Moreta - Dragonlady of Pern

CHAPTER XIV

«Look at the situation as a challenge!» Capiam suggested to Master Tirone.

The harper slammed the door behind him, an uncharacteristic action that startled Desdra and sent Master Fortine into a spasm of nervous coughing.

«A challenge? Haven't we had enough of those in the past ten days?» Tirone demanded indignantly. «Half the continent sick, the other half scared sick, everyone suspicious of a cough or a sneeze, the dragonriders barely able to meet Thread. We've lost irreplaceable Masters and promising journeymen in every Craft. And you advise me to look on this news as a challenge?» Tirone jammed his fists against his belt and glared at the Masterhealer. He had fallen into the pose that Capiam irreverently called the 'harper attitude'. Capiam dared not glance at Desdra to whom he had confided the observation for it was not a moment for levity. Or perhaps that was all that was keeping his mind from buckling under the new 'challenge'.

«Did you not tell me yourself earlier this morning,» Tirone continued, his bass voice resonant with vexation, 'harper enunciator', Capiam's graceless mind decided, «that there had been no new cases of the plague reported anywhere on the continent?»

«I did. I'll be happier when the lapse is four days long. But that only means that this wave of the viral influence is passing. The 'flu' as the Ancients nicknamed it, can recur. It's the next wave that worries me dreadfully.»

«Next one?» Tirone stared blankly at Capiam, as if wishing he had misheard.

Capiam sighed. He was not at all happy with a discussion that he had hoped to put off until he had completed a plan of action. People were less apt to panic if they were presented with a course of action. He had nearly completed his computations for the amount of vaccine needed, the number of dragonriders (and he had to assume they wanted to avoid a repetition of the plague as much as he) needed to distribute the vaccine, and the halls and holds where it would be administered. The confrontation had been precipitated by apprentice gossiping: speculations about why healers were still asking for blood donations for more serum when the reported cases of the 'flu' were dropping and why the internment camp had not been struck.

«Next one?» Tirone's voice was incredulous.

«Oh, dear me, yes,» Master Fortine replied from his corner, thinking his colleague needed support. «So far we have found four distinct references to this sort of viral influence. It seems to mutate. The serum which suppresses one kind does not always have any effect on the next.»

«The details would bore Master Tirone, I fear,» Capiam said. No sense in fomenting total alarm. Capiam had seized on the hope that, if they could immunize everyone in the Northern continent, catching all the carriers of this type, they would be in less danger from further manifestations, the symptoms for which would now be easily recognized and speedily dealt with.

«I am less bored by details than you might imagine,» Tirone said. He strode forward, pulled out the chair at Capiam's desk, and seated himself, folding his arms across his chest in an aggressive fashion. He stared pointedly at Capiam. «Acquaint me with the details.»

Capiam scratched at the back of his neck, a habit he had recently acquired and that he deplored in himself.

«You know that we looked back into the Records to find mention of the viral influence …»

«Yes. Stupid name.»

«Descriptive, however. We found four separate references to such 'flu' as periodic scourges before the Crossing. Even before the First Crossing.»

«Let us not get into politics.»

Capiam opened his eyes in mild reproof. «I'm not. But I always thought you were of the Two-Crossings school of thought and the language in the texts supports that theory. Suffice to say,» Capiam hurried on as Tirone twitched his eyebrows in growing irritation, «our ancestors also carried with them certain bacteria and viruses which were ineradicable.»

«Indeed they were, but they are necessary to the proper function of our bodies and the internal economy of the animals brought on both Crossings,» Master Fortine said in earnest support of his colleague.

«Yes, as Fortine says, we cannot escape some infections. We must prevent a second viral infection. It can recur. Here. Now. As doubtless it does periodically on the Southern Continent. We know to our sorrow that it only takes one carrier. We can't let that happen again, Tirone. We have neither the medicines nor the personnel to cope with a second epidemic.»

«I know that as well as you do,» Tirone said, his voice rough with irritation. «So? Do those precious Records of yours say what the Ancients did?» He gestured at the thick Records on Capiam's desk with a contempt based on fear.

«Mass vaccination!»

It took Tirone a moment to realize that Capiam had given him a candid answer.

«Mass vaccination? The whole continent!» Tirone made a lavish sweep of one arm, glaring at Capiam. «But I've been vaccinated.» His hand went to his left arm.

«That immunity lasts only about fourteen days with the sort of serum we can produce. So you see, our time is limited … and might even be running out in Igen and Kcroon unless we can vaccinate everyone and anyone who might harbor the virus. That's the challenge. My Hall provides the serum and the personnel to vaccinate; yours keeps Hall, Hold, and Weyr from panic!»

«Panic? Yes, you're right about that!» Tirone jerked his thumb in the direction of Fort Hold where Lord Tolocamp still refused to leave his apartment. «You would have more to fear from the panic than the plague just now.»

«Yes!» Capiam put a great deal into that quiet affirmative. Desdra had moved perceptibly closer to him. He wasn't sure if her intention was supportive or defensive, but he appreciated her proximity. «And we have to proceed with speed and diligence. If there should be a carrier in Igen, Keroon, Telgar, or Ruatha …»

The vulnerable angry look in Tirone's eyes reminded him of his own reaction when he had had to admit the inescapable conclusions drawn from the four references Fortine, and then Desdra, had reluctantly shown him.

«To prevent a second epidemic, we must vaccinate now, within the next few days.» Capiam turned briskly to the maps he had been preparing. «Portions of Lemos, Bitra, Crom, Nabol, upper Telgar, High Reaches, and Tiliek have not had contact with anyone since the cold season started. We can vaccinate them later, when the snow melts but before the spring rains, when those people begin to circulate more freely. So we have to concern ourselves with this portion of the continent.» Capiam brought his arm down the southern half. «There are certain advantages to the social structure on Pern, Tirone, particularly during a Pass. We can keep track of where everyone is. We also know approximately how many people survived the first wave of the flu and who has been vaccinated. So it comes down to the problem of distributing the vaccine at the appointed day. As dragonriders are vulnerable to the disease, I feel we can ask their cooperation in getting vaccine to the distribution points I've marked out across the continent.»

Tirone gave a cynical snort. «You won't get any cooperation from M'tani at Telgar. L'bol at Igen is useless. Wimmia's running the Weyr and it's a mercy Fall is a consolidated effort. F'gal might help.

Capiam shook his head impatiently. «I can get all the help I need from Moreta, S'ligar, and K'dren. But we must do it now, to halt any further incidence of the flu. It can be halted, killed, if it does not have new victims to propagate it.»

«Like Thread?»

«That is an analogy, I suppose,» Capiam admitted wearily. He had spent so much time arguing lately, with Fortine, Desdra, the other Masters, and himself. The more he presented the case, the more clearly did he feel the necessity for the push. «It takes only one Thread to ruin a field, or a continent. Only one carrier is needed to spread the plague.»

«Or one idiot master seaman trying to stake a premature claim on the Southern Continent,»

«What?» Tirone took from his tunic a water-stained sheaf, its parchment pages roughly evened. «I was on my way to see you about this, Master Capiam. Your healer at Igen Sea Hold, Master Burdion, entrusted this to my journeyman. I wanted it for an accurate account of this period.»

«Yes, yes, you badgered me on my sickbed.» Capiam made to take the book from Tirone, who reproved him with a look.

«There was no floating animal, no chance encounter, Capiam. They landed in Southern. Burdion was quite ill, you know, and during his convalescence he read the log of the good ship Windtoss for lack of anything more stimulating. He's been in a sea hold long enough to know sailing annotations. And he said that Master Varny was an honest man. He logs the squall, right enough, and that did send them legitimately off course. But they ought not to have landed. Exploration of the Southern Continent was not to be undertaken until this Pass was over. It was to be a combined effort of Hall, Hold, and Weyr. They were three days in that anchorage!» Tirone punctuated his remarks by stabbing his finger at the journal in such a way that Capiam couldn't see the page properly. Then Tirone relinquished it to his grasp, and Desdra sidled up to look.

«Oh, dear, oh, dear, how very presumptuous of Master Varny,» Master Fortine said. «But that means this is not a case of zoonosis, Capiam, but a direct infection.»

«Only if there were humans in the Southern Continent,» Capiam said hopefully.

«The log entries do not suggest there are!» Tirone sank that possibility.

«Indeed the Records concerning the Second Crossing are clear on that point.»

«Are we sure,» Desdra asked, «that they were in southern waters?»

«Oh, yes,» Tirone said. «A seabred journeyman harper confirmed that the positions correspond to the Southern Continent! He said there wouldn't be any place shallow enough to anchor anywhere short of the landmass of the continent. Three days they were there!»

«The log says,» Desdra was reading, «that they had to jury-rig repairs to the sloop after it was damaged by a storm.»

«That's what it says,» Tirone agreed sardonically. «Undoubtedly they did make repairs, but Burdion added a note,» Tirone produced a scrap that he flourished before he read it, «I found fruit pits of unusual size in the unemptied galley bucket and rotten husks of some specimens which were unknown to me though I have been many Turns in this Hold.'» Tirone leaned toward Capiam, his eyes brilliant. «So, my friends, the Windtoss made a premature landing. And look where it has landed us!» Tirone threw his arms wide in another of his grand gestures.

Capiam sank back wearily in his chair, staring at the maps, flicking his careful lists with his fingers.

«The log may shed light on certain aspects of this, my good friend, but also warns us against that projected return to the Southern Continent.»

«I heartily agree!»

«And it reinforces my conclusion that we must vaccinate to prevent the spread of the plague. And vaccinate the runners as well. I really hadn't counted on that complication.»

«Look on it as a challenge?» said Desdra dryly, her hands kneading at the tense muscles of Capiam's shoulders.

«Not one which I think our unofficial Masterherdsman is capable of answering, I fear,» said Capiam.

«Would Moreta know? She was runnerhold bred, her family had a fine breeding hold in Keroon …» Even the brash Masterharper paused, knowing of the tragedy there. «She did attend that middistance runner at Ruatha Gather. That was the first case to be noted here in the west, remember.»

«No, I don't remember, Tirone,» Capiam said irritably. Did he have to cure the sick animals of this continent, too? «You're the memory of our times.»

«Surely if we have a human vaccine, we can produce by the same methods an animal one,» Desdra said, soothingly. «And there's Lord Alessan, who certainly has enough donors. I did hear, did I not, that some of his runnerbeasts survived the plague?»

«Yes, yes, they did,» Tirone said swiftly, glancing with an anxious frown at the despondent Masterhealer. «Come, my friend, you've solved so many of our recent problems. You cannot lose heart now.» Tirone's bass voice oozed entreaty and persuasiveness.

«No, no, my dear Capiam, we cannot lose heart now,» Master Fortine added from his corner.

Tirone rose, his manner suddenly brisk. «Look, Capiam, I'll drum for a convey. You can go to Fort Weyr, see what Moreta can tell you. Then on to that new man-what's his name, Bessel? at Beastmasterhold. Meanwhile, since I take it that this vaccination program of yours is more urgent than ever, I'll sweeten hall and hold. I'll start with Tolocamp.» Tirone jerked his thumb toward Fort Hold. «If he agrees, we'll have no trouble with the other Lords Holder, even that crevice snake Ratoshigan.»

