«My thoughts, too,» K'dren said, «but I shall be eternally grateful when we can resume our traditional regions. It isn't Sh'gall, I'll have you know, he's a bloody fine leader; it's that sour excrescence from Telgar.»
«K'dren …» Levalla spoke in firm remonstrance.
«Moreta's discreet, but that man …» K'dren balled his fists, setting his jaw as his eyes flashed with antipathy for the Telgar Leader. «He won't assist in either of your requests, you know, Moreta!»
«He might not.» Moreta took out the lists. K'dren exclaimed in surprise at seeing them.
«So they will serve a purpose after all. Let me have a glance.» He flipped the sheets till he came to the angular backhanded scrawl of M'tani's. «T'grel would be the man to contact at Telgar. Even if he weren't a responsible rider, he'd do it in reprisal for some of M'tani's tricks. And you must have riders from each Weyr, ones who know how to find the hole-in-the-hill cots that aren't well marked. Well, you can be sure of Benden support. I wondered why our healer was bloodletting again!» He rubbed his arm with a rueful smile.
«And Capiam's sure about this vaccination of his?» Levalla asked. Her fingers betrayed her anxiety by the speed with which she flipped her worry-wood.
«He likens it to Thread. If it can't get a grip, it can't last.»
«About your Hatching, now. We do have a very keen young man from a Lemos highlands minehold whom we found on Search two Turns ago,» Levalla said, reverting to Moreta's ostensible errand. «I don't know why he didn't take, but we'll have him back if he doesn't find a mate on your Ground. Dannell's his name, and he's eager to keep up with his mining craft if he can.»
«Are you Searching more among the crafts than the holds these days?»
«With the end of Pass in sight, it's best to have men who can occupy their spare time profitably for the Weyr.»
«We receive the tithe whether there's Pass or not,» Moreta said with a frown.
K'dren looked up from his perusal of the names. «To be sure, but once a Pass is over, the Lords may not be quite so generous.» K'dren's expression indicated that his Lords had better sustain the quality of their tithes. «I've underlined the riders who, I suspect, do time.» His grin was raffish. «It's not something anyone admits to but T'grel must have to use it to cope with M'tani. Don't bother with L'bol at Igen. He's useless. Go directly to Dalova, Allaneth's rider, She lost a lot of bloodkin at Igen Sea Hold. She'd know who among her riders time it. And Igen has all those little cotholds stashed in the desert and on the riverbanks. Surely you've got a few good friends left at Ista. You were there ten Turns. Have you heard that F'gal's bad with kidney chill?»
«Yes, I'd planned to speak to Wimmia out of courtesy. Or D'say, Kritith's rider.»
«You have a son by him, don't you?» Levalla said with a tolerant smile. «Such ties seem to help at the most unexpected times, don't they?»
«D'say is a steady man and the boy Impressed a brown from Torenth's last clutch,» Moreta said with quiet pride. She rose. She would have liked to stay longer with the Benden Leaders but she had a long day ahead of her.
«We'll give Dannell time to pack up and send him on to you at Fort tomorrow, with M'gent. You can use the opportunity to go over any details with him. Shall I have a discreet word with my Lords?»
«Master Tirone is supposed to be sweetening them but your endorsement would be a boon.»
As K'dren escorted Moreta to the stairs, Levalla waved an indolent farewell, still worrying the wood in her left hand.
The encouragement that Moreta received from the Benden Weyrleaders did much to sustain her during her next three visits. At Ista, F'gal and Wimmia were in her weyr, bronze Timenth on the ledge, the tacit signal for privacy. So Moreta directed M'barak to land Arith at D'say's weyr, where Kritith greeted Moreta with shining blue spinning eyes, rearing to his hindquarters and extending his wings. He peered out to the ledge, patently disappointed that Moreta had arrived on a blue instead of with her queen. Then D'say emerged from his sleeping quarters. To her chagrin she had obviously awakened him from a much-needed sleep. He was one of the few who had not succumbed to the first wave of illness, and he had ridden Fall continuously, nursed other sick riders, and tried to bolster F'gal's leadership during the latter's kidney ailment.
As she argued with D'say on the necessity of once again cooperating with the Healer Hall, she wished that he had had the plague; then he would not be so slow to comply. D'say resisted her presentation in such a glum silence that she was becoming depressed when their son M'ray suddenly charged up the steps.
«I beg your pardon, D'say, but my Quoarth told me that Moreta is here.» The boy, in his height he was more manly than boyish, paused just long enough in the threshold to receive permission to enter. Then he rushed to Moreta, embracing her with a charming enthusiasm. He peered anxiously into her face with eyes the color of her own, set in a head with the same deep sockets and arching brows. Yet he was far more D'say's child in build and coloring. «I knew you were ill. It's very good to see you well.»
«Orlith has clutched. I've had little to do except repair scored riders and dragons.»
M'ray opened his arms, looking from sire to dam, hopeful of answers to his outspoken questions.
«Moreta needs help, which I don't think she'll get from F'gal in his state of health.» D'say replied noncommittally. He refilled Moreta's cup with klah, tacitly giving her permission to tell their son.
She did, and the boy's eyes widened with apprehension and a growing eagerness that answered the challenge.
«Wimmia would agree, D'say, you know she would. We only have to present the urgency to her. She's not a passive person, like F'gal. He's, he's changed a lot recently.» As M'ray blurted out his opinion, he eyed D'say to see if the bronze rider would try to refute him. D'say shrugged. «Anyway, I'd like to help and my wingleader, T'lonneg, is hold-bred. If there's anyone who'd know the rainforest holds, it's him. He caught the plague, too, and lost family. He should know about this, D'say, really he should. This isn't the sort of request you can deny, is it? No more than we can stop rising to Fall.» M'ray faced his sire, shoulders back, jaw forward, a pose she remembered striking when she had acted on her own initiative in treating a runner in her family's hold. «I rose with Ista's wings at every Fall. Haven't got so much as char in my face.»
«Keep it that way,» D'say remarked in a flat voice that masked the pride he had for his lad. «T'lonneg says they fly well, M'ray and Quoarth.»
«What we'd expect,» Moreta said fondly, smiling all the more warmly at the lad. It was a pity that she hadn't been able to give him more time but she'd had to go on to Fort Weyr, and D'say had remained at Ista. «K'dren thought that six or seven riders would be needed from each Weyr.»
D'say rose to stand beside his son; there wasn't a hair's difference in height between them. Moreta had never been motherly toward her children; as a queen rider, she'd had to foster them immediately. She could be proud of M'ray, though, of his eager enthusiasm. Though he was committed to the Weyr, it suddenly occurred to her that she had other children and her bloodline could be sustained in Keroon.
«We will recruit riders who are adequate to the task and will discharge this duty to the Hall,» D'say assured her. «I'll speak to Wimmia as soon as she's free. She'll review the fosterlings for your queen's clutch, though I must remind you that we had heavy losses among the weyr and hold folk. Everyone wanted to see that peculiar beast when it passed through here on its way to the Gather.»
«I grieved to know you had such heavy losses.» Moreta looked up at the fine lad, grateful he had been spared. «When you've arranged the matter, send a messenger to Master Capiam. He has all the details worked out.»