It was hard for Xhinna, after living three Turns back in time on this Eastern Isle, to imagine the huge, lofty, rocky Weyrs where dragons usually lived. She could easily picture a wing of dragons, even a Flight—three wings organized into a group large enough to handle a single Fall of Thread—but the full Weyr with its bustling weyrfolk, dragonets, halls, kitchen, and incessant activity seemed a distant, near-dreaming memory.
Life at what they’d come to call Eastern Weyr had been more demanding on the dragons and riders than was normal. Not only had the dragons of Eastern Weyr needed to train and learn to fight Thread, but they’d also been needed to hunt for food, build lodgings, find firewood, and do all the myriad other things that the weyrfolk did at a regular Weyr. There wasn’t a dragon or rider at Eastern Weyr who didn’t have a deep and abiding respect for ordinary weyrfolk.
“I imagine you’re right,” K’dan said. “Although it’ll be T’mar who does the choosing.”
Weyrleader T’mar had the responsibility for the disposition of dragons and their riders while Weyrwoman Fiona dealt with the day-to-day operations of the Weyr and its weyrfolk.
“We’ll have to leave Qinth behind,” Bekka said as Xhinna came back for her last journey to bring the weyrlings to the rocky promontory. She’d chosen that location as their new camp—the same one that had been rejected as being too small and too exposed when they’d first settled on the Eastern Isle. With just the two grown dragons and twenty-three weyrlings, it seemed spacious. “She’s too fragile yet to move.”
Xhinna swore; she should have thought of that. Bekka smiled at her, shaking her head. “You’re doing fine. K’dan, Colfet, and I will stay with her and J’riz. We’ll see how she’s doing in the morning. Then we can see about rigging a wagon or something to move her.”
“She’ll still be here in the morning?” Xhinna asked, pitching her voice for Bekka’s ears alone.
“We’ll do our best,” the young healer told her earnestly.
The night on the promontory was colder than Xhinna had feared. She, Taria, and R’ney kept watch in rotation. Xhinna jumped at every untoward sound. When the sun finally broke through the cloud layer at dawn, her eyes had dark circles under them from fatigue.
“I’m going to check on the others,” she said as soon as she was certain that Taria was awake. She jumped up on Tazith, and in a moment she was fighting off the bracing cold of between—and then, just as quickly, she emerged in the air over their old camp.
The fire had gone out. There was no sign of K’dan, J’riz, Bekka, and Colfet. They were gone.
Desperation mounting, she had Tazith fly in a widening circle. She checked every one of their old ship-dwellings; Tazith called for Pinorth, for Lurenth, for Qinth, but got no response. Xhinna directed Tazith to fly out to the sea, where she searched for a sail but found none. Finally, in response to Coranth’s increasingly nervous queries, she returned to the cold stone promontory.
K’dan had insisted that she take the twins with her and now, as she burst out over the small camp, she saw the two of them looking up, scanning the skies wildly, and her heart sank.
What do I tell them? she asked herself forlornly. What do I say to Fiona?
She thought of her friend, of her incandescent cheer, and decided that she’d do what Fiona would do in the same situation—she’d lie for all she was worth.
“Your father has gone on,” Xhinna told Tiona when she asked. “He said that you’ll get to stay with us for a while until he’s ready.”
“Okay,” Tiona said easily enough. The little toddler was very much her mother’s daughter: Fiona would likely have said the same, and just as easily.
Even though he had his mother’s blond hair and sea-green eyes, in temperament Kimar was more like his father. The toddler was quiet, preferring to watch and absorb. As he grew older he had begun to spend more time caring for his twin, keeping her from the worst of her own excesses. Tiona accepted this as just another part of the world she lived in, neither fighting nor accepting too much her brother’s restraining behaviors. Both were just coming up to the third Turn of their young lives. Because they had grown up in the constant company of adults, they were more mature than their age suggested, seeming more a steady three or a young four.
Kimar gave Xhinna a probing look, then turned to Tiona and hit her, hard.
“Kimar!” Taria exclaimed. “Why did you do that?”
Kimar shrugged just as Tiona went for his hair. Before another blow could be exchanged, Xhinna grabbed him and pulled him away from his furious sister, who had begun to growl in near-perfect imitation of a Mrreow.
No, it was a Mrreow. The tawny long-furred thing came charging straight for Tiona only to find itself blocked by Taria’s swinging leg and pummeled by the fist of her free hand.
R’ney came charging in with a poker from the fire, and the Mrreow, deprived of easy prey, veered off and loped away.
As Xhinna’s breathing returned to normal and she saw that no one was harmed, she wondered why it was that the normally peaceful Kimar had chosen exactly that moment to hit his sister. Had he somehow known of or sensed the Mrreow’s impending assault? Certainly, if the toddlers hadn’t been so firmly in adult arms, one—or even both—of them would have fallen to the Mrreow’s claws or fangs.
“We’re getting out of here,” Xhinna announced. She turned to R’ney. “Organize the weyrlings, get the dragonets in the center of a circle with their riders facing out. Build up the fire, start plenty of pokers heating up.”
The ex-smithcrafter nodded and turned back to the other weyrlings who’d only now had time to realize their peril.
“Taria, can you and Coranth fly guard?” Xhinna asked.
“Yes,” Taria said instantly, handing Tiona to Xhinna and turning toward her dragon. Then she paused to call over her shoulder, “What about you?”
“I’m going to take these two—” Xhinna jounced the toddlers in her arms. “—and scout us a new home.”
Taria waved and was aloft on Coranth before Xhinna had reached Tazith.
Can you carry us all? Xhinna asked, as she hoisted first Tiona and then Kimar up onto the blue’s neck. She couldn’t have managed that if Tazith had even been a small brown, but the blue was of a size that, on tiptoe and with a bounce, she could just reach his neck.
Certainly, Tazith replied and again Xhinna marveled at just how right his voice was to her, how perfect his blue hide was, how marvelous his whirling eyes were, how steady he made her feel. She might be a girl, but she was built to ride Tazith just as he had been born to carry her. Deftly she tied the twins one in front of the other on the narrowest part of Tazith’s neck.
The blue lifted them effortlessly and, at Xhinna’s direction, started south toward the end of the western half of the great island. The twins, lulled by the steady beat of Tazith’s wings, were soon asleep, leaving Xhinna to scan for likely places without distraction.
She found nothing worthy of note. She hadn’t expected to: Lorana and Kindan—before he’d Impressed and become K’dan—had scoured the whole island.
She came to the great sea-filled rift that separated the two islands—Eastern Isle and Western Isle. Why had Fiona warned them to stay away from the western one? Was that strange note that had been found mysteriously at Eastern Weyr because Fiona somehow knew that they would need to use the Western Isle now?
How had she known? Xhinna wondered. Clearly it was a Fiona from a different time and that could only mean from the future because if it had come from Fiona in the past she would have known and told them. Had that future come? Was Fiona on the western island already?