«Considering Tolocamp's mental state, however will you accomplish his cooperation?» Capiam asked, jarred from his depression by Tirone's obvious confidence.

«If you recall, my fellow Master, Lord Tolocamp has been deprived of our services for the past few days. As he has never encouraged any of his children or his holders to have ideas, he is going to need ours. He's had long enough to reconsider his intransigence,» Tirone replied with a deceptively bland smile. «You take care of the vaccine; I'll organize the rest.»

The Masterharper was careful to retrieve the log of the Windtoss from Capiam before he left with an energetic stride and a brisk slam of the door.

The elation that Alessan had experienced after his visit to Fort Weyr was compounded of renewed hope and the unexpected sympathy of Moreta. He would have liked to savor that incident but the most urgent problem, producing a usable vaccine for runnerbeasts, especially those he devoutly hoped that Dag had saved, took precedence over any personal consideration.

M'barak returned Alessan and Tuero to Ruatha Hold, landing in the forecourt. The speed with which Oklina emerged from the Hold suggested she had been anxiously awaiting her brother's return. She paused on the top steps, her face turned up to him. As he slid down the blue dragon's side, Alessan let out a joyful whoop and her expression turned to relief as she rushed to meet him. Exuberantly Alessan swooped her up in his arms, achingly aware of the difference between his sister's slight body and Moreta's. He gave Oklina a gentle kiss on her cheek. There had been scant time for affection between brother and sister lately, and, during her illness, Alessan had come to know how much he valued Oklina. A kiss, he had good reason to know, was a kind gesture!

«Moreta said the serum idea is valid. We're going to try it! Now!» Alessan told her. «If it does work, then Ruatha is open again and my holders cannot deny me their labor. If it doesn't work, we're no worse off than we have been.»

«It has to work!» Oklina cried fervently.

Alessan shouted for Follen. «We'll need his help, his implements, and that old brood mare. I know she caught the plague and I can't risk any of the team animals.»

«Arith! Behave yourself. That's Lady Oklina!» M'barak called. The blue dragon had turned his head round toward brother and sister, and was now wiffling closer and closer to Oklina, his eyes whirling. By no means afraid of such attentions, Oklina didn't know what to do and clung to Alessan.

At his rider's reprimand, Arith made a tiny little noise, a disappointed snort, and turned his head away while M'barak apologized profusely.

«I really don't know what came over him. Arith is usually very well behaved. But it is late, he is tired, and we'd better get back to the Weyr.» Arith snorted audibly and M'barak looked startled. «I'd best be back at the Weyr.»

Thanking M'barak and Arith for their convey, Alessan guided Oklina out of the way, a bemused Tuero following.

«Blue dragons are not usually fascinated by the opposite sex,» the harper remarked dryly to Alessan.

«Really?» Alessan's reply was polite for his mind was on the mechanics of turning runner blood into serum vaccine.

«There is a queen egg on the Port Weyr Hatching Ground.»

«And?» Alessan's courtesy turned crisp. He had a lot to do before he could see what Dag had salvaged of the Ruathan herds.

Tuero's grin broadened. «As I recall it, Ruatha has quite a few bloodties with dragonriders.»

Alessan stared from Oklina to the dragon already airborne, and remembered K'lon's remark the day he had brought the vaccine to Ruatha Hold. «It couldn't be!»

At that point, Follen rushed out of the Hold, his expression hopeful, and Alessan devoted his full attention to putting vaccine theory to test.

Tuero brought the brood mare in from the field; she was quiet enough to be led by her forelock. Follen, Oklina, Deefer, and the trustworthy fosterlings bore the medical equipment to the beasthold. The momentum of exhilaration was briefly checked when they discovered that they didn't have large enough glass containers for the quantity of animal blood. Then Oklina remembered that Lady Oma had put away huge ornamental glass bottles long ago presented by Master Clargesh to Lords Holder as samples of apprentice industry and design. To spin such large bottles, Alessan, Tuero, and Deefer contrived a big centrifuge from a spare wagonwheel attached to spitcogs and a crank. The runner mare stood quietly impassive since the bloodtaking caused no discomfort.

«Strange,» Follen said as the first batch was completed and the straw-colored fluid drawn off. «It's the same color as human serum.»

«It's only dragons who have green blood,» Oklina said.

«We'll try the vaccine on the lame runner,» Alessan said, wondering which blue rider was harassing his sister and why. All the time the wheel was turning, Alessan fidgeted. Since he'd no other option, he had been patient, but now that he could search out Dag, he was fretting to be gone. «If there's no ill effect on that creature, we can assume-we have to assume, that the serum works, since the same principle is efficacious for humans.»

«It's too late to do more tonight anyhow,» Follen said with a vast yawn when he had injected the serum in the lame beast.

«No one at the Harper Hall will think kindly of a message at this hour,» Tuero agreed, knuckling his eyes.

«I think I'll just stay here tonight, in case there's a reaction.» Alessan nodded toward the lame runner.

«And you'll be off first thing in the morning, won't you?» Oklina leaned toward her brother, her dark soft eyes on his, her comment for him alone, «to find Dag and Squealer?»

He nodded and gave her shoulders an affectionate squeeze before he sent her off after the healer and the harper. Alessan watched the three until the glowbaskets they carried were out of sight in a dip of the roadway. Then he fixed himself a bed of straw in the stall next to the runner. Despite his good intention to remain alert enough to check on the beast, he slept soundly until first light. The injected runner was still lame but it exhibited no signs of a distress, no mark of sweat, and had eaten a good deal of the clean bedding with which it had been furnished.

Reassured, Alessan saddled the runner that Tuero had nicknamed Skinny, not a mount he would have chosen for anyone, but beggars couldn't be choosers at Ruatha those days. Alessan carefully packed the serums, needlethorns, and Pollen's glass syringe into the saddlebag, cushioning them with clean straw, then mounted and urged Skinny onto the roadway.

The night before, he had had many doubts as they waited for the serum to be produced, doubts about many things, including Moreta's unexpected response to him. He thought of kindness and the kiss he had given his sister. Had Moreta only meant to be kind? Today, in the dawn of a bright fresh spring morning, he knew it had not been mere kindness in Moreta. He and the Weyrwoman had been of one mind in that brief instant. And the dragon queen had trilled in concord.

Skinny shied at some imaginary bogey in the greening bushes by the track. Alessan swayed to the motion, checking the animal's sideway plunge with a firm pressure of that leg, while he made sure that the flaps on the saddlebags were secure. Alessan liked an active mover but he couldn't risk the precious fluid or pause to school a fractious beast. He must concentrate on riding and not be diverted by visions of the impossible. Moreta was the Fort Weyrwoman. Although she might, just might, enjoy a discreet relationship with him, might even allow a pregnancy, and suddenly Alessan longed for a child as he had not with Suriana. Alessan was still Lord of a severely depleted bloodline. He had to have an acknowledged wife, and others to bear his children, as many as he could beget.

Old Runel was dead, he thought with a flash of regret. Old Runel and all the Ruathan begets as well as the bloodlines of runners back to the Crossing. He'd never thought he would rue the loss of that man.

Skinny trotted, its hocks well under it and with a fine forward extension. Too bad the creature was gelded. Ruatha had once had far better specimens to propagate. Alessan inhaled against the hope at the end of this track. He tried to keep from wondering which animals Dag had seen fit to take with him. If only Dag had included one breeding pair of the Lord Leef's heavy carters … The records of animals destroyed that Norman had started to keep had been lost when the raceflats temporary hospital had been abandoned. Alessan wished futilely that he had made time to look in on the beasthold that frantic morning before he had taken ill.

Alessan came to the fork in the track, each direction leading to nursery fields. Dag would have taken the less accessible one, he decided, but he paused long enough to see if there had been a message left at the division. Not a rag, a bone, or an unnatural formation of the pebbles. Nine days had passed since Dag left with Fergal. Fear burrowed from the trap in his mind to which Alessan had banished it. He dug his heels into Skinny, and the beast responded instantly,

skittering at a good rate up the track, high breathing as it caught the excitement generated in its rider. Runners were considered stupid, had few ways to communicate with riders, and yet occasionally one seemed to know exactly what was going on in the human it bore. Alessan laid a soothing hand on Skinny's arched neck and brought the animal to a more sensible pace.

Then they were at the rise that led to the pasture and, for a heartbreaking moment, Alessan could see nothing of man or beast in the rolling fields. But the barrier had been man-made, with prickly hedge and stone, high enough to contain docile beasts. He rose in his stirrups, numb with the fear that Dag had brought the plague with him and died with all the animals. Then he saw the thin column of smoke to his right, saw the flapping of a shirt drying on a branch. He heard a piercing whistle.

From the slope down to the stream, runners trooped obediently in answer to the summons. Alessan felt tears prick his eyes. He hauled Skinny smartly back down the road, turned, set his heels to the bony ribs, and Skinny charged the barrier, sailing nobly over it, clacking with surprise when they landed on the far side. Alessan hauled the delighted animal to a more sedate pace, remembering his mission. It was only then that he saw, among the beasts jogging up the slope, the wobbly-legged awkward infantile bodies, the waddling pace of the gravid. Alessan let out a whoop of jubilation and it reverberated from the hills. Had Dag taken all the pregnant mares with him? Alessan had bleakly had to assume that all the anticipated foals had died of the plague or been aborted, for all he found in the fields of the Hold proper had been gelded males and barren mares.

His whoop was answered from the rude shelter dug into the high side of the slope. The small figure standing at its entrance waved both arms. One small figure! Inadvertently Alessan checked Skinny and then urged it forward. One small black-haired figure, now with impudent arms cocked against ragged pants. Fergal!

«You took your time. Lord Alessan!» The boy's expression was as impertinent as his words were resentful and unforgiving.

«Dag?» Alessan's voice broke in consternation. He could not move from the saddle. Until that moment, he hadn't realized how much he had looked forward to seeing the old handler, how sorely he needed Dag's knowledgeable advice if Ruathan runners were ever to regain their former prestige.

Annoyingly, Fergal shrugged and then cocked his head up at Alessan.

«I thought you'd forgotten us!» He stepped to one side and gestured toward the shelter. «He broke his leg. I took care of all the runners, even the ones who birthed. Didn't I do a good job?»

Alessan would have swatted him for impudence had he been able to catch him but Fergal, grinning with positive malice at his little hoax, had slipped neatly out of range into the shelter of his charges.

«Alessan?» Dag's summons came from the shelter and Alessan put aside any thought of discipline to rush in to his old ally. «I saved all I could for you, Alessan. I saved all I could.»

«You have also saved Ruatha!»

«I do apologize for intruding on the Hatching Ground, Moreta,» Capiam said, peering cautiously around the entrance.

«Come in. Come in!» Moreta beckoned him eagerly to join her in her temporary accommodation in the first tier.

Capiam looked back over his shoulder a moment and then entered, keeping an anxious eye on Orlith among her eggs.

«She does seem quite serene, doesn't she?»

«Oh, she is!»

«M'barak, who conveyed Desdra and me here, said that she will even show off that splendid queen egg she clutched.» With due respect for the hot volcanic sands, Capiam walked quickly to Moreta.

