“And so shall we once we’re back home,” Moreta said, swinging up onto Holth’s lean back. “Take us to Fort Weyr, please, Holth.”
Obligingly, Holth sprang from the ledge and, once again, went between as soon as there was free air about her. As the chill of nothingness wrapped them, Moreta wondered if she should mention Holth’s curious trick to Leri. Was it just that the queen was old and could not jump as forcefully? Did it not seem an impertinence on Moreta’s part to criticize?
Then they were back in the dawn, skimming low above the lake in Fort Weyr. That was the explanation: Holth was practicing stealth. The watchrider was unlikely to notice a dragon leaving so low in darkness.
Holth glided to her own ledge and accepted Moreta’s effusive
Moreta; Dragonlady of Pern 219
thanks before lurching wearily into her weyr. Moreta ran down the stairs and into the Hatching Ground. To the Weyrwoman’s relief, Oriith hadn’t so much as changed the angle of her head during her rider’s absence. And Leri slept soundly on Moreta’s cot.
CHAPTER XIII
Ruatha Hold and Fort Weyr, Present Pass,
3.19.43
ALESSAN HAD TO stop. Sweat was beaded on his forehead, ran down his cheeks and chin. His hands were sweaty on the plowhan-dies and the team panting as hard as he from their labors in the rain-heavy field. Ignoring the sting of the blisters he had acquired in the last two days, he dried his hands finger by finger on the grimy rag attached to his belt. Then Ruatha Hold’s Lord Holder rubbed the sweat from his face and neck, took a swallow from the flask of water, picked up the reins, slapped the rumps of his reluctant team, and managed to grab the handles of the unwieldy plow before the runners had pulled it out of the furrow.
Another day and he was sure they’d forget they’d ever been trained to race. Of course, he told himself that every day. One day it would have to be true. He had mastered feistier beasts to the saddle, and he mustif he wished to Holdprove equally capable at re-training. With bitter humor, Alessan wondered if his predicament could be a retribution for his defiance of his father’s wishes. Yet none of that breeding had survived. The heavier runners, the draft and plow animals, the sturdy long-distance beasts, had been especially susceptible to the lung infections that had swept the racers’ camp after the first days of the plague. The light wiry runners of his breed-Moreta: Dragonlady of Pern 221
ing had survived to graze contentedly on the lush river pastures. Until he had had to harness them, and himself, to the plows.
The land had to be tilled, crops sown, the tithe offered, the Hold fed no matter how the Lord Holder managed to accomplish those responsibilities. He came to the edge of the field and wrestled the team into the wide arc, turning back on the furrows. They were uneven but the earth had been turned. He looked briefly out at the other fields of the Hold proper, to check on the other teams. He also had a view of the northern road and the mounted man approaching along it. He shaded his eyes, cursing as the off-sider took advantage of his momentary distraction. As he lined it up again with its team-mate and the plow righted, he was certain that he saw a flash of harper blue. Tuero must be back from his swing of the northern holds. Who else would be brave enough to venture to Ruatha? Alessan had drummed for heavy plowbeasts and been told that no one had any to offer. Neither threats of withholding nor doubling the marks brought better results.
“It’s the plague, Alessan,” Tuero had said, for once unsmiling. “It was at its worst here in Ruatha. Until Master Capiam has sent the vaccine round to everyone, they won’t come here. And even then they won’t bring animals, I think, because so many died here.”
Alessan had cursed futilely. “If they won’t come, I’ll have to go! I’ll bring teams in myself! They can’t deny their Lord Holder to his face!” While Alessan railed at his people, he understood their view-pointespecially since he himself had not yet had the courage to send for Dag, Fergal, and the bloodstock. Follen had given him the most strict assurance that the plague was passed by coughing or sneezingpersonal contactand could not be in the soil of the race flats or the pickets where so many beasts had died, but Alessan would not risk the few priceless breeders that Dag had whisked away the morning after the accursed Gather.