To lift the dusky weyrwoman’s spirits—and her own—Fiona added, “But if we get some gold eggs in our clutches, we’ll be able to consider other options!”

“We’ll have to wait Turns yet,” Jeila said.

“Perhaps,” Fiona said. “Although some of us have found the Turns come easier than others!”

At the reminder of Fiona’s time in the past, Jeila brightened.

At Fiona’s request, Jeila joined her in T’mar’s quarters. T’mar gave the petite weyrwoman a cheerful greeting and the three of them alternated between discussing Weyr matters and dissecting the messages from the drilling dragons.

“I think we should offer J’lantir the lead,” T’mar said just after Fiona relayed how the Ista flight had outperformed its Telgar and High Reaches counterparts. He caught Jeila’s frown and nodded his head toward her. “You disagree?”

“No,” Jeila said, sighing. “He’s led a Weyr as well as a Flight, he’s had more experience than any bronze rider here.”

“H’nez will be disappointed,” Fiona predicted.

Jeila glanced sharply toward her, a calculating look on her face. “It would be wrong to hope he behave any other way.”

“It would,” T’mar agreed. “I would feel the same in his position.”

“In fact, you do,” Fiona pointed out. T’mar gave her a pained look even as he nodded in acknowledgment of her words.

“His first concern is Pern,” Jeila said, almost to herself. “Then his Weyr, his Flight, his wing, his dragon.” With a rueful smile, she added, “After that he considers himself and the feelings of others.”

“He is a hard man,” Fiona said.

“Tough times call for such,” Jeila replied. Her eyes flashed as she said to Fiona, “I know that you and he have quarreled in the past—”

“Our ways are different,” Fiona said. “But your interests are the same.”

Fiona smiled at the dark-haired woman. “What I do know is that anyone who attracts your affection has my friendship.”

“But, even so, we should let J’lantir lead,” Jeila said in agreement. She lifted her head to meet Fiona’s eyes, then turned to T’mar, saying, “Weyrleader, I agree with your decision.”

“While I’m still recovering, I’ll let H’nez lead the Fort riders,” T’mar said.

“No, you will not!” Fiona found herself shouting in unison with Jeila. They turned to each other in shock, and Fiona gestured for the other woman to speak first. Jeila cleared her throat, then said with as much control as she could muster, “Weyrleader, if you give J’lantir the authority to lead the fighting dragons, you must leave how to lead and arrange the wings and Flights up to him as well.”

“Besides, we should mix up our riders as quickly as we can,” Fiona said, after nodding in agreement with Jeila’s declaration. “We are
Telgar
now.”

“Exactly,” Jeila said.

T’mar’s lips rose in a small grin. “I believe you have made excellent points, Weyrwomen.”

F
iona made sure to accompany Birentir as he checked on T’mar shortly before the fighting drill was to end. She and Terin brought him a lunch tray and waited until Birentir had inspected him before setting it in front of him and helping him sit up enough to eat.

“Another two days at least, Weyrleader,” Birentir said. “After that, we’ll see how you are at standing.”

“I feel fine,” T’mar protested.

“Lying down, yes,” Fiona snapped back. “Wait until you try standing.”

“With a concussion, people often feel as if their feet are floating above the ground,” Birentir said. “Given the condition of your leg, the last thing you need to do is strain your sutures, particularly with a fall.”

T’mar grumbled in reply.

“You rush your recovery and you won’t recover,” Fiona warned him. T’mar made a face and waved at her in a feeble display of irritation. She was about to voice an angry reply when she felt Lorana and brightened. “They’re coming back.”

A moment later, they heard the sound of a dragon bursting out of
between
and Zirenth bugled happily at his low arrival. They reeked of firestone, the sort of smell that only comes from a flaming dragon.

“Zirenth, you know better!” Fiona called chidingly to the bronze dragon even as Lorana and Kindan jumped from the dragon’s haunches to the queens’ ledge nearby. Fiona ran out to the ledge, wagging a finger at the pair. “And you two! You should know better!”

The broad grin on Lorana’s faced slipped for a moment, then redoubled. “We knew where we were, Fiona!”

Seeing the ex-dragonrider looking so happy robbed Fiona of any response, leaving her to shake her head wordlessly.

“You look just like your father after you were caught hunting tunnel snakes,” Kindan declared, laughing.

Fiona felt her cheeks burning. Embarrassed, she turned away, stamping her foot loudly on the ground of the ledge.

She was surprised a moment later when Kindan wrapped his arms around her from the back in a strong hug. She twisted in his arms to face him and realized that she was very nearly at eye level with him.

Kindan said nothing, merely looking deeply into her eyes until she buried her head against his neck.

“We were careful,” he told her soothingly.

“Be more careful next time,” Fiona huffed, still grumpy with worry.

“You knew what we were doing,” Lorana said, coming up to them, looking not the least upset at their embrace. She smiled as she added insightfully, “You’re jealous!”

Fiona lifted her head and stuck her tongue out at the older woman, who chuckled in response.

