They walked out into the Weyr Bowl. Lorana looked up at the dim rows of lights that stretched up from the basin of the Bowl to its rim.
“Are those dragons?” she asked Kindan.
“Mostly they’re glows,” Kindan told her. “You can just make them out during the day, but at night…”
He gestured and led her into another large cavern.
“This is the Living Cavern,” Kindan told her, gesturing around at the trestle tables laid out in neat, long rows. One wall glowed with banked fires. He led her toward the brightest fire.
“This is the night hearth,” he explained. “If ever you’re hungry, you’ll find something-including klah-here.”
He gestured to a sideboard. “The cooks usually leave some bread and butter here, as well as fruit.”
“Where do they store the herbs?” she asked.
Kindan gave her a puzzled look as he tried to remember, then brightened, pointing to a large cupboard at the far end of the cavern. “I believe the spices are there. Do you need any special herbs?”
“If the cooks keep the usual supply, I should be fine,” Lorana said, heading across the room. She opened the doors and took a deep lungful of the tantalizing smells that came from the stored herbs. With the help of a glow Kindan held up for her, she quickly collected the herbs she required and walked back to the night hearth. In a few short minutes, she had the herbs simmering in a pot of water over the open flames.
“Not much longer,” she said. Kindan nodded and gestured to the nearest chairs.
“Oh, let me!” Lorana said when she saw him trying to seat himself while not disturbing Valla. She pulled the chair at the head of the table out for him and pushed it back in a bit as he sat.
“Thank you.”
Lorana sat herself nearby, angled so she could watch the fire.
An awkward, slightly sleepy silence, descended between them. Lorana found herself concentrating on the wheezy sound of Valla’s breathing and dividing her gaze between the sick fire-lizard and his owner.
“I’ve never seen him like this,” Kindan said after a long while, shaking his head sadly. “I’ve seen others, though.”
“Fire-lizards?” Lorana asked in surprise.
“People,” Kindan replied, eyes bleak.
“All my family, except my father, died in the Plague,” Lorana said, shuddering at the memory.
Kindan gave her an encouraging look and Lorana found herself recounting how the illness had taken her family, how the holders had been afraid that with their wandering ways, they might have brought the Plague with them, how-
“I was at the Harper Hall, to start,” Kindan said when Lorana broke off with a sob. He explained how he had been sent to Fort Hold in disgrace after being accused of starting a fire in the Archives room. How he had worked with the healer at Fort as the first few Plague victims fell ill and then, as more and more succumbed, how the healer himself had taken ill and died, leaving Kindan alone, at just fourteen Turns, to carry on as best he could.
“You must have been very brave,” Lorana said in awe.
“I was very tired,” Kindan said with a shake of his head. “I was too tired to be brave.”
“Very brave,” Lorana insisted.
“They needed me,” he said simply, his voice full of emotion. “I couldn’t leave them.”
“What about your family?” Lorana asked, trying to change the subject to something less painful for the harper.
“I have a sister still alive,” he told her. “My father and all my brothers are dead.” He grimaced. “Most died in a cave-in; the last died of the Plague.”
“I’m sorry.”
“My story’s not that different from many others,” Kindan replied with a shrug. “And better than some.”
Not sure what else to say, Lorana went to check the herbal brew. Satisfied, she poured some into a tall glass.
“We’ll have to let that cool,” she said. She sniffed it. “It smells right.”
“You can tell by smell?” Kindan asked, eyebrows raised.
“No,” Lorana admitted. “I can only tell if something’s not right-like if I left out an ingredient.”
“I should have asked you for the ingredients, then I could have made it myself,” Kindan apologized.
“With a sick fire-lizard in your arms?” Lorana asked, shaking her head. “Anyway, I’m happy to help.”
“Well, thanks again,” Kindan said. Valla snorted and turned. Lorana leaned forward and held a hand just above the fire-lizard’s head, careful not to touch it.
“I can feel the heat from here,” she said.
Valla coughed green phlegm, which coated Lorana’s hand before she could pull it away.
“I’m sorry,” Kindan said.
“Don’t apologize,” Lorana said, rising to her feet. “I’ll just wash it off. Perhaps I can find a small measuring spoon while I’m up.”
“They’re over there,” Kindan said, pointing.
“You certainly know your way around a kitchen,” Lorana answered with a grin.
“Only this one,” Kindan agreed. “And mostly I know where to find the medicinals for a late night of harpering-headaches from the wine, sore throat from singing.”
Lorana washed her hands, then chose a small measuring spoon and brought it back to where Kindan sat. She poured some of the herbal tea into the spoon and gestured to Kindan. With Kindan holding Valla still, Lorana managed to pry the fire-lizard’s mouth open and coax him to swallow the dose.
“And now we wait,” Kindan guessed. He looked over to Lorana. “You should go get your rest-it’ll be dawn soon.”
Lorana nodded, stifling a yawn, and left.
Back in her room, she found herself looking up at the ceiling once more, watching as the brilliant light jewels started to glow with light from the early morning sun.
Inspired, she rose again, found her sketchbook and the colored pencils Kindan had brought, and strode out into the Bowl.
Just as before, the Bowl slowly filled with fire-lizards and dragons, rousing and going to the lake at the far end to wash and drink, or between to the Feeding Grounds outside the Weyr. She sketched quickly, filling page after page with the brilliant colors of the dragons and fire-lizards frolicking in the warm morning sun. She stopped when she ran out of paper and, eager to show her work, rushed to the Kitchen Cavern.
She found Kindan just where she’d left him. He looked up at her, and his bleak expression told all she needed to know.
“He’s gone,” the harper said in a choked voice.
“How is he taking it?” M’tal asked K’tan later that morning when the Weyr healer gave him the news of the loss of Valla.
“As well as any,” K’tan replied, shaking his head. “He’s survived the loss of a watch-wher, and he lived through the Plague.”
“Which is more than some of us can say,” M’tal acknowledged ruefully, for he still felt guilty over his decision to close the Weyr when news of the Plague first reached them.
“It was the only choice we could make,” K’tan told the Weyrleader firmly.
“Which does not make it any less painful.”
K’tan nodded. “We helped as much as we could when the Plague was over.”
M’tal grunted and made a throwaway gesture, signaling an end to the topic.
“We have another hard choice,” K’tan told the Weyrleader after a moment of silence.
M’tal nodded in understanding. “Do we know if Valla’s death was from contagion?”
“Other fire-lizards are coughing,” K’tan said.
M’tal froze for a long moment. His question, when he asked it, was dire. “Can the dragons catch this sickness?”
“I don’t know,” K’tan admitted.
“And we can’t afford to take the risk,” M’tal surmised. He locked eyes with the healer who pursed his lips and nodded reluctantly. “Are you proposing that we ban the fire-lizards from the Weyr?”