Dragonsblood

SEVEN

The cold of between was still deep in Wind Blossom’s bones as she and M’hall were escorted to the queen’s quarters at Fort Weyr.

“My mother asked for you,” M’hall told her as he helped her into Sorka’s quarters.

“Is it her time?” Wind Blossom’s voice was calm, flat. She had seen all her friends die, save this one.

M’hall’s lips trembled as he nodded, and a deep anguished sigh passed his lips. Wind Blossom reached to take his arm reassuringly, but her grip was so weak that M’hall misinterpreted the gesture as need for support. He grabbed her and helped her to a chair.

“How did you know?” she asked. Then, taking in M’hall’s exhausted pallor, she answered herself, “You timed it.”

M’hall nodded.

“It drained you,” Wind Blossom said.

“More than you can imagine, and please don’t ask,” the Weyrleader said, forestalling further questions. He turned to Sorka, lying half-asleep in her bed.

His mother must have felt his presence, for her eyelids fluttered open. “Did you bring her?”

“I’m here,” Wind Blossom answered, rising from her chair and kneeling beside Sorka’s bed. The old Weyrwoman reached out a hand and clasped Wind Blossom’s as she offered it.

M’hall dragged Wind Blossom’s chair over to her. Thankfully, Wind Blossom sat. “Your son brought me.”

“He’s a good lad,” Sorka agreed with a small smile. “He does as he’s told.”

The two elder women shared a secret pause, then smiled as the expected comment from Benden’s Weyrleader failed to materialize.

“He has learned wisdom,” Wind Blossom said. It was her highest praise, words she had never before uttered to or about anyone. “He is a good man. Like his brothers and sisters. Blood tells. You and Sean have everything to be proud of.”

Behind her, Wind Blossom felt M’hall stiffen at the mention of his late father, who had led the colony’s original dragonriders through their first and so many other Threadfalls with an iron will.

Even at the hale age of sixty-two, Sean O’Connell had retained his position as the first Weyrleader-and Weyrleader of Fort Weyr, despite every argument to the contrary. But he was too old. Badly scored when they failed to dodge an oddly clumped bunch of Thread, Sean and Carenath had gone between-and never returned. That had been over eight years ago.

In all that time, Faranth had never again risen to mate. No one had commented on it, considering it merely due to Faranth’s age. Only Wind Blossom knew differently.

The reason was one of many secrets that she and Sorka had shared over the years, and a part of one of Wind Blossom’s few true friendships.

As the first queen dragonrider and the most experienced geneticist, Sorka and Wind Blossom had maintained a working relationship during the years after the first Fall at Landing. But the creation of the watch-whers had soured most of the dragonriders on Wind Blossom, Sean in particular, and Sorka’s dealings with her had become businesslike.

Wind Blossom maintained detailed records of all the original dragons and their hatchlings, tracking growth and watching for any signs of genetic defects. When the colony reestablished itself in the north, and Admiral Benden redirected the technical staff away from her studies, Wind Blossom found herself without specific duties.

Admiral Benden had suggested publicly that she consider diversifying into the medical profession, perhaps considering nursing or technical lab work. And, the Admiral had added with a smile, Wind Blossom should remember her duty to the colony and her genome: Had she considered how she would fill her child-rearing obligations?

Wind Blossom’s meek response was taken for acquiescence-and perhaps a tacit admission that her loss of valuable technical gear during the Crossing had made her a pariah.

She dutifully left her lab and took on a trainee role with one of Fort Hold’s doctors, working hard to achieve her eventual rating as a general practitioner.

Still, Wind Blossom kept track not only of dragon bloodlines but also of the watch-whers and their progress. She was often asked for advice on the handling of “Wind Blossom’s uglies,” as they were called.

Emily Boll, in particular, expressed interest in the watch-whers. “I saw them fly the other night,” she told Wind Blossom once in private. She smiled at the smaller woman.

Wind Blossom nodded. “I, too,” she replied, suffused with pleasure at the memory.

Emily grabbed her hand. “It must be hard for you,” she said with warm sympathy.

“It is my job,” Wind Blossom replied with only the hint of a shrug. “I do what you and the Admiral ask of me; I carry the burden my mother has left me.”

“Well, it seems damned unfair to me!” Emily declared, scowling fiercely.

Wind Blossom made no response.

“Oh, I know it’s all part of the plan,” Emily went on. “And how much we need it. You showed me the numbers yourself, but it still seems wrong that your contributions and efforts should either go unnoticed or vilified.”

Again, Wind Blossom did not answer.

“Wind Blossom,” Emily said, gripping her wrist tightly, “you can talk to me. I know all the plans. When we’re alone, you can tell me anything. It’s not right that you keep everything locked up inside you, and it’s not fair. In fact, as Pern’s leading psychologist, I say that for your own good.” When Wind Blossom said nothing, Emily continued softly, “And I say it as one who knows how much you’ve suffered.”

