The Weyr had the right to Search for suitable candidates from any hold, especially when a queen egg was hardening. Oklina was so young, so sweet. I chided myself for criticizing my new Lord Holder. What right had I, save that of a concerned friend? But then I was good at seeing the bad side in everything.
Around midday, we had time for a cup of soup and bread. Most of the serum bottles had been speedily delivered to the messengers-I tried to figure out the logistics of delivery. It took nearly five minutes for a dragon to land. Working as fast as we could, another five minutes were needed to hand the rider the bottles, then three to four minutes for the dragon to become airborne. Although his actual flight time between one location and another was a few seconds, it had to take at least half an hour to complete each delivery. With all the holds in the west. South Boll, Crom, Nabol,
Fort, what few were occupied in Ruatha, Ista, and the western portions of Telgar, the entire complement of each Weyr ought to have been turned out. And there were but eight from the High
Reaches, seven from Fort, and six from Ista.
"Don't try to make sense of it. Rill," Desdra advised me, her wry tone amused. "It actually can be done if one takes into account unusual draconic abilities."
Her reference confused me further, but the Istan and Fort contingents of dragons were back for their last consignments. If the dragons looked a bit off-color, that was to be expected. Going between must take a great deal of energy, as did all that landing and taking off. Leri looked exhausted, but then she was the oldest of the dragonriders at Fort. It was a measure of her dedication to the Weyrs that she undertook such a task.
Suddenly all the queen's let out roars of angry protest. The only blue dragon present cringed.
Leri looked furious, as did the other queen riders. There seemed to be an intense, if silent, conference among them. Leri signaled me, as the nearest person to her, to take her last consignment from her.
"Take these to S'peren; there's a good girl. He'll deliver."
I was soon covered in the dust stirred up by Holth's precipitous departure. I think the dragon hadn't so much as cleared the outer wall before she went between. A whoosh of cold air made me shudder convulsively. Everyone else had grown grim indeed when there should have been some measure of satisfaction for the completion of a difficult and most unusual task. I walked slowly back to the Hall.
"These can go back to the cool rooms." Alessan was indicating the remaining crates of serum, the extras prepared against the possibility of breakage. "We ought to get them over to Keroon Beasthold when the fuss subsides. Whoever becomes Beastcraftmaster will be glad of them. They're sure to discover more abandoned runners in Keroon or Telgar. There are many untenanted holds there now."
At that point, Deefer and his team came back, all grinning broadly, each man carrying at least one plump wherry on his back.
"We shall feast tonight. Oklina, Rill, what else can we find in the larder to add to roast wherry?
We owe ourselves a real celebration; a proper meal, not another stew, and a swing round with a wineskin."
There was a general outbreak of cheers and shouts, and offers of assistance to the cooks. The Hall was enthusiastically cleared of its medical detritus, and the long-absent sturdy dinner tables were hauled, dusty, from their cupboards. They had been so hastily stored after the Gather that some still bore wine- and food-stained cloths. Oklina and I quickly bundled those up and out of sight in the mound of wash.
"I shall be sorry to leave here," Desdra said to me as she paused in collecting her bits and pieces and her records of the serum manufacture. "Despite all this-" she gestured at the disorder "-Ruatha is recovering quickly."
"You and Master Capiam must come back soon," Oklina said, her eyes still shining from B'lerion's last visit "You'll see what Ruatha should look like, won't she. Rill?"
"Just give me elbow room, and we'll have the place to rights in no time," I vowed so fervently that Desdra laughed.
Then she winked so that Oklina wouldn't see.
"You were right to come here, Rill. You were never appreciated at your former Hold. And I'd like to apologize for misconstruing your motive in offering your assistance at the Hall. You'd've been a rare, fine help to us there."
"No, I would not have been allowed," I said, relieved that Oklina had moved out of earshot. "Here I am my own person, accepted on the strength of my own endeavors. I can be of use here, especially if Oklina-" I paused, not certain what I meant to say.
Desdra cocked one eyebrow, and I quickly corrected any misapprehension she had of high-flown ambitions.
"Oh, don't be ridiculous, Desdra. Despite Ruatha's present state, this is a prestigious Hold for alliance. Alessan's done himself no harm in anyone's eyes to pull out of this disaster with so much dignity. Every Lord Holder with eligible daughters will be courting him assiduously as soon as they can wangle conveyance here."
"You've sufficient rank, Lady Nerilka."
"Hush! Rank to be sure I had." I emphasized the past tense. "And little joy of it. I am far more satisfied to be part of Ruatha's future, for I had none of my own at Fort."
Desdra conceded my point with an open gesture of both hands. "Is there anyone to whom I should drop a hint of your whereabouts? I shall be most discreet."
"If you would, tell my Uncle Munchaun that you have seen me oh your travels, well and happy.
He'll reassure my sisters."
"Campen was worried, too, you know. He and Theskin searched the surroundings for a whole day, certain you had been hurt out gathering herbs."
I nodded, accepting what she didn't say as well as Campen's attempt.
I remember that I was wondering if we'd ever eradicate the astringent odor of redwort from the Main Hall when Oklina, setting the highly burnished copper ornaments back on the mantel, suddenly cried out and would have fallen had not Desdra, beside her, held her up. Ashen-faced,
Alessan burst from the small office that had so recently been Follen's surgery.
"MORRRETTTAAA!" Alessan's scream was the anguish of a man already overburdened by grief and loss. He fell heavily to his knees after that one shout, sobs racking his body as he bent over, pounding his fists on the stone, heedless of Follen's attempts to restrain him from doing himself damage.
I couldn't stand those sobs and ran to him, kneeling so that his already-bloodied fists pummeled my thighs, not cold stone. He gripped my thighs so fiercely I had to bite my lips to suppress a cry, but then he burrowed his head in my lap, convulsed by this grief.
Moreta! What harm could have befallen her at Fort Weyr? I knew that her queen was in the Hatching Ground, surely the safest place in any Weyr.
Alessan's arms encircled my hips, his fingers clawing at my back, as he wrestled with this new and tremendous grief. I clasped him to me as tightly as I could, murmuring inanities, trying to understand what could have happened.
I was aware that Follen and Tuero were standing beside us, but whatever they said was masked by Alessan's hideous, gasping sobs and the scrape of his boots on the stone as his very body tried to escape this new tragedy.
"Whatever it is," I said, "let him purge it, for he has not indulged himself with tears until now.
What can have happened to Moreta?"
"Whatever," Desdra said, joining them, "has rendered Oklina unconscious. I don't understand any of this. He's not a rider, nor is she yet."
We heard a mournful howl, far louder than could have come from the throat of only one watchwher.
"Shards!" Desdra cried.
I looked up at the anguish in her voice and saw B'lerion leaping up the stairs into the Hold, his face totally white, his eyes wild. The grayed dragon beyond him was a terribly altered Nabeth. It was his weird keening we had heard, "Oklina!" B'lerion cried, trying to find her among us.