«Desdra's here? I've heard a great deal about her from M'barak and K'lon.»

«She's chatting with Jallora so I could have a private word with you.» Capiam cleared his throat in an uncharacteristic show of nervousness.

Moreta thought he was wary of Orlith and extended her hands to him. She supposed she must get used to the changes wrought in people by the plague. Capiam appeared only to have lost weight, for his eyes sparkled out of a craggy face that would become more attractive with age. His hair was thinning at the temples and she fancied that the gray had encroached farther into the black, but there was no diminution in the force of his personality, or in his grip as he clasped her hands.

«To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?» she asked.

His eyes twinkled. «An unexpected … challenge is what I told Master Tirone.»

Alerted by his geniality, Moreta searched his face. «What sort of a challenge?»

«I'll come to that in a moment, if I may. First, would you know if runnerbeasts would respond favorably to a serum vaccine against the plague they also suffer?»

Moreta stared at him a moment, surprised to be asked the same question twice in a short space of time, and surprised that the question had to be asked at all. She was angry that no one had taken steps to safeguard the runnerbeasts, which were such valuable assets of the Northern Continent. She had tried to appreciate that saving human life had been the priority, but surely someone must have been rational enough in one of the runnerholds to apply the principal to the beasts. She had been complimented and touched that Alessan had sought her advice yesterday evening and, despite her varied irritations, slightly amused that she, Weyrwoman of Fort, was now being approached by the Masterhealer.

«I answered that same question for Alessan last night.»

«Oh!» Capiam blinked with surprise. «Oh, and how did you answer Lord Alessan?»

«Affirmatively.»

«He contacted Master Balfor?»

«It was too late to drum up the Keroon Beasthold. Is Balfor the new Masterherdsman?»

«He is acting in that capacity. Someone must.»

«Alessan ought to have informed you, or at least the Harper Hall …» Moreta frowned. Tuero should have done it if Alessan was too busy. Perhaps Alessan had not had enough time to produce a serum? No. She had the impression that he wouldn't have wasted any time.

«It is not quite noon,» Capiam said tactfully, willing to give the harried Lord Holder the benefit on any doubt. «In theory, serum vaccine ought to produce similar immunization in the runners. Alessan needs all the luck and help he can get.»

Moreta nodded in solemn agreement. «So why does the Healer Hall concern itself suddenly with animal vaccines?»

«Because, unfortunately, I have good reason to believe that the plague is transmitted to man by animals and may break out again. 'Zoonotic' and 'recrudescent' are the terms the Ancients used to describe those qualities.»

«Oh!» Moreta struggled to assimilate the information. The ramifications were staggering. «You mean, we could easily have a second epidemic? Shards! Capiam, the continent couldn't survive a second epidemic!» She threw up her arms in an excess of dismay that had to be vented. «The Weyrs are only barely able to get the requisite number of wings in the air with every Fall, what with riders recovering from secondary infections and new injuries. If the plague went through us again, I doubt there'd be a full wing available!» In her agitation, she began to pace then she noticed his patient watching. She halted and gave him a closer scrutiny. «If the animal vaccine works, then you could stop the zoonosis? You would vaccinate both man and animal against it? And your challenge is …» she had to smile at the way he had led her to the conclusion «to the dragonriders for their assistance in distributing the vaccines?»

«Preferably on the same day to all distribution points.» Capiam carefully unfolded a copy of his plan. He peered at her from under his brows, watching her reactions as he handed her the document. «Mass vaccination is the only way to stop the plague. It would require a tremendous effort. My halls have already started to accumulate human vaccine. To be candid, my Hall had not quite evaluated the runner susceptibility. Between Tirone's reports and Desdra's exhaustive investigations, we can find no other way than zoonosis for the plague to have spread so rapidly and so far. We now know that the only way to prevent a recurrence of this viral influence is to stop it within the next few days or endure a second wave.»

Moreta shuddered with dread. She studied his plan.

«Of course,» he added, tipping the edge of the parchment, «the scheme depends first on the feasibility of the runner vaccine and the cooperation of the Weyrs to circulate both.»

«Have you approached any of the other Weyrs yet?»

«I needed an answer to my question on runner vaccine and you are the nearest authority.» He grinned at her.

«Surely Lord Tolocamp.»

«I'm leaving Lord Tolocamp to Master Tirone.» There was considerable acrimony in the healer's voice. «And such a question as this to someone who can give me a rational answer. Not only have I an answer, I have a source.»

«That is also an assumption.»

«Which I will confirm as soon as you can also assure me that the Weyrs can assist us in delivering the vaccines. One of my journeymen is a wizard at figuring out what he calls time-and-motion processes. If we could rely on a minimum of six riders from each Weyr to cover their traditional regions, in a scheduled roster of stops to the various halls, holds, and Weyrs, that would be sufficient.»

Moreta was doing some calculations of her own. «Not unless the riders.» She caught herself and gulped in astonishment. In Capiam's broadening grin she had an unexpected answer.

«I've been doing rather a lot of reading in the Archives, Moreta.» Capiam sounded more pleased than apologetic for the shock he had given her.

«How did that bit of information come to be in the Healer Archives?» she demanded, so infuriated that Orlith came fully alert, claws hooking protectively about the queen egg.

«Why shouldn't it be?» Capiam asked with deceptive mildness. «After all, my Craft bred the trait into the dragons. Can they really go from one time to another?» he asked wistfully.

«Yes,» she finally replied, as austerely as she could. «But it's not encouraged at all!» She thought of K'lon, knew very well how often the blue rider had been at the Healer Hall, and wondered about such convenient Records. On the other hand, Capiam's Craft had been credited with many incredible feats and displays of skill, secrets forgotten by disuse. She chided herself for doubting the integrity of Master Capiam, especially at such a critical hour when any strategy that might restore the continent to balance might be condoned. «Capiam, traveling in time produces paradoxes that can be very dangerous.»

«That's why I suggested the progressive delivery so there is no overlapping.» The eagerness in his manner was disarming.

«There might be some trouble convincing M'tani of Telgar.»

«Yes, I'd heard of his disaffection. I also know that F'gal of Ista is very ill of a kidney chill and L'bol of severe depressions, which is why I specify the minimum number of riders the effort would require. I don't know how the continent would have survived without all the assistance the dragonriders have given hall and hold up to this point.»

«You have enough vaccine for people?»

«We will have. Master Tirone is adroitly broaching the subject to hall and hold.»

«A wise precaution.»

Capiam heaved a sigh. «So, what must be ascertained now is whether or not Lord Alessan has successfully produced the animal vaccine.»

«Go to Ruatha with them,» Orlith said. After a flicker of a pause, she added, «Holth agrees.»

Illogically, Moreta resisted that gratuitous permission, and wondered why. She had a perfectly natural wish to see the results of Alessan's experiment, not necessarily Alessan. Was she resisting the attraction she felt for him? She was not normally bothered by indecision.

«You have always liked runnerbeasts. They deserve your help now.» Holth-Orlith was speaking, Moreta decided from the doubly deep tone. «You will have to see Ruatha sometime again.» That, undeniably, was spoken only by Orlith.

Moreta sighed deeply and sadly. Orlith had touched the core of her resistance, for Moreta did not want to see Ruatha in the ruins K'lon had described.

«I think, Capiam,» she said slowly, steeling her mind, «that I should accompany you.»

«Arith is more than willing. He likes the girl,» Orlith said. She unsheathed her claws from the queen egg. From the Bowl, Arith bugled agreement.

«Which girl?» Moreta was surprised at the remark. Orlith shrugged and went about making a depression in which she rolled her egg. So, trying not to appear resigned, Moreta collected her flying gear.

«Arith says he will take us to Ruatha Hold.»

«You can leave her?» Capiam looked toward the queen.

«My going is her idea. She's not a broody dragon, like some who must have their rider in constant attendance. Leri and Holth are nearby. I shan't be gone very long, you know.» She gave Capiam a dour glance and then smiled at his startled expression.

When Moreta and Capiam reached the Bowl, Jallora was talking earnestly with a dark-haired woman who was standing a few lengths from M'barak and Arith. Desdra was older than Moreta had expected from K'lon's comments, older than Moreta herself, but then Jallora had said that the woman was taking her mastery at the Fort Healer Hall. Desdra had a reserved air about her, not quite haughty but certainly a woman who kept herself to herself, a trait that did not, however, keep her from being keenly aware of the activity in the Bowl. Two wings from Fort would fly later across Bitra and Lemos. Sh'gall had gone forward to Benden to see K'dren. The Benden Weyrleader was tactful, as M'tani of Telgar was not, and Moreta counted on K'dren to smooth matters over in the day's consolidation. She would be everlastingly grateful when the Weyrs could return to traditional territories.

«Desdra, Moreta is coming with us to Ruatha,» Capiam was saying. «It would seem that Lord Alessan has anticipated the matter of runner vaccine.» Desdra inclined her head courteously to the Weyrwoman, her large gray eyes calmly taking Moreta's measure.

«Don't let Desdra make you uncomfortable, Moreta,» Capiam said. «She takes no one at face value; claims detachment is required of a healer.»

«Jallora had told me of the superb reconstruction work you do on Threadscored dragon wing,» Desdra replied in a low unhurried voice, her eyes flicking a glance to Moreta's hands as she put on her gloves. «When there is time again, please return and examine Dilenth.

The Istan Weyr Healer, Ind, taught me the technique. I've had opportunity to perfect it.»

«I'd forgot about Fall today, Moreta,» Capiam was saying uncertainly, as he looked about and saw the unmistakable preparations.

«I must be back for the end of Fall, certainly,» Moreta replied, now perversely compelled to go to Ruatha. «As it happens, the wings have taken fewer injuries since the plague. It might just be that flying against other Weyrs has improved performances.»

«Really? How interesting.» Capiam's surprise was genuine.

Then M'barak courteously gestured for Moreta to mount Arith first. She did so, settling herself at the back and assisting Desdra. Although Desdra made no comment and appeared perfectly composed, Moreta decided that the healer had not often ridden a-dragonback.

Capiam was clearly delighted, twisting about to grin past Desdra at Moreta then checking discreetly that Desdra was comfortable. «Four riders are not excessive weight for your Arith, M'barak?» he asked as the blue rider swung into his forward position.

«Not my Arith,» the boy replied stoutly, «or I'd've mentioned it.»

As if to prove his ability, Arith leaped from the ground so enthusiastically that his passengers were abruptly pressed backward. Moreta instinctively locked her legs and grabbed the ridge behind her to balance Desdra, who was pushed back by Capiam's weight. Arith made a quick adjustment as M'barak rapped his neck. Conscious of his Weyrwoman's presence, M'barak made a ceremony of taking leave of the watchrider, accepting and returning salutes as Arith winged to a respectable altitude. M'barak looked back at Moreta with a warning nod of his head before he gave Arith directions.

«Black, blacker, blackest.»

Moreta's litany broke as they appeared in the sky again above Ruatha. She caught her breath, closing her eyes against the sickening view of the violated field, the rutted racing flat, the great fire circles, and the appalling burial mounds. She knew that her grip on Desdra's waist had locked and she was aware, too, of warm hands that lay gently on hers in shared sympathy and dismay.