For the first time ever, Wind Blossom broke down and collapsed into Emily’s arms. For how long she cried, she did not know. Afterward, Emily gave her one last hug and a bright smile, but they said nothing.

When the Fever had struck, Wind Blossom’s skills as a doctor were in high demand. She drove herself harder than any other, often surviving for weeks on end only on naps snatched here and there. And she spent as much time as she could tending Emily Boll.

Wind Blossom and Emily were both too honest to deny that the old governor of Tau Ceti would not survive this infectious siege. Wind Blossom prescribed what palliatives she could and did everything in her power to make the older woman’s passing as painless as possible.

Late in the night, when Wind Blossom and Emily had convinced poor Pierre de Courci, Emily’s husband, to take some rest, Emily tossed fitfully on her bed.

“If I’m going to die, I wish I’d hurry up,” she said bitterly after one more wracking cough had torn through her body.

“Maybe you will recover,” Wind Blossom suggested. When Emily glared at her, she persisted, “It’s possible. We don’t know enough about this illness.”

She regretted her last sentence even as Emily gathered about her the indomitable aura of “The Governor of Tau Ceti” and demanded, “How many have died, Wind Blossom? Pierre wouldn’t tell me. Paul wouldn’t tell me. Tell me.”

“I don’t know,” Wind Blossom replied honestly. “They’ve started mass burials. The last count was over fifteen hundred.”

“Out of nine thousand?” Emily gasped. “That’s over one sixth of the colony!”

Wind Blossom nodded.

Emily’s eyes narrowed. “It’s going to get worse, isn’t it?”

Wind Blossom said nothing.

“The dragonriders? Are they all right?” Emily demanded. When Wind Blossom nodded, Emily sighed and lay back on her bed, eyes closed. After a moment she peeked up at Wind Blossom, her lips curved ruefully, and said, “Your doing, isn’t it? The dragonriders? Some of that Eridani immune boost?”

“Only some,” Wind Blossom admitted. Apologetically, she added, “There was not enough for you.”

“I wasn’t on the list,” Emily said. “Paul and I had talked about this years back. Is Paul all right?”

“He fell ill last night,” Wind Blossom told her.

Emily closed her eyes again-in pain. When she opened them, she told Wind Blossom, “Get Pierre. You will do an autopsy, find the cure.”

Wind Blossom was horror-struck and for once it showed. “I-I-Emily, I don’t want to do that.”

Emily smiled sadly at her. “Yes, dear, I know,” she said softly. “But I must ask it of you. I did not bring these people here to fall at the first-no, second-hurdle.”

Wind Blossom reluctantly agreed. “It is my job,” she said. “But please tell your husband, it would be too much for me.”

Emily nodded. “I understand, and I’ll do that,” she replied. “Now, what to do for your future…”

“I shall go on,” Wind Blossom answered. “It is my job.”

Emily snorted. “Yes, your job, but what about your life? What about a family? Come to think of it, how old was your mother when you were born? How old are you now?” She paused, thoughtfully. “More Eridani genetic tricks?”

“Yes,” Wind Blossom agreed, “more Eridani genetics. It is necessary.”

“And secret, no doubt, or I would have heard more sooner,” Emily commented. “Where I am going, no one will ask me anything. Would you be willing to satisfy my curiosity?”

Wind Blossom shook her head. “No, I do not want to do that.”

Emily’s eyes widened in surprise. “Well, I can’t force you,” she said.

Wind Blossom nodded. “It would be painful for me.”

“A pain-induced block?” Emily barely contained her revolt at the concept.

Wind Blossom shook her head. “No, nothing like that. To talk about it-I am shamed.”

Emily’s eyes narrowed. “Not about your uglies? Not about the last batch of dragons?”

Wind Blossom waved those examples away with a gesture of derision. She looked Emily squarely in the eye. “Do you know how badly we have failed?”

“Failed?” Emily shook her head. “All your work has been brilliant.”

Wind Blossom was silent for a long while. When she spoke again, her voice was quiet, near a whisper. “In the Eridani Way we are taught that harmony is everything. A good change is invisible, like the wind. It belongs-it seems like an obvious part of the ecosystem.

“You remember the ancient tailor’s saying: Measure twice, cut once?” she continued.

Emily nodded.

“The Eridani would say measure a million times, then a million times more and see if you can’t possibly find a way to avoid the cut. ‘A world is not easily mended,’ they say.

“It is drilled into us.” Her hands fluttered upward, as though to talk on their own, only to be forced back into her lap with a sour look when she noticed them. “It was drilled into my mother. Into my sister-”

“You had a sister?” Emily interrupted. “What became of her?”

“She is back on Tau Ceti, Governor Boll,” Wind Blossom replied flatly.

“I was governor of Tau Ceti,” Emily said. “Here, I am just Emily, Holder of Boll.

“So, you left a sister on Tau Ceti,” she mused. She narrowed her eyes cannily. “To watch the Multichords?”

Wind Blossom shook her head. “To watch the world.”

