Dragonsblood (54 page)

questioning, if hopeful, look. Lorana smiled at him. “No, that’s the last of it,

J’nor.”

She gestured for him to rejoin the Weyrlingmaster and then jerked her head

at Kindan, inviting him to follow her out of the Supply Caverns and up into

the Bowl.

The part of the Bowl nearest the Supply Cavern was busy but organized.

P’gul, the Weyrlingmaster, had taken charge, delegating some work to

Ketan and the more able of the injured dragonriders. He, B’nik, and M’tal

were conferring together.

“Now,” B’nik was saying to P’gul as Lorana and Kindan approached, “You’ll

take care to return precisely in two days’ time just before dusk.”

“That’s cutting things tight, isn’t it?” P’gul asked.

“It can’t be helped,” B’nik replied. “I don’t want you or any of the others

coming back too soon—I’d hate for you to meet yourself coming or going,

and the weyrlings—”

“Won’t be weyrlings when we get back,” P’gul observed.

“That’s true,” B’nik replied. “And I’m sure they’ll be well-trained in all the

recognition points. But just as I expect them to be trained, I expect them

not to be trained in timing—or else one of them will try it on their own before

they’re ready.”

“There is that,” P’gul admitted.

“Good man!” B’nik replied, smiling and clapping the dour Weyrlingmaster

on the back. “It’ll be three Turns for you, but only two days for us.”

P’gul nodded. “I just wish that we knew more of what to expect when we go

back in time.”

“Rineth reports that it doesn’t bother the dragons at all,” Lorana said,

inserting herself into the conversation with an apologetic look at B’nik. “But

the riders are all confused and get very irritable.”

M’tal nodded, then stopped, looking thoughtful.

“Is there something you want to add, M’tal?” B’nik asked.

“Hmm?” M’tal roused himself, then shook his head. “No, no, just an odd

thought that crossed my mind.”

For a moment B’nik considered whether to press M’tal for details, but then

he decided against it. He turned back to P’gul.

“Well, I envy you the peace and relaxation you’ll have with those weyrlings,”

he said to the older dragonrider, eliciting a humorous snort from all around.

“I’ll try to remember that, Weyrleader, when I’m relaxing in the warmth of the

Igen sands,” P’gul replied, with a faint smile. He waved to the group, then

mounted his brown dragon and signalled to the rest of the weyrlings and

injured dragons.

“Good flying!” B’nik shouted to everyone.

His words were drowned out as wave after wave of dragons took to the air

and circled up to the Star Stones.

When all the dragons were properly aligned, P’gul gave a signal—

“Lorana, don’t try to follow them,” M’tal said urgently as he saw her close

her eyes.

—and the dragons winked
between.

Lorana opened her eyes and looked at M’tal.

“I don’t know if your mind wouldn’t get lost
between
times,” he explained.

Kindan looked from M’tal to Lorana and grabbed her hand tightly in his.

Lorana squeezed his hand in reply.

“This is utterly untraditional!” D’gan declared in outrage to his wingleaders

as they met at Telgar’s Council Room. “I cannot believe that an

ex-dragonrider would have the nerve to address herself to my
dragon
and

not me.”

“What did she say?” D’nal asked.

“Kaloth tells me that she said that Fort Weyr has successfully sent their

injured dragons and riders back in time, along with their weyrlings, to the

abandoned Igen Weyr,” D’gan replied with a sniff.

“Really?” L’rat exclaimed, his eyes going wide. “That explains the fires we

saw Turns back—do you remember, V’gin?”

The Weyr healer nodded reminiscently. “We thought perhaps they were

traders or something using the Weyr.”

“And
why
wasn’t this reported to me?” D’gan asked archly.

“I’m sure it was,” L’rat said. “But it would have been just about the time of

the Plague, if memory serves. I’m sure we all had other things to worry

about.”

“They went back in time,” V’gin said quickly, “to what purpose?”

“Why, to heal, of course,” D’gan responded, as though it should have been

obvious to all of them.

“But they could have healed just as easily here,” L’rat remarked, frowning.

