Dragongirl

EPILOGUE

Fiona only started looking for Lorana after the worst of the injured dragons and riders had been tended. The casualties were bad, but the numbers were reassuring. Even though the Weyr had lost another two dragons and it would be months before all six injured would be able to fly again, the Fall had been easier than she’d feared.

It was her memory of that fear that brought her to wonder about Lorana, because the fear had started that morning when she had seen the ex–queen rider looking up at the flecks of dust.

“Bekka,” Fiona called as she spotted the smaller girl bustling about, “have you seen Lorana?”

The youngster shrugged and hurried on about her duties.

Fiona berated herself, realizing that she could have Talenth ask Minith.

I cannot find her, Talenth replied a moment later, her tone tense.

Fiona felt panic well in her heart. She turned on her heel in a great circle, scanning the Weyr for any sign of the taller woman. She did not find her.

“Kindan!” she shouted as she spotted the harper. Kindan waved toward her but, somehow alerted by her stance, stopped what he was doing and raced over to her. “Have you seen Lorana?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head.

“I brought her to Benden,” Fiona said. “Tullea said that she might take Minith.” Kindan arched an eyebrow in surprise but Fiona rushed on, “And I can’t find Minith.”

“What about Lorana?” Kindan asked and Fiona flushed in surprise that she’d forgotten her strange link with the older woman.

Lorana! she called loudly. She waited. Her face fell and she glanced worriedly at Kindan as she shook his head. She was about to say more when the air above erupted with a bronze dragon from between.

“Where is she?” a voice bellowed from above. It was Tullea. She was riding behind B’nik. “Where is that dragon-stealer?”

The two scampered down the moment Caranth had touched the ground, racing over to Fiona and Kindan. T’mar, alerted by the shout, rushed to their side, giving Fiona a questioning look.

“We can’t find Lorana,” Fiona told him in chill tones.

“She had that healer steal B’nik’s jacket!” Tullea began angrily. “He stole it, Lin saw him!”

“Your Weyrleader jacket?” T’mar asked, turning to B’nik.

The Benden Weyrleader nodded, running a hand wearily through his hair from front to back. “I thought it was a poor joke, but I didn’t have the time to track it down before Threadfall.”

T’mar grunted in understanding. “And now?”

“D’vin told me that Lorana and Ketan had come to High Reaches, they went to the Records Room—and that’s the last they’ve been seen,” B’nik said.

Fiona and Kindan exchanged looks at the mention of High Reaches’ Records Room. Tullea saw it and cried, “What? What were they doing there?”

“I don’t know,” Kindan admitted. “But when we went there last, Lorana and I put the fourth vial in the Records Room.”

“The fourth vial?” B’nik repeated, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully.

“The one that killed Arith?” Fiona asked, her voice heavy with emotion.

“The one that can turn a watch-wher into a dragon,” Kindan explained. “We put it at High Reaches where it would be safe.”

“Why would Lorana want that?” T’mar mused. With a sad frown he added, “I can see why she would want B’nik’s jacket, but not that.”

“What?” Tullea demanded. “Why would she steal that?”

“For K’tan,” Fiona said, turning to T’mar for confirmation.

“Ketan?” Tullea repeated. “What would he need with—”

“But a brown’s not a bronze!” Kindan exclaimed.

B’nik’s eyes widened and he mouthed the words “a brown” to himself.

“The dust!” Fiona said, turning to the others. “That’s what she meant with the dust.”

“What dust?” Kindan asked.

Fiona took a deep breath and said slowly, “This morning, before we went to Benden, I found her looking up at the dust above the Weyr Bowl.”

The others looked at her in confusion.

“She asked me what color it was,” Fiona continued. “I told her it was brown on the ground but in the air it shimmered.”

“Like gold dust,” Kindan breathed in surprise, fingering the brooch on his tunic. He turned to Fiona and commanded, “Check with Nuella, I’ll bet they were there.”

“Why?” Tullea demanded.

“Because, if the gold dust was on his skin, in the sunlight—for an instant—a brown could pass as a bronze,” T’mar said, his eyes wide in sudden enlightenment. He turned to B’nik. “That’s why he stole your jacket.”

“But—a brown!” B’nik protested.

“Drith,” Kindan said.

“Drith’s dead,” Tullea said flatly.

“Drith is certainly dead now.”

“But he wasn’t then!” Fiona declared, turning glowing eyes toward Kindan. She shook her head admiringly. “That’s brilliant!”