“So every time an Eridani Adept adds a new species to an ecosystem, a child must stay behind to watch?” Emily’s voice betrayed displeasure.

“No,” Wind Blossom corrected. “Every time an ecosystem is altered there must be those that watch it and bring it back into harmony.”

“More than one?” Emily asked.

“Of course.”

“But here, on Pern-Tubberman?” Emily was surprised. Then she grew thoughtful. “I’d always wondered why it was so easy for him to gain access to such valuable equipment. I realized that the Charter permitted it, but it had seemed odd at the time that no one had been guarding the equipment more zealously.”

Wind Blossom agreed, secretly relieved that the conversation had turned in this direction. She discovered, in talking with Governor Boll, that she was not ready to reveal all her secrets.

Pierre came back with a tray a few minutes later and the conversation lapsed, failing completely when Emily choked on a bit of food and slipped into a coughing fit as her tortured lungs protested the extra effort.

Pierre looked at Wind Blossom. “Is there anything you can do?” he implored.

“I have some medicine that can help the pain but-”

“She told me about the casualties, Pierre,” Emily interrupted her.

Pierre bit his lip and gave Wind Blossom a bitter look.

“I asked-it is my duty, you know.”

Pierre looked into Emily’s eyes, then nodded sadly. “At this time, I would have preferred to keep the pain from you, love.”

“I know,” Emily said. “And so did Wind Blossom. But I had to know. It helped me to make a decision. Two, in fact.”

Both Pierre and Wind Blossom looked at her.

“I have already asked Wind Blossom to perform an autopsy on my body,” Emily said.

“I do not want to do this,” Wind Blossom told Pierre. His eyes wide, he looked long at her face, saw that her own eyes were rimmed with tears, and nodded.

“Anything that can help the rest of you,” Emily said. “It is my job, my last duty.”

“I see, ma petite,” Pierre responded. “It shall be as you ask. And the other decision?”

“You can help, here,” Emily said. She looked at Wind Blossom. “Is it true that we don’t have a complete knowledge of the Pern herbal remedies?”

“We have none!” Pierre exclaimed, only glancing at Wind Blossom for confirmation. “You are not suggesting-”

“It is a bad idea,” Wind Blossom interjected. Emily and Pierre both gave her startled looks. “I appreciate the thought, but how would we know if a herbal was exacerbating the illness or helping it? Also, in your state, it would take too long to determine if the herbal was having any positive effects. It would be bad science, Governor.”

“Even to try palliatives?” Emily asked in a small voice. “You see, I just don’t think it’s fair to give me the painkillers when you could give them to others who might survive.”

“You’ve earned the right to them!” Pierre protested.

“That’s not the point, love,” Emily said, dropping her voice and reducing the tension in the argument. “Again, if I can’t be saved, why should we waste valuable painkillers on me and not on others?”

“What you say is true,” Wind Blossom agreed, earning a withering look from Pierre. “But, as I am the doctor on scene, triage is my responsibility.”

“But you have admitted that I am not going to survive,” Emily protested.

“How do you think we will feel if we have to watch you die in great pain?” Wind Blossom asked softly. “It is not only your decision.”

Emily threw open her hand in a gesture of defeat. “But,” she tried one last time, in a small voice, “there are children-”

Wind Blossom leaned over the bed and grabbed Emily’s open hand in hers. “I know,” she said, the iron control over her voice threatening to break. “I have held their hands as they…”

Pierre leaned across and laid an arm on her shoulder. “I am sorry, Wind Blossom, I did not think-”

Wind Blossom straightened up, her face once again masklike. “I cannot save them if I surrender to grief.”

“My point exactly,” Emily persisted, a look of triumph flashing in her eyes.

Wind Blossom nodded. “There are some infusions we make now, like the juice of the fellis plant-”

“I have some here,” Pierre said.

“If you would agree, we could substitute those known herbals for our standard medicines.”

“I like that,” Emily said. “We could test dosage levels while we’re at it, couldn’t we?”

And so they arrived at the treatment. Wind Blossom wrote the original prescription and Pierre filled it. Once Emily had taken her first dose, Wind Blossom begged other duties and left them.

She returned three more times during the night. The first time she returned, they agreed to up the dosage and added something to ease the cough. The second time, Emily seemed asleep.

“She is in a coma,” Wind Blossom told Pierre after she took Emily’s vitals.

“I was afraid of that,” Pierre said. “She has been so hot.”

“We don’t know if the fever kills or is just an immune response,” Wind Blossom said. “Pol Nietro and Bay Harkenon’s notes show that they tried cold water immersion with no success.”

“Her temperature’s not that high,” Pierre said.

Wind Blossom nodded. “Her pulse is low and dropping. It’s almost as if her heart were-” she broke off abruptly, and collapsed to the floor.

“Are you all right?” Pierre rushed to her side, lifting her up and putting her into a chair. Her skin was pale; Pierre put her head between her knees. “When did you last eat?”

