Tell Minith that I order her back to the Weyr, M’tal said to his dragon. She is too near her mating flight to risk Threadscore now.
Minith says to tell you that Tullea is only doing her duty, Gaminth relayed apologetically.
“Talk to Lorana!” M’tal shouted out loud. “Have her explain it to Minith.”
Behind him, M’tal could hear dragons shrieking in pain as Thread struck them. It didn’t have to be this way, he thought furiously to himself. Damn the girl! I’ll wring her neck myself when we get back.
She is gone, Gaminth reported. The wings are re-forming. It will be all right.
Tullea jumped off her dragon as soon as she landed at Benden Weyr and launched herself toward Lorana, shrieking at the top of her lungs, “How dare you! How dare you call my dragon back!”
Lorana was tending an injured rider and had no time to rise to her feet before the other queen rider was upon her. Kindan raced over to her side, but it was Arith, awakened by the raw emotion of Tullea’s assault, who arrived first, appearing from between with a cold burst of air.
The little queen hissed at Tullea, who found herself skidding to a halt. Behind her, Minith rumbled a warning at Arith, but Arith only hissed at her, too.
“Tullea, what is this?” Salina demanded as she appeared, breathless, having run all the way across the Bowl. “What is going on?”
“M’tal had me order Minith back to the Weyr,” Lorana explained, her bandaging done. The wounded dragon’s grateful rider rose with her and stood beside her. Lorana motioned Arith aside. “I’m sorry Tullea, but M’tal explained that if Minith were injured, she might not mate.”
Tullea’s eyes widened as the words sunk home. “I was doing my duty,” she said dully. “I’m supposed to take on the duties of the Weyrwoman.”
“When there is only one mature queen,” Salina told her, “those duties do not include flying against Thread.”
Tullea nodded, but her gaze turned back to Lorana. “You had no right,” she told her hotly, “to order my queen about.”
“It was M’tal’s orders,” Lorana protested.
“M’tal!” Tullea snapped and started to say more, but a hiss from both Salina behind her and the dragonrider beside Lorana forestalled her from saying more. She glared at the rider, who did not flinch, and then at Lorana. “You will not tell my dragon what to do, girl.”
“I have more patients to attend,” Lorana said, ignoring the comment. “Arith, it’s all right. Go back to your weyr, dear.”
“This isn’t over,” Tullea growled at Lorana’s back.
“If you’re interested in a Weyrwoman’s duties, Tullea, now is a good time to start,” Salina said from behind her. “There is numbweed ready and those who need it.”
Tullea’s hands clenched at her sides and she turned sharply to glare at Salina, but the old Weyrwoman merely gestured toward the Lower Caverns.
“I can’t say I think much of your teaching,” a voice growled in Kindan’s ear later that evening as he sat at one of the dining tables in the Food Cavern.
Startled, Kindan looked up to see K’tan looking down at him, grim-faced. Kindan gave him a quizzical look.
“You are responsible for teaching dragonriders their manners, are you not?” K’tan asked.
“Mmm, that might be more a function of the Weyrlingmaster than the harper,” Kindan returned, his eyes twinkling. “I take it you heard of the exchange today between Tullea and-”
“Just about everybody,” K’tan returned. A puzzled look crossed his face. “She’s the only person I’ve ever heard of who got less sociable after she Impressed.”
“That was-what?-three Turns back, now?” Kindan mused.
K’tan nodded. “She’s weyrbred. She was quite the charmer even before she Impressed. I had an occasion-”
Kindan snorted. “I would have thought you had better taste!”
K’tan glared down at him. “As I said, she was more sociable back then,” he said.
“There, you see, it’s not my fault,” Kindan said with a smile.
K’tan laughed and sat down beside him. “I know, lad, I was just ribbing you.” He let out a long, tired sigh. “You did good work today,” he said. “You’ve the makings of a good healer. Perhaps you learned from Master Zist-”
“Masterharper Zist, if you please,” Kindan corrected. “We harpers are rather touchy about rank.”
K’tan snorted. “Very well, Journeyman Kindan.” He lowered his voice so that it would travel only to Kindan’s ears. “Not that I haven’t heard that you’d been tapped for Master.”
“This doesn’t seem like a good time to leave the Weyr,” Kindan replied.
K’tan clapped him on the shoulder. “Good on you, lad,” he said. “And you’re right, this isn’t a good time to leave the Weyr.” His voice dropped. “There might not be a Weyr left on your return.”
Kindan raised an eyebrow. “The losses today weren’t that bad, were they?”
K’tan shook his head. “No, thank goodness. We lost four, though-more than we would have if it hadn’t been for her.”
There was no need for him to explain who he meant.
“Another fifteen severely wounded and twenty-two with minor injuries,” the Weyr healer went on.
“How’s M’tal taking it?” Kindan asked, careful to keep his voice low.
K’tan gave him a measuring look. “Badly. Worse than he should, I think.”
“What about the other Weyrs-how have they done?” Kindan asked.
K’tan shook his head. “I haven’t heard.”
“I would have thought you would have been in touch with the other healers,” Kindan remarked.
“I’ve only met G’trial of Ista,” K’tan replied. “But none of the others.”
“And what does G’trial say?”
K’tan’s face grew closed. “His dragon went between two days back,” he said, waving aside Kindan’s attempts at commiseration, “but I’d heard that there were more sick dragons at Ista than at Benden.”
“Ista has to fight Thread three more times in the next nine days,” Kindan remarked. That much he had learned from the Records.
“It’s going to be tough, then,” K’tan said. “What about us?”
Kindan smiled. “We’re getting a break. We’ve got nineteen days before Thread falls over Upper Bitra.”
K’tan shook his head. “None of the injured we’ve got will be ready by then.”
L’tor approached them. “K’tan, when you’ve got a moment, M’tal would like to talk with you.”
K’tan rose. “I’m ready now.”
Kindan rose with him. “I’ve got to get back to the Records.”
“It’d be better if you could find out about the other Weyrs,” K’tan said. The Weyrs operated autonomously and some, such as D’gan’s Telgar and D’vin’s High Reaches, were unwilling to discuss their internal affairs with outsiders.
A thoughtful look crept into Kindan’s eyes. He nodded his head decisively. “I’ll do that,” he said.
“How?”
“Do you suppose M’tal would be willing to spare K’tan long enough for him to give me a lift?” Kindan asked L’tor. “I feel a need to practice some drumming.”
The Weyr drum was up on the watch heights. When he was up here during the day, Kindan never tired of the view. As it was, in the evening it was cold, and a steady wind leached all heat from him. Still, if he peered carefully and held steady enough, Kindan could make out the fire-pits of Bitra Hold to the west and maybe, or maybe it was his imagination, a faint glow from Benden Hold to the south. Kindan adjusted his drum to point more toward Bitra.