Two dragons burst into existence under the low clouds near Bay Head. One was gold, the other, bronze.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Tullea grumbled to her dragon. She looked around and found B’nik’s Caranth sidling up on their right side. Her eyes darted to the seashore and the nearby rain-soaked fields. “I can’t understand why I let B’nik talk us into this.”
Because you love him, Minith replied with a hint of questioning in her tone.
Tullea laughed and patted her beautiful gold dragon’s neck. And you wanted some exercise, she said, smiling despite herself.
“She’ll rise to mate soon,” B’nik had told her calmly not a sevenday before. His eyes were clouded with an unasked question. Tullea knew the question but perversely decided to keep the answer to herself. Oh, she was pretty sure which dragon Minith would mate with, but she felt a sneaky thrill at the notion of keeping B’nik on tenterhooks. Besides, she thought to herself, it’s really the dragons’ choice.
“A well-fed, well-worked dragon will fly farther and lay more eggs,” B’nik had reminded her this morning when he’d asked if she wanted to go searching. “And we can drill on reference points.”
Tullea grabbed at the chance. Minith, at a little over three Turns old, had just matured enough to be flown and to go between. After three Turns of constant feeding, oiling, and loving, Tullea was more than ready to enjoy the fruits of her labors.
Besides, she admitted to herself, she loved to fly.
So do I, Minith agreed, once again reading Tullea’s private thoughts.
But the weather is awful, Tullea thought sourly to her dragon.
I don’t mind it, Minith said.
Tullea snorted. Of course not! You think the cold of between is just fine!
The cold of between is cold, Minith replied, with a hint of reproof in her tone.
“Well, this is worse,” Tullea growled aloud, looking toward B’nik.
The bronze dragonrider was waving excitedly and pointing to the ground below. Tullea looked but saw nothing-no, there was a bunch of rags on the beach. B’nik’s Caranth pinwheeled tightly downward on one wing tip, and Minith, with no urging from Tullea, happily followed. As they got closer, Tullea noticed that the rags had legs and arms sticking out from them.
Perhaps they had found J’trel’s stray after all. Good, Tullea thought to herself, then we can go home!
“B’nik and Tullea have found someone,” K’tan said as he entered Harper Kindan’s quarters.
“J’trel’s stray?” Kindan asked, rising from his stool and gently hanging up the guitar he’d been playing. “Come on, Valla,” he called to the bronze fire-lizard dozing on his bed. The little bronze stirred, stretched, and leaped into the air, hovering near Kindan’s right shoulder.
K’tan shrugged. “They should be here now.”
The two walked out of Kindan’s quarters and out to the Weyr Bowl. The sun had broken through the morning mist that had settled in the Bowl, but the air still held a chill.
Above them two dragons burst into view and spiraled down. Gold Minith landed first, followed by bronze Caranth.
Valla took one look at Minith, gave a surprised squawk, and disappeared. Tullea wasn’t fond of fire-lizards.
K’tan gestured to Kindan, and the two jogged toward the bronze dragon. Kindan could see that B’nik was holding someone in front of him.
“She’s very cold,” the bronze rider called out as he lowered the woman down to them.
“Where are her fire-lizards?” Kindan asked as he and K’tan took hold of the unconscious body.
“We saw no sign of them.”
Lorana woke, warm. And dry. A small, warm lump nestled against her back and she felt blankets wrapped around her. She smiled lazily and turned to face the fire-lizard lump, wondering if it was Garth or Grenn-
With a shock she saw that it was neither-and then she remembered.
The little bronze took one look at her expression and leaped into flight and between out of sight.
Lorana sighed, eyes bleary with tears that did not fall. She had sent Garth and Grenn away. She had been certain she was about to die and she had wanted to save them.
And now she was alive and they were-? She closed her eyes and focused her mind, questing for them, looking for them.
A fire-lizard’s squawk distracted her, followed immediately by a dragon’s bellow.
“You’re awake,” a voice called from beyond the doorway. A man strode into the room. He looked to be a few years older than Lorana, and was dressed in harper’s blue. The bronze fire-lizard hovered over his shoulder. The man had keen blue eyes and jet black hair. He was taller than Lorana and rangy, his body hinting at a wiry strength.
“Valla?” the man addressed the fire-lizard. The bronze chattered back at him in obvious agitation. “Valla, she needs food. Go tell Kiyary our guest is awake. Valla, will you go?”
The fire-lizard gave Lorana one more concerned look and chirped a warning before vanishing between.
“Fire-lizards are not the best messengers,” the man observed dryly. He looked down at her. “I’m Kindan.”
As she began to sit up, Kindan put out a restraining hand. “Don’t try to get up-you’re too weak.”
Lorana was already in motion, but she stopped as soon as she discovered the truth in his words: She felt as weak as a leaf.
A noise outside the room heralded the arrival of another person-a middle-aged man with the lean, muscular look of a rider. His brown hair had only a few strands of silver in it, and his brown eyes were kind.
“I’ve brought food,” he announced, setting the tray he was carrying on the bedside table. He picked up a pot and poured some of its contents into a cup. “Though I suggest this herbal, first. A starved stomach needs to learn to eat all over again.”
With a wordless gesture, Kindan helped Lorana sit up, rearranging pillows underneath her.
“I’m K’tan,” the man said as he handed the cup to her. “The Weyr healer.” He shook his head sadly. “You required much of my art these last six days.”
“Thank you,” Lorana told him gratefully. “I’m Lorana.”
The healer and the harper exchanged looks, and Lorana got the impression that they had just silently agreed to shelve some question they had.
“Let me help you,” Kindan said, sitting carefully on her bedside and handing her the cup of tea.
Gratefully, Lorana sipped the tea. The liquid was just lightly warmed, and her throat welcomed its soothing presence.
K’tan regarded her carefully as she drank. After a moment she pushed the cup away.
“Thank you,” she said to Kindan. To the healer she said, “This is very good.”
K’tan inclined his head in acknowledgment.
Suddenly Valla appeared, chittering. The fire-lizard took in the somber scene and closed his mouth instantly, giving Kindan such a regretful look that Lorana smiled.
“Is he always such a character?” Lorana asked, her eyes twinkling.
“He’s usually much worse,” Kindan agreed. “I think he’s on his best behavior because-”
“I was on death’s door,” Lorana said, guessing what he hadn’t said.
“You’ll get better now,” K’tan declared firmly. “If you can finish the tea, there’s some broth here you might try.”
“And then I’ll fall asleep,” Lorana surmised.
“You’ve been this ill before,” K’tan guessed.
“The Plague.” She remembered how hard she and her father had fought to save her mother, brother, and sister. And how, after battling for a fortnight, they’d lost first her sister, Sanna, then her brother, Lennel, and finally her mother.