“What?” Tullea demanded, still lost.

“Kindan and Fiona think that Lorana went back in time with Ketan to when Drith went between,” T’mar said slowly, his eyes sliding toward the harper and Weyrwoman for confirmation.

“But he was sick, dying!” Tullea declared.

“Yes,” Fiona agreed. “But apparently he could still fly.”

“Long enough to save M’tal, me, and …” T’mar turned to B’nik, “… you.”

“If that’s so, then where’s Lorana?” Tullea demanded. “Where’s

Minith?”

“You can’t hear her?” Fiona asked in surprise.

Tullea shook her head.

“Then she’s gone,” Kindan declared in a flat, dead voice. The others looked up at him. “She went with Drith and K’tan.” He pursed his lips grimly. “That’s why she gave the vial to Nuella. She knew there is no hope, so she went as best she could.”

“No!” Fiona’s word was loud, clear and defiant. “She didn’t do that.”

Kindan frowned at her and shook his head. “Your problem, Fiona, is that you don’t know when to quit.”

“Of course I don’t,” Fiona agreed, her eyes flashing angrily. “You taught me that!”

“Me?”

“‘Step by step, moment by moment,’” Fiona said, repeating the words of Kindan’s song from the Plague. “Vaxoram said those words to you. You remembered them; you didn’t give in when the Plague threatened to kill us all.” She jabbed a finger at him, her eyes welling with tears. “You saved my life when even my father had given in to despair.” She reached out and grabbed his chin in her hand, forcing him to meet her eyes. “I won’t let you give in.”

“She’s dead, Fiona!” Kindan shouted, jerking out of her grasp. “She’s gone between, her grief too great, and she’s left us. She knows we’re doomed and she couldn’t bear to keep watching us all die slowly, dragon by dragon.” He turned to Tullea. “So she kept her word to you and then she left.” He turned back to Fiona. “She’s gone. You can’t hear her, can you?”

Fiona shook her head, lips quivering. “No, I can’t.” She looked up at him again, declaring stoutly, “But just because I can’t doesn’t mean she isn’t alive, Kindan.

“She won’t give up, she loves you too much.”

“She’s left me you,” Kindan said bitterly. “She could leave me knowing that you’re still here. In fact, she probably left because of you.”

Fiona’s eyes flashed and her hand leaped up, the sound of her slap startling everyone.

“Don’t ever say that,” Fiona told him savagely. “Don’t ever think that.”

“Because the truth hurts too much?” Kindan asked, raising a hand to massage his stinging cheek.

“It’s not the truth,” Fiona said quietly. “The truth is that she loves us both.”

“She loved her brother and sister, too, Fiona,” Kindan replied, his anger suddenly gone, his voice matching hers. “She couldn’t save them, either.”

“She wouldn’t give up,” Fiona declared. She looked up at him. “She learned it from you, just as I did.” Kindan’s eyes widened and his head jerked up at her words, as though stung once again. Fiona shook her head. “She’ll pay any price, Kindan, she’s already—oh!”

“What?”

“Oh, no!” Fiona sobbed, her legs sagging. Kindan and T’mar rushed to grab her and she wrapped her arms around them feebly for support.

“What is it?” Tullea asked. She moved closer and gently touched Fiona. “Fiona, what is it?”

“Any price,” the young Weyrwoman sobbed. “Any price.”

“Oh, no!” Kindan sighed, his eyes misting. “Fiona, you don’t think—”

“Tenniz said it,” Fiona said, lifting her head long enough to look toward Tullea. “He said that Terin would get her queen and he said this to Lorana: The way forward is dark and long. A dragon gold is only the first price you’ll pay for Pern.”

Beside her, T’mar gasped. “She’s gone ahead!”

“Turns ahead,” Fiona said. “More than nine or even eleven coughs.”

She pushed herself upright, unaware of Terin and Bekka rushing toward the commotion, not seeing Shaneese appear suddenly beside T’mar. Her eyes were only on Kindan.

“She paid the price,” she said. “She paid the price with her child.”

Kindan gasped in understanding. If Lorana had gone so far in time that Fiona could no longer hear her, Lorana had gone too far for her pregnancy to survive.

“‘Step by step, moment by moment,’” Fiona repeated. She held his eyes with hers. “She paid the price. We”—and she turned to catch everyone in her gaze—“will do no less.”

She drew herself up to her full height and, regal Weyrwoman, declared fiercely, “We will be here with all our love when she returns!”