Burr was quite young, only a few Turns old, and Capiam had cultivated an association with it since it had been hatched. He and Tirone had made it strictly understood that they would not tolerate apprentice abuse of the creature. When Thread fell on Fort, Capiam or Tirone, whichever of the two Masters was present, would take the watchwher into the main entrance of the Hall to remind the young men and women that the watchwher could provide an important function in that perilous period.
If Burr’s ecstatic welcome nearly knocked him off his feet, at least the greeting was sincere, and Capiam was oddly touched by it. Burr humbled along beside him, his chain rattling on the flagstone. He gave Burr a last drubbing across the scalp and then ran up the stairs to open the heavy door of the Hall.
One dim glow illuminated the inner hall. Capiam closed the door
60 Moreta: Dragonlady of Pern
and moved quickly, so near his bed and much needed rest. He went to the left in the main hall, through the doorway that led to the Archives.
Discordant snores surprised him, and he peered into’ the vaulted library room. Two apprentices, one with head pillowed on the Records he had been examining, the other propped more comfortably against the wall, were vying unmusically. Annoyance warred with tolerance in Capiam’s mind. Dawn was near and would bring Master Fortine to prod them to their labors and scold them for weakness. They’d be the better readers for his rebuke and the rest. Suddenly Capiam was too tired to answer the questions they would certainly tax him with if he did wake them.
Quietly then, he took a sheet of well-scraped hide and composed a terse message for the drummaster to broadcast to the Weyrs and the major Holds, to be relayed to lesser holds and halls. He put the message on Master Fortine’s writing desk right on the page the Ar-chivist was using. Fortine would see it as soon as he finished his breakfast, which was usually early, so the news of the epidemic would be spread before noon.
To the sound of the discordant snores, Capiam dragged his feet to his quarters. He’d get some sleep before the drums started. Quite possibly he was weary enough to sleep through them for a while. He walked up the steps into the healers’ section of the Harper Hall. When the Pass was over, he must really start the construction of a Healer Crafthall.
He reached his room and opened the door. A mellow glow softly lit the chamber. A bowl of fresh fruit and a small wine jar had been placed on his bedside table, and his bed fur turned back invitingly. Desdra! He was once more grateful for her thoughtfulness. Tossing his pack to the comer, he sat on the bed, the effort of pulling off his boots almost beyond his remaining physical strength. He loosened his belt, then decided not to remove his tunic and pantstoo much effort required. He rolled onto the mattress and in the same movement jerked the fur over his shoulder. The pillow was remarkably welcoming to his tired aching head.
He groaned. He had left the drum messages. Fortine would know that he had returned, but not at what hour. He had to have sleep! He had been across Pem and up and down it. If he wasn’t extra careful
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61
of his own health, he’d be a victim of the plague before he found out what it was.
He staggered from his bed to his table. “Disturb me not!” he printed boldly and, hanging onto the door to keep himself erect for that one last task, he pinned the note where it could not be missed.
Then when he sank into the comfort of his bed, he could relax into sleep.
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CHAPTER V
Fort Weyr, Present Pass, 3.11.43
MORETA WAS CERTAIN that she had only been asleep a few minutes when Orlith woke her.
Two hours you have slept but Kadith is in a frenzy.
“Why?” Moreta found it very difficult to lift her head from the pillow. It didn’t ache, but her legs did. Whether from the dancing or from the wine, Moreta didn’t know and probably would not have time to discover if Sh’gall was in one of his moods.