Wind Blossom tried to sit up, to push him out of her way. “No time, I must do my rounds-”

He pushed her firmly back into the chair. “You will sit with your head between your knees. You will drink and you will eat. Then maybe I will let you up.”

“Pierre! I have to go, people are dying,” she protested, but her movements were feeble.

“They will not get better if you keel over, too,” Pierre said. “Emily spoke to me after you left. How many are sick? How many doctors are there?”

Wind Blossom shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“What, do you not confer with each other?”

“Of course,” Wind Blossom said, trying again to sit up. This time Pierre let her. “But I must have been late for the last meeting and I guess no one could wait around-”

“When was the last meeting?”

“Yesterday evening,” Wind Blossom said. “I think.”

“Drink this,” Pierre said, handing her a glass of klah. “How many were at the last meeting, the one before?”

“Maybe ten,” Wind Blossom replied. “But I think some were too busy tending the sick to come.”

“Emily said that they’ve buried fifteen hundred already. How many sick are there?”

Wind Blossom shook her head. “I can only guess. Maybe twice that number.”

“Eat this,” he said, handing her a breadroll. “Are you saying that we have one doctor for every three hundred sick people?”

She nodded. “Now you see why I must get going.”

“You must rest!” Pierre said, raising his hands in a restraining motion. “Eat, drink, and we’ll see. What does Paul-oh! He is sick, too. So who is in charge now?”

“I think maybe I am,” Wind Blossom said in a small voice. “Pol Nietro died two days ago, I think, and Bay Harkenon I last saw sick in bed herself. The dragonriders are all safe.”

“That’s a mercy,” Pierre said with feeling. “Finish that roll, please.”

Realizing that she was going nowhere until she satisfied the towering Pierre-of course, anyone towered over her-Wind Blossom tried to cram down the proffered roll.

“Non, s’il vous plait!” Pierre said. “I spent more time making that food than you are spending eating it!”

In the end, she had two rolls and another drink-not water, some sort of fruit juice-before Pierre let her go.

The last time she returned, Pierre met her at the door.

“She is dead,” he told her woodenly. “Her heart stopped beating a few minutes ago. She told me not to try resuscitating her.” He rubbed his eyes, wiping away tears. “I was just coming to look for you. Where should I put her body?”

Numbed, Wind Blossom slipped past him into the room. She took one look at Emily and sat down in the chair beside her, head bowed.

After a moment, she spoke. “When I first saw her, she was the most beautiful person I had ever seen. She would light up the room, lift the spirits of everyone who met her. She did not allow even the threat of total annihilation to upset her.

“When the Nathi were bombing Tau Ceti day and night, it was Governor Boll who pulled everyone together. She worked tirelessly, always there, always ready-”

“I had heard,” Pierre interrupted, “but never like this.”

“I was young, still a girl,” Wind Blossom continued. “My mother was often away, unavailable. When I did see her, it was for my lessons-and her scoldings.” She sighed. “Governor Boll always found the time to say something encouraging to me. Even when cities were being obliterated, she would still find the time to talk to a young girl.”

“I did not know,” Pierre said.

“I did not tell anyone,” Wind Blossom confessed. “My mother would have been furious, and I was too embarrassed to tell Governor Boll myself.”

Pierre nodded. “But now she is not here. And we are left to do her work.”

“Yes,” Wind Blossom agreed, rising from her seat. “Can you carry the body?”

“I think so,” he said. “Where should I take it?”

“There’s a makeshift morgue over at the College,” she told him.

Pierre looked thoughtfully down at Emily’s body. “I can manage. And then what?”

Wind Blossom shook her head. “The lab technicians, both first and second team, have been overcome. I suppose I should see what I can do there first. But I still have to make my rounds, there are patients-”

Pierre held up a hand. “No one can be in two places at once; not even Emily could do that. Which is more important?”

“Both.”

“Who can help?”

“If there are some nurses or interns, they can tend the sick, but I don’t think anyone else knows how to operate the lab equipment.”

“Then you have your answer,” Pierre said.

“I don’t know if there are enough interns,” she said.

“There will have to be,” Pierre said after a moment’s thought. “If you are the only one left to handle the lab equipment, then the others will have to make do.”

And so it was decided. With Wind Blossom in the lab, Pierre found himself first blocking anyone from disturbing her and then later increasingly taking charge of the whole medical organization, starting with providing food and rest for the medical staff and their supporters, and then moving on to organizing the quarantine of the sickest and the burial of those beyond aid.

At the end of the second day, Wind Blossom had isolated the disease: As she had feared, it was a crossover of Pernese bacteria into Terran bacteria. The poor lab teams, following their medical training to look for the most likely causes, had been looking for either a flavivirus like Ebola, or a combination of viral and secondary bacterial infections. Instead, they had themselves become victims of the object of their search.

They had had the right symptoms but the wrong culprit. The colonists of Pern had no natural protection against the hybrid bacteria. Wind Blossom, following her training as an ecologist, isolated the mutation, sequenced its genetic core, and developed a vaccine and a course of treatment.