All too clearly, Moreta could recall her compliments to Alessan on Ruatha's Gather gaiety, a bitter memory now that she was faced with the grim reality of the Gather's aftermath. Arith glided across the racing flats, directly at the Hold. Moreta could see the starting poles forlornly tumbled about where the spectacular dead heat of the last race had been run. Moreta forced herself to look at the raw earth of the burial mounds and accept the fact of so many casualties from that carefree throng of visitors in their Gather finery. And to accept as well the cremation fires that had consumed dead animals, winners and losers both, of the ten races that had drawn them to Ruatha on that fatal occasion. For a callous moment she thought that Alessan could have found the time to clear the pathetic debris of travel wagons, trunks, and Gather stands from the roadway and the fields. She marked where campfires had blackened the stubble field from which she and the young Lord Holder had so blithely watched the racing. Where banners had brightly flown, the upper tiers of Ruatha Hold were shuttered, unneeded, reminders that Ruatha had withstood a siege more savage than any Threadfall.

Yet, even as her heart contracted at the disheveled look of the proud Hold, her eyes went to the fields and the runners grazing there, not the large, solid beasts that Alessan had bred on Lord Leef's instructions but the wiry, thin-boned runners of Squealer's ilk. The irony helped restore her composure. Her tears would not comfort Alessan now.

Arith was not going to land at the forecourt, for which mercy Moreta was extremely grateful. His line was taking them along the roadway to the beasthold where considerable activity was evident. Three runners were being disengaged from plows, saddles lay on the ground, and a small cart had been pulled from storage. People were rushing up the road, carrying baskets with careful haste. The basic vitality of Ruatha appeared resurgent.

«M'barak says that he has seen Alessan at the beasthold,» Desdra said to Moreta, projecting her voice sufficiently to counter the glide breeze. Nothing in her expression indicated that she was aware of Moreta's painful first reaction to the plague-scarred Hold.

Those at the beasthold had become aware of the dragon's approach and, just as Arith landed neatly on the far side of the roadway, two men emerged. Both were tall and their faces in shadow but Moreta identified Alessan on the right. That he recognized her was apparent by his sudden start before he strode to meet his visitors as fast as a Lord's dignity would allow. And he walked like the Lord of Ruatha again, Moreta was relieved to see, confident and proud.

«Sorry to arrive at an awkward moment, Lord Alessan,» Capiam called as he dismounted.

«Your arrival could never be awkward, your appearance is always welcome,» Alessan replied, but his eyes held Moreta's for a long instant before he courteously handed Capiam to the ground. «Tuero and I,» he indicated the tall harper who had followed him, «were composing a message to you.» Then Alessan abandoned his formal manner and grinned broadly up at Moreta. «Dag saved Squealer! We've foals, too. Three fine males!» He shouted the last sentence, giving vent to a joy he could no longer contain.

«Oh, how marvelous, Alessan!» Moreta swung her right leg over and behind her and dropped down Arith's side. Fortunately, for Arith was rather higher than she had thought, Alessan caught her about the waist and eased her to the ground. She turned in his arms, very much aware of his hold on her, his light-green eyes bright with elation and, she hoped, her unexpected visit. «And to think it's Squealer's breed that survived! And foals! Oh, how relieved you must be!»

«I'm only just back from the nursery meadows,» he told her as he led her away from Arith, his hands moving along her arm, anxious to remain in contact with her and happy at a civil excuse to do so. «I didn't have enough vaccine with me. I never counted on foals. And Dag's got a broken leg so we have to send the cart. There'll be Fall here in six days! But Dag saved bloodstock for us. He saved enough and he's saved Ruatha!»

Moreta found herself grasping and shaking his hand repeatedly and wondering suddenly if anyone was noticing, but surely she could publicly congratulate him for such splendid good fortune. Then Capiam brought Desdra forward to introduce her, and Moreta saw that Desdra was measuring Alessan with the same penetrating gaze to which she had already been subjected. Moreta felt protective of Alessan and worried that the healer would divine her attraction to him.

«I deduce that you have produced a serum vaccine and used it.»

«I have indeed, Capiam, for I couldn't risk the bloodstock in this infected area.» Alessan's hand eloquently swept the Hold proper and its fields. «Journeyman Follen is in the process of making more.» He nodded toward the beasthold. «The plague dealt us terrible losses both in men and animals.» He motioned them all to follow him into the beasthold. «We prepared a serum as soon as I returned last evening. and I injected that beast.» Alessan pointed to the lame one, its right front leg pointing despite the depth of the straw of its bed. «It seems none the worse for it.»

«It won't be, I assure you,» Capiam said warmly, adroitly steering them to an isolated area, away from others. «The theory is as sound for animals as it has proved for people. And,» he lowered his voice, peering first at Alessan and then at Tuero with a meaningful stare, «absolutely essential at this juncture.» He shot Desdra a quick look at his inadvertent use of one of Tirone's favorite phrases. A twist of her lips showed that she had marked it. With a quick motion of his hands, Capiam circled the others closely around him, tucking his hands about Alessan's and Tuero's arms. He glanced about to be sure that everyone was busy, Follen with his group around the centrifuge and the holders about the animals being retacked. «Lord Alessan, the plague could break out again.»

Moreta caught Alessan's free arm as he staggered back from Capiam. The Healer supported him on the other. Tuero's first reaction was to see how Alessan coped with the news. The harper's expression was unusually serious and compassionate.

«Animals as well as humans must be vaccinated this time round,» Capiam continued. «All across the continent. I have worked out a plan of distribution, and Moreta will seek dragonrider assistance. What is needed is serum from recovered animals. You have them, sufficient at least to supply the needs of this Hold, Fort, Southern Boll, and that portion of Telgar which marches your boundaries. Lord Shadder, I know, will accommodate us in the east.»

«But the herds in Keroon are vast …» Alessan was clearly stunned by the enormity of the project.

«No longer,» Capiam said gently. «If this Dag of yours has saved bloodstock for you, you are richer than you think. May we have your help?» Alessan looked at the Masterhealer, a curious expression playing in his light-green eyes and the oddest twist to his lips.

«Ruatha lost much, of its people, its herds, its honor, and its pride. Any help which Ruatha can now offer may perhaps remove the stain of our enduring,» Alessan indicated the burial mounds, «hospitality.»

There was no bitterness in the young Lord Holder's voice but there was no doubt in anyone's mind that the aftermath of his first Gather had burned indelibly into his soul.

«What makes you think that you are responsible for that? Or any of this?» One flourish of Capiam's hand indicated the burial mounds, the next their meeting in the beasthold and the veterinary preparations being made to one side. «No blame adheres to you, Lord Alessan. Circumstance, unpredictable circumstance, drove the Windtoss from her course. Opportunism prompted its master to land in the Southern Continent, and greed kept him there for three days. What prompted the crew to transport that animal to the unprotected north will never be known for every witness to that reprehensible decision is now dead. But that circumstance was beyond your control. What has been in your control, my Lord Alessan, is the courage with which you have conducted yourself, your care of the sick, your effort to sow crops, and the preservation of Ruathan bloodstock. Most of all,» Capiam drew in a deep breath, «most of all, that you are, in the midst of the severe trials you have endured, willing to help others.»

«When bad fortune occurs, the unresourceful, unimaginative man looks about him to attach the blame to someone else; the resolute accepts misfortune and endeavors to survive, mature, and improve because of it.

«A fishing ship is blown off course in an unseasonal squall and that minor event has influenced us all.» Capiam's expression was rueful. He glanced at Desdra, who was staring at him in a baffled manner. «If you view justice as the foundation of your life, then it has been served, for captain, crew, and cargo are dead. We live. And we have work to do.» Capiam gripped Alessan by the shoulder, emphasizing his words by shaking him. «Lord Alessan, take no blame to yourself for any of this. Take credit for your vision!»

Outside Arith suddenly bugled in welcome and was answered by a deeper note.

«A bronze? Here?» Moreta hastily made her way to the entrance of the beasthold. M'barak stood by Arith, who was gazing skyward. The blue was not agitated even if Moreta feared that Sh'gall might have followed. «M'barak! Who comes?» Why hadn't Orlith contacted her?

«Nabeth and B'lerion,» M'barak said without concern, shielding his eyes from the sun.

«B'lerion!» Moreta was relieved but, when a slender figure rushed down the ramp from the Hold, she began to understand B'lerion's presence.

Arith rose on his hindquarters, emitting what Moreta could only interpret as a challenge.

«I don't know what's got into him, Moreta,» M'barak cried, embarrassed. «He's gotten to be awfully protective of Lady Oklina.»

«There is a queen egg on the Hatching Ground, M'barak,» she said, and added when it was obvious her explanation eluded the weyrling. «Blue dragons are often very keen on Search. Arith would seem to be precocious, though.» She frowned, observing Oklina awaiting B'lerion. «I don't think Fort Weyr has the right to deplete Ruathan resources …»

She swiveled around. Alessan was escorting Capiam, Desdra, and Tuero to the centrifuge. The big wheel was slowing and the next batch of serum could be examined. Turning her head, she saw that Nabeth had landed and B'lerion was sliding gracelessly from the bronze back. Oklina greeted him with restraint, pointing toward the beasthold. B'lerion caught her hand, and the girl fell in step with him willingly enough but did not reclaim her hand. As the pair turned down the roadway, Moreta could see B'lerion's left arm was in a sling. He could not fly Threadfall. Had he been glad to escape from his Weyr when the High Reaches wings rose? Did B'lerion feel, as she did when the wings rose without her, an irrational compulsion to be with them? Or did he feel the injury was little more than a valid excuse to visit Oklina?

Drawing back into the shadow, Moreta turned to join the group by the centrifuge, standing a little to one side-the better to watch Alessan, as the healers discussed the quantity of vaccine they would need, the minimum effective dose, and how they could discreetly discover how many runners were in-holded.

«Body weight is always the factor,» Moreta said, slipping into the conversation.

«We must make the determination of dosage as easy for the uncertain and the inept as possible,» Alessan said. «Some of the handlers in the back holds are going to be incompetent as well as skeptical. Where handlers are still alive, that is.» He flushed as Capiam fixed him with a reproving eye.

«We have been relocating capable people and trying to ascertain where more might be needed. It is amazing what people can do when they have no other options available.»

«Master Capiam, how crucial is it that the runners be vaccinated … at this juncture?» Desdra asked, her gray eyes intent on the Healer's face.

«With zoonosis the determining factor, and I thought we had agreed on that point.»

«We have, but we cannot also waste effort.» Desdra indicated the ornamental glass, the layers of blood now at rest. «I am forced to admit to you now that we have barely enough needlethorn to vaccinate the people, much less the animals. It would be unwise to reuse needlethorns,» Desdra went on softly. «The danger of contagion.»

«I know. I know.» Capiam pulled his hand across his forehead and down his cheek, rubbing at his jaw. He gave a weak laugh, tossing his hand in the air in a futile gesture before he eased himself to a bale of straw, «And we can only be sure of eradicating the threat of plague if we vaccinate both.»

«It is just needlethorn which you lack?» Moreta asked, catching Capiam's despondent gaze. The Masterhealer's eyes began to widen and his stricken expression changed to incredulity as he realized what her question implied.

