Moreta - Dragonlady of Pern

CHAPTER XI

«Shards!» Jallora cried. «He's fainted!»

Kadith, in the outer chamber of the weyr, bellowed, and Moreta jumped up from the chair to reassure the startled dragon as the journeywoman healer examined her reluctant donor.

«What has happened?» Orlith asked in concern from her weyr.

«Sh'gall had a bad reaction,» Moreta replied, knowing perfectly well that Leri would be instantly informed by Holth and know what had really happened. «Calm Kadith down!»

«It's generally the big strong ones who faint,» Jallora was saying as Moreta resumed her place. «He's in no danger. Badly as we need the blood for serum, I wouldn't risk him.»

«I didn't think for a moment that you would, Jallora,» Moreta replied with a slight laugh.

The journeywoman had interrupted an interview between Moreta and Sh'gall in which he had been determined to find fault with every provision made in the Weyr since the onset of his illness. He utterly discounted the fact that Moreta had not made any of the decisions or that she herself had only just recovered.

«His sort don't generally make good patients, either,» Jallora went on conversationally, though her attention was on the blood dripping into a glass container.

«Will his go to Ruatha?»

«Most of it, once the rest of your riders are vaccinated.» When Moreta gestured warningly at Sh'gall, she added diplomatically, «I perfectly understand, I assure you. He's still out of it. There! That's all I'll take but he could donate more and never miss it.» Deftly she pressed a small pad over the needlethorn, extracted it, and motioned for Moreta to continue the pressure as she dealt with the apparatus. «He'll regain consciousness in just a few minutes.» Jallora began packing her tray, carefully covering the container. «F'duril told me that you did the reconstruction on Dilenth's wing. Fine work.»

«The wing is healing well, isn't it?» Recognition of her achievement by another healer was gratifying to Moreta.

«Fortunately, so is F'duril and that nice young A'dan. I've never visited a Weyr before. And-you know something else? It never occurred to me that dragons suffered so from Thread. They're so impressive.»

«Unfortunately not invulnerable.»

«We can thank our lucky stars they didn't catch this viral influence!»

Just then Sh'gall moaned. Jallora hurried to gather up the rest of her paraphernalia.

«There now! Back again, Weyrleader?» She took the glass of orange liquid from the table and, deftly propping Sh'gall's pillows behind him with her free hand, put the glass to his lips. «Drink this and you'll be just fine.»

«I don't really think it was wise of you to take,» Sh'gall sounded petulant and took the glass from her with a bad grace.

«The riders of Fort need it, Weyrleader. They must all be vaccinated, you know, to insure that no more have to endure what you've just been through.»

The journeywoman took exactly the right tone with Sh'gall. Moreta could wish herself so fortunate as Sh'gall permitted Jallora to make a discreet departure.

«I don't think she should have!» Sh'gall repeated when he was certain Jallora was out of earshot.

«She got mine.» Moreta pushed up her sleeve to exhibit the tiny bruise at the bend of her elbow. Sh'gall looked away. «We've a hundred and eighty-two riders out of action, sick or disabled.»

«Why didn't Capiam attend us instead of that-woman?»

«Jallora is an experienced journeywoman healer. She was sitting her mastery exams when this plague occurred. Capiam is only just out of bed himself and he has the whole continent to worry about.»

«I cannot believe that Leri did not know of my preference for P'nine as Leader.» Sh'gall picked up his complaints as if Jallora had not interrupted the acrimonious interview.

«Leri made appropriate decisions based on her experience as a Weyrwoman. Kindly remember that she was one before you or I had Impressed.»

«Then why does Kadith tell me that T'ral is taking two wings to Tillek today?» Sh'gall demanded angrily. «T'ral's a wingsecond.»

«With the exception of the High Reaches, the Weyrs are still being led by wingseconds at this point. The sooner you can take over, the best pleased all the Weyrs will be.»

That comment startled Sh'gall, but he didn't look pleased. «I've been ill. I've been very ill.»

«I sympathize.» Moreta tried not to sound facetious. «Believe me, you'll be feeling much better by evening.»

«I don't know about that …» Sh'gall's voice faded.

«I do! I've been through it, too, don't forget.»

Sh'gall gave her a look of pure loathing, but Moreta could not relent. Some of the burden of continuous Falls had to be removed from S'ligar's shoulders. Sh'gall was a damn good Leader and his abilities were desperately needed.