The pitifully few remaining medical personnel were innoculated first, then their assistants, and finally the population at large, and the epidemic was broken.

But not without cost. Among those lost were most of the children under four years of age, almost all expectant or new mothers, nine out of every ten medics at Fort Hold-and Emily Boll.

In private conversations first with Pierre and then with the recovered Paul Benden, it had been decided that it was better to ascribe the epidemic to a “mysterious” illness rather than a crossover infection-at least until Wind Blossom could train enough medical personnel to combat any future crossovers. Because the vaccine had been introduced along with a course of treatment, it was easy to convince most people that the treatments were only palliative and that only those with natural immunities had survived, leaving the survivors unconcerned about future recurrences.

Before she passed away, Emily had written a note to be given to Sorka. Sorka had never shown the note to Wind Blossom, but shortly after she received it, Sorka had asked Wind Blossom to visit her.

Their first meeting had been awkward.

Over time, their professional relationship deepened into respect and, finally, into friendship.

When Wind Blossom’s first and only child was born, she named her Emorra-combining Emily and Sorka-and had asked Sorka and Pierre to be godparents. Both had enthusiastically agreed.

“How’s your daughter?” Sorka asked, guessing at Wind Blossom’s thoughts.

Wind Blossom sighed. “She has not learned wisdom.”

Sorka squeezed Wind Blossom’s hand weakly. “I’m sure she’ll get it.”

“But not from me,” Wind Blossom said.

“M’hall, leave us,” Sorka said. M’hall gave her a rebellious look but she forestalled his arguments, saying quietly, “I’ll call you back in good time, luv.”

Clearly still uncomfortable, M’hall withdrew. Sorka’s gaze rested on the doorway for a moment, to assure herself that he wasn’t coming back. She turned her attention to Wind Blossom. “So, tell me.”

Years of familiarity enabled Wind Blossom to take the open-ended question at its value. “We are doing all right,” she said.

Sorka gave her a sour look. “Wind Blossom, I’m dying, not stupid. I heard about your short-term memory.”

Wind Blossom managed to keep her surprise from her face, but Sorka detected it in her body language. The first Weyrwoman allowed herself a satisfied chuckle. “What are the implications?”

Wind Blossom sighed. “I’m concerned because we have not had enough time to transfer our practical knowledge-things that have to be learned by doing rather than merely studying-from our eldest to our newer generation.”

“So we’ll lose some knowledge,” Sorka observed. “It’s happened on colony worlds before and they survived.”

Wind Blossom inclined her head in a nod. “True. But always at a cost: The knowledge had to be relearned, usually through trial and error at a later date. And sometimes the lack of that knowledge hit the affected colony world with a major setback.”

“This could happen here?”

“Yes. We are particularly vulnerable because of the population loss we suffered in the Fever Year and subsequent epidemics.”

Sorka grimaced. “I knew that and we’ve discussed this before.”

Wind Blossom allowed herself a rare smile. “But now we are discussing it for the last time, my lady.”

Sorka snorted in derision at Wind Blossom’s use of the title. “Not you, too!”

“I figured that if I am being so honored, you would deserve no less!”

Sorka allowed her free hand to primp at her hair and smiled. “Well, it’s not as though us distinguished ladies are not entitled.”

“Quite,” Wind Blossom agreed with a grin of her own. “But it disturbs me because it shows that people are beginning to adopt a caste system.”

“And how does that affect the Charter?” Sorka mused.

“Sociologically, I can see why this ‘elevation,’ this endowing of the old lord and lady titles, make sense in our young population,” Wind Blossom said.

Sorka waved her free hand dismissively. “We’ve had this conversation before.”

“I hadn’t forgotten,” Wind Blossom said. “But it bears repeating. The youngsters needed to relinquish a lot of control to the older colonists simply because we older people had learned the skills needed to surive. And survival on Pern is still touch and go-as those young people who do not heed their elders discover with the forfeit of their lives.”

Sorka pulled her hand free of Wind Blossom’s and used both hands to make an emphatic “hurry up” gesture.

“I can’t hurry up, Sorka, I’m thinking out loud,” Wind Blossom said. She paused, striving to recover her train of thought.

“So Pern’s going to have a bunch of lords and ladies in the form of Weyrleaders, Weyrwomen, and the men and women who run the holds,” Sorka supplied when Wind Blossom’s silence stretched.

The sound of boots striding loudly up to the entrance of Sorka’s quarters distracted them. Sorka’s bronze fire-lizard, Duke, looked up from his resting place at the foot of her bed, looked back to Sorka for a moment, and lowered his head again, unperturbed.

“M’hall!” Torene shouted. “Why didn’t you tell me? What’s going on? Don’t you think I wanted to pay my respects?”

M’hall’s voice was a murmur as he strove to placate his outraged mate.

“Have you looked at the casualty reports recently?” Wind Blossom asked Sorka once they both determined that they were not going to be immediately interrupted.

