Lorana nodded empathically. “Yes, definitely through,” she agreed, her eyes flashing with amusement.
“It’s a bit more intense when a queen dragon mates,” Salina cautioned. M’tal grabbed at her possessively and pulled her close to him. Salina smiled and curled against him, wrapping an arm around his waist.
“So I’ve been told,” Lorana said. The dragons had just filled her in, and she couldn’t help but smile.
“The dragons told you?” M’tal asked.
“Well, not told, as it were, but more showed,” Lorana admitted.
“When?” M’tal asked incredulously.
“Just now,” Lorana answered.
“Showed?” K’tan asked.
Lorana frowned thoughtfully. “Sort of like a flurry of images and emotions,” she reported. She caught the alarmed look that passed between Weyrleader and Weyrwoman and quickly added, “All very dragonish.”
M’tal and Salina looked relieved, and Lorana guessed that they’d entertained the notion that the dragons might have conveyed intimate details.
I’m sleepy, Arith interjected.
“Of course you are, you just gorged yourself,” Lorana replied. “Why don’t you go lie down?”
All right, Arith agreed, tottering off toward their quarters. Why don’t you go eat?
“I will,” Lorana said. “I promise.”
“What?” M’tal and Salina both asked.
“Eat,” Lorana said. She raised a hand apologetically. “I’m sorry, but I’m just up.”
“May we accompany you?” K’tan asked, gesturing toward the Lower Caverns.
“I don’t know where I’m going, actually,” Lorana admitted. “I’ve only been to the night hearth.”
Salina’s brow creased thoughtfully. “Why didn’t you ask the dragons?”
Lorana looked surprised. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Actually,” K’tan admitted, “I pretty much descended upon the poor girl just after Tullea finished with her.”
M’tal sighed and exchanged a concerned look with Salina.
“Did you have words with Tullea?” the Weyrwoman asked, pushing herself out of her cuddle with M’tal and starting across the Bowl.
“Well… yes,” Lorana admitted as she and the others followed Salina.
M’tal pursed his lips tightly before saying, “Tullea seems to-”
“Have problems dealing with people recently,” Salina finished.
M’tal arched an eyebrow in disagreement. “Recently being the past three Turns,” he corrected.
“You mean she’s like that with everyone?” Lorana blurted and then clapped a hand to her mouth in surprise. The other three laughed.
“I’m afraid so,” M’tal said when he’d recovered, eyes still dancing with amusement.
“You shouldn’t feel singled out,” K’tan added.
“I’m sure she’ll settle down when Thread comes,” Salina said.
“Or her dragon rises,” M’tal added.
“Preferably when her dragon rises,” K’tan murmured.
“Her dragon hasn’t risen yet?” Lorana asked, feeling the beginnings of some sympathy for Tullea.
K’tan leaned in close to Lorana, to murmur, “We’re hoping that a mating flight will calm her nerves.”
“Or something,” Salina added, arching an eyebrow at K’tan.
“Ah, you found her!” Kindan called from a table as they entered the Living Cavern. “Are you hungry, Lorana?” he asked, then shook his head at himself. “Of course you are, I can see it from here! Sit, sit! I’ll arrange for food.”
Kindan eyed the group of women preparing food in the cavern and shouted out, “Kiyary! Could we have food for five-including one with a new hatchling?”
A young brunette in the group looked up, caught sight of Kindan, and waved acknowledgment. In short order Lorana found herself replete, filled with succulent fruits, hearty porridge, and warm klah. The others politely kept up conversation all around her while she wolfed down her food with all the abandon she had so abhorred in her dragonet.
Salina must have caught her mood, for she said, soothingly, “It’s common for new riders to find themselves eating more-the appetites of their dragons can be overwhelming.”
“Not to mention the work,” K’tan added with a laugh. When he caught the confused look on Lorana’s face, he added, “You oiled your fire-lizards, right?”
“Yes,” she replied, around a bite of food and still a bit dazed. Then comprehension dawned, and her eyes widened. “Oh! Oh, she is already quite a bit larger than my two.”
“Oiling a dragon is a large part of what we dragonriders do,” K’tan admitted, eyes twinkling.
“But if you’ve had two fire-lizards, then you probably won’t find one dragon all that difficult,” Kindan said reassuringly.
“At least not to start,” K’tan corrected. He gestured to Lorana’s plate. “Eat up, you’ll need your strength.”
“I think I’ve had enough, already.” Lorana covered her mouth to stifle a yawn.
“And after you eat, you sleep,” Kindan said. “When you’re not eating, or sleeping-” The others joined in. “-you’re oiling.”
“Dragons and fire-lizards aren’t the same,” M’tal said, directing his comment to Salina.
Lorana’s eyes narrowed as she detected an undercurrent in the conversation. She realized that it had been there all along but she’d been too hungry and too distracted to notice it. In fact, now that she had recovered from her encounter with Tullea, Lorana became aware of a shadow of dread in the Weyr’s atmosphere.
She looked entreatingly at K’tan, but the Weyr healer had ducked his head in thought. She turned her attention to Kindan. He caught her glance and imperceptibly tilted his head toward Salina.
Something was wrong with the Weyrwoman? Lorana wondered. Salina looked pensive, withdrawn, but otherwise healthy. Lorana gave Kindan a slight shake of her head to say “I don’t understand.”
Just then she heard a loud cough and a snort, which echoed around the Weyr. Salina started, looked out toward the Bowl, and then lowered her head slowly, leaning against M’tal.
“It may not be the same thing,” M’tal said, grabbing her hand consolingly. “It may not be the same thing at all.”
Lorana felt her stomach wrench in fear. She did not have to ask which dragon had coughed, nor did she need to hear Breth’s apologetic, Sorry.
“Repeat that herbal recipe for me,” K’tan asked her urgently. All too willingly, Lorana complied.
Salina lifted her head from M’tal’s shoulder and smiled wanly at Lorana.
“We shouldn’t keep you, dear,” she told her. She gestured toward the weyrs. “Go, get some rest. Your Arith will be awake again soon enough.”
“I will not tolerate shirkers,” Weyrleader D’gan growled at the blue rider in front of him. Telgar’s Weyrleader was dressed ready to ride. Above him in the distance were arrayed the wings of Telgar Weyr-all except one. D’gan’s face was twisted in a scowl.
“But Jalith is-”
“Shirking!” D’gan shouted back, towering over the shorter blue rider in his rage. He spared a contemptuous glare for the blue’s Wingleader, who wilted visibly. Jalith and M’rit were oldsters who had been at Telgar Weyr when D’gan had first arrived. “They are testing my authority as Weyrleader.”
D’gan remembered the derision he and the riders from Igen Weyr had received when they had first arrived at Telgar Weyr. It was not their fault that Igen had fallen on such hard times, nor that their dying queen had failed to lay a gold egg.
“I honestly don’t think so,” K’rem, Telgar’s Weyr healer, said as soothingly as he could. “Jalith is aspirating the same ooze that the fire-lizards-”