"She fainted, B'lerion." Desdra pointed to the Hall where Oklina's body was stretched out on the table, a servant hovering solicitously by her. "What has happened to Moreta?"
B'lerion turned haggard tear-filled eyes from Oklina to Alessan, whose sobs as he lay in my arms were as racking as ever, and the bronze rider's whole body sagged as he dropped his head on his chest. Tuero reached out to support him on one side, Follen on the other.
"Moreta went between."
I couldn't quite grasp what he meant. Dragons and riders went between so frequently.
"On Holth. Telgar riders defected. She knew Keroon. She made the run. Holth was already tired. She did too much. They both went between. And died!"
I held Alessan even tighter then, my own tears mingling with his, my grief as fierce but more for him now than for the valiant Weyrwoman. How could he endure this third ghastly tragedy when he had stood so courageously against the plague, and mourned Suriana far longer than would most men. I burned anew against my father. Why, if there was any justice in the world, was Alessan so grievously assaulted by misfortunes of the most terrible degree while Tolocamp enjoyed health, fortune, and fleshly pleasures that he no longer deserved?
I knew then why Alessan's incredible eyes had been shining the day I arrived. I certainly didn't know how Moreta and Alessan had contrived to be lovers. They could not have had much time together at all. On that afternoon, the six had been gone from Ruatha only an hour. Alessan's sanction of Oklina and B'lerion was now more comprehensible if he and Moreta were involved. I was glad that the Weyrwoman had had some joy; for I hadn't liked Sh'gall on those few times I had encountered him. He wasn't likable, whereas Moreta was. Poor Moreta. Poor, poor Alessan. What could possibly comfort him in this new trial?
Desdra had an answer. She waited until Alessan's sobbing had subsided to shuddering. Then she and Tuero lifted him from my lap. I could not move immediately, so cramped were my legs. But I could and did cushion him against my body as Desdra gently tipped a cup to his lips and told him to drink.
The look in his eyes will always haunt me: lost, totally lost, incredulous of his loss-and so, so sad. He had taken all the draught Desdra had given him, and it was merciful to him as well as to those about him that his eyelids lowered over his ghastly expression as the fellis took instant effect.
There were willing arms to transport him to his quarters, and I willing to sit by him, though Desdra assured me that she had given him enough fellis to keep him asleep until the next day.
"What can we do for him then, Desdra?" I asked, still shaken by his grief. Tears would not stop coursing down my cheeks.
"My dear Lady Nerilka, if I knew the answer to that, I would be Masterhealer." She shook her head from side to side, expressing the utter helplessness that I, too, felt to my core. "It will depend in every degree on what he will allow us to do for him. How cruel this new loss. How horribly, wastefully cruel!"
We undressed him and covered him with the fur. His face was prematurely aged, his eyes shrunken in his head, his lips drawn down, his complexion waxy-white. Desdra felt his pulse and nodded with relief. Then she sat down on the edge of the bed, wearily propping her back against the stead, her hands palms up and limp in her lap.
"He loved Moreta?" I was bold enough to ask.
Desdra nodded. "When we collected the needlethom. What a glorious day that was!" She sighed, the faintest of smiles touching her usually austere face. "I'm glad they had that much. And perhaps, in a strange, unjust way, it is for the best That is, if Ruatha is to endure."
"Because Alessan must secure his Bloodline?" In all of Pern's history, no Weyrwoman had become a Lady Holder, though many Lady Holders had become Weyrwomen. Moreta had been nearly to the end of safe childbearing, but Alessan could have taken a wife as well. A Lord Holder could make his own laws within his Hold, especially to secure his Bloodline. Hold girls were raised with that precept firmly implanted in their brains and hearts.
"Oklina's children were to be fostered here," Desdra said.
"But that's not enough with all his losses."
"You must tell him who you are. Lady Nerilka."
I shook my head even as I grasped firmly at the thought, at that utterly impossible possibility. He needed someone pretty and appealing, clever and charming, who could rouse him from all the grief he had endured.
She left me then, murmuring something about bringing food when it was ready. It took too much energy to tell her that I doubted I could choke anything down.
Chapter X
I'm not sure how any of us got through the next few days. B'lerion stayed with Oklina. It was more obvious than ever to me that her destiny would be the Weyr. She had heard the outcry from the dragons, which was unusual enough for someone not of the Weyr or dragon linked. Alessan's knowledge of Moreta's death was shatteringly unexpected to all but Desdra and Oklina. I pieced together some parts of their story, aided by a growing Intuition that seemed to be sensitive to anything concerning Alessan.
AH the dragonriders and most Weyrfolk had been instantly aware of the two deaths, Moreta's and Holth's. Later B'lerion told us of the reinforced rules and disciplines imposed on all riders to prevent a recurrence of this type of tragedy.
It had begun as a logical expedient for injured riders to ask their flightworthy dragons if they would fly a sound dragonmen to make up Wing strength at Threadfall. Each dragon had his own peculiarities of flight that his impressed rider understood. But, generally speaking, any dragonrider was capable of riding another's dragon. No blame could be attached to Leri for adopting that custom and allowing Moreta to ride Holth in the several emergencies that had arisen. The courtesy was by then customary Weyr practice. But tired dragons and tired riders make mistakes, and that late afternoon, Moreta and Holth had been pushed beyond mere exhaustion to the point where habit only had carried them through the motions of landing and taking off. I remembered then how Holth had gone between a wingspan above the Court that afternoon.
"Yes," B'lerion said, his voice a broken whisper. "Holth had lost a lot of natural spring in her hindquarters. She'd have leaped up and gone between before Moreta could have told her where to fly-they stayed, lost, between."
Later, when Master Tirone began to write a celebratory ballad about Moreta's courageous ride, Desdra told me that, at the insistence of all Weyrleaders, Moreta was to be properly mounted on her own queen, not Holth. To broadcast the truth behind that tragedy could have done incalculable harm. Most of Pern never knew the truth. I'm not so certain I was all that glad to be in the minority. Not that it diminished Moreta's heroism in my estimation, but because so simple a mistake was causing so much anguish.
Desdra also told me, since she knew me to be discreet and trustworthy, how the dragonriders had managed to make so many deliveries. This had contributed to their total exhaustion, a major factor in the tragedy: Dragons could go as easily between one time and another as one place to another. Moreta and Holth had overtaxed their strength in this way. For only by stretching time in this bizarre fashion, or rather doubling back on themselves, could Moreta and Holth manage to deliver serum to all the holds on the Keroon plains. Moreta had been the only one of the riders available that fateful day sufficiently familiar with Keroon's many half-hidden holds to have succeeded in that task.
Telgar Weyr was to suffer disciplinary action from the other Weyrs, led by Weyrwomen. They were unalterably convinced that had M'tani not been so intransigent and permitted his riders to fly, Moreta's life would not have been lost. I never did learn what was done against Telgar Weyr. If Oklina ever knew, she never mentioned it.