“I have,” Sorka’s voice was pained.

“I am sorry. My mother had predicted those numbers when she first calculated the mating cycle,” Wind Blossom said. “But with such a short life span fighting Thread, and with the difficulties of the holders in providing sufficient food for the colonists, maintaining a sufficient margin to support such luxuries as education and research is quite problematic.”

Sorka nodded and gestured for the older woman to continue.

“So our society will ossify and stratify at least until the end of this Pass.”

“And then?”

Wind Blossom shook her head. “Then population pressures will force an expansion of the Holder population and the creation of new Holds across this continent. The lack of Thread should allow the dragonriders several generations in which to increase their numbers and recover from this first Pass; the dragonriders in the next Pass should be much more able to handle the onslaught. There will be pressure in both the Weyrs and the holds to consolidate what they have and to build conservatively. Any skills not directly needed in expansion or retention will atrophy.”

“That’s already happening.”

“By the next Pass the skills needed to maintain our older, noncritical equipment will have been lost.”

“Maybe before then,” Sorka agreed.

Wind Blossom nodded. “Our descendants should survive anyway.”

“Unless the wrong skills are lost,” Sorka noted.

“That is my worry, yes,” Wind Blossom agreed.

“You are an Eridani Adept, so you would worry about the ecology,” Sorka noted. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “You’re worried about the dragons, aren’t you?”

“At some point there will be crossover infections from the fire-lizards to the dragons,” Wind Blossom said.

“There are the grubs and the watch-whers-what about them?”

“Tubberman’s grubs were well-designed,” Wind Blossom said. “They are a distinct species derived from other native species. This gives them both the native protection and the native susceptibilities. Given that there are other similar species, there will be a high degree of crossover, as Purman demonstrated with his vine grubs. That actually provides a certain degree of protection because there are multiple species for a particular disease to assault. Any successful defense by one of the species will rapidly be spread to the other species. Also, because we plan to plant the grubs throughout the Northern Continent-and they have already been distributed throughout the Southern Continent-there is a strong likelihood that any severe parasitic assault on the grubs will devolve into a symbiosis before all of the species has been eradicated.”

“Just like the Europeans and the Black Death,” Sorka observed.

“Yes, rather like that,” Wind Blossom agreed.

“If we’re spread across the Northern Continent that won’t be a major problem, will it?”

“I hope not,” Wind Blossom agreed. “The effect of another epidemic should dissipate with the added distance between settlements.”

“So the weak point in all this is the dragons, right?” Sorka said.

Wind Blossom shook her head. “It is difficult to point to just one. The dragons or the watch-whers appear to be the most susceptible. We have thousands or millions of grubs but only hundreds of dragons and fewer watch-whers.”

“Are the two genetically so similar that one disease might destroy them both?”

Wind Blossom pursed her lips. “I strived to avoid that. In fact, I engineered so many changes… which might be one of the reasons that we had so many infertile watch-wher eggs.”

Sorka’s eyes gleamed. “One reason.”

Wind Blossom returned her stare with a blank look.

“I am curious about the other reasons,” Sorka said. “I am now convinced that some of those failures were planned to make you look less skilled than you are.”

Wind Blossom said nothing.

“Your mother was trained by the Eridani,” Sorka said. “You were trained by her, weren’t you?”

Wind Blossom shook her head. “There are some questions I should not answer even for you, Sorka.”

A wheezing cough shook Sorka’s body and M’hall glanced inside, Torene hovering worriedly behind him.

Sorka waved them back out as the cough passed.

“If you cannot answer my questions, I won’t hinder you with them,” she said after taking a sip of water from the glass Wind Blossom proffered her.

Wind Blossom winced. “I do not want to burden you.”

Sorka smiled. “And I was trying to lighten your load. A burden shared, as it were.”

Wind Blossom spent a moment in thought. “I do not know everything. I was not told myself.”

“But you made guesses,” Sorka observed. “I have made guesses, too. Let me share some with you.

“I think it odd that such heroic figures as Admiral Benden and Governor Boll should willingly take themselves into oblivion just after the Nathi War when their skills were still very clearly needed.”

Wind Blossom nodded. “Yes, I had wondered about that.”

“And the Eridani?”

“When the Eridani agree to husband a new ecosystem they assign three bloodlines,” Wind Blossom said. “It is a major undertaking. There has only been one time that I know of where the Eridani have been willing to make such an assignment without having thorough knowledge of the ecosystem in question.”

“Here?” Sorka asked.

Wind Blossom nodded.

“Three bloodlines?”

“To avoid mistakes and provide redundancy,” Wind Blossom said. Sorka’s face paled and Wind Blossom reached for her hand, placing her finger over her wrist to take the Weyrwoman’s pulse. “Your pulse is failing, Sorka. Let me call the others.”

“Wait!” Sorka’s voice was nearly a whisper. “What can I do to help you?”

Wind Blossom was silent for a moment. “Go quietly and peacefully, dear friend.”