«And will lack, unfortunately, until autumn,» Desdra was saying, turning away from the disappointment she had just inflicted on her master. She did not see the exchange that passed between Moreta and Capiam. «I have appealed to every hall and hold on the drum network to send us their inventory. As it is, we may be forced to exclude some people.»

«How? Who? When?» Capiam's terse questions to Moreta were hoarse whispers but so intense was his voice that it caused a hush and Desdra whirled to face him.

Shrugging off discretion with a nervous laugh, Moreta answered him. «How is walking down the roadway. Who is us, for I can count on your silence and that is as essential as needlethorn, and when has to be now, before I have time to reconsider this aberration.» She grinned in reckless glee. Knowing it was a dramatic gesture, but unable to resist, she pointed to the entrance just as B'lenon and Oklina entered. «Are you badly injured, B'lerion?» she said, hailing the bronze rider cheerfully and, in a lower voice to Capiam, «He can't be that bad or he wouldn't have risked between.»

«No, my shoulder was only dislocated,» the bronze rider replied diffidently, «but I can't stand seeing the wings form without me. Pressen needed someone to bring Ruatha what we can spare from our stores, so I volunteered.» B'lerion did not look at Oklina, who was standing breathlessly beside him, but bowed with tacit sympathy to Alessan. «I have wanted to express.» He broke off, sensing Alessan's distress.

«There is something you can do to help, now that you're handy,» Moreta said, and B'lerion gave her a startled look. She drew him to one side and explained the situation and made her audacious request.

«I concede,» he said, darting quick glances at Capiam and Alessan, «that the matter is urgent, even overwhelmingly so,» he spread the fingers of his uninjured hand in appeal, «but it is quite one thing, Moreta, to add a few more hours to a day, and a completely different matter to flit across months. You know very well that it's damn dangerous!» He kept his reply low while trying to argue sense into her. Though B'lerion might often behave with apparent disregard for proprieties, he was far from careless and irresponsible.

«B'lerion, I know where we need to go, in both Ista and Nerat. I know when needlethorn is ripe to be harvested. The ging tree is always in bloom. I have seen the rainforest resemble a green face with a thousand dark-rimmed eyes.»

«Highly poetic, Moreta, but not exactly the guide I'd need.»

«But it is a when. And to get the proper coordinates we've only to check the autumnal position of the Red Star. Alessan would have the charts. It's rising farther and farther west. One only has to calculate the autumnal degree.» She could see that that argument did much to reassure B'lerion.

«I had not really expected to spend my free afternoon harvesting needlethorn …» His protest was halfhearted as he came to a conclusion that Moreta hastily reinforced.

«We can spend as much time as we need there, B'lerion, and still harvest what is so desperately needed now. But we must go now. I have to be back at the Weyr for the end of Fall. Nabeth is equal to the feat.»

«Of course he is. But they'd know,» he jerked his thumb at the waiting group, «that we had traveled forward in time, Moreta.»

«Capiam and Desdra already know it's possible.» She grinned at the expression on his face. «After all, the Healer Hall bred dragons.»

«So they did.» B'lerion recovered from his astonishment.

«We will also have to use the ability on the day the vaccine is distributed.»

B'lerion blinked wildly, glancing about him, but his gaze fell more regularly on Oklina's figure and Moreta began to relax. «I could, actually, see the Weyrs condoning that application, Moreta.»

«They do not need to know we have taken time today. Who knows you've been here?»

«Pressen and that lad out there.»

«I'll send M'barak off on an errand. Surely we can expect silence from Oklina, so that gives us a working party of six. We must make the time, and take it, B'lerion. Weyr, hold, and hall cannot sustain a second epidemic.»

«I have to concede that, Moreta.» B'lerion looked out over the debris strewn in the roadway and fields. «The change here is staggering.» He grasped her hands tightly, his grin giving her the assent she required. «I'll have Nabeth speak to Orlith. If she agrees, what difference would a few moments make among friends?»

«Tell Orlith it's for the runners. They deserve our help.»

«You and your runners!»

When Moreta outlined her plan to Capiam, Desdra, and Alessan, she received startled demurrals from each one that they didn't have the time to join the expedition.

«Master Capiam, it takes no time from now, today, this hour, to do what I have in mind,» she replied to their protests with vexed severity. «Alessan, you can surely arrange matters in your Hold for an hour's absence. It will take longer than that for the cart to collect Dag and the men to herd the mares and foals down. What will you do? Watch bottles spin? The risk I fear is a breach of discretion about the entire project. Capiam and Desdra already know about the dragons' ability, and they earnestly require the needlethorn. I know I can count on Ruathan honor to respect dragonrider privacy. B'lerion is fortuitously here, willing and able. Nabeth is well able to carry six of us and, in a day's hard harvesting, we will accomplish what is necessary to insure the plague does not spread across the continent again. No one else will be the wiser. And that is also essential!»

«Six?» Alessan asked into the thoughtful pause.

«It is your sister's company B'lerion seeks.»

Desdra chuckled. Capiam grinned after he considered that development. Alessan reacted in surprise and then with dour amusement.

«You mentioned time paradox, Moreta,» Capiam began.

«That would not apply to us in this venture, so long as none of us return to Ista on the day the ging trees flower.»

«Highly unlikely,» Capiam agreed with a humorous grimace.

«The ravines I have in mind can only be reached from a high cliff. I harvested there many Turns while I was still at Ista.»

Alessan hesitated a moment longer, his eyes straying from Pollen to the men waiting outside with saddled runners and the beast in the cart shafts. «Another minor but extremely important detail, Alessan,» Desdra said. «Your beasthold is well kept, but not exactly the proper environment if one is producing quantities of a serum which must be free of contamination.» She indicated the droppings of the lame beast.

«A wise precaution,» Alessan agreed, then smiled wryly as he added, «The removal should take not much more than an hour. What supplies should we bring with us?»

«Carry-nets,» Moreta replied quickly. «The rainforests will provide everything else we're likely to need.»

B'lerion came striding back, a grin wide on his face.

«Nabeth found it unusual to talk to two queens at once but you have permission to go and not be long about it. I sent M'barak off to High Reaches Hold for more of Master Clargesh's apprentice bottles. And there'll be more at every major hold in the west, I shouldn't wonder. Clargesh was so proud of them. That will keep him busy.»

«Good, B'lerion, now find a jacket for Oklina to wear.»

«She is rather special in an understated way, isn't she. Clever of Arith to notice. No wonder I've been attracted to her.»

«Wait till the egg has hardened, my dear friend. Each one splits in its own way.» Capiam and Desdra were directing Pollen and Tuero to reposition the vaccine manufactory. When Alessan returned from dispatching the men to collect Dag and the runnerherds, he suggested the vaccine apparatus be moved to the main Hall of the Hold since most of its patients could safely be moved to the upper storys or their own cotholds. Moreta helped Alessan secure all the carry-nets hanging from the walls of the beasthold, lashing them into one large bundle. By the time B'lerion and Oklina returned from the Hold, the other four were impatient with the delay.

«Had to find the charts, my dear Moreta. I am not jumping without a more positive coordinate than 'a green face with a thousand dark-rimmed eyes.' We'll have to arrive at dawn to be perfectly certain, for the moons will both be visible then.» He brandished his fist to signal success and readiness.

As they began to mount the stalwart Nabeth, Moreta turned to Alessan.

«Tuero's watching us. Has he any idea?»

Alessan moved his hands about her waist more than was strictly required to heave her toward B'lerion, who was already seated on Nabeth's neck.

«One can't keep a harper from having ideas, but he should be under the impression that we are going to see Master Balfor at the Beasthold about the animal vaccine. Moving everything up to the main Hall presently will occupy even his active mind.»

Then all were aboard. B'lerion had insisted that Oklina ride before him, where he could secure her with his fighting straps. Moreta he positioned behind him to help direct Nabeth. Alessan rode behind Moreta, then Desdra and, finally, Capiam as the most experienced of the other passengers.

«Orlith. I shan't be long but I must go,» Moreta said. «So Nabeth has told me.» Orlith sounded unconcerned.

«Moreta!» B'lerion's voice and a hard nudge of his right elbow interrupted her private communication. «I've got the moons and the Red Star visualized. Facing northwest, the Red Star is horizon, Belior half full ascending, and the quarter horn of Timor mid-heaven. You will please concentrate on how Ista looks with those ging trees in bloom. Think of them as now and in Ista, and the heat of autumn and the smell of those rotting rainforests.»

Nabeth was excited but his launch had the smooth precision of the experienced dragon and did not even sway his passengers as he took off.

Moreta had become accustomed to two dragon presences in her mind; now a third one, a lighter one but by no means weaker, added itself. She conjured the image of Ista's southern palisades in their autumnal finery, the Red Star balefully glowering above the western sea, Belior half full and rising, and the quarter horn of the smaller Timor demurely above. She held that vision locked in her mind as she felt Nabeth take them between. She wanted to make use of her usual litany, but the blossom eyes of the ging tree and the heavenheld guides were sufficient comfort. Then, tearfulness mounting to an incredible pressure in heart and lungs, they were suddenly in the warm air, high over Ista's rocky coast, the creamy eyes of the ging tree blossoms seeking the eariy-morning sun just rising in the east. B'lerion let out a whoop and Oklina a tiny scream. This time it was Alessan who clung to Moreta for reassurance.

Nabeth immediately noticed the rocky ledge where Moreta had often landed Oriith to harvest needlethorn. It was high above the incoming tide that battered diligently at the rock palisade. Nabeth landed as competently as he had taken off, his wing strokes flattening the thick brush that clung to the very edge of the cliff.

«Needlethorn will be down that slope,» Moreta called as they prepared to dismount.

B'lerion made an ostentatious descent from Nabeth, causing the dragon to turn his head with a startled exclamation.

«You could have broken your other arm, B'lerion,» Moreta said, but she had to laugh because he'd succeeded. She explained to Oklina the proper and safer way of dismounting a tall dragon, and Nabeth obediently lifted his foreleg.

«Are we really in the future?» Capiam asked as Alessan handed out the cargo nets. He looked about him with an expression of awe.

«We'd better be,» B'lerion said, glowering with mock ferocity at Moreta before taking another speculative glance at the three guides in the lightening sky.

«We are,» she replied as calmly as she could, for she was becoming increasingly aware of a curious sense of disorientation within her, a sensation of weightlessness and a growing euphoria, neither of which she had ever experienced before. Action would dispel such contradictory agitations. She pointed down the slope. «We'll go this way and we'll know soon enough if we find needlethorn. I harvested here myself last year, with Ista's permission since they gather on more accessible slopes.» And she led the way.

The ravine was ten or more dragon-lengths from the cliff edge, and Moreta was suddenly filled with apprehension. She hadn't cleared the bushes completely last autumn, but then the moons had been in a different conjunction and the Red Star was higher in the west. No one was more relieved than she to break onto the lip of the ravine and see needlebushes thick with brown spikes. Above them the rainforest closed over the sky. The ravine, winding away to the north and the south, had been caused by an ancient earthquake, and the shallow soil over solid rock could not support many of the lush rainforest plants though creepers draped its sides, keeping well clear of needlethorn bushes. Alessan commented on that.