«Nerat's after Tillek,» she went on. «You'll be in luck. They can supply ground crews.»

«I didn't believe Kadith when he said that there hadn't been any ground crews. Don't holders realize.»

«The holders realize what this viral epidemic is like a lot more acutely than we do, Sh'gall. Talk to K'lon for a few minutes. He'll tell you a few hard unpleasant truths.» She stood up. «I've a lot to do. Jallora said you must rest today. Tomorrow you can rise. Kadith may, of course, call me if you need anything today.»

«I need nothing from you.» Sh'gall turned away from her and jerked the sleeping furs around his ears.

Moreta was quite willing to leave him to surly convalescence. She sincerely hoped that he would want to lead his Weyr in three days more than he wanted to indulge his fancied grievances. Leading the consolidated Weyrs was a mighty temptation for a man with Sh'gall's love of power. She tried to consider him more charitably. He was shocked by the devastation caused by the pandemic and seeking refuge from the staggering losses by dwelling on the petty details he could cope with and understand. Like who rose to Fall from where, and how.

She walked down the steps to Leri's weyr at a fairly rapid pace, an exercise that did not leave her as breathless as it had the day before. She would harness Holth since she could not dissuade Leri from fighting in the queens' wing though the old woman was very tired. Then Moreta would distill and mix medicines from the Weyr's dangerously depleted stores. She knew K'lon had been raiding them but hadn't the heart to object.

«He fainted, did he?» Leri crowed in malicious jubilation. «And he wasn't satisfied with my decisions during his illness, was he?»

«Was Holth eavesdropping again?»

«She doesn't need to. I don't know another reason why you'd have anger spots on your cheeks. Ha!»

«I've as much trouble making you listen to reason.» Moreta spoke more tartly than she meant and she could feel her cheeks flush again. «You know you're overreaching your strength.»

Leri flapped her hand. «I will not forgo the pleasure of flying the queens' wing. Not while I'm able. And I'm a lot abler today than I have been for Turns!» She sipped from her wineglass.

«Oh?» Moreta eyed the goblet significantly.

«I won't have any more fellis juice until you've brewed it, my dear Moreta,» Leri reminded her with a saccharine smile.

«K'lon said he knew where he could get some dried fruit.»

«Hmmm.» Both women knew that many of K'lon's supplies probably came from a hold that didn't need such medicines any more. «Ah well.» Leri lifted her glass in silent homage.

Moreta turned to the harness rack, tears stinging her eyes again. She must stop thinking other family's empty hold. The memories of that place, shimmering in summer sunshine, children playing in the big meadow in front of the Hold, old aunties and uncles basking along the stone walls, seesawed with the present empty lifeless dwelling. Snakes and wild wherries must have …

«Moreta?» Leri's voice was soft and kind. «Moreta, Holth says K'lon has arrived,» she added in a brisker tone exactly as Orlith told her rider the same news.

«I sometimes think I have more than two ears and one head.»

«I don't have ears,» Orlith remarked.

Then K'lon was striding into the weyr, exuding an enormous amount of energy and good spirits. Moreta was suddenly struck by the warm brown tan of his face. Then, as he pulled off his flying helmet, she noticed that his hair was bleached.

«Nerat has fellis juice to spare, Moreta,» he announced cheerfully, swinging the bulging pack from his back. «And Lemos says they've aconite and willow salic.»

«And how was A'murry when you stopped at Igen?» She gave him a warm smile to show that she didn't object to a short detour.

«He's much, much improved.» K'lon radiated relief. «Of course he's still weak, but he sits in the sun all day, which is good for his chest, and he's beginning to get an appetite.»

«Done a lot of sunning with A'murry, haven't you, K'lon?» Leri asked.

Moreta shot her a quick look for her voice was suspiciously coy.

«When I've had the time.» K'lon stammered slightly, fussing nervously with the pack.

«You mean,» Moreta had at last reached Leri's conclusion, «you've taken time to be with A'murry!»

«When I think of how hard I've worked,» Rogeth bugled outside the weyr.

«No one is faulting you, K'lon,» Leri said quickly. Holth crooned reassurance, her eyes whirling bluely. «But, my dear boy, you've been taking a dreadful risking timing it. You could meet yourself coming and going.»

«But I haven't. I've been very careful!» K'lon's tone was defiant and fearful.

«Just how many hours have you been putting into your days?» Leri spoke with great understanding and compassion, even a hint of amusement.