Sorka smiled. “What can I do to help Pern? Do you want to perform an autopsy?”

Wind Blossom’s eyes widened in horror. “No.”

“But I heard that you need cadavers.”

Wind Blossom shook her head. “Not yours.”

She turned to the doorway and gestured to M’hall and the others to enter.

Sorka glared at her but was so quickly surrounded by her offspring and relatives that she could do no more.

“Her pulse is dropping,” Wind Blossom explained to Torene. “I do not know how much longer she has.”

“Nice of you to let us in,” Torene returned tartly.

“My request, Torene,” Sorka said. “I had to talk with my friend.”

Torene looked chagrined but did not apologize.

Tall men surrounded the Weyrwoman and she greeted each with a smile. “M’hall. L’can. Seamus. P’drig.”

The men gave way to the women, Sorka’s daughters. “Orla. Wee Sorka.”

The last was an elegant woman in her early thirties. Sean had insisted on naming their last-born Sorka because, as he’d said, “She looks just like you, love.”

“Wee” Sorka leaned over from the far side of the bed to give her namesake a strong hug. Sorka hugged her back.

“I’ll miss you most of all, I think, my wee one,” she told her youngest.

“I’ll miss you too, Ma,” the younger Sorka replied, tears streaming unchecked down her face.

Sorka turned from her to grasp M’hall’s hand. “My strong one.” M’hall gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

Sorka looked at Torene. “Take good care of him for me.”

Torene ducked her head, her cheeks wet with tears. “I will, Ma, you may depend upon it.”

Sorka let go of M’hall’s hand and sought out L’can’s. “My silent one,” she said. L’can squeezed her hand, rubbing the tears from his face with the other.

“We could bring you down to the Cavern, to Faranth, Ma,” P’drig said.

Sorka smiled, letting go of L’can’s hand and grabbing his. “No. She knows my heart in this. I will leave my body behind here, in your company and Wind Blossom’s keeping.”

There was a concerted gasp and heads swiveled toward Wind Blossom.

“Your father and I have given everything we can for you and Pern,” Sorka told them. “This poor body is but the least I can leave.”

“You don’t need to do this,” Wind Blossom said.

Sorka waved her objections aside. “I have heard about the pressing needs for cadavers-”

“And I have told you that I do not want yours, Sorka,” Wind Blossom interrupted, her face wrought with emotion.

“We must do what is best for Pern,” Sorka said. “It is my last request, Wind Blossom, that you perform an autopsy to investigate the early dementia you’ve recently noticed. Use my body for whatever medical purposes you see fit. I’d heard that you had wanted to practice for Tieran’s surgery-”

“Mother!” The word was torn from M’hall’s throat.

Wind Blossom shook her head. “I do not want to do this.”

“The boy deserves a new face,” Sorka said. “I have thought about this for a fortnight now. In my bedside table you will find my will, with specific references on these matters.”

Sorka looked around the room, catching the eyes of everyone in turn. “My loved ones, I will not deny you every protection I can think of. Soon I will no longer need my body. Let the people of Pern find a last use for it. Please, follow my will on this.” She turned her gaze to her eldest. “M’hall, in this I appoint you my executor.”

“Mother… Ma…” M’hall broke down.

Torene wrapped comforting arms around Sorka. She gave Wind Blossom a sour look, then looked at Sorka. “My lady, it shall be as you wish. I pledge my word as your daughter-in-law, and as Benden’s Weyrwoman. It shall be.”

“Thank you,” Sorka said softly. She gave a deep sigh and turned back to the others. “Now, let me look at you all. Tell me how you are.”

The conversation wandered on from son to daughter and back again. Sorka managed to get them to laugh once, and someone brought up refreshments. Gradually the talk wore down and Sorka ordered them to leave her, all but M’hall and Wind Blossom.

“I want you to stay with me, Wind Blossom,” Sorka said, feebly patting her bed. “You and M’hall, here.”

It was late. The two sat silently beside Sorka’s bed while the first queen rider of Pern sank slowly into sleep. M’hall went around the room covering all the glows save one. Every now and then Wind Blossom would check Sorka’s pulse by pressing gently on her wrist.

As dawn neared and its gray light began to fill the room, Sorka gave a faint gasp. Wind Blossom looked up just as Faranth’s despairing wail broke the silence, amplified by Duke’s higher but equally piteous wail, and was immediately silenced itself as the first Impressed fire-lizard of Pern and the first queen dragon of Pern went between. Their stilled voices were replaced by the keening of all the dragons at Fort Weyr.

M’hall rushed to Sorka’s side, but Wind Blossom already knew from the lack of a pulse that the first Weyrwoman had joined her husband. Wind Blossom stirred herself, ignoring the complaints of her joints, and knelt beside M’hall.

“Let me tend to her for a moment, and then you may come back,” she offered.

M’hall looked at her through tear-soaked eyes and nodded slowly.

She guided the bereft rider out of the room and into the arms of his wife and weyrmate.

“Just give me a few minutes,” she said to Torene.