«The needlethorn is omnivorous,» she said. «The spines are poisonous through spring and summer. They'll suck the juice from anything that comes near them until the autumn when the thick stem of the plant has stored enough moisture and food, vegetable or animal. The vine grows during the winter and has to shed its old corona or leave too many unprotected gaps. I understand that the flesh is tasty.»

Oklina shuddered, but Desdra went down on one knee by the specimen they were examining.

«During spring and summer the bush has an odor to attract snakes and insects. The hollow spines suck essential juices from the creatures the plant impales, and also rainwater. See, on that one there, the top is scarred. Some animal broke off the spines. That'll make it easier to harvest.»

«You said the spines are poisonous.» B'lerion was not too keen to start picking.

«In spring and summer, but right now the poison has dried up. See where new thorn buds are capping the scarred one? It's the new growth that forces the spines off. So all you do is.» With a sweep of her hand starting in the scar, she cleared a swath of needlethorns, holding the handful for all to see. «Very simple, but don't get too ambitious. Clear a small area first to give your hand room. You don't want to tick off the point and you want to avoid the fine hairs on the skin of the plant. They can cause an irritation and possibly an inflammation that would be rather difficult for us to explain.»

«We can't transport them like that,» Capiam said, looking at Moreta's handful.

«No. We have to wrap them in the fronds of the ging tree. Slice the edge, and sap from the frond provides its own glue. Very handy, and the fronds are thick and spongy enough to cushion and protect the needlethorn. It takes only a moment to strip a bush, so it might be more efficient if we paired off, one to pick and the other to pack.»

«I'll pack for you, Moreta,» Alessan suggested, and, taking his belt knife out of its sheath, went off to hack down the nearest ging frond.

«A grand idea,» B'lerion said, his eyes dancing as he laid a possessive hand on Oklina's shoulder. «If you don't mind working with a one-handed man?»

«My dear journeywoman, pick or pack?» Capiam asked in high good humor as he bowed to Desdra. «Though we can switch off as the whim takes us.»

«I daresay I've picked more often than you, good Master Capiam.» She laughed as she led Capiam off down the ravine. «You'd best see how it's done.»

«Take the tenderer fronds, Alessan,» Moreta cautioned. «They've more sap and suppleness.»

He had cut several, muttering about doing hatchet work with a table knife, when Moreta showed him how to break the frond off at the stem of the tree with a quick downward jerk. She laid the ncedlethorns on the petiole that was sufficiently concave to form a bed, and, deftly cutting away the excess leaf, she closed the needlethorns in a tough, tight little envelope, sealing the ends with the sap of the severed frond.

«No wonder you said we'd have everything in the rainforest. It's easy once you get the trick of it.»

«That's all there is to it. Just a knack.» She grinned up at him. «That package has roughly two hundred needlethorns. I tried to count as I picked but my concentration is abominable. Time distortion, I expect. Some of the bigger bushes will have thousands of spikes, each big enough for the largest runners on the continent.»

Alessan caught her hand and she stopped her babbling, suddenly shy. They were alone, even though Desdra's amiable taunting of Capiam for his timorous dexterity and B'lerion's cheerful encouragement of Oklina were audible.

«You said that we could remain here as long as it took to complete the harvest,» Alessan said quietly. He was kneeling beside her now. «And return with no more than an hour elapsed there …» His eyes searched her averted face, and his hands captured hers before she could reach for more needlethorns. «Can we not make a little time for ourselves?»

Oklina's delighted laugh rang out, followed by B'lerion's startled curse. «Damn things bite!»

Moreta grinned at the outrage in the bronze rider's voice and her eyes met Alessan's, saw his amused reaction. She lifted her hands to Alessan's face, her fingers tracing the lines that tension and anxiety had etched on a young man's countenance. Merely touching him in light intimacy evoked a response in her body, and she swayed quite willingly into his arms as they kissed. The resurgence of her own sensuality dispelled the last vestige of restraint and she slid one arm about his neck, the other clasping his strong hard body against hers as they knelt together by the needlethorn bush they had been stripping.

«What more can you expect of a one-handed man?» B'lerion demanded in a loud complaint.

Moreta and Alessan broke apart, but the bronze rider was still out of sight, if audible. Alessan grinned for their discomfiture, expressing regret at the parting.

«It will be far too hot to work midday, Alessan, and I have no doubts that we can find some privacy then.»

«Clever of you to bring mixed pairs, wasn't it?»

«One is always more sorry for the things one didn't do than the things one has done.» Moreta spoke with mock severity, and Alessan quickly silenced her the most effective way.

«Personally, I don't like it when it's too hot,» Alessan was saying, releasing her lips to give her eyes and cheeks and ears and throat equal attention. An injudicious movement brought his arm in contact with the needlethorn bush and he spun away, dragging Moreta with him. «They really do bite, don't they?» He rubbed his arm where a fine row of bloody beads rose on the skin.

«Oh, dear, they do.» She reached for the cut ging and squeezed some of the sap onto the punctures. «There, that'll seal them too. Really, Alessan,» and she gave him a quick kiss, fondling his ear, «we have to do what we came here for!» She tried to be stern, but he was still frowning from the indignation of having his ardor abruptly pricked.

«I'll settle a score for myself, too,» he said, snatching handfuls of the needlethorns from the bush that had wounded him. «That'll teach you, my spiny friend! There! There! and There! You're stripped!»

Laughing at his outraged monologue, Moreta worked as fast as she could to pack the products of his vindictive harvest.

«You picked the first one. Now you pack for me!» Alessan said with a growl. But his hands impeded hers as she worked to close the last package. He kissed her at the base of her throat, then on her chin.

«Fastest packer on Pern,» he said in a complimentary tone while his hands made investigations of their own.

«Now it's my turn to pick,» Moreta said, nibbling at his ear and running her hands through his thick hair. «Someone must be able to give you a trim,» she murmured solicitously. Alessan was beginning to look like his former shaggy self, and that annoyed her.

«I'll trim you if you don't get to work, Moreta.»

«I work faster than you.» She allowed herself to sound peevish as she snapped quick handfuls off the nearest bush, piling them for him to pack.

«Can't you two get along together?» B'lerion demanded, bursting suddenly from around a bend of the ravine.

«She'll learn!» «He'll learn!» they said in chorus, waving cheerfully. B'lerion looked at them for a long moment then stalked off.

«Work now, play later,» Moreta said, continuing to strip the neediethoms down.

«It's as easy to combine work and play.» Alessan drew a gentle finger from her ear to her shoulder.

They worked steadily, but each utilized every opportunity for a quick caress or a kiss exchanged as deft hands folded ging over a pile of needlethorns. They knelt by the bushes, knees or thighs touching. Moreta felt the light hairs of her arms rising toward his, she was becoming so sensitized to the delightful friction of his proximity. She had an idiotic desire to giggle and saw that Alessan, too, wore a rather foolish grin on his face most of the time. They were scarcely conscious of the others and almost forgot their existence until B'lerion and Oklina crashed to the top of the ravine.

«You have been busy,» B'lerion said with grudging approval. «Haven't you noticed the heat?» He had stripped to the waist, and Oklina had tied her shirt up under her breasts, leaving her midriff bare. She carried four nets of packaged needlethorns. «I'm hungry, too, even if you aren't.» He swung his shirt by the sleeves so that its burden was discernible. «Found some ripe fruit and chopped down one of those palms for the edible heart. You can't keep on at the pace you've been going,» he gestured to the filled nets, «without sustenance, and a bit of a rest in this humidity. Capiam! Desdra! Let's eat!»

Capiam and Desdra were arguing about the astringent properties of the ging sap when they sauntered up to join the others. Capiam, too, had stripped off his tunic, which was now draped over his shoulders. He was very thin, his ribs showing plainly.

«I know it's hot,» Moreta began adroitly, «but none of us can return to Ruatha suffering from sunburn.»

Capiam exhibited a leaf he was using as a fan. «Or heat prostration.» He raised his eyebrows in satisfaction with the filled nets. «We left ours back a bit. I rather thought we should rest, as is the custom on this hot island, during the hottest part of the day.»

Everyone agreed that that was a sensible idea.

«I found some melons and the red roots that Istans are so fond of,» Desdra said, producing her contribution.

«There're clusters of softnuts on all the trees, Alessan. That is, if you can climb at all,» Moreta said.

«I climb, you catch.»

Alessan took off his shirt to keep it from being torn. Moreta used it as a receptacle for the softnuts. He was a dexterous climber and a swift picker. When finished, he sought his reward in a close embrace, his hands slipping up the back of her tunic, caressing her shoulders as she found, to her surprise, that his skin was as soft as Orlith's and the smell of him almost spicy in his maleness.

They recalled themselves to the task, not wishing to take too long for what was a simple enough operation. Moreta decided that her flush would be attributed to an incipient sunburn.

«Sun's rays at this latitude are too strong for winter-white skins,» Desdra said, lounging on some ging fronds that she and Capiam cut just for that purpose. «And that heat's enough to drain anyone,» she added, making use of Capiam's fan. They relaxed during the meal. The red roots were succulent, the softnuts just ripe, and the melons so close to fermentation that the Juice had a winey tang to it. The palm heart was crisply cool and crunchy, a nice texture to complement the others. Throughout the meal, B'lerion kept up a stream of quip and comment about his being one-handed in a venture that was destined to save the continent. Would he receive full marks for his participation or just half for the hand that had worked?

«Is he always like this?» Alessan asked quietly after B'lerion had told an extravagantly funny tale at the expense of Lord Diatis's reputation. «He's better than most harpers.»

«He sings a good descant, but B'lerion's always seemed to be the epitome of a bronze rider.»

«Why, then, is he not your Weyrmate?»

«Orlith chose Kadith.»

«Do you not have any say in the matter?» Alessan was irritated for her sake. From remarks he had made during their morning's work, she knew that Alessan didn't like Sh'gall and wondered just how much their new relationship would strain Ruatha's dependence on Fort's Weyrleader. She was struggling to find an honest reply to a question she had evaded in her own heart, when Alessan contritely covered her hand, his expression pleading with her to forgive his rash remarks. «I'm sorry, Moreta. That is a Weyr matter.»

«To answer you in part, B'lerion is always like that,» she said. «Charming, amusing. But Sh'gall leads men well, and he has an instinct about Fall which his predecessor, old L'mal, considered uncanny.»

«Well, well, B'lerion, I'd never heard that particular narrative.» Capiam was still chuckling as he hoisted himself to his feet. «I suppose harpers must be discreet in circulating their tales.» He extended his hand to Desdra. «Can you remember exactly where you saw those astringent plants, Desdra? I know we're here for needlethorn, but the Hall's supplies are dreadfully short.»

«We'll look at the plants but, my dear Master Capiam, you are also going to rest through the heat of the day.» Neither healer looked back as they disappeared up the ravine and around the first bend.

«Well, I suppose that one must allow an older man some rest,» B'lerion said. «Come, Oklina, there's plenty of shade in our patch of needlethorn, and a smart breeze. We shall put our time to the use intended!»

Smiling affably, B'lerion made a running leap up the ravine, turning only to lend a long arm to Oklina. They disappeared from view, and the thick foliage settled to stillness in the thick noontime heat.