«I don't know. I never counted hours!» K'lon jerked his chin up, rebellious. «I had to, you know. To get everything done and still make time to be with A'murry. I had promised him that I'd be in every afternoon no matter how busy I was. I had to keep that promise. And I felt compelled to render Master Capiam the assistance he had to have.»

«Believe us, K'lon,» Moreta said when he turned to her in appeal, «we are profoundly grateful to you for your courage and dedication over the past week. But timing is a very tricky business.»

«And something our Weyrlingmaster certainly never mentioned,» K'lon replied with an edge to his voice.

«The information is restricted to bronze and queen dragons, K'lon. I presume you discovered it by chance.»

«Yes, rather.» K'lon's expression mirrored the surprise he must have had. «I was late. I knew A'murry would be worried. I thought of him, waiting for me, anxious, when I didn't appear on time, and the next thing I knew, I had!»

«Bit of a shock, isn't it?» Leri had a grin on her round wise face.

K'lon grinned back. «I wasn't all that certain how I'd managed it.»

«So you practiced again the next afternoon?»

K'lon nodded, relaxing imperceptibly since the Weyrwomen had apparently accepted his feat with good humor. «I report to Master Capiam in the morning and he tells me the schedule. I'm at Igen in the afternoons and everywhere else on Pern in the mornings and evenings. I'm very careful.» His smile was broad delight.

«You'll be more careful from now on,» Leri said, her voice austere and her manner forbidding. «A'murry has improved, so you've informed us. But you cannot keep on being in debt to yourself for double time. Therefore, instead of flying Fall this afternoon, you will spend it, and only this afternoon, with your friend. From now on, you will keep to the normal number of hours in a day. Holth will supervise. And we will see that Master Capiam schedules you to drop in at Igen frequently.»

«But-but …»

«Only one mistake, K'lon,» Leri pointed her forefinger, oddly twisted now by the joint disease, shaking it at him in dire emphasis, «and you're too tired timing it to realize the risks you've been taking. Only one mistake, and you will deprive A'murry of yourself forever. Not just for an afternoon.» Leri paused, judging the effect of her warning on K'lon, who lowered his eyes. Holth crooned on an admonitory note and Rogeth answered, startled, from outside. K'lon looked up at Leri, his eyes wide with astonishment. «Oh yes, we can, you know, when the matter is disciplinary. I think you'd prefer Holth to Sh'gall and Kadith in the matter of this infraction?»

K'lon cast a look of entreaty at Moreta, who shook her head in slow denial. K'lon looked bereft, quite different from the energetic assured man who had entered the weyr, but he had to be restricted.

«I'll be needed at Fall this afternoon,» he said finally in a low uncertain voice. «How can I explain to A'murry? We can barely make up two wings as it is, and Ista can only supply one wing and ten replacements.»

«You may tell A'murry that we have been considerably worried about the pace at which you've been working. That we felt it more advisable for you to rest this afternoon, because you've been working so hard that your judgment in Fall might be impaired, and we can't afford to lose you!»

«K'lon, we need you, too,» Moreta added.

«In fact, the Healer Hall and the Weyr are deeply indebted to you,» Leri said, her voice and manner kindly again. «Go on with you now, and send that scamp, M'barak, on any other duties Capiam scheduled for you. And you will never, K'lon, never, mention to anyone, especially A'murry, that dragons can slip between one time and another.»

Holth's eyes gleamed with a red tinge as she extended her neck toward K'lon. He pulled himself up straight, awed by the dragon's fierce appearance.

«Yes, Leri.»

«And?» Leri indicated Moreta.

«Yes, Moreta!»

«We shall never refer to this again. Give our regards to A'murry.» Leri was all affability. «If it weren't so damn cold here right now, I'd suggest that you bring him and his Granth to Fort, but I suppose he is better off in the sun at Igen!»

The chastened rider left the weyr with a heavy tread. The two Weyrwomen could hear Rogeth chirping.

«He's going to act the martyr for a while,» Leri said with a sigh.

«Better that than a real one.»

Then Leri began to chuckle. «I had the worst time keeping a proper face, Moreta. He was very clever about timing it, I must say. If he hadn't acquired that suspicious tan and bleached hair, we might never have guessed.»

«He had too much energy! Positively obscene if you knew how dragged out I feel! Can Holth keep track of him?»

