Dragonsblood (16 page)

sun.

“We’ve got only a few more hours to go,” Tieran said. The last message

they had handled had come in over an hour earlier, and had only been a

simple inquiry from the southern Ruatha valley—just a communications

check. Kassa had impishly drummed back, “What? You woke us up for

that?”

Tieran had groaned when she sent the message, hoping that Vedric wasn’t

on duty at the South Tower or she’d get a scathing. Vedric had no sense of

humor and didn’t “appreciate levity when engaged in official duties”—as

Tieran could attest with well-remembered chagrin.

She’d been lucky and there’d been no further response. They both agreed

that the drummer was likely Fella, who still had problems with some of the

more complex rolls, which explained why her message was so simple and

also why she had made no reply.

After that they had been reduced to gossiping. Naturally, the first topic of

conversation was what would happen with the Drum Towers at the end of

the Pass, only a few months away. Kassa hoped that with no Thread falling,

it would be possible to link up the various towers established at the Holds

into a Pern-wide network. Tieran wasn’t so sure and wondered if the

dragonriders wouldn’t fill in the gaps? Kassa thought that the dragonriders

would be too busy with their own issues to be bothered. They both agreed

that it would be far easier to set up Drum Towers than it would be to lay

telegraph lines across the continent. “Besides, there are better uses for the

metal,” Kassa pointed out.

The conversation moved on to more intimate topics. Kassa admitted that

she wouldn’t mind being placed in one of the newer holds after the Pass.

She was hoping to marry soon—she blushed in embarrassment—before

she was considered a spinster. Mind you, she had said, she wasn’t sure

she could handle six kids as well as her mother had. Maybe four or five, but

not six.

Tieran tried to steer the conversation in a different direction before he

found himself having to deal with embarrassing issues. He had said that

while it was important to increase the number of Pern’s settlers until there

were enough people to safely live and protect the Northern Continent, he

wasn’t sure that everyone absolutely had to have children.

“Are you nuts?” Kassa replied. “Everyone’s got to have at least four kids or

we’ll be wiped out—as we nearly were—by the next plague that hits us.”

She narrowed her eyes at him and opened her mouth to continue heatedly,

then closed it again with a snap.

Tieran flushed in embarrassment. “That number’s an average. Some

people don’t have any, look at the dean . . .”

Kassa snorted derisively at him. “The dean? She just hasn’t found the right

person. I’m sure she’ll have six or more when she gets the chance.”

Tieran was shocked.

Kassa shook her head patronizingly, which further infuriated Tieran, as she

was a full two years younger than he.

“Really, Tieran, you need to get out of this tower more,” she said. “However

are you going to find a mate if you don’t keep up with current affairs?”

His anger inflamed him to respond. “No one,” he said, pointing to his face,

“is going to want me with
this.
”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Kassa replied soothingly. “I’ll bet there are plenty of girls

out there who are willing to lower their sights.”

At that point Tieran had stalked off, getting as far from her as he could.

Kassa didn’t say anything for the next hour. When she finally spoke again it

was only to say to herself, “Storm’s coming. I can feel it.”

Tieran heard her, as he knew she had intended. He was still irritated with

her but grateful for the warning; early on it had been established that Kassa

had excellent weather sense.

He looked around and saw only a few scattered clouds above. To the west

he could see some cumulus clouds building up into larger thunder clouds.

He sniffed the air; it was preternaturally clean, as though all the ions had

been swept out of it—like shortly before a big storm.

“We should get word from the West Tower soon,” Tieran said to himself,

but also loud enough that Kassa could hear him.

Kassa disagreed. “It might slip north of them.”

Tieran was about to turn around and engage her directly in conversation

when a loud boom and a rush of cold air heralded the arrival of a dragon. A

large, bronze dragon. A halo of condensed air swirled around it as it glided

in low for a quick landing between the tower and the College.

Tieran had grabbed the small drum and was darting down the stairs, telling

Kassa, “I’ll go!” in an instant.

“Go, go!” Kassa had replied, a broad grin on her face. “I’ll relay.”

Tieran returned the grin with a wave as he darted down the tower’s stairs.

As soon as he reached the bottom of the stairs he broke into a steady,

loping trot, deftly slinging the small drum over his shoulder without breaking

stride.

The bronze dragon was Brianth and the rider was M’hall, Weyrleader of

Benden Weyr. There were two other passengers—no, Tieran corrected his

assessment as he got closer: one other passenger and a wrapped bundle.

The bundle was a body. The passenger was Wind Blossom.

M’hall was helping Wind Blossom down as Tieran arrived. He grabbed the

small woman from M’hall’s hands and deftly put her on the ground.

“Get help,” Wind Blossom ordered. “The body must go to the cold room.”

“Body?” Tieran repeated even as he was rapping out a quick staccato on

his message drum. It was answered by a rush of people from the College,

and the shroud-wrapped figure was quickly carried away, Wind Blossom

trotting alongside, snapping instructions.

There was another boom and burst of air, and a second dragon arrived.

Tieran had pulled the small drum off his back and banged out his quick

message to Kassa before he had identified the new arrival, who landed on

his right.

It was M’hall on Brianth! Again. While the new arrival looked somber and

time-pressed, the first M’hall was desolate and had tears streaming down

his face.

“Don’t do it!” the first M’hall shouted to the other.

Somber M’hall startled at the sound of his own voice coming to him. “You’re

from the future?”

The first nodded. “Please, don’t do it. You’ll regret it more than you can

possibly imagine.”

“We shouldn’t be talking!” the younger M’hall said. He caught sight of Tieran

and told him, “Send for Wind Blossom. Urgent.”

“No!” the other yelled. “Don’t do it!”

“You would make a time paradox?” younger M’hall’s eyes were wide with

terror and incomprehension that his future self would even consider such a

dangerous suggestion.

The older M’hall’s jaw worked but he was voiceless. Finally, he jumped

back onto his Brianth, sobbing, “Go then! Don’t say I didn’t warn you!” The

older Brianth gave a leap, one powerful downbeat of his wings and

vanished
between.

“Tieran!” the younger M’hall called to him. Tieran looked up. M’hall was

clearly overwhelmed by his future self and dizzy with worry. “Don’t say

anything about this until I get back.”

Stunned, Tieran could only nod.

Wind Blossom returned, escorted by a medical trainee. Tieran helped lift

her up to M’hall. And for the second time in almost as many minutes,

Brianth vanished
between.

As though the dragon’s disappearance had been a signal, rain started

falling. It went from a trickle to a torrent in no time. Lightning flickered

across the sky and thunder boomed repeatedly. Tieran was surprised to

realize how dark it had gotten. Dimly, he wondered if time-jumping acted

like a lightning rod. He was drenched in seconds.

SEVEN

Genomics: The study of genetic material and the functions it encodes.

See DNA (deoxyribonucleic acid).

—Glossary of terms,
Elementary Biological Systems, 18th Edition

Fort Weyr, First Pass, Year 50, AL 58

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