«If he expects me to believe that …» Alessan finished his sentence with a chuckle. Then, taking a deep breath, he pulled Moreta against him and kissed her deeply and sensually, his hand deftly stroking her to arousal. «Come on, Moreta, I'm not chancing another attack by those needlethorns.» He led her from the ravine toward the cliff. «What I'd like to understand is why that blue dragon of M'barak's is sniffing around Oklina. I could understand Nabeth with B'lerion entranced by her, but Aritha … Would it have anything to do with that queen egg on the Hatching Ground as Tuero suggested?»

«It might, but Fort Weyr would not deplete your bloodline by Searching Oklina, Alessan.»

«This will do. Let's just throw down some ging fronds,» Alessan said, hauling on the nearest at hand. «I won't have you bruised, either. That would be almost as hard to explain as a sunburn or heat prostration.» Moreta helped him arrange a bower, all her senses suddenly awake, wishing that Orlith, not Nabeth, were on the Istan ledge. «About Oklina, now, since I've been reliably informed,» Alessan paused to grin at her, his light eyes vividly sparkling with merriment, «that she already has dragonrider blood in her …» Then he turned briefly serious. «If it could be understood that her children would return to Ruatha, I would not stand in Oklina's way if she had the chance to Impress a dragon.» He dumped his last handful of frond on the ground with a decisive gesture and pulled Moreta into his arms. «I'm not my father, you know.»

«I wouldn't be in a rainforest with your father.»

«Why not? He was a lusty man. And I intend to prove that I'm a suitable heir to his reputation!»

She was laughing as he laid her down on the sun-dappled frond bed. And he proved himself as lusty, and tender, as any woman could wish a man. For a shining moment at the height of their passion, Moreta forgot everything but Alessan.

The heat of the day did overcome them briefly, and they slumbered in each other's arms until tiny insects sought the moisture of their bodies and made them uncomfortable enough to wake.

«I'm eaten alive!» Alessan cried, pinning one of the biting insects to his forearm.

«Take some of that broad-leafed vine, the one climbing the tree by your side,» Moreta said. «Bruise its leaves. It'll neutralize the sting.»

«How d'you know so much?»

«I did Impress at Ista. I know its hazards.»

They spent considerably more time neutralizing one another's insect bites than was necessary. When Alessan, trying to kiss her, got too much of the astringent liquid on his lips and his mouth began to pucker, they laughed and were still laughing about that when they returned to the ravine, slightly cooler now that the westering sun no longer shone directly above it.

When the tropical dusk had made work impossible, the six of them gathered on the ledge where Nabeth lounged somnolently and began to stack filled nets.

«Nabeth says,» B'lerion thudded the bronze dragon affectionately on the cheek, «that the only moving things he saw were firelizards fishing! He's got a good sense of humor, my bronze lad. I hope we've got enough for your purpose, Master Capiam, because I'm telling you, this single hand of mine,» he held it out to display the tracery of thorn scratches, «has done enough today!»

Capiam and Desdra gazed speculatively at the nets and then at each other. Desdra covered her mouth and turned away. Capiam looked distressed.

«Did anyone remember to count?» he asked, beseeching each one in turn.

«I'll tell you another thing,» B'lerion said firmly, «I'm not going to count 'em now.»

«I wouldn't suggest it!»

«However, I would gladly return to this secluded spot to pluck whatever number you find you lack.»

Moreta tapped him on the shoulder. «Not here, B'lerion. If, by any possible chance, we did not pick enough today, go to Nerat. Not here.»

«Oh, yes. That would prevent a time paradox. And the moons would be in roughly the same alignment on Nerat tip.»

«Well, if that's settled, I expect we'd best return,» Capiam said wearily.

«On the contrary, my dear Master Capiam, that would be a sure clue to our day's employment.» B'lerion clucked his tongue. «We leave Ruatha energetic and in great spirit and arrive, an hour later, exhausted, reddened, hungry. Oklina, which one is the dinner net? Oh, here we are. Just settle yourselves. Use Nabeth as a backrest. There's more than enough of him to go round.»

Oklina handed him a net of tied vines, which he hoisted so that all could see balls of hard-baked mud.

«Did a bit of fishing during my rest,» B'lerion said, his broad grin daring anyone to challenge the truth of his statement, «and Oklina found the tubers. So we baked them. On the rocks in the ravine this noon it was hot enough to fry a dragon egg, begging your pardon, Moreta. A good meal would go down now without a struggle, wouldn't it? And while there's light enough, Alessan, if you and Moreta could find a few more of those ripe melons, why, we'd have a feast fit for a Hatching!» B'lerion caught himself so quickly that only Moreta knew that he had quickly substituted one festive occasion for another less painful one.

She had distracted Alessan by pulling him after her to find the melons. They knew exactly where to find more, since they'd raided the patch several times in the afternoon to slake their thirst.

Hunger was part of the fatigue they all felt, and Moreta was glad to take her share from Oklina and thank the girl for such foresight.

«It was B'lerion's idea, you know,» Oklina said. «He actually tickled the fish to catch them.»

«Did he teach you how?» Alessan asked.

«No,» Oklina replied with admirable composure. «Dag did. The same principal works in our rivers as Ista's.»

Moreta could not resist chuckling at Alessan's expression as he sank beside her.

«On mature reflection, I think she deserves to be in a Weyr,» Alessan said in a severe undertone. Then he realized that he was leaning against a bronze dragon and jerked forward apprehensively.

«Nabeth won't mind. He's an old friend of mine, too.»

With a mutter of mock discontent, Alessan cracked the mud to produce a long slender tuber, then Moreta broke one open to prize out the fish, and they shared bits of the contents, keeping the second course warm.

«What a clever fellow you are,» Capiam said, his mouth half full. He and Desdra had arranged themselves in the curve of Nabeth's tail. Desdra nodded agreement, too busy licking her fingers to speak.

«I have a few talents,» B'lerion said with a becoming show of modesty. «Eating is one of my few bad habits. Fruit is all very well in the heat of the day but something warm soothes the belly before sleep …»

«Sleep!» Capiam and Moreta protested simultaneously. B'lerion held up a restraining hand. «Sleep.» he pointed his finger sternly at Moreta, «for you have to mend dragons after Fall in another four hours. You can't do that effectively after the day you just put in.» He flipped his hand toward the carry-nets lying in the shadows. «You, Alessan, will have to vaccinate and escort those priceless brood mares and foals of yours down from the meadows. I do not see you permitting anyone else to head that expedition. Desdra and Capiam, you will be returning to the pressures of expanding this vaccination program of yours to include runnerbeasts. So we shall finish our meal and then we shall sleep.» He allowed the sibilance of the word to emphasize his meaning. «When Belior has risen, Nabeth will rouse us, won't you, my fine fellow?» B'lerion thumped his dragon's neck. «And we'll all be the better for the time spent here.»

«B'lerion,» Moreta protested vigorously, «I really should get back to Oriith.»

«Orlith's fine, my dear girl. Fine! You're only going to be gone an hour in real time. And frankly, dear friend, you look dead right now!» B'lerion leaned over to ruffle her hair in a proprietary gesture that made Alessan tense beside her. Moreta quickly checked him with a hand on his thigh. «And anyway,» B'lerion continued affably, «you've no choice, Moreta.» And his grin widened with keen amusement. «You can't leave here except on Nabeth and he follows my orders.»

«You're a managing soul,» Capiam said without rancor. «He's sensible,» Desdra said, making a minor correction. «I was dreading the thought of being plunged back into all that must be done. Not to mention explaining these.» She examined her scratched hands. «If you keep everyone as busy as you usually do, Desdra,» Capiam replied at his dryest, «no one will have time to notice.»

«So just make yourself comfortable beside Nabeth. He won't mind being pillow as well as windscreen, but there's enough cover on the ground to keep you from scratching yourselves and the landward breeze will keep the midges off.»

B'lerion then had Nabeth stretch out his neck so that he and Oklina could settle themselves. Capiam and Desdra arranged themselves in the tail curve so Moreta lay down against Nabeth's ribs and gestured for Alessan to join her. «He won't roll over or anything?» Alessan whispered to Moreta as he lay down.

«Not while B'lerion's lying on his neck!» So Alessan fitted himself against Moreta, drawing her arms around his waist and clasping them in his. She could feel his breath slow as he began to relax, and she pillowed her forehead against his strong shoulder blade.

The tropical night was warm and fragrant. Moreta tried to compose herself for sleep. She could hear Capiam's baritone murmur and then silence. Alessan slept and she wanted to but was haunted by the sense of disorientation she had left that morning. Then the spicy smell of dragon, still tainted by a hint of firestone, began to soothe her and she realized that, for the first time in twenty Turns, she had passed a day without Orlith. She did miss her. Orlith would have liked Alessan's exuberant loving. All that had been missing from that experience had been the dragon's share of her rider's gratification. Comforted, Moreta slept.

The moment Nabeth burst into the air above Ruatha, Moreta felt Orlith's distressed touch.

«You are there! You are there! Where have you been?»

«Where could you have been?» That deep-toned question was from an equally distraught Holth.

«To Ista. As Nabeth told you.»

«We could not find you there!» That came from both queens.

«I am here. I have what we went for. All is well! I won't be long here now.»

The time distortion that accounted for the strange feeling of separation and disorientation lingering even in her dreams at Ista had dissipated the moment Moreta felt Orlith's touch. She was not only rested but extraordinarily revived, to the point that the warm sphere of euphoria in her belly expanded to fill her entire body with strength. B'lerion had been sensible indeed to insist they take time for rest.

Seated behind Moreta, Alessan became suddenly tense, his hands tightening about her waist fiercely. She knew he was swearing though the wind of Nabeth's glide obscured the words. She looked down at sad Ruatha and knew that a dragonback perspective of the ruins could not fail to distress him. When she managed to twist to speak to him, his expression was full of urgent determination.

As soon as Nabeth came to a graceful landing across the roadway from the beasthold, he turned to Oklina. «Surely some of the convalescents must be strong enough to do maintenance, Oklina. Did you have a good look at the Hold proper? It's a shambles. Here, Moreta, I'll give you a hand.» Alessan slid down Nabeth's side and extended his hands to her. It was, Moreta quickly realized, an excuse to hold her, and he kept one arm loosely about her shoulders as they backed far enough away from the dragon's bulk for Alessan to address the other riders. «I'll continue making the serum, Master Capiam, and wait for any further instructions. Oklina, have you seen what I mean? Then I'll help you down. My duty to you, Nabeth, and my eternal gratitude.» Alessan bowed formally to the bronze dragon, who winked at him from eyes that whirled pleasantly green-blue.

«He says his duty was a pleasure,» B'lerion replied, smiling as he handed Oklina down to his dragon's raised forearm. He waited until she was clear and then waved cheerily as Nabeth sprang aloft again.

They had made most of their farewells at Ista when Belior rose, round and greenly gold in the dark Istan sky. B'lerion would convey the two healers to their hall with the needlethorns. If more should be needed, B'lerion would harvest it discreetly at Nerat with Oklina and Desdra. Capiam had composed messages for the Masterherdsman and all the holds that bred or kept runners. Relays would go to drumless settlements.

The dust of Nabeth's departure was blowing away from them when Tuero came out of the beasthold, a look of surprise on his homely face.