«As long as he thinks she is, it doesn't matter. You will check in on Rogeth now and again, won't you, my clever love?» Leri thumped her queen with affection. «Now, if you'll just harness her up, Moreta, we'll be off to Fall.»

Moreta regarded her friend a long time until Leri gave an impatient shrug. «Oh, go boil the fellis!» And she wriggled herself off the stone couch.

As Moreta harnessed the old queen, she wondered, in a very private way, if there was any restriction Orlith could put on Holth to prevent their martyrdom.

«No.»

Moreta blinked with surprise because she had put such a careful cap on her worry. And she didn't know which dragon had spoken, Orlith or Holth. Then she concentrated hard on the correct placement of the leather fighting straps. When Leri was ready, Moreta saw rider and queen to the ledge and watched them lumber off into the air with the two wings, Fort's contribution to Pern's protection against Fall. The bulging farewell from the Weyrbound dragons as the wings went between was a curious, prayerful compound of yearning, defiance, and encouragement. Moreta found that seeing so few dragons on the Rim reminded her that the Weyr was vulnerable, all the Weyrs, and Pern. It was hard enough to think of her family's hold, deserted, emptied by the pandemic in a matter of days. She knew but could not assimilate the fact that her personal loss was duplicated all over Igen, Ista, Telgar, and Keroon as well as at Ruatha. That wonderful Gather! To be so closely followed by such a disaster!

Resolutely Moreta turned from the chill blue skies and busied herself peeling and preparing the fellis fruit for juice. Her hands were not as shaky as they had been the day before and for that she was grateful, as the knife was sharp and the tough skins difficult. As the thick pulp was coming to the boil, she ran an inventory of the remaining stocks, amazed that what she had considered ample only six days before could have been reduced to a few bags of this or that. With all the riders vaccinated, the Weyr should not require massive amounts of febrifuges, stimulants, and chest remedies. Which was a good thing, for at that season of the year it would be impossible to restock.

«Where is K'lon?» she asked Orlith.

«He is at Igen.»

«How is Sh'gall?» Moreta asked out of a sense of duty.

«He sleeps deeply and Kadith says that he ate well. He recovers.»

Moreta was amused at the indifference in Orlith's voice, she didn't care, either, and that suited Moreta perfectly. When Orlith rose to mate again …

«HOLTH COMES! Falga and Tamianth are severely wounded!»

Moreta paused long enough to take the simmering juice from the brazier before she hurried out. Holth emerged above the Star Stones and dove straight for her ledge. Moreta hurried up the stairs. With an agility that Moreta could not believe, Leri swung off her dragon, shedding the cumbersome agenothree tank so that it clanged hollowly on the stone, rolling to the wall.

«Tamianth has taken a terrible scoring, Moreta,» Leri said, her face gray with shock and anxiety. «The healers can manage Falga's leg, but Tamianth's wing …» Tears runneled the flight dirt on Leri's face. «Here. Use my jacket! My helmet will fit and the goggles. Oh, go!»

«Orlith can't!» Moreta felt anguish, sensing Leri's distress through Holth.

«Orlith can't, but Holth will!» Leri was shoving her jacket sleeve on Moreta's outstretched arm. «You're more use to Falga and Tamianth than anyone else could be. You've got to go! Holth won't mind and neither will Orlith. This is an emergency!»

Both queen dragons were agitated, Orlith coming out to her ledge to croon and bellow, extending her neck up toward her rider, Leri, and Holth. Moreta pulled the jacket on. As Moreta was so much taller than Leri, it didn't quite come to her waist, and Leri's flying belt had to be cinched in to the last notch. Moreta crammed on the helmet and eyepieces and swung up on the fighting straps before she could reconsider.

«Forgive me, Orlith!» she cried, waving at her queen.

«What is to forgive?»

«Get going!» Leri bellowed.

Holth sprang, moving almost as heavily as egg-bloated Orlith. Moreta experienced confusion, linked for so many Turns to one dragon mind. How on earth was she going to understand Holth, when suddenly she did. Holth was there, with her, and Moreta could sense Oriith hovering protective. Jealously? No, she sensed nothing negative in her own dragon's mind other than a concern that Moreta could not deal with her friend Holth. Holth was by then airborne, and the first intimate connection Moreta had with the old queen was of her weariness and her compulsion to help Tamianth.

«Slow and easy does it,» Moreta said to Holth with all the encouragement and understanding she could muster.

