M’tal accepted the order with a nod and a smile. “Thank you, Weyrwoman,” he said. “I have heard it said that the higher levels are more likely to be free of the sickness.”
Tullea’s eyes widened in shock, then narrowed again as she decided he was toying with her.
“Weyrleader, your wing may begin moving tomorrow,” she told B’nik with a purr.
B’nik looked nonplussed. He told M’tal, “My men won’t be ready by then. Please ask yours to move at their convenience.”
“Yes, Weyrleader,” M’tal replied. He gestured to Salina and they departed, leaving Tullea no happier than she had been.
The night air was broken by the sound of a dragon coughing. Startled looks went around the Cavern as they tried to identify the dragon, only to change to looks of anguish as everyone realized that yet another dragon had fallen ill. B’nik bent his head toward Tullea, engaging her in a rapid conversation.
M’tal’s wing had moved to the upper levels before noon the next day, although they were left with a lot of cleaning still to do.
“It’s our due for having it so easy in the training,” he teased them. They responded in kind, but there was a marked strain in their humor.
Lorana and Kindan decided to move their research to the harper’s quarters, as they were on the Lower Caverns and closer to the Records Room than Lorana’s rooms. They took only as many Records as they felt they could sort through in a sevenday. The smaller piles gave them a false sense that the task would be easier.
K’tan stopped in to check on them late in the afternoon.
“I went to the weyrwomen’s quarters first, thinking you’d be there,” he told them as he ducked inside the doorway. He glanced around Kindan’s cozy rooms and nodded approvingly. “This makes more sense.”
“Well, it’s really harper’s work anyway,” Kindan said by way of agreement. “How are the sick ones doing?”
K’tan grimaced, shaking his head. “Worse. And more of them,” he replied.
Kindan turned back to the piles of Records. “Then I guess we’d better get to work.”
“We won’t find anything here,” Lorana protested, jumping out of her seat in frustration. “We need to go to Fort.”
K’tan looked at her questioningly.
“That’s where the oldest Records are,” she explained. “And that’s where every Weyrleader has gone when they couldn’t find an answer in their own Records.”
“M’tal said that you can’t go,” Kindan told her reprovingly.
“M’tal’s not the Weyrleader anymore,” Lorana shot back rebelliously.
“Well, Arith’s too young to take you,” Kindan continued. “So how were you planning on getting there?”
“I could take you.” Startled, they turned to see B’nik standing in the doorway. “I need to see K’lior, anyway.”
“But-the sickness,” Kindan protested.
“They have it at Fort, as well,” B’nik said. “K’lior’s agreed.” He turned his attention to Lorana. “When would you be ready to go?”
“I’d like to come also,” Kindan said.
B’nik shook his head. “I need you and K’tan to stay here, caring for the sick and injured.”
Lorana pulled out a slate and stylus. “When can we go?”
“Whenever you’re ready,” he replied. “I believe that Tullea and Minith are still sleeping,” he added disingenuously.
“Very well, then,” Lorana responded pertly. She glanced back at the others and then to the new Weyrleader. “Arith still sleeps, but she’ll be hungry in another hour or two.”
B’nik nodded thoughtfully. “Then we’ll be certain to return before she needs to feed, no matter how long we’re gone,” he told her.
“Is it such a wise idea to time it, Weyrleader, just after the mating flight?” K’tan asked solicitously. He knew how tiring going between times was on both rider and dragon-and the mating flight had been no less exhausting.
“Caranth is up for it,” B’nik declared. “And I may need the practice,” he added ambiguously. He gestured to Lorana. “Weyrwoman?”
As they were heading out of sight, Kindan turned to K’tan. “Do you think you could hold things down without me?”
K’tan thought it over and shrugged. “Some of the weyrfolk will help, I’m sure.”
“Thanks,” Kindan said, racing after the others.
“B’nik!” Kindan called when he caught sight of the new Weyrleader. B’nik paused, turning back to watch Kindan as he raced up to them.
“I think it’d be a good idea if I stopped in at the Harper Hall. Could Caranth carry another?” Kindan asked.
“I hadn’t thought of that,” B’nik said, after a moment’s consideration. “I’d planned to bring the Masterharper up to date on our affairs-you could fill him in for me. That will save time.”
He nodded toward the Bowl. “Come along, by all means. Caranth can carry three.”
Lorana craned her neck over B’nik’s shoulders as they spiraled down into Fort Weyr’s Bowl. The watch dragon’s bugle had already challenged them, and Lorana had heard Caranth’s response and the watch dragon’s wary greeting.
Kindan had been left at the Harper Hall, where B’nik had been congratulated and had exchanged brief pleasantries with Masterharper Zist.
“We’re expected,” B’nik relayed unnecessarily but politely to Lorana. The Weyrleader’s attitude during the whole trip puzzled and pleased Lorana, who had been used to his silent obsequiousness with Tullea. The man was displaying depths she had not seen before.
Caranth alighted lightly and then, after dropping off rider and passenger, took to the air again to seek a place on the Weyr heights.
“Fort Weyr sees the sun six hours after we do at Benden,” B’nik commented as he examined the early morning sun rising over them.
“Won’t we still have to time it on our return?” Lorana asked.
“Indeed we will,” B’nik told her. “Have you ever gone between times?”
“Once with J’trel,” she told him.
“Were you very tired afterward?”
Lorana nodded.
“That is the price of going between times,” B’nik said. “If it weren’t for our pressing need, I’d never risk it.” He looked as if he were ready to say more but decided against it. Instead, he scanned the area and noticed a group approaching them. “Ah, here we are.”
The man in the center of the group was younger than B’nik, handsome and wiry. His long hair was tied at the back of his neck, a style uncommon among dragonriders, but the hair was such a honey-gold and so wavy that Lorana could well imagine the attraction it would hold for some women. Her eye moved to the woman beside him. Cisca was even taller than her Weyrleader, a brown-eyed, brown-haired beauty with a strong, cheerful face. She was much more buxom than Lorana, but she carried herself proudly, her stride neither apologetic nor flaunting.
“Weyrleader B’nik, welcome to Fort Weyr!” K’lior called as he approached the group. Cisca added a welcoming smile of her own.
“Thank you,” B’nik replied. “I wish I were coming at a more pleasant time…”
“As do we all,” Cisca agreed, her lovely features creasing into a frown. “How bad is it at Benden?”
B’nik looked at Lorana.
“There are twenty sick dragons at the Weyr,” Lorana told them. “Three times that number have already gone between.”
K’lior and Cisca exchanged looks. The Weyrwoman spoke. “We have nearly sixty sick dragons and have lost over forty.”
“I’ll be lucky to have five wings able to fight when Thread comes again,” K’lior admitted.