Kindan was the only one who would meet his eyes. He peered down at the slate in front of him, reluctant to hand it over to the Weyrleader.
“What’s that?” B’nik asked, catching Kindan’s motion.
“Well, it’s not complete,” Kindan temporized, “and the numbers are not in agreement, so I suspect some people must have ignored the first signs-”
B’nik cleared his throat loudly and gestured for Kindan to get to the point.
“It’s a list of the dragons we’ve lost,” Ketan said. “With guesses as to how long it was between the first signs of symptoms and when they…” his voice trailed off sadly.
Kindan spoke into the awkward silence that followed. “As I said, I suspect that some of these numbers are off because the riders didn’t report the symptoms immediately.”
“Three sevendays looks to be the longest,” Lorana said in a dead voice, looking up to meet B’nik’s eyes. “Since Caranth has already been coughing for a while…”
“At least a sevenday,” B’nik told them quietly. He sat down quickly, resting his head on his hands, eyes closed. Lorana knew that he wasn’t talking with Caranth. A moment later he looked up at M’tal, eyes bright. “If anything happens, I want you to take over the Weyr.”
“I would prefer it if events do not make that necessary,” M’tal responded, gesturing toward B’nik as though to hand back the privilege.
“In any event,” B’nik continued, nodding gratefully to M’tal for his support, “I shall need you to lead the next Fall.” His mouth worked soundlessly for a moment before he forced himself to say, “Caranth is not up to it.”
Lorana let out a sigh of relief. B’nik smiled glumly at her and turned his attention back to M’tal. “There aren’t that many fit to fly left.”
“I know,” M’tal replied. He cast a glance at Ketan.
“We lost another ten dragons last night-five didn’t even make it between, and their bodies are still in their weyrs,” the healer said. “At this rate, we’ll lose another twenty from the sickness before next Threadfall.”
The others were too shocked to respond.
“Tell him the rest,” Kindan said with a wave of his hand.
“We’ve identified seven more sick dragons this morning,” Ketan said.
“Seven!” B’nik was astonished.
“It could be good news,” Lorana said hopefully. The others looked at her. “It could be a sign that the infection has peaked and that, after this, the numbers of new dragons catching the sickness will decrease-”
“Only because there won’t be any dragons left,” Tullea interrupted sourly from the doorway. She strode in, glaring around the room. “Why wasn’t I informed of this meeting?”
“You were resting,” B’nik explained.
Tullea turned her attention to Lorana. “What are you doing here?”
“She’s here at my request,” Kindan told her, his voice edged.
“And mine,” B’nik added, gesturing for Tullea to take a seat. She remained standing.
“How long has Caranth got?” Tullea demanded of Lorana.
Lorana gestured to Ketan, indicating that he was properly the one to answer.
“I’m asking you, dragonkiller,” Tullea snarled.
“Tullea!” B’nik shouted, his voice carrying over the angry growls of the others. “You will apologize.”
“Why?” Tullea responded silkily. “She killed her dragon, there’s no denying it.”
“She was looking for a cure,” Kindan told her, his eyes flashing in anger.
“If I had known, I would have done the same,” Ketan added. He nodded apologetically toward Lorana. “And she’s paid the price in full already, without your sniping.”
Tullea bridled, clearly not anticipating the outrage she had provoked. “I am Weyrwoman here. You owe me allegiance, Healer!”
Ketan stood up slowly, arching his fingers on the tabletop and leaning on them. “My duty to you, Weyrwoman, was the honor that bound a dragonrider to the rider of the senior queen,” he said, spitting out the words. “As I am no longer a dragonrider, who holds my allegiance is now subject to question.” He nodded to Lorana. “This lass has made the supreme sacrifice a queen dragonrider, any rider, can make for the Weyr-she has lost her dragon trying to save us all.”
He stood, pushed his chair back and made a half-bow to Lorana before turning away from the table. “My allegiance does not require me to share a room with someone who will disparage her actions.”
And without turning back, he left. Kindan got to his feet immediately behind him, dragging a stunned Lorana along.
B’nik broke the shocked silence that followed. “What do you think you were doing?” he shouted at Tullea. “That was completely uncalled for!”
The blood drained from Tullea’s face as she looked from B’nik to M’tal and back again, the full impact of her words registering as she absorbed their angry expressions.
When Tullea went looking for Lorana the next day to apologize-after a night of arguing with B’nik-she was infuriated to discover that Lorana’s quarters were empty, completely cleared out.
“She’s moved,” Mikkala reported when Tullea upbraided her about it.
“Where?” Tullea demanded.
Mikkala was reluctant to answer; she bent over her stew and gave it a vigorous stir.
“Mikkala,” Tullea repeated, her voice edged with a rising temper, “where is Lorana sleeping?”
“I believe the harper offered her quarters,” Mikkala finally replied.
With a frustrated groan, Tullea stamped her foot and rushed out of the Kitchen Cavern toward the harper’s quarters. Halfway there, she discovered Lorana, Kindan, M’tal, and B’nik clustered together in conversation.
“What’s going on?” she demanded suspiciously, her peace mission forgotten.
“News from Fort Weyr,” B’nik told her, his face bright and smiling.
“From Fort?” Tullea barked. “I thought we’d agreed that no more dragonriders should come from other Weyrs.”
“Lorana heard it from K’lior’s Rineth directly,” M’tal explained.
“She can talk to any dragon, you know,” B’nik reminded her.
Tullea’s expression was sullen. “So, what did Rineth have to say?” she asked Lorana.
“Fort Weyr’s weyrlings and injured dragons timed it,” Lorana told her.
“So?”
“So they went back to old Igen Weyr, Turns before the start of the Pass, and spent three Turns there. They fought Thread at Keroon two days back.”
“Weyrlings? Fought Thread?”
“Not weyrlings any longer,” Kindan corrected. “Which is why K’lior had his Rineth contact Lorana. He asked her to spread the word to all the Weyrs. He suggests that if we follow his plan, we’ll be able to share time back before the Pass, get our injured dragons healed and weyrlings aged in time to fight the next Threadfall.”
“If we sent back the older weyrlings-they should be able to time it-and the injured, we could add nearly two full wings of fighting dragons,” M’tal observed.
“Why not send the younger weyrlings?” B’nik asked. “There are more of them.”
“Too risky,” M’tal responded. “We might lose more on the jump between than we can afford.”
B’nik nodded in agreement.
“Ketan says he’s up for it,” B’nik repeated, raising his voice to be heard above Caranth’s raspy coughing.
“He just lost his dragon!” Tullea declared angrily. “What makes you think he cares?”
B’nik bit back angry words before he hurled them irretrievably at Tullea, but he couldn’t hide the fury in his eyes.
“What will you do if Caranth dies, B’nik?” Tullea asked. “Who will fly Minith then?”
B’nik gave her a pleading look. “She hasn’t laid her clutch yet,” he told her. “It will be a long while before she rises to mate again.”