“Who is it? Who goes there?” Moreta recognized the voice as Thaniel’s.
“Moreta, of course, Thaniel,” she called, but he didn’t seem to see her. Rusty shrieked again and Thaniel turned toward the sound.
“Stupid beast! There’s no one here.” He swept his hand in a wide gesture as if he saw nothing but empty space. An empty space that Moreta was sure she filled.
“Thaniel! I’m here. Can’t you see me?” she shouted as loud as she could, urging Holth to move forward.
Rusty increased his complaints, racing up and down the fenced enclosure, showing the whites of his eyes in terror.
“Shut your bawling!” Thaniel roared at Rusty. “The riders looking for Moreta have all gone back to their Weyrs. There’s not a sign of a dragon in the sky. ”
Moreta was stunned. She ought to have returned earlier. If he could hear that wretched creature, surely he could hear her shouting? She dismounted Holth quickly and ran up to Thaniel, to stand right in front of him. In fact, when he turned his head back in her direction, she had to take a step back or their noses would have touched. She reached out to grab his arm, and Thaniel immediately gave a visible shudder that ran from his dusty boots to his long hair.
He mumbled something Moreta couldn’t hear and wrapped his arms about himself. “Am I getting the plague after all?” he cried out loud.
“No, you old fool. I’m trying to make you see me,” Moreta answered. But he did not appear to hear her, though Rusty continued bawling and wheeling around his enclosure, stirring up the other animals. Thaniel turned abruptly, trembling, and ran back to his hold, slamming the door firmly behind him.
“Marco was right. How can I possibly communicate with him if he doesn’t see or hear me?” Moreta exclaimed as she marched back to Holth, and then vaulted to the dragon’s back.
In the lights from the front window of the hold, Moreta could see that Thaniel still had his arms crossed in front of him—a recognizable stance of warding off fear.
They don’t see us, Moreta, Holth said mournfully. We went between but never arrived.
Think hard about Fort Weyr, then, Holth, and take us there. Think of the mountain range behind the Weyr. Think of the ledge on which you have lain so long, protecting Leri. Think of home, Holth. Take us there.
Moreta’s last sentence was a wish as well as an order. Summoning strength from deep within, Holth leapt from the ground, her wings valiantly stroking her body upward, and then they went between. It was cold and. .. gray, but not as bone-numbingly cold as before. And Moreta’s litany did nothing to reassure her that they would come out at sunset above Fort Weyr, with the range of familiar mountains, the familiar bowl, and the ledges where dragons lay basking in the sunlight.
A vast shiver caught Moreta at the back of her neck, ran down her spine and to her toes. She leaned forward on Holth’s neck, feeling the warmth of the dragon through her gloves and the cheek she laid against a neck ridge. They remained in between, and grayness stretched around her, merging in the distance with black.
“No luck, huh?” Marco appeared before them, edging Duluth forward.
“Thaniel was talking to himself, or his terrified runnerbeast, perhaps. He said riders had come back to look for me,” she said, trying to keep the panic she felt out of her voice. “But he didn’t see me.” She shivered again.
“Then let’s go back to Paradise River—it’s warmer there. We’ll figure out what we can do,” Marco said, an air of optimism in his voice.
“What do you mean?” Moreta tried to keep the tension out of her tone.
“You said Thaniel was talking to himself, or his runnerbeast. And the beast was terrified?”
Moreta nodded her head.
“Although Thaniel didn’t see you,” Marco continued, “maybe his runnerbeast did. If you keep returning to Waterhole, terrifying the poor runner, Thaniel might start to wonder why.” He sounded as if he was containing some private amusement.
“Keep returning to Waterhole?” Moreta repeated. “Why?”
“Let me explain. On Earth some people believed they saw the ‘essence, ’ if you will, of a person who had died. Some even claimed that the ‘essence’ or ‘ghost’ would return, again and again, to a favorite place.” He paused again as Moreta regarded him with incomprehension. “Ghosts, they claimed, appeared in order to make the living do their bidding. ”
“I don’t know a thing about ghosts. But I knowIdon’t want to go around scaring people,” she said dogmatically.
“Hell’s bells, woman, you’ve done half the job already! You’ve scared the runnerbeast, probably scared Thaniel half to death, too. They know you’re dead! You have to keep going back. ”
“What?”
“You keep going back and maybe Thaniel will see you. Then maybe you can find a way to let him know what you want. It’s the only option I can think of to reunite you with your dragon. ”
“Should I go back to Waterhole now?”
“Hmmm, no, I think not. You should return at the same time every day—or night, better yet. Otherwise Thaniel will think his runner is quite mad. Go back tomorrow, same time. Now, you and Holth should come back to the beach. ”
Moreta couldn’t imagine how Marco’s plan would work, but she followed him nonetheless. Marco urged his dragon aloft and then, with all the assurance of a long-term wingleader, pointed downward and disappeared through the uneven floor of between.
“Tired, yes, she must have been very tired,” Leri said, and Kamiana wondered how many times the old Weyrwoman would have to go over the tragic events that had left her without her beloved dragon. This tragedy had aged the old Weyrwoman terribly. “The plague was so virulent and we were short of dragons and riders. Orlith was fretting over her eggs and I was weary from the ache in my joints. They were both willing to complete the deliveries and I encouraged them. But,” and now her eyes flashed with anger as well as tears, “they both should have made it back to Fort, of all places.”
Leri groaned and reached for the cup that was always close to her badly twisted right hand. She sighed before she sipped—a long swallow, and then waited until it began to ease her pain.
“I do so completely desire all this to be over,” Leri said wearily. “I’m tired of this old body. Orlith says if I stay until her clutch is ready to hatch, then she’ll take me with her between.”
Kamiana bowed her head; she had no words of reply. She sat silently, a gentle hand resting on Leri’s arm.
Footsteps sounded along the stone passageway outside Leri’s quarters, and Kamiana heard someone clearing their throat. She rose quietly from her seat next to Leri’s bed and went to the door.
“We have come to see Leri,” said Sh’gall. He gestured to Desdra, Lidora, Levalla, and the MasterHarper Tirone, all of whom stood quietly behind Sh’gall, concern and anxiety clearly stamped on their faces.
“Please, come in.” Kamiana gestured for them to enter. “She is weary from the pain, tired of life, yet I think your visit would be welcome—to help pass the time. ..” She led the group into Leri’s quarters, and the old Weyrwoman greeted them with a wave of her hand.
“I have been berating myself,” Leri said to those gathered around her. “I should not have encouraged Moreta and Holth to deliver those vaccines. High Reaches was to cover Tillek and the small holds on the Telgar plains. But M’tani refused and so we split up the remaining loads. With all the queens flying in and out of the Weyr, Orlith grew defensive of her eggs and would not leave them. ..” She paused, the terrible pain of her loss making her unable to continue.