“But they
timed
it,” D’gan snapped. “So that they were gone only days in

our time while they spent Turns.”

“So their weyrlings grew up and their injured recovered,” V’gin surmised,

nodding at the neat solution. “That’s very clever.” He looked at the

Weyrleader. “Did you say K’lior at Fort had the idea?”

D’nal shot him a sharp look. Everyone knew that D’gan had no time for

Fort’s Weyrleader, nor any other Weyrleader, for that matter.

“So what else did this Lorana say, D’gan?” L’rat asked quickly, hoping to

avert another of the Weyrleader’s outbursts.

“She said—and this I cannot countenance—that Benden was going to use

the three Turns starting nine Turns back and she advised us to consider

going back six Turns if we wanted to use it,” D’gan replied angrily. “As if

Benden could dictate how we use our Weyr!”

“Well,” L’rat replied honestly, “it’s not really our Weyr anymore, is it?”

D’gan’s eyes bulged at the Wingleader’s pronouncement.

“We’re Telgar riders now,” V’gin declared, nodding in agreement with

L’rat’s declaration. “We have no claim on Igen.”

“I think it’s more important to consider whether it would help us,” D’nal said,

trying to defuse any needless argument. “If we had all our injured dragons

and riders ready to fight at Upper Crom, we’d have more than twice the

strength we have now.”

D’gan sat down in his chair, his lips thinned angrily, but his eyes were

thoughtful.

“If you added the older weyrlings—it wouldn’t do to send the youngest ones

back, they wouldn’t survive the trip—then there would be another full wing

on top of that,” V’gin added. He looked up at the others, eyes gleaming.

“Why, we’d nearly be back to full strength!”

“That’s true,” D’gan agreed, still looking distracted.

“I make it nearly three hundred and thirty fighting dragons,” D’nal said,

totting up the numbers in his head. “And today we’ve only got a bit more

than one hundred and twenty.”

“Food’s no problem,” D’gan declared. “This Lorana person said that Fort

had left them with plenty and they’d pass on the favor.” He snorted. “I’ll bet

Fort just herded up the beasts we’d let run free.”

D’nal and L’rat exchanged satisfied glances.

“So shall we do this, then?” V’gin asked. “I must say, it seems an excellent

idea.”

“Yes, it does,” D’gan agreed sourly, silently berating himself for not having

thought of it on his own. While it galled him to admit that K’lior had had a

worthwhile idea, he could tell by the looks of his Wingleaders that he had no

choice but to go with it. He leaned forward, determined. “Very well, we’ll do

it.”

He turned to D’nal. “I’ll want those dragons back in time to fight at Crom.”

“I understand, Weyrleader,” D’nal replied, realizing that the job had been

delegated to him. “Should I take D’lin with me?”

L’rat and V’gin gazed curiously at D’gan. D’lin was his eldest son and had

Impressed a well-bred bronze more than a Turn ago; they were all sure that

D’gan was grooming him as his eventual successor. Having the lad time it

would put him in a position to take over from his sire in short order, should

anything untoward happen to Telgar’s Weyrleader.

“D’lin?” D’gan asked, amused at the question. He shook his head. “No, he’ll

stay here with me. He still needs seasoning.” Having made his decision, he

rose, dismissing the others and terminating the meeting.

L’rat and D’nal exchanged nervous glances as they headed toward the exit

of the Council Room. Next door they could hear the unmistakable coughing

of a dragon suffering from the sickness—D’gan’s own Kaloth.

“I thought you should have the honors,” B’nik said softly to Lorana. They

stood at the end of the newly-cleared corridor.

Dalor had been right: The rockslide had only blocked part of the way. Once

the miners had removed the fallen rock, the corridor was clear and open,

running straight along until it stopped in front of a set of stairs leading

down.

At the bottom of the stairs, another short corridor led to a door. At the side

of the door the miners had discovered another square plate, just like the

one Tullea had discovered in the first room.

B’nik hefted a long stick—a liberated broom handle—and offered it to

Lorana.

