If they were here, now, because of Lorana, then it was J’riz’s father, Tenniz, who had set her on the way. Tenniz was one of the rare traders born with the gift of the Sight—the strange gift that gave glimpses of the future. With his Sight, Tenniz had recognized Lorana, had helped set her on the path that had led her and all the other Turns into the past and to the eastern of the two Great Isles—low-lying masses that had remained untouched by humans for hundreds of Turns.
J’riz did not have the gift of the Sight—that had gone to his younger sister, Jirana. Ten Turns was unusually young for Sight to manifest, but this adult responsibility did not prevent Jirana from being an extremely outgoing and passionate child. Xhinna loved both of them like a big sister, and the terrible plight of J’riz’s green dragonet, Qinth, tore at her heart.
Despite Bekka’s cheerful manner, Xhinna could think of no other dragon so horribly injured that had survived. She feared that J’riz might be a dragonrider for less than a sevenday.
If only the tunnel snakes had not attacked! Why had Tenniz, with his Sight, sent Lorana and the others here if not to find a way to repopulate the Weyrs of Pern?
Instead—now—Xhinna found herself wandering around a too-large camp wondering when and how she and the others would return to the present Third Pass and back to the losing battle against Thread.
“We haven’t got enough food,” Taria said to Xhinna later that morning, raising her voice to be heard over the creeling weyrlings.
“We’ll send a party to round up some of the herdbeasts,” Xhinna said. The assault of the tunnel snakes and the rampage by the Mrreows had broken the fencing around the camp’s herdbeasts and those that hadn’t been killed had run off.
“Who?” Taria asked, looking around. It took Xhinna a moment for the significance of the question to sink through—of all the dragons in the camp, only her Tazith and Taria’s Coranth were old enough to fly.
“We should have kept more people behind for guard,” Xhinna muttered to herself. She knew that Weyrleader T’mar had planned to send a group back to them as soon as the dragonriders had settled once more in Telgar Weyr. No one had expected the strange knot that had sprung up between, trapping both the returning Eastern Weyr dragonriders and the lost, presumed dead, dragonriders led by the old Weyrleader, D’gan.
The knot had been broken, but only after Weyrwoman Fiona had jumped off her queen, Talenth, into the nothingness of between in order to send Talenth back to Lorana. It had been Lorana who had figured out how to break the jam and free the trapped dragonriders—old and new—but in the ensuing events, no one had thought to reinforce those who remained behind with Xhinna.
She shrugged. “I guess it’s up to you and me.”
“If we had J’per or J’keran—” Taria began hopefully.
“We don’t,” Xhinna cut her off in irritation. J’per and J’keran were experienced brown riders who’d gone back with Fiona and Lorana to Telgar Weyr in the present Turn. Xhinna frowned as she realized that after living for three Turns on the Eastern Island, they had nearly caught up to the present time. “So we do what’s needed.” She managed a smile for her friend. “As always.”
Taria heaved an aggrieved sigh, but said nothing else, instead turning toward her green.
“At least Tazith and Coranth are small enough that we can get low to the ground,” Xhinna said, making a herding gesture with one arm.
“K’dan,” Xhinna called before mounting her blue, “we’re going to see about finding some food.”
The harper nodded, seeming at a loss for words as he looked around the camp. Xhinna guessed at the worries in his mind, saw the way he pulled little Tiona and Kimar toward him while at the same time consoling his bronze Lurenth.
It took them the better part of an hour to round up a measly half-dozen herdbeasts. They had scarcely got them back into the half-repaired corral before K’dan and R’ney started the butchering necessary to feed the ravenous weyrlings. A line formed of anxious riders, eagerly looking for anything to carry back to their dragonets.
As soon as there was a free moment, Xhinna approached K’dan. “We’re going to need you to take charge of the weyrlings.”
“Weyrlingmaster, dragonrider, father, harper,” K’dan said with a grin. “I think I’m being underworked.”
Xhinna smiled at the first expression of humor the older man had shown all day.
“I could take a skiff out fishing,” Colfet offered. The white-haired seaman had wandered the camp in the aftermath of the tunnel snake and Mrreow attack, offering what help he could where he could. He knew nothing of dragons and less of weyrlings, but he was an inveterate scrounger and he had the knack for organizing that Xhinna adored in anyone. His age alone was a source of comfort to the many younger, disconcerted new dragonriders—so many of them had just recently been orphaned, and all of them, save for J’riz and K’dan, had until the previous day never even imagined being at a Hatching, let alone Impressing a dragon.
Xhinna felt bad for all the others who had been here the day before—hundreds, for they needed at least as many Candidates as there were dragon eggs waiting to hatch. So many had come, eager for the chance to Impress a dragon, expecting to see the largest hatching on Pern—only to be so tragically disappointed.
Fiona had been right to insist that they be returned to their homes immediately. If it hadn’t been for the Weyrwoman’s foresight, the camp would have had more hungry, confused faces in it at the moment.
Not that Xhinna wouldn’t have welcomed at least a few extra faces, Fiona’s first amongst all of them.
As the problems of setting up a camp and recovering from the disaster of the day before settled upon Xhinna’s shoulders, she had only greater respect for the heavy burdens that Fiona had borne uncomplainingly, despite being thrust so young into the role of Weyrwoman.
Somehow, lunch was arranged, and the camp’s pavilion was restored to its position of prominence. It would have to be moved, though—the very next day, Xhinna swore. The beached ships that for three Turns had served as onshore homes had seemed such a good idea, but now they seemed ominous and foreboding—traps for people, and targets for both ravenous tunnel snakes and Mrreows.
“We need to get out of here,” Xhinna said in a quiet conversation with Taria and K’dan over lunch. She made a face as she glanced around the too-large camp. “This place is too exposed. The tunnel snakes will come back, as will the Mrreows.”
“The weyrlings can’t fly for a month,” K’dan reminded her.
Xhinna sighed. “Couldn’t we have Tazith and Coranth carry them?”
Taria gave her a skeptical look, but K’dan nodded, a grin spreading across his face. His smile faded almost as quickly as it had appeared. “And when the others come back? How will they find us?”
“And we’re not going to be so few when they return,” Taria added. “So we’ll want to find a place large enough for us all and close to food.”
Xhinna mulled their words over, then said, “We could go back to the rocky promontory. I can’t imagine Fiona sending more than a wing.”
A wing, roughly thirty dragons, would be more than enough support for the young weyrlings. The rocky promontory was the place where the draognriders had first come when they’d arrived at Eastern Isle. But it had proved too confined for all the dragons and so they’d moved to their present location on the plains. Now, the promontory’s isolated location would provide a safeguard against tunnel snakes and Mrreows both.