Fort’s Headwoman had delivered clean bedsheets and toiletries earlier in the evening. Wind Blossom, ignoring the tears rolling down her face, made one final inspection of Sorka’s body, and then gently made the body presentable, as she had done for Emily Boll and her own mother before her.

Satisfied that she had done all she could to make things easier on Sorka’s children, Wind Blossom left the room and let them enter.

M’hall was the first to his mother’s side. L’can, P’drig, and Seamus stood at the end of her bed, while her daughters, Orla and Sorka, closed in on the side.

D’mal and Nara, Fort’s Weyrleader and Weyrwoman, arrived to pay their respects, but Wind Blossom asked them to wait for Sorka’s family to complete theirs.

“Please ask Torene to let us know when there is a good time,” Nara said. Wind Blossom nodded. A while later one of the weyrfolk came with a chair and a basket of fruit for Wind Blossom, courtesy of the Weyrwoman. Gratefully, Wind Blossom sat down before the door and ate daintily from the selection.

Sorka’s children drifted out in ones and twos over the next half hour.

When Torene came out, Wind Blossom relayed Nara’s request. Torene glanced back into the room at M’hall.

“I’ll give him a few more minutes,” she said. “I’m going down to the caverns for some lunch-” She glanced at the early morning light and remembered that Benden was six time zones ahead of Fort. “-er, breakfast.”

Wind Blossom waited outside until she heard M’hall’s voice from in the room. Thinking, in her wearied state, that he might be asking for her, she stepped through into the room-and stopped.

M’hall stood beside his mother’s bed, holding her dead hand in his. Tears streamed down his face and onto the bed.

“What will I do now, Ma?” M’hall repeated.

Wind Blossom could see the small boy inside the grown man struggle with the awful loss of his mother and last parent.

She knew that M’hall was groping with the awful realization that he no longer had some higher authority to turn to, no one to confide in, no one to seek praise from, or to ask, “Do you love me?” without fearing the answer.

M’hall turned at the sound of her footsteps and Wind Blossom cast her eyes to the ground, not wanting to meet his.

“What-” M’hall swallowed, and continued more strongly, “What did you do?” He did not need to say “when your mother died.”

Wind Blossom reflected on the question. Then she looked up and answered him honestly: “My mother never loved me. When she died it was my obligation to assume her dishonor, and she savored passing it on to me.”

Wind Blossom gestured to Sorka. “She showed me some of her love. I felt like the desert in a cloudburst,” she continued softly. Her voice hardened. “For my mother, I could never be good enough.”

M’hall nodded and wiped his eyes. “She was a great lady.”

“Yes.”

“She gave everything for this planet,” M’hall said. He looked down at the still, lifeless body. “I think I understand her last request now.”

“I don’t,” Wind Blossom said. “I would prefer to leave her undisturbed and keep the memory of her body as it was alive, not as it is dead.”

M’hall shot her a penetrating look. “I had not thought of it that way. Wind Blossom, will you honor my mother Sorka’s last request?”

“M’hall, I do not want to.”

“My father always taught me that I had to honor a lady, particularly my mother.” He shook his head. “I cannot gainsay her.”

Outside the room they heard the sound of footsteps and Torene’s voice: “M’hall, are you all right?”

“In here,” M’hall answered. “Yes.”

Torene, D’mal, and Nara entered. Wind Blossom moved closer to M’hall to make room.

“We wanted to pay our respects,” D’mal told M’hall.

“I learned so much from her,” Nara added. “She was like a mother to me.”

Beside her, Wind Blossom felt M’hall flinch as her words reinforced his sense of loss. He said nothing.

With an inquiring glance at M’hall, Nara approached the side of the bed, bent over, and gave Sorka’s cheek one last kiss. D’mal gently drew his Weyrwoman out of the room, their grief and sympathy evident on their faces.

M’hall leaned forward and gently stroked Sorka’s cheek one last time. Then he straightened, his features showing his grief being subdued by his self-mastery. He looked at Wind Blossom, his face a leader’s mask.

“I must honor my mother’s last request. Is there anything more you need to do before we can depart?”

“Yes.”

“Then we will wait outside until you are done,” M’hall answered, gesturing for Torene to precede him.

Gingerly, Wind Blossom completed shrouding Sorka’s body. When M’hall returned, he started at the sight of the body all covered in white cloth. Recovering his composure, he gently lifted it cradled between his arms.

“Brianth awaits us outside,” he said to Wind Blossom, gesturing that she precede him.

Outside Sorka’s quarters, a group of Fort riders gathered to pay their respects. Once M’hall had wearily hauled himself up on Brianth’s neck, two of the riders lifted Sorka’s shrouded body up to him. He placed it before him on his dragon’s neck. Then the riders helped Wind Blossom up behind M’hall.

“Are you ready?” M’hall called over his shoulder as Brianth beat effortlessly into the air. “I assume time is of the essence.”

“It is,” Wind Blossom agreed. The cold of between answered her.