“You might want to stand back and use this, in case the air is bad,” he

suggested.

Lorana nodded and gratefully took the stick while B’nik waved Dalor,

Kindan, and Ketan back up the stairs.

“Push it and run back,” Kindan called down to her.

Lorana grabbed the stick in both hands to steady it, then leaned forward

and pushed the plate.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then a groaning noise could be heard

from beyond the door. Slowly the door slid open, revealing a well-lit room

beyond. Entranced, Lorana forgot to run: She peered in, and the bad air

caught her.

When she awoke later, Kindan was leaning over her; his look of concern

vanished into one of sardonic humor the moment her eyelids fluttered

open. She realized she was in his quarters, lying on his bed.

“I thought you were going to run,” he chided her.

Lorana shrugged. “I was trying to see what was inside.” She pushed herself

up.

“You would have seen sooner, if you’d run,” he told her, helping her to her

feet. “But B’nik decided to wait until you were able before letting anyone

into the room.”

“That was nice of him,” Lorana said.

Kindan considered this. “I’m not so sure he intended to be nice as much as

he wanted to be sure that we did not repeat the mistakes we made last

time.” He paused. “Tullea has not been invited.”

“Let’s go,” Lorana said, feeling a sense of urgency.

“Why the rush? The room has waited all this time, it can wait a little longer.”

A cough from up high near the Weyrleader’s quarters echoed harshly

across the Weyr Bowl—and then was repeated by dozens of other

dragons.

“The dragons can’t,” Lorana said hoarsely.

TWENTY-ONE

Mutualistic: A symbiotic relationship in which each species benefits.

College, First Interval, AL 58

Well, that went well,” M’hall murmured in Emorra’s ear as the gathering

broke for lunch.

“I thought it was a shambles,” Emorra replied.

M’hall smiled and shook his head. “You haven’t seen the Weyrleader’s

Council.” His smile vanished. “So what’s next?”

Tieran, who had seen them from across the room, approached and

suggested, “Perhaps we should eat in the faculty room?”

M’hall looked around and noticed that, while they were not the only group

gathered in the room, they were the group gathering the most attention. He

waved a hand toward the door. “Lead on.”

In the faculty room they found Wind Blossom and Janir, heads close

together in soft but intense conversation. Wind Blossom paused to wave,

but immediately resumed her conversation with Janir.

“The question is, how do we teach people we don’t even know?” Tieran

said as they found a small group of seats.

Emorra disagreed. “I think the question is, what can those people do?”

“I think the most important question is where they’ll do their work and how

we’ll keep the wrong people away from it,” M’hall observed.

“Well, it’ll have to be Benden,” Tieran said in an offhand manner. He turned

back to Emorra. “Surely if we can teach them, then it won’t matter what they

can do.”

“Excuse me,” M’hall interrupted, “but why do you think it’ll have to be

Benden?”

“Because whoever rode that queen obviously came—will come—from

Benden,” Tieran replied. “We don’t know how people will travel then, and

her queen was too young, I assume, to take her anywhere yet—”

“You’re right, there,” M’hall confirmed. “Although she was so big . . .”

“I think that carrying a rider is a question more of bone and muscle maturity,

particularly bone, than of size,” Emorra observed. M’hall acknowledged this

with a nod and turned his attention back to Tieran.

“So, I think that Benden’s the right place,” Tieran concluded.

“Don’t you have some nice geothermals there?” Emorra asked.

“We do,” M’hall agreed. “Although how long we can keep the active

systems alive is a good question. We’re already having parts problems with

the electrical distribution.”

“So it’d have to be passive, then,” Emorra noted. “If my memory is correct,

the power supplies on the Eridani equipment are rated for centuries when

not in use.”

“How long will the power last when they’re
in
use?” M’hall asked.

“They’ll support decades of continuous use,” Emorra said. “From what

Mother told me, the Eridani try to engineer their equipment for the long

term.”

M’hall was impressed. “Four centuries is definitely ‘long term.’ ”

Tieran shook his head. “Wind Blossom said that the Eridani think in

millennia and more.”