Lorana nodded her thanks and proceeded to pile butter on bread. Tilara was back and had refilled their bowls before they noticed.
“Would you be ready for something heartier after the soup?” she asked. “There’s a nice bit of spiced wherry just about ready. And tubers, and fresh peas.”
“That would suit me very well,” Kindan said. He quirked an eyebrow at Lorana, who caught his look and nodded, her mouth full.
“Food for two!” a voice called from nearby. Lorana recognized it as Tullea. She looked over. The queen rider looked fresh and rested. Beside her, B’nik made shushing motions.
“You there!” Tullea shouted at Tilara, ignoring B’nik’s gestures. “Did you hear me?”
“I’m busy,” Tilara responded. She added in a voice that only Kindan and Lorana could hear, “I’m helping those who helped the Weyr.”
She took herself off, oblivious to Tullea’s shouts. Tullea rose from her seat and was about to go after Tilara when M’tal entered.
“Tullea, I was looking for you,” the Weyrleader called. Tullea turned to him, face still red with anger, but before she made any response, B’nik placed a hand on her arm, soothingly. None of the scene escaped M’tal’s eyes, tired though he was.
“What are the casualty figures?” he asked Tullea as he closed the distance.
“What?”
M’tal rephrased his question. “How many riders and dragons are too injured to fly in the next Fall, and how long will it take for them to recover?”
“I don’t know,” Tullea snapped. She thrust a hand toward Lorana. “Ask her.”
W’ren, M’tal’s wing-second, entered the Cavern and placed himself beside his Weyrleader.
“I am asking you,” M’tal said. “With the loss of Breth, you have become the Weyrwoman of Benden. It’s your duty to keep track of the injured.”
Tullea recoiled from M’tal’s words and then, as the full import dawned on her, her eyes gleamed and she gave him a wicked smile.
“That’s right, I am, aren’t I?” she said with unconcealed glee. She gave B’nik a knowing look and then returned her gaze to the Weyrleader. “And when Minith rises, who knows who’ll be Weyrleader then?
“Mind your manners, M’tal, you wouldn’t want to upset your queen, would you?” Tullea purred.
M’tal gave her a hard, penetrating look. “Your duty is to the Weyr, Weyrwoman.”
“I’ll do my duty,” Tullea snapped, “when my queen mates. As for now, ask her.” She cocked her head toward Lorana.
“Tullea,” B’nik said pleadingly. Tullea looked down at him and merely shook her head.
“And there’ll be changes in the Caverns, too,” she said in a louder voice before she sat back down. “I’m tired, B’nik-get us some food.”
The bronze rider looked between the Weyrleader and Tullea, sighed, and gave the Weyrleader an apologetic look as he rose and headed over to the hearth.
K’tan entered the Cavern, caught sight of M’tal, and lengthened his stride to approach the Weyrleader.
“Weyrleader,” K’tan said with a nod of his head.
“How bad is it?” M’tal asked. He had some idea from the fighting itself and from the field of injured dragons and riders spread across the floor of the Bowl.
The Weyrleader had not even tried to hide his tears as he went from rider to dragon, consoling, cheering, doing what he could to comfort and show that he shared their pain-and more. He felt responsible for each and every Thread score. Worse, he knew that his order that the coughing dragons fly Threadfall had immensely increased the losses.
“Forty-five are known to have gone between,” K’tan said. “Another twenty-three are badly injured and will need at least a month before they can fly again. Another thirty-seven have more minor injuries and should be able to fly in the next sevenday.”
M’tal slumped as though he’d been hit in the chest. Nearly a third of the Weyr’s strength had been lost in the first Threadfall. Behind him, W’ren gasped in surprise.
I must think, M’tal told himself. He looked around the cavern and spotted Kindan and Lorana.
“Let’s join them,” he said, gesturing the others toward them.
Kindan spotted them first. He took in M’tal’s grim expression and waved them to seats nearby. Lorana looked up from her soup as the others sat down. Guiltily, she put her spoon in her bowl, waiting for the others to be served.
“No, no, eat, Lorana,” M’tal said. “Someone will come with food soon enough.”
“I’ll see to it myself,” Kindan said, rising to his feet.
“He’s a good lad,” W’ren commented as they watched Kindan approach one of the cavern women and strike up an animated conversation.
“It’s a wonder he never Impressed,” K’tan said.
“Or a blessing,” M’tal added. The pain in his voice was obvious to all.
“Come on, M’tal, it’s not all that bad,” W’ren protested. “We took losses, sure, but the Records show that every Weyr takes losses in its first Fall.”
“One third of the Weyr?” M’tal’s response was full of pain and self-directed anger. He waved a hand toward the Bowl outside. “Did you not see them? They’re littered all across the Bowl.”
“Not anymore,” K’tan responded firmly. When M’tal shot him a look, he explained, “They’re resting in their weyrs, now, Weyrleader.”
“Food for three or five?” a pleasant voice interrupted. Lorana recognized Tilara, back again, laden with food. Kindan bore a huge tray behind her, like a beast of burden.
“Set it for five, Tilara,” Kindan begged. “I couldn’t carry this food back again.”
“That’s because you’re just a lazy harper,” Tilara retorted, but there was no sting in her voice. Quickly, she laid out plates, bowls, and mugs. Then she directed Kindan in the proper placement of the platters of food, pitchers of klah, and baskets of bread. She gave the table one long, satisfied look, then said to Kindan, “If you’ve ever a mind to change professions, you’d do well here in the caverns.”
“Why, thank you, Tilara,” Kindan replied with a slight bow. “But I think I’ve found my craft.”
Tilara laughed and patted him gently on the arm before heading back to her cooking.
“Is that spiced wherry?” K’tan asked, looking longingly at a platter piled high with steaming meats.
“It is indeed, good dragonrider,” Kindan said. He speared several slices and deftly transferred them to the Weyr healer’s plate. He turned to M’tal. “And for you, Weyrleader?”
“I’m not hungry,” M’tal protested.
“You’ll eat,” a voice said from behind them. It was a woman’s voice, firm. “You’ll eat and you’ll like it, old man.”
“Salina?” M’tal cried, rising from his chair and turning around.
The look they exchanged was so full of emotion that Lorana found herself looking away, fearful of intruding on their privacy. Her gaze brought her eyes to Kindan, who had also looked away.
M’tal guided Salina to the chair beside him, which W’ren had vacated as soon as he’d seen Salina arrive.
“Kindan, serve him some of that wherry,” Salina ordered. When Kindan stabbed three slices, Salina shook her head. “Make it five, and see if you can find some raw meat.”
A faint smile crossed M’tal’s lips as he and his mate shared a private joke.
W’ren gestured to Salina with the pitcher of klah. “May I serve you, my lady?”
“Wait until I get this old flame stoked,” Salina told him. All the dragonriders grinned. Satisfied that M’tal’s dinner was laid out to her order, she told him, “Eat.”
Salina sat back in her chair and simply watched M’tal until, with a long-suffering sigh, he started to carve up his meat and chew it.