The watchdragon saluted them, wishing Holth and Leri well. As the watchdragon was a green weyrling, mistaking Holth's rider could be forgiven but it stuck in Moreta's mind as Holth gallantly plowed upward in the blustery wind.

Moreta envisioned the distinctive ridge of the High Reaches Weyr, a jagged comb with seven unequal spires.

«I know where we must go. Trust in me,» the old dragon said.

«I do, Holth,» Moreta replied, aware that Holth's experience was far greater than Orlith's for all the younger queen's vigor. «Take us to the High Reaches.»

In place of her usual between litany, Moreta tried to analyze the difference between the two queen dragons. Holth's mind-voice was old and tired, but it was firm, rich, and deep, many layers denser than Orlith's. Perhaps, when Oriith had reached the fine age Holth enjoyed, she, too, would have the depth of Holth's responsiveness.

Then they were in the warmer air over the High reaches, and Holth was skimming the jagged spindles and swooping in a deep lefthand bank so that Moreta had an unobstructed view of the ground and the injured dragons there. Moreta blinked at the small clusters attending the wounded. Tamianth rated the most assistance. As Holth descended, Moreta could see that Tamianth had lost the trailing edge of all three wingsails. And she was badly scored down her left side.

«How did that happen?» Moreta was appalled.

«Cross-over and too much to do. She wanted to help the wings,» Holth said, and an echoing sadness welled in Moreta as Holth implanted the incident in her mind. Tamianth had risen at an angle so that Falga could bring the flamethrower into action but they had blundered into an updraft before they could correct. A great gout of Thread had fallen across her wing and into her shoulder. And across Falga's leg.

Holth could not turn on a wingtip as Orlith could, but the old queen gauged her descent to a finger and glided to a halt a winglength from the injured Tamianth.

«Can you help me ease her pain,» Holth? Moreta asked as she slid in frantic haste from the dragon's back. Tamianth's howls had to be muted.

«Orlith is with us,» Holth said with great dignity, her eyes churning a brilliant sparkling yellow.

Falga lay to one side on a stretcher, her face turned toward her queen, but she was barely conscious. Two healers were swathing her leg in bandages soaked in numbweed.

«Tamianth,» Moreta said, hurrying to the dragon's injured side, hoping the dragon might hear her and would listen. «I am Moreta to heal you!»

Tamianth was thrashing her head and forearms from side to side, movement that hampered the efforts of the weyrfolk trying to apply numbweed to the wingbones. Moreta noticed in a quick glance that they had managed to salve the deep body score from which ichor flowed; the wing was causing Tamianth's agony.

«Hold her!» Moreta roared at the top of her voice and her mind.

The other injured dragons and the watchdragon bugled in response. Holth reared onto her hindquarters, trumpeting, her wings extended. From the weyrs emerged High Reaches dragons whose riders were too sick to fly Fall. And suddenly Tamianth was locked by the combined wills of the dragons around her.

«Come on!» Moreta exhorted the weyrfolk who were gawking in astonishment. «Get the numbweed on. Now!»

She grabbed a paddle and a pot from the ground and, as she worked rapidly, she assessed the extent of the injury. It was somewhat similar to Dilenth's. Though he had lost leading edge and sustained damage to bone and finger joints. Tamianth had lost more sail. She would be a long time out of the air.

«Is there anything we can do to help the dragon?» A bright-eyed little man with a broad jaw and a broad nose appeared at her elbow. Another man, not much bigger, frowning anxiously in what seemed a permanent grimace, stood just beyond him. Both wore Healer purple and the shoulder knots of journeymen. Moreta glanced quickly at Falga's stretcher. «She is unconscious and her wound dressed. That's all we can do for her right now. I will need oil, reeds, thin gauze, needle, treated thread,»

«I'm not of this Weyr,» the bright-eyed man said and turned to the bigger one who nodded acknowledgment to Moreta and ran off to the low stone building that was High Reaches' main living quarters. «My name is Pressen, Weyrwoman.»

«Keep applying numbweed, Pressen. All down the bones. I want them thickly coated, especially the joints. Just as you'd do any Threadscore on a human. And keep it thick on the body wound, too. I don't want her losing so much ichor.»

An old woman stumbled up with a bucket of redwort, shouting at three children behind her to bring the oil and not dawdle. Two riders, each with bandaged scores, approached Moreta; their dragons, a blue and a brown, both scored, settled to the rocky ground, their eyes, spinning with distress, on Tamianth.