“Of course I am,” Fiona said. She broke free from Kindan, maintaining her grasp on one of his hands, reached and grabbed Lorana’s right hand with her other hand and tugged them both gently into T’mar’s quarters. “Tell us everything.”

Their report was not quite complete when it was interrupted by the sound of the return of the remaining dragons in one great rush of cold air from
between
.

T’mar and Fiona glanced at each other for a moment, then turned their heads to strain for the sounds of the descending dragons. The four of them—T’mar, Fiona, Kindan, and Lorana—nodded approvingly as they heard the various wings descend and disperse, one after the other.

“Lorana, could you ask J’lantir to report?” T’mar asked when they heard the last of the dragons rising on their way back to their weyrs.

“I’ve asked Lolanth,” Lorana said. She glanced at the blond-haired Weyrwoman, adding, “I think Fiona’s the only one I can talk with directly.”

“Probably just as well,” Kindan quipped and instantly found himself the center of two piercing glares: one of blue eyes, the other of brown. He raised his hands defensively, saying, “Well, could you imagine how awful it would be if you could hear
every
dragonrider as well as every dragon?”

Lorana nodded, conceding the point, but Fiona held the harper’s eyes for a moment longer before looking at T’mar to ask, “And why do you suppose that is?”

T’mar paused before answering and was rewarded with the sound of J’lantir rushing up the ledge to them. He gestured pointedly toward the entrance and held his breath.

“Weyrleader,” J’lantir called as he entered, then seeing Fiona and the others added with a polite nod to each, “Weyrwoman, harper, Lorana.”

“I wanted to talk with you about the drill,” T’mar said.

“Should I invite H’nez?” Lorana asked. T’mar nodded in agreement.

“Should we wait?” J’lantir asked, with a quick smile for Lorana.

“No, I don’t want to take up too much of your time,” T’mar said. “I know you’ve still got to settle in to your quarters.”

“And you’ll be hungry, too,” Fiona said.

“We were watching from behind you,” Kindan said, gesturing to himself and Lorana.

“And?” J’lantir asked invitingly.

“I learned a lot,” Kindan said.

“I think you’d be best integrating the wings and riders as quickly as possible,” Fiona told him.

“My thoughts as well,” J’lantir agreed. He glanced at Lorana and raised an eyebrow in invitation.

“I’m afraid I have nothing to add,” the dark-haired woman said with a rueful look. She glanced slyly at Kindan, adding, “We were learning how to flame.”

“Well, your additional unused firestone was much welcome,” J’lantir said in response. “And I did see your flaming; I think you have nothing more to learn.”

“But you will
not
fight Thread,” Fiona warned them.

“Weyrwoman,” J’lantir began diplomatically, “let us hope that they never
need
to fight Thread.”

“But we need every fighting dragon,” Kindan and T’mar declared in chorus. The harper glanced in surprise at the Weyrleader, who shook his head, saying, “Kindan has the right of it, we need to learn if we can cross-mount dragons and riders.”

“Trained
dragons and riders,” Fiona said, glancing anxiously toward Kindan.

“Our need is great,” J’lantir told her. He looked at Kindan, adding, “But there is no reason you can’t be trained.”

“It will be a bit of a change to get training before getting a dragon,” Kindan said.

“Your dragon will come, lad,” J’lantir assured him and was surprised to see Fiona and Lorana nod in agreement. “There’s no reason you shouldn’t know all you can beforehand.”

“But we won’t have time to drill him on recognition points before tomorrow,” Fiona said. She felt Lorana’s hand tighten on hers and leaned against the taller woman, murmuring, “I can’t lose you.”

“You can do whatever it takes,” Lorana assured her, wrapping her other arm around Fiona and pulling the shorter woman tight against her, adding fondly, “You are strong, you will survive.”

A shiver ran down Fiona’s back and she buried her head against Lorana’s chest. After a moment, she pulled away again and gave Lorana a wan smile.

“A Weyrwoman sets the example,” Fiona said.

“She does indeed,” J’lantir said in an approving tone. The sound of H’nez’s approaching feet stalled further conversation.

“Weyrleader,” H’nez said to T’mar as he drew up. He nodded to J’lantir and threw a general look at Fiona, Kindan, and Lorana. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m pretty sure you know,” T’mar said, partly turning to J’lantir.

“I think I do,” H’nez said, facing the older bronze rider. “Flightleader J’lantir, you are the most qualified to lead the Weyr, I’ll be happy to fly wherever you see fit for me.”

“Well said, lad, well said,” J’lantir rumbled in response, his gray hair and grizzled features emphasizing his age and ability. “Your riders flew well today.”

“They could have flown better,” H’nez said with a frown. “I’ll be talking to them later.”

J’lantir barked a laugh. “Of course! They can
always
fly better,” he agreed. He wagged a finger at the wiry rider, adding, “But it would be a mistake to make every flight a lesson. Sometimes it is enough to let the riders find their own shortcomings. Sometimes,” he added in a more somber tone, “it is our duty to lift their spirits no matter what their failings.”

H’nez nodded. “I shall try to remember.”

“You do that!” J’lantir agreed heartily. “Do that and you’ll be a great Weyrleader.”