“I made the mistake once,” M’tal added. “And you remember what a disaster that was.”
J’ken hung his head in resignation.
“You can help with the weyrlings,” B’nik offered consolingly. “That will free up P’gul to fly with Kirth.”
J’ken gave him a stricken look, swallowed, and nodded wearily.
With a jerk of his head to M’tal, B’nik strode away to supervise the rest of the Weyr in its preparation for Threadfall over Benden.
Ketan and Lorana exchanged looks. He cocked his head toward B’nik and raised his eyebrows at her questioningly. Lorana sighed and strode off after B’nik.
“B’nik!” she called out. The Weyrleader stopped and turned back to her, waving M’tal along.
“This is the last time,” B’nik promised, answering her unspoken question, his expression bleak, his hands raised halfway in entreaty. “M’tal will lead the next Fall.”
Lorana nodded and grabbed his hands in hers. “Be careful.”
“I will,” B’nik promised. “For all our sakes.”
“And when you get back, you’ll tell Tullea,” she said.
B’nik let out a deep sigh and nodded. He turned away from her, toward his dragon.
“Weyrleader!” she called after him. “Safe Fall!”
B’nik raised his arm in salute.
Lorana was surprised to find, after an hour’s searching, that Kindan was in the Weyr’s Records Room once more.
“I thought we’d exhausted this approach,” she remarked as she entered the room and dropped into a chair.
Kindan looked up from his reading and flashed her a hesitant smile.
“We did,” he agreed. “I was just looking for maps of the Weyr to show to Dalor.”
“No luck with that other door, then?”
“No,” Kindan said, shaking his head ruefully. “But Dalor doesn’t want to use force just yet-he’s afraid of jamming the door shut.”
“Wise,” Lorana agreed. She gestured toward the Records spread out in front of him. “Any luck?”
Kindan shrugged and slumped further into his chair. “Not yet.”
Dalor stuck his head in the door just then. “There’s a rock slide down the corridor here, did you know?”
“Yes, that’s the one we talked about the last time you were here. It’s been that way for Turns,” Kindan replied. “Probably happened during the last Pass.”
“I’d like to try to clear it,” Dalor said. “It might not be the right way, but it’s not far above the Oldtimer Room and the corridor walls look smooth, like the walls to the Oldtimer Room.”
“It’s worth a try,” Lorana agreed.
“Tullea won’t like the noise,” Kindan said.
“She’ll change her tune when B’nik tells her,” Lorana murmured.
“Tells her what?” Dalor asked. Kindan just looked at her.
Lorana frowned, sighing. “Caranth has the illness.”
An uncomfortable silence fell.
“We’ll find the way through that other door,” Dalor declared firmly. With a nod, he turned and left, calling out orders to his miners.
“He’ll make a good Masterminer,” Kindan said fondly.
“Are you always plotting for your friends?” Lorana asked, grinning.
“Only the good ones,” Kindan replied with a grin of his own. His mood changed. “Lorana, I want to apologize-”
Lorana raised a hand and shook her head, silencing him. “We have more important things to consider.”
“Not for me,” Kindan declared, looking her squarely in the face. “I love you. I-”
“Kindan,” Lorana said softly. She rose from her chair and walked to stand behind his. In a flash, she leaned over and wrapped her arms around his neck.
“I love you, too,” she murmured into his ear. Then something on the Record he had been perusing caught her eye.
“What’s that?” she asked, cocking her head critically and pointing to the lower corner of the Record.
Kindan bent over to peer closely at the spot, then sat bolt upright. “That’s it! Those are the Oldtimer Rooms!”
“It looks like there are three,” Lorana remarked, peering over his shoulder.
“And it looks like the corridor that Dalor’s excavating should lead right into the big one,” Kindan agreed.
“Words are not enough to express our thanks, Weyrleader,” J’lantir called as K’lior and three full-strength wings of Fort dragons burst into the air over Keroon.
“You’d do the same if our roles were reversed,” K’lior replied with a dismissive gesture. “After all, ‘Dragonmen must fly-’ ”
Piyolth reports the leading edge of Thread, Lolanth relayed. Gaminth sends his regards.
J’lantir peered and could see a group of Benden riders, with a bronze in the lead. He waved back to M’tal just before the Benden riders went between to return to Benden Weyr. The number of Benden dragons looked terribly small.
“You’ve the greater number,” J’lantir called, turning back to K’lior, “would you lead the Fall?”
K’lior inclined his head gracefully. “It shall be my honor.” He relayed his orders to the riders of the combined Weyrs. As one, dragons turned their heads to their riders, and riders fed them firestone. As one, the fighting dragons of Ista and Fort Weyr rose to defeat the deadly Thread.
“Have M’tal give the coordinates back to the Weyr,” B’nik told a coughing, exhausted Caranth.
I think that is wise, the dragon agreed. Gaminth says that M’tal asks if you’re all right. I told him it was me. He said to be careful and asked if we should just fly straight back.
“Perhaps,” B’nik said out loud, patting Caranth’s neck fondly. “Are you up for it?”
Another cough wracked Caranth. I think I would be better going between. Another cough and a cloud of green ooze engulfed B’nik. I don’t want to fly right now.
B’nik thought furiously: If they went between and Caranth got lost, then they would be lost together; but if they flew straight back, Caranth might get even worse from the extra strain. Very well, B’nik told his dragon. We’ll follow Gaminth.
Lorana says that she’ll be waiting, Caranth told him. She asked, the dragon volunteered before B’nik could upbraid him. She says you’ll have to tell Tullea.
B’nik closed his eyes tightly at the thought.
“Take this to Caranth as soon as they land,” Lorana said, pointing out the line of steaming buckets to the weyrlings. There were only two injured dragons, and both had minor injuries. On the other hand, two dragons had not returned from the Fall and eleven more were coughing with the sickness. “Make sure that B’nik gets him to drink them all, no matter how awful it tastes.”
“Latest concoction?” Kindan asked, striding up to her from his conference with Dalor above the Records Room.
Lorana grimaced. “It’s the same old concoction,” she admitted. “Only I added more menthol to ease their breathing-and a bit of coloring,” she added.
Kindan quirked an eyebrow.
“Well, sometimes just thinking that something’s going to work can make all the difference,” she explained forlornly.
Kindan patted her comfortingly on the shoulder. “You’re doing your best,” he told her.
“Then why are dragons still dying?” she cried, burying her head against him.
“Lorana! Lorana come here now!” It was Tullea. Judging from the look on B’nik’s face, he’d just told her his grim news.
“So how long have we got?” B’nik asked, looking around the table in the Records Room at Kindan, Ketan, Lorana, and M’tal.