Moreta suddenly had more help than she could use effectively so she sent the riders to help the other healer find her requirements and the children to get a table for her to stand on. The old woman informed her that the Weyr's healers had died and the two new ones knew absolutely nothing about dragons but were willing. She used to help but her hands had 'a trembling'.

Moreta sent her off to find the gauze, that was her most urgent need. In the time it took Moreta to complete her preparations to repair the wing, Tamianth's crushing pain had been reduced to a throbbing ache, according to Holth-Orlith. Tamianth's wing was considerably larger than Dilenth's and the sail fragments fewer. The two riders were of great assistance in sorting the pieces onto the gauze. «I never would have thought of gauze,» Pressen had murmured, fascinated at the reconstruction. He was able to assist her in the finer stitching, for his small hands were extremely deft. Nattal, the ancient High Reaches headwoman, forced Moreta to take time for a cup of soup, claiming that she knew the Fort Weyrwoman was only just recovered from the plague and it would give the High Reaches a bad name if Moreta collapsed on them, and then what would happen to Tamianth? It was soon obvious to Moreta that the soup contained a stimulating ingredient, for when she resumed her delicate repair it was with improved concentration and precision.

Nonetheless, Moreta was trembling with fatigue by the time she finished.

«We must return,» Holth said in an inarguable tone.

Moreta was more than willing, but oddly disturbed by some nonspecific anxiety. She looked toward Falga, who was either unconscious or sleeping under the furs of the stretcher. Troubled, Moreta looked over the rocky Bowl, at the other injured dragons.

«You look very pale, Moreta,» Pressen said, lightly touching her arm with his red-stained hand. «I'm sure we can handle any other injuries. It was just that, the whole wing! Your work was an inspiration.»

«Thank you. Just keep the bones saturated with numbweed. Once the joints have started to produce ichor, that will coat the wounds and the healing process will begin.»

«I had never really considered that dragons get injured by Thread,» Pressen said, his expression respectful as he flicked his eyes to the dragons on the ledges and the seven pinnacles.

«Come! Mount!» Holth's tone was more urgent, and there was nothing of Orlith in her voice.

«I must leave.» Moreta swung up onto Holth's back, noting in the back other mind that Holth was leaner than Orlith and no longer as tall in the shoulder. Or maybe it was the way Holth had of assuming a half-crouch.

As the old queen gathered herself, Moreta suppressed a concern that the dragon was too tired for a standing start. Her hindquarters, … Moreta's head snapped back as Holth sprang powerfully upward, and she devoutly hoped that the queen had been unable to track her secret doubts. To cover her embarrassment, Moreta visualized the Star Stones of Fort Weyr, the largest of those monuments, and the mountain peak that soared behind the Stones.

«Please take us to Fort, Holth.»

Holth complied without clearing the High Reaches Weyr rim. During the searing moment of cold between, Moreta's hands stung in the gloves. She ought to have oiled them again. She was always acquiring little nicks and needle scratches during a repair. The green weyrling greeted them on their return, bugling on an unexpectedly joyful note.

Holth glided to her ledge, coming in a shade too fast, Moreta thought, bracing herself for the landing.

«You are needed,» Holth said as Moreta loosened the straps and slid down.

«I'll just remove your harness.»

«I need you now!» Orlith's voice was petulant. «I've been waiting for you!»

«Of course you have, love, and very good natured you were to let me go.»

«Leri says you shouldn't waste any time,» Holth added, the facets of her eyes beginning to whirl faster.

«Something's happened to Oriith?» Moreta skipped down the stone steps as fast as she could, her heart pounding. She raced around the corner into her weyr, knocking her shoulder as she bounced into the turn.

Orlith had her head angled to catch the first possible glimpse of her rider. As Moreta barreled into the weyr, Orlith bugled repeatedly.

As she threw her arms around her dragon's head, Moreta noticed Leri standing to one side, wrapped up in sleeping furs, looking excessively pleased.

«We managed just fine,» she explained between Orlith's effusions, «but the sooner you get her to the Hatching Ground the better. I don't think she could have held out much longer, but you were needed badly at High Reaches, weren't you?»

Between apologies and encouragement to her dragon, Moreta agreed.

«No one even knew you were gone,» Leri said, «but I doubt I could have sustained the deception getting Orliith to the Hatching Ground.»

«I really need to go,» Orlith said plaintively.