«I'll see you at the Hatching?» M'ray winked impudently at her. «Of course!» Moreta laughed, and he embraced her again, a little more certain of where his arms should go and not quite so fierce with his strong arms.
Both riders walked her to the weyr entrance. «You're off to Igen now?» D'say asked. «See Dalova. She'll agree.» D'say's smile showed some of the charm that had once attracted her. The bronze rider had always been slow to make up his mind, but his loyalty never faltered after he had. «Don't try to talk to M'tani at Telgar. Ask for T'grel. He's sensible.»
Then the bronze and brown rider locked fingers to give Moreta a lift to Arith's back, warning M'barak in a jocular fashion that he'd better be careful with that conveyance. M'barak replied solemnly that it was his sworn obligation.
Then they were above Igen Weyr, the brilliance of the sun glancing off the distant lake painful to eyes between blinded; but the heat, the dry intense desert heat, was welcome to chilled bodies as Arith bugled his request to the watchrider.
Dalova was at her weyr ledge to greet Moreta, her tanned face wreathed in delighted smiles for her visitor.
«You come in Search?» she cried, embracing Moreta and drawing her into the cool of her quarters. Dalova had a demonstrative and affectionate nature, though the strains of the recent past were apparent in her nervous gestures and grimaces, the way she constantly shifted her position by her queen, often tapping her fingers on Allaneth's forearm as she listened to Moreta's explanation of her double Search.
«There's no question of my refusing help, Moreta. Silga, Empie, and Namurra won't refuse either. Six, you say Capiam'll need? I'd wager any amount» she laughed, a high nervous laugh, «that P'leen times it. You do get to know, you know. As I'm sure you do.» She grimaced, causing the sun-lines around her sad brown eyes to crease. «If only L'bol were not so terribly depressed. He feels that if he hadn't let our riders convey that dreadful beast about, «She broke off and threw her arms out as if she could scatter all the unpleasantness and misery. Absently she patted her dragon's face, and Allaneth regarded her fondly. «I can help you distribute the vaccines but I cannot, in conscience, give you any candidates. We have so few young people to present to hatchlings, much less a queen. Besides, Allaneth should rise soon; I'm counting on it.» A flash of desperation crossed Dalova's mobile face.
«There's nothing like a good mating flight to buoy the spirits of the entire Weyr,» Moreta said, thinking ahead to Orlith's next flight with increasing anticipation.
«Oh, my, not you, too?» Dalova asked with a shaky little laugh. Tears formed in her expressive brown eyes, and now her queen licked her hand.
Without hesitation, Moreta took Dalova in her arms and the woman wept, in the quiet forlorn way of someone who has cried often without relief.
«So many, Moreta, so many. So suddenly. The shock of it when Ch'mon and Helith went. Then …» She could not continue for sobbing. «And L'bol is sunk in apathy. P'leen has risen with the Igen wings. That's not out of order, but when we're no longer consolidated, if he cannot lead … So I'm counting on Allaneth's rising, and me! Once there's been a good mating flight, everyone's spirits will improve. And once the fear of this hideous plague is over, everyone will be restored.»
Dalova raised her head from Moreta's shoulder, drying her eyes. «You know how firestone makes me sneeze, and I nearly burst myself to keep from doing it because a sneeze frightens people so! Ridiculous, but it is the truth.» Dalova sniffled, found her kerchief, and blew her nose lustily. «I must say, I do feel better because you know what it's like. Now, let me have a look at our Weyr maps. Yes, I see what Master Capiam means and he's worked so much of the detail out, it'll be no trouble. I'll organize Igen. Have you been to Telgar yet? Well, ask for T'grel. Then you'll go to High Reaches? Is Falga improving? Will Tamianth really fly again? Oh, that is good news. Look, much as I'd love you to stay, you'd better go or I'll drip tears all over you again. I try not to for L'bol's sake because Timenth tattles on me and that depresses L'bol even more. You can't imagine what a relief it is to weep all over you. Look, I'll send Empie when we've decided, and I might not ask more than the queens or P'leen. I can trust them but L'bol never approves of timing it, for any reason, and now is not the moment to upset him on minor matters.» Dalova had been ushering Moreta to the weyr entrance, holding tightly to her arm as they walked. She smiled warmly up at M'barak, stroked Arith's nose, and gave Moreta a leg up. At Telgar the brown watchdragon bugled threateningly to Arith, ordering the blue to land on the Rim instead of proceeding down to the Bowl.
«My orders, Weyrwoman,» C'ver said with no apology. «M'tani wants no strangers in the Weyr.»
«Since when are dragonriders strangers to each other?» Moreta demanded, offended by the order and insolence with which it was delivered. Arith trilled with concern over their reception and he could sense Moreta's fury. «I've come in Search.»
«And left your queen alone?» C'ver was openly contemptuous.
«The eggs harden. I call M'tani to honor his promise to S'peren to send us candidates for Impression. I have vaccine with me if it is needed for the weyrfolk I seek.»
«We have all of that we need for those who deserve it.»
«If I were on Orlith, C'ver,»
«Even if you were on your queen, Moreta of Fort, you wouldn't be welcome here! Take your Search into your own Holds. If there're any holders left, of course!»
«If those are your sentiments, C'ver,»
«They are.»
«Then have a care, C'ver, when this Pass is over. Have a care!»
C'ver laughed and his brown reared to his hind legs, trumpeting derisively. Arith trembled from muzzle to tail tip.
«Get out of here, M'barak.» Moreta spoke through clenched teeth. Telgar could burn in fever and she'd never answer them. They could be down to the last sack of firestone and she'd not send them a sliver. The Weyr could be full of Thread and she, «Take us to the High Reaches.»
A Rim landing indeed! The cold of between did not dampen Moreta's fury, but Arith stopped trembling only when the High Reaches watchdragon caroled a welcome.
«Ask Arith to request permission to land in the Bowl near Tamianth's quarters. Say we come in Search.»
«I already did, Moreta,» M'barak said, his eyes still shadowed by Telgar's rejection. «We are twice and twice times twice welcome at the High Reaches. Arith says Tamianth is warbling.»
As Arith glided past the Seven Spindles and the waving watchrider, they could indeed hear Tamianth's intricate vocalization. B'lerion's Nabeth answered then charged out of his weyr to its ledge. S'ligar's Gianarth emerged as if catapulted, flapping his wings and uttering high crackling trills as Arith made his landing.
M'barak turned to grin at Moreta, his shattered confidence restored by the spontaneous greetings and goodwill. Then Moreta saw B'lerion standing in the wide aperture to the weyrling quarters that accommodated the wounded Tamianth. He waved his right arm vigorously and then trotted out to meet her.
«Just a quick word alone,» he said, folding his good arm around her shoulders with careless ease. «I took Desdra and Oklina to the Nerat plantations late last night. We've all the needlethorn we could possibly require. I've not mentioned either of your Searches to Falga and S'ligar and there have been no awkward questions from any other source.» He raised his voice, chatting casually. «Tamianth's wing is dripping ichor, and she's got a tub for diving; S'ligar's improving, the sun is shining, the Weyr is righted, and Pressan and I were just giving Falga a little walk. Pressen thinks very highly of you, my dear Moreta. Cr'not may tell me that Diona did it, but we know Diona, don't we? Pressen attended the dragon injuries from yesterday's Fall. Spends his free time badgering Falga about dragon cures, which keeps her from feeling useless. Ah, here we are, Falga, your waterbearer!»