«That didn't take you long,» he said. «Alessan, we can't make up another batch unless M'barak finds more glass bottles. I don't know what's taking him so long.»

The three travelers recoiled in a group, but before Tuero could comment on their reaction, Arith and M'barak hurtled across the fields to land almost exactly in the spot Nabeth had just occupied. Moreta clung to Alessan's hand for support.

«Who's he got with him?» Tuero demanded. As the blue dragon settled, it was obvious he bore three passengers as well as the carry-nets.

«Moreta!» M'barak called, gesturing to her urgently. «Hurry up. I need help with these silly bottles and I've people here who say they can handle runners. And we've got to hurry because I have to prepare for the Fall. F'neldril will skin me if I'm late!»

So Alessan, Tuero, Oklina, and Moreta rushed to unburden Aritb of passengers and ornamental apprentice-blown glass bottles. Then Alessan gave Moreta a leg up to Arith's back and if his hands lingered on her ankle as she settled herself, no one remarked on the Lord Holder's behavior. As Moreta looked down at Alessan's upturned face, she wished she might give him more than a smile in farewell. Then he stepped back and one of the newcorners touched his arm. The woman was tall and thin, with dark hair as closecropped as a weyrwoman's. She reminded Moreta of someone. Then they were airborne, and M'barak warned her that they'd go between as soon as Arith had air space.

Back at Fort Weyr, there was so much activity in the Bowl, readying the two wings, that no one noted their arrival though M'barak had craftily come in over the lake. Arith glided to deposit Moreta at the Hatching Ground cave. After remembering to give the blue's ribs a grateful thump, Moreta ran toward Orlith across the sands, not totally surprised to see Leri's figure beside her.

«You're here! You're here!» Orlith was bugling in relief, her wings extended, sweeping sand over Leri's small figure.

«It's all right, Orlith. I'm here! Don't make so much commotion!» Moreta raced to her dragon, throwing her arms around Orlith's head and hugging her as tightly as she could, then scratching eye ridges and murmuring reassurances.

«By the first Egg,» Leri was saying, leaning against Orlith's side, «am I glad to see you! What have you been doing? Holth couldn't find you either. Oh, do be quiet, Orlith! Holth!»

«You have finally returned.» There was more reproof in Holth's voice than Orlith would ever express.

«Couldn't you contact Nabeth?» Moreta asked Orlith, then Leri and Holth. Orlith's color was very poor and there was an ashen hue to Leri's complexion. She was full of remorse for having caused them a moment's anguish. «Why didn't you speak with Nabeth?»

«I wanted you,» Orlith said piteously.

«Could you spare me a word of explanation?» Leri asked in a caustic tone, her voice breaking effectively. Contrite, Moreta grasped Leri's shoulder. «The past hour has been dreadful. It took all my tact and patience to keep Orlith from blasting after you, wherever you were, which was where?»

«Didn't Nabeth explain? B'lerion said he had.»

Leri waggled her hands irritably. «He only said that you had to go on an imperative journey that would take no more than an hour.»

«And we were back at Ruatha within that hour.» Moreta knew that had to be the truth and, indeed, now that she was back with Orlith, the past subjective twenty hours seemed the dream, not the reality. «Just an hour.»

«No, actually,» Leri said firmly, «a little longer than an hour. You were talking with Capiam about something,» Leri underscored her ignorance of that interview by a significant pause, «before you, he, and that journeywoman of his went skiting off to Ruatha on M'barak. The next thing I hear is a request through Holth from Nabeth and B'lerion.» She gave Moreta a stern look, an effect that was slightly spoiled by her changing from one foot to another during her reprimand.

«You look a bit uncomfortable on these hot sands, Leri. I think we'd better get off the Ground. I've rather a lot to tell you. No, Orlith, I won't leave your sight but what suits your eggs is hard on your rider.» Moreta gave Leri a gentle shove toward her temporary living space and then fondled Oriith's muzzle.

Leri had already seated herself before Moreta had sufficiently reassured Orlith. The queen gently pushed her weyrmate off and began to reposition the queen egg.

«It all began,» Moreta said to Leri as she settled herself, «when Master Capiam came to ask me the same question Alessan had,» Moreta caught herself before she could blurt out 'two nights ago', «about vaccinating the runners.»

Leri gave a disgruntled snort. «I would have thought he had enough on his hands healing humans.»

«He does, but the plague is an instance of zoonosis, animals infecting people and other animals.»

Leri stared at Moreta, her jaw dropping in alarm. «Zoonosis? Even the term sounds repulsive!» She fiddled with the cushion behind her back. «So, now that I'm comfortable, give me all the details.»

Moreta told Leri about Capiam's visit, his fears for the continent's health, how via zoonosis a second, more virulent wave of the viral infection could spread, and why mass vaccination was so essential. Capiam had left his chart behind, and Moreta produced it for Leri to examine.

«Capiam has it all planned so that a minimum of dragonriders would be needed.» She broke off, seeing the shock on Leri's face as the method of distribution became apparent to the older Weyrwoman.

«The riders would have to time it!» Leri stared at her, the nostrils of her straight, finely arched nose flaring with indignation. «You did say that Master Capiam brought this, this incredible plan with him?» When Moreta nodded, Leri's voice crackled with fury. «How, may I ask, how did Master Capiam know that dragons can move in time? I'll flay K'lon to his bones!» Leri all but bounced off the stone tier. From above, Holth bugled a protest.

«It wasn't K'lon,» Moreta said as she clasped Leri's wildly gesticulating hands in hers. «Calm Holth down. She'll have Sh'gall on us!»

«If you told Capiam, Moreta.» Leri freed one hand to raise it aggressively.

«Don't be silly. He knew!» Remembering her own outrage at Capiam's knowledge, Moreta could well appreciate Leri's reaction. «He knew because, as he had to remind me, his Craft bred the ability into dragons.»

Leri opened her mouth to protest that statement, then took a deep breath and nodded her head in belated acceptance. «You still have some explaining to do, Moreta. Where have you been the past hour where neither Orlith nor Holth could reach you?»

Moreta was not so certain, suddenly, of Leri's reaction to the truth of her whereabouts, especially now that it was obvious that Nabeth's explanation had been somewhat less than candid. And she'd given B'lerion far too good a reason to prevaricate.

«We went to Ista. We went forward in time to Ista to harvest needlethorn. There's not much point in producing vaccine if there's no way to administer it.»

Meekly Moreta endured Leri's piercing stare, the expression of disbelief, anger, anxiety, and finally resignation that flashed through the woman's eyes.

«You just casually,» Leri flapped one hand in a careless motion, «jumped four or five months ahead?»

«Not casually. B'lerion checked the position of the Red Star and the two moons to be sure he was near the autumnal equinox. And we arrived back in Ruatha in an hour. Nabeth told you that much, didn't he?»

«That much!» Leri drummed her fingers on her short thighs, indicating a displeasure she evidently couldn't express in another way.

Moreta put out a tentative hand, a request for absolution, and Leri caught it, noticing for the first time the delicate tracery of needle scratches.

«Serves you right.» With a snort of disgust she released the hand. Then, with a grudging smile, she added, «I'd have thought you'd've taken a lesson from K'lon's ineptitude. Sunburn. Scratches!»

«Nothing that redwort won't hide this afternoon.» But Moreta tucked both hands under her thighs, the stone cool on the deeper slashes. «Nabeth didn't tell you he took us to Ista? I chose a spot that isn't easily reached through the rainforests. There're only two places on the northern continent where needlethorn grows, and I thought the ravine on Ista safer than Nerat. We were perfectly safe the entire time.»

«We?» Leri eyed Moreta with renewed alarm.

«I could scarcely harvest the quantity of needlethorn required by myself.» Then Moreta realized that, in her effort to reassure Leri, she had said altogether more than was strictly necessary.

«Who went?» Leri was quietly resigned to her indiscretions.

«B'lerion …»

«He would have to.»

Moreta winced at Leri's dry sarcasm.

«Master Capiam and Desdra, the journeywoman. She knows about timing because she found the entries in the old Records.»

«Could we ask Master Capiam to burn those old Records?» Leri asked hopefully.

«He's agreed to 'lose' them. Which is why I agreed to go.»

«That makes four of you. So! Who else went? We've known each other far too long, my dear, for you to delude me!»

«Alessan and Oklina.»

Leri sighed heavily, covering her eyes with one hand.

«Alessan has too much at stake and too much honor in him to prate about dragon capability. And judging by the way Arith has been snuffling around Oklina, she would make a candidate for Orlith's egg.»

«You couldn't, you wouldn't take his sister from Alessan …» Leri was astounded.

«I wouldn't, but the queen might. Alessan said he'd be agreeable if any children she bears are allowed to go back to Ruatha.»

«Well!» Leri's exclamation was complimentary. «You accomplished rather a lot in one hour, didn't you?»

«B'lerion insisted that we sleep six hours in Ista in that time, but we did have to leave an hour's leeway before appearing back at Ruatha!»

«So you skited back to Ruatha Hold bearing nets full of needlethorn and no explanations tendered?»

Moreta began to relax. Once Leri got over her shocks, she'd begin to see the humor of the whole adventure, that the sheer reckless momentum had worked to their advantage.

«B'lerion dropped off Alessan, Oklina, and me, and took off to the Healer Hall with Capiam and Desdra. The dust hadn't settled before M'barak arrived with more glass bottles and volunteers and … besides, who will ask the Lord of Ruatha to explain an hour's absence or inquire of Master Capiam where he got needlethorn? He has it! That's all anyone needs to know!»

«A point to remember.» Leri's humor had been restored enough for her to be witty.

«So,» Moreta said, having achieved another minor miracle in soothing Leri, «tomorrow I have only to approach the other Weyrs to ask for aid in distributing the vaccine. I promised Capiam.»

«My dear girl, you can skite out of here for an hour on a mysterious time-consuming errand, but what excuse could you possibly find to go Weyr-hopping?»

«The best. There's a queen egg in front of us. I can visit them on Search. Even Orlith would agree to the necessity for that! And if I remember correctly, the Weyrleaders promised at that historic Butte meeting of theirs that they would supply candidates for Orlith's clutch.»

«Ah, but that was then,» Leri pointed out sardonically. «This is now. You have surely been aware of M'tani's disaffection. He's unlikely to part with the dullest wit in his Cavern.»

«I thought of that. Remember the lists the Weyrleaders gave S'peren? Or did you give them to Sh'gall?»

«Don't be ridiculous. They're safe in my weyr.»

«We can figure out which of the bronze riders at Telgar are likely to time it. I can't imagine that Benden or High Reaches would renege on the offer of candidates.»

«Of course they wouldn't. T'grel would be the bronze rider you should see at Telgar. And you could apply to Dalova at Igen. She may tend to babble but she's basically rather a sensible person. You have thought this all out, haven't you?» Leri gave a little chuckle at Moreta's cunning. «My dear, you've the makings of a superior Weyrwoman. Just shuck that bronze rider and get someone you're happy with. And I do not mean that light-eyed Lord Holder, with his convenient stashes of Benden white. Though mind you, he's a handsome lad!» Outside, the bronze voice of Kadith called the fighting wings to the Rim.