Moreta recognized Balfor, an unsmiling man who generally confined his remarks to monosyllables. Or perhaps he had always diplomatically deferred to the affable and verbose Herdmaster Sufur. Balfor was certainly vocal now as he hurried to Moreta and Holth, beckoning his men to bring the first of the nets.
"We have them all in order for you, Weyrwoman," he said, "if you know the holds from east to west. We've taken pains to be sure there is enough vaccine for every beast and human registered with the drum census. Go speedily, for the afternoon is half gone."
Balfor exaggerated, too, for the sun was just past zenith.
"Then I shall make the most of it. Don't go wandering off. I'll be back directly."
Moreta angled Holth in takeoff so they both had a good look at the angle of the sun. Then she checked the first labeclass="underline" Keroon River Hold, situated where the river rushed through a gorge in its first wild charge from the higher plateaus. Holth jumped for the sky and went between as Moreta kept the gorge hard in her mind. She was met by the healer of Keroon River Hold and her delivery received with thanks. They had begun to worry since the vaccine had been promised for early morning. Moreta did not dally.
Next they went slightly northeast to the High Plateau Hold where the runners were cleverly penned in a canyon, awaiting the vaccine. The holder wanted reassurance about "this stuff" since they'd only had drum messages and no contact with anyone "below" since the quarantine was sent, and he wanted a fuller account of all that had been going on below. She answered him tersely but told him that once the vaccination had been administered, he could go below and hear the whole story. Her next stop was westward, along the great plateau fault at Curved Hill Hold where there had been a great ingathering of runners-and that was the last of the first run she did.
She did four more holds, and each time she landed at the Beasthold for more vaccine, the sun had dipped by another hour's arc, though she and Holth had been on the move hours longer than the sun told. And each jump Holth made seemed just that much shallower. Twice Moreta asked the dragon if she wanted to take time to rest. Each time Holth replied firmly that she was able to continue.
The angle of the sun dominated the coordinates Moreta envisioned for Holth in her valiant leaps: It had become a blazing beacon, turning slowly orange as it dipped farther down in the west. Moreta began to think of the sun as her enemy, fighting the time it took for Holth to recognize each new destination, to glide in to the hold or cot, hand over the bottles of vaccine and the packets of needlethorn, to explain, patiently over and over, exactly the dosage for animal and that for human, repeating instructions already sent by drum and messenger. Yet Moreta had to admit that, despite Master Tirone's best efforts, there was still panic in the more isolated holds that had not been touched by the plague and dreaded it more for its unexperienced terrors than its known qualities. Only the fact that she came adragonback allayed some suspicions. Dragons had always meant safety, even to the most secluded settlers. She had to use valuable time reassuring Holth and still make it back to the Beasthold for the next load of vaccine and the next run.
All during the last round, she kept the sun at a midafternoon position, feeling the strain of timing it in her bones, in Holth's heaviness. But when she asked Holth if they should stop, the dragon replied that she wished Keroon had a few mountains instead of all these dreadful plains.
Then they had delivered the last of the vaccine and the net across Holth's withers was empty at last. They were at a small western hold, stark amid the vast rolling plain, the runners held in an uneasy assembly around the great waterhole that supplied them. The holder was torn between administering the vaccine as long as he had light and offering hospitality to the dragon and rider.
"Go, you have much to do," she told the man. "This is our last stop."
Thanking her profusely, the man began to hand out the contents of the net to his handlers. He kept bowing to her and Holth, walking backward to his herd, all the while expressing his gratitude for their arrival.
She watched him go, numbly aware that Holth's body was shaking under her legs. She stroked the old queen's neck.
"Orlith is all right?" She had asked the question frequently, too.
I am too tired to think that far.
Moreta looked at the midafternoon sun over Keroon plain and wondered with a terrible lethargy exactly what time it was.
"One last jump, that's all we have to take, Holth."
Wearily the old queen gathered herself to spring. Moreta gratefully began her litany.
"Black, blacker, blackest-"
They went between.
"Shouldn't Moreta be back by now, Leri?" The blue rider had been prowling uneasily in the tiers, occasionally barking his shins. Leri blinked, looking away from K'lon. His restlessness deepened her anxiety despite the soothing effect of the fellis-laced wine she had been sipping all afternoon. It had eased the pain in her joints caused by the morning's concentrated flying but did not allay her worry. She jerked her shoulders irritably, arching her back, and peered down at Orlith who lay drowsing beside her clutch of eggs.
"Take a hint from Orlith. She's relaxed enough. And I won't disrupt their concentration with an unnecessary question at what could be an awkward moment," she replied testily. "They'll be very tired. They'll have had to fight time and make every minute into twenty to get the vaccine distributed." Leri balled one hand into a fist and pounded her thigh. "I'm going to rend M'tani." She flexed her fingers as if to encircle M'tani's neck. "Holth'll rake that bronze of his into shreds."
K'lon regarded her with startled awe. "But I thought Sh'gall-"
Leri gave a snort of contempt. "L'mal would not have needed to 'discuss' the matter with K'dren and S'ligar. He'd have been at Telgar, demanding satisfaction."
"He would? What?"
"No Weyrleader can disregard a continental emergency. Capiam has not revoked his priority. Well, M'tani will wish he had cooperated. And"-Leri's smile was malicious-"Dalgeth will answer to the other queens."
"Really?"
"Hmm. Yes. Really!" Leri drummed her fingers on the stem other wine cup. "As soon as Moreta comes back, you'll see."
K'lon peered out of the Hatching Ground. "The sun's nearly down now. It must be dark in Keroon . . ."
Afterward, K'lon realized that both the rider and the dragon knew in the same instant. But Orlith's reaction was vocal and spectacular. Her scream, tearing at his taut nerves, brought him round to witness the initial throes of her bereavement. Orlith had been lying at the rear of the Ground, her eggs scattered on the sand before her. Now she reared up on her hind legs, her awkwardly coiled tail all that prevented her from crashing backward as she arched her head back, howling her despair. The sounds she emitted were ghastly ululations in weird dissonances, like throat-cut shrieks. Then, in an incredible feat, Orlith launched herself from that fully extended posture, over her eggs, missing them by a mere handspan. She sprawled, muzzle buried in the sand as all color faded from her golden hide. Then she began to writhe, thrashing her head and tail, oblivious to the fact that she had caught her right wing under her, nailing the air with the left.
Holth is no more, Rogeth told K'lon.
"Holth dead? And Moreta?" K'lon could barely comprehend that statement and frantically tried to deny the corollary even as he watched its effect on the stricken queen.