“Ramoth’s eggs are just about to Hatch,” Mirrim told her as she placed Menolly at one of the worktables along the back side of the huge cave. “There’s nothing wrong with your hands, and we’ll need all the help we can get for the feast…”
“And maybe your Brekke will be better?”
“Oh, she’s got to be, Menolly, she’s got to be.” Mirrim scrubbed her hands together anxiously. “If she isn’t, I don’t know what will become of her and F’nor. He cares so much. Manora’s as worried about him as she is about Brekke…”
“It’ll all come right, Mirrim. I’m sure it will,” Menolly said, putting all the confidence she could muster into her voice.
“Oh, do you really think So?” Mirrim dropped her pose of bustling efficiency and was briefly a young, bewildered girl in need of reassurance.
“I most certainly do!” And Menolly was angry with Sanra’s unkind statements of the day before. “Why, when I thought I’d be scored to death, T’gran appeared. And when I thought they’d all be Threaded…” Menolly hastily shut her mouth, frantically trying to think of something to fill that gap. She’d almost told Mirrim about saving the fire lizards.
“They must belong to somebody,” a man said in a loud, frustrated tone of voice.
Two dragonriders entered the kitchen cavern, slapping dusty gloves against sandy boots and loosening their riding belts.
“They could be attracted by the ones we have, T’gellan.”
“Considering how badly we need the creatures…”
“In the egg…”
“It’s a raking nuisance to have a whole flaming fair that no one will claim!”
The next thing Menolly knew, Beauty appeared over her head, gave a terrified squawk and landed on Menolly’s thinly clad shoulder. Beauty wrapped her tail, choking tight, about Menolly’s neck and buried her face into her hair. Rocky and Diver seized the cloth of her shirt in their claws, struggling to burrow into her arms. The air was full of frightened fire lizards, diving at her; and Mirrim, who made no attempt to defend herself, stared with utter amazement at Menolly.
“Mirrim? Do they belong to you after all?” cried T’gellan as he strode towards their table. “No, they’re not mine.” Mirrim pointed to Menolly. “They’re hers.”
Menolly was speechless, but she managed to contain Rocky and Diver. The others took refuge on ledges above her, broadcasting fear and uncertainty. She was just as confused as the fire lizards, because why were they in the Weyr? And the Weyr seemed to know about fire lizards, and…
“We’ll soon know whose they are,” said a woman’s angry voice, carrying clearly in the pause. A small, slim woman in riding gear came striding purposefully into the main section of the kitchen cavern. “I asked Ramoth to speak to them…”
She was followed by another rider. “Over here, Lessa,” T’gellan said, beckoning, but his gaze did not leave Menolly’s.
At the sound of that name, she struggled out of the chair, with the fire lizards squawking and trying to retain their balance and hold on her. All Menolly could think of was to keep out of Lessa’s way, but she got tangled up in the chairs about the table and painfully stubbed her toes. Mirrim grabbed her arm, trying to make her sit down, and there seemed to be more fire lizards than Menolly could claim circling over her head and chittering wildly.
“Will someone quiet this lot?” demanded the small, dark woman, confronting Menolly, her fists on her riding belts, her eyes snapping with anger. “Ramoth! if you would…”
Abruptly, complete silence reigned in the huge kitchen cavern. Menolly felt Beauty trembling more violently than ever against her neck, and the talons of the two bronzes dug into her arms and sides.
“That’s better,” said Lessa, her eyes brilliant. “And who are you? Are these all yours?”
“My name is Menolly, please and,” Menolly glanced up nervously at all the fire lizards perched silently with whirling eyes on ledges and hanging from the ceiling, “not all of these are mine.”
“Menolly?” Some of Lessa’s anger abated in her perplexity. “Menolly?” She was trying to place the name.
“Manora told you about her, Lessa,” said Mirrim, which Menolly thought greatly daring and very much appreciated. “T’gran rescued her from Threadfall. She’d run her feet raw.”
“Ah, yes. So, Menolly, how many fire lizards do look to you?”
Menolly was trying to figure out whether Lessa was annoyed or pleased, and if she had too many fire lizards would she be sent back to Half-Circle. She felt Mirrim prod her in the ribs.
“These,” Menolly indicated the three clinging to her and felt Mirrim dig her again, “and only six of those up there.”
“Only six of those up there?”
Menolly saw Lessa’s fingers drumming on her wide riding belt; she heard one of the dragonriders muffling a sound; and glancing up saw that he had his hand over his mouth. But his eyes were dancing with laughter. Then she dared look at Lessa’s face and saw the slight smile on the Weyrwoman’s face.
“That’s makes nine, I think,” Lessa said. “Just how did you contrive to impress nine fire lizards, Menolly?”
“I didn’t contrive. I was in the cave when they hatched, and they were hungry, you see. I’d a sackful of spiderclaws so I fed them…”
“Cave? Where?” Lessa’s words were crisp but not unkind.
“On the coast. Above Nerat, by the Dragon Stones.”
T’gellan uttered an exclamation. “You were living in that cave? I found jars and pots…no sign of fire lizard shells.”
“I didn’t think fire lizards clutched in caves,” Lessa remarked.
“It was only because the tide was high and the clutch would have been washed away. I helped the queen put them into the cave.”
Lessa regarded Menolly steadily for a long moment. “You helped the fire lizard?”
“Yes, you see I’d fallen over the cliff, and they—the queen and her bronzes, from the old clutch, not these here,” and Menolly jerked her chin at Beauty, Rocky and Diver, “they wouldn’t let me get off the beach until I helped them.”
T’gellan was staring at her, but the other two riders were grinning broadly. Then Menolly saw that Mirrim, too, was smiling with delight. More unbelievable to Menolly in her confusion, was the fact that a little brown fire lizard was perched on Mirrim’s shoulder, intently staring at Beauty who wouldn’t take her head out of Menolly’s hair.
“I’d like to hear the whole story, in sequence, one day,” Lessa said. “Right now, will you please keep your lot under control and with you? They’re upsetting Ramoth and all the others. Nine, eh?” And Lessa sighed, turning away. “When I think where I could use nine eggs to good purpose…”
“Please…do you need more fire lizard eggs?” Lessa whirled so fast that Menolly took an involuntarily backward step.
“Of course we need fire lizard eggs! Where have you been that you don’t know?” She turned on T’gellan. ‘You’re wingleader. Didn’t you inform all the sea holds?”
“Yes, I did, Lessa,” and T’gellan looked straight at Menolly now, “just about the time Menolly first disappeared from her hold. Right, Menolly? The sweep riders have been on the lookout for her ever since, but she was holed up snug as you please in that cave, with nine fire lizards.”
Menolly hung her head in despair. “Please, Weyrwoman, don’t send me back to Half-Circle Holdl”
“A girl who can impress nine fire lizards,” said Lessa in a sharp rippling tone that made Menolly look up, “does not belong in a Sea Hold. T’gellan, find out from Menolly where that clutch is and secure it for us immediately. Let us fervently hope it hasn’t hatched.” To Menolly’s intense relief, Lessa actually smiled at her, obviously in a much improved temper. “Remember to keep those pesky creatures away from Ramoth. Mirrim can help you train them. Hers are quite useful now.”
She swept away, leaving the entire cavern breathless. Activity suddenly picked up on all sides of the kitchen. Menolly felt Mirrim pressing her into a chair; she sank weakly down. She found a cup of klah in her hands and heard T’gellan urging her to take a few sips.