Garth and Grenn shrieked in the night sky. A flash of lightning peeled across the sky. Lorana gathered all her strength, felt herself like a thunderbolt, and threw herself at the fire-lizards. Go!
Somewhere safe, Lorana thought. Somewhere where you’ll be loved. Another flash of lightning lit the sky, and again she pushed the fire-lizards away from her. Go!
And they were gone. Lorana heaved a sigh that was more like a whimper and laid her head on the mast. Safe, she thought. At least I’ve saved them.
As she lay there, she felt the last of the warmth and comfort the fire-lizards had given her fade away, like a lost dream. And then, as she drifted into a numbed sleep, at the very end, Lorana thought she felt something-an answering warmth at the end of the long tunnel that connected her to Garth and Grenn. A frozen smile played across her lips. Good, she thought dimly, someone will take care of them.
SIX
Terrome: (i) the biological portion of the ecosystem of Terra, the third planet of solar system Sol; (ii) the information and materials required to produce a functioning ecosystem based on the Terran ecosystem. (See terraforming.)
- Glossary of terms, Ecosystems: From -ome to Planet, 24th Edition
Sunlight streamed through the room, bathing Wind Blossom’s cot in warmth. Wind Blossom woke, startled by the sun. You should have been up hours ago, she chided herself.
Her old, stiff bones resisted her efforts to rise quickly. Wind Blossom forced herself up anyway. With a deep, relaxing sigh she began her morning exercises.
As she completed her exercises, the Drum Tower boomed out an alert. She wondered if the drummer were Tieran. She had only seen him fleetingly in the two years since his father had died and he’d fled to the Drum Tower. He’d be eighteen now, near his full growth, and quite capable of pounding the drums as loud as they were being pounded now.
Wind Blossom tensed, then relaxed again immediately as she recognized why she had slept so late: The Drum Tower had been silent. With this realization, she knew why the tower had been silent earlier and what its message now would be-Threadfall.
That also explained why her newest trainee had failed to wake her this morning: The young lady was helping prepare the HNO 3 tanks for the ground crews, whose job it was to search out stray Thread missed by the dragons and burn it before it could burrow into the ground.
Wind Blossom’s place was in the infirmary, to deal with any mishaps beyond the expertise of her alumni. She changed with a conservative haste and proceeded down the stairs, clutching the railing carefully; it would not do to let rushing make her the first patient of the day.
One of the new trainees-Mirlan, Wind Blossom thought it was-saw her approach and strode over to offer a hand.
Wind Blossom snatched her own hand away from the proffered support. “I am not enfeebled, child!” she said, bitter that the whole effect was spoiled by her scratchy voice.
“I do need something to drink, however,” she added as soon as she could trust her voice again.
Mirlan escorted her to Admissions and then hurried off for some food and drink.
Janir-when had he gotten so tall?-approached her.
“The current pool is guessing that there’ll be two severe, one minor, and three stupidities this Fall,” he said, his eyebrows quirking with amusement. Long ago Wind Blossom had started a guessing game with the students to help prepare them for those wounded in Threadfall. Long ago it had ceased to be amusing to Wind Blossom. But it was still educational, so she pretended to enjoy it.
“Two minor, two stupidities,” Wind Blossom guessed. Janir pursed his lips speculatively.
“Is that a wager?” a new voice asked. Wind Blossom turned to see Josten, another of the new ones, appear behind her.
“If it is, it is between myself and the senior surgeon,” Wind Blossom replied. She noticed that the room had fallen silent. Mirlan returned with some food.
“This Threadfall will last six hours, yes?” Wind Blossom asked rhetorically. Around her, heads nodded.
“Is all the equipment ready?” Again, heads nodded.
“Then is there any reason why you should not be studying?” she asked the collected group. Janir suppressed a grin of remembrance and added his scowl to hers. Hastily the others in the room filed out in search of texts or to work together in groups, practicing various injuries.
“I shall inspect later,” Wind Blossom said. Janir’s eyes darkened. Wind Blossom noticed it. “What?”
“Um, my lady-”
“Spit it out, Janir.”
“Don’t you remember?” Janir looked embarrassed. Wind Blossom frowned. “After the last Threadfall we had agreed that I should run the infirmary and you would consult.”
Wind Blossom started to respond, then froze. After a moment she continued, “Of course. May I speak with you alone?”
Janir nodded and gestured to his examining room.
Once inside, Wind Blossom turned to him and said in a toneless voice, “Janir, it appears that I am beginning to exhibit signs of senile dementia. Do you concur?”
Janir closed his eyes briefly, a look of pain lining his face, then nodded. “My lady, this is the second time you’ve told me that.”
Outwardly, Wind Blossom absorbed this news like a rock; inwardly she reeled like a reed in a storm. “I see. When was the first time?”
“Only last Threadfall, my lady,” Janir replied. “Since then, you’ve exhibited no memory problems. Perhaps the stress?”
“Threadfall should not be stressful for me.”
Janir disagreed. “Threadfall itself is not stressful but, as you yourself said, we must anticipate a number of injuries-I think that is very stressful for you, my lady.”
“Yes, I believe that is so,” Wind Blossom said. My mind! I am losing my mind! She took a deep, calming breath. “But I am alarmed at the possible implications.”
Janir gave her an apologetic look. “We’ve been keeping an eye on you, my lady, to be safe.”
Wind Blossom pursed her lips and nodded. “Thank you. I was considering the broader implication to our aging population. I had expected that we would retain our faculties well through the late eighties, perhaps even our nineties.”
Janir nodded. “You said this the last time, my lady.”
Wind Blossom was so troubled by that answer that it took her a second to regain her composure. “I have no memory of that. What else did I say?”
Janir sighed. “When we talked, we agreed that while some of the early-onset dementia might be due to increased stress, it was more likely that it was due to differences in diet.”
“There could be other factors, too,” Wind Blossom said. “Could there be environmental factors?”
“You were concerned that there might be trace elements present or missing in our food that might affect memory and neural function,” Janir replied.
“We should perform some biopsies on any new cadavers,” Wind Blossom said. Janir gave her a long, discerning look, and she shook her head. “I do remember that we do not have the facilities to maintain a morgue. But if we could get to a corpse early enough, we could obtain some samples.”
“I agree, my lady,” Janir replied. “Sadly, our older population was depleted during the Fever Years and reports of death usually come after the burial has already taken place.”
“We would need to locate a cadaver nearby,” Wind Blossom agreed.
“And if we did, my lady, what then?” Janir asked gently. “Do we have the equipment to identify the contributing factors?”