quietly in her ear.
“Of course!” Moreta cast a glance in the direction of Alessan’s gaze and saw Lady Oma escorting a girl across the floor.
“I’ve had my shins kicked enough this evening!” Alessan clasped j Moreta firmly, his right hand flat against her shoulder blade, the fingers of his left hand twining in hers as he guided her out in the
center of the square.
As she surrendered to the swaying step and glide of the stately dance, Moreta had a brief glimpse of the smileless face of Lady Oma. She could feel Alessan’s heart pounding, as hers still was, from the exertions of the previous dance but gradually the thudding cased, her face cooled, and her muscles stopped trembling. She realized that she had not danced to this melody since leaving Keroonsince the last Gather she had attended with Talpan, so many Turns ago.
“You’re thinking of another toan,” Alessan whispered, his lips close to her ear.
“A boy I knew. In Keroon.”
“And you remember him fondly?”
Moreta: Dragonlady of Pern 51
“We were to be apprenticed to the same Masterhealer.” Could she detect a note of jealousy in Alessan’s voice? “He continued in the craft. I was taken to Ista and Impressed Orlith.”
“And now you heal dragons.” For a moment, Alessan loosened his grip but only, it seemed, to take a fresh and firmer hold of her. “Dance, Moreta of Keroon. The moons are up. We can dance all night.”
“The harpers may have other plans.”
“Not as long as my supply of Benden white lasts …”
So Alessan remained by her side, making sure her goblet was full and insisting that she eat some of the small hot spiced rolls that were being served to the dwindling revellers. Nor did he relinquish her to other partners.
The wine got to the harpers before the new day. Even Alessan’s incredible store of energy was flagging by the time Orlith landed again in the dancing square.
“It has been a memorable gather. Lord Alessan,” Moreta said formally.
“Your presence has made it so, Weyrwoman Moreta,” he replied, assisting her to Orlith’s forearm. “Shells! Don’t slip, woman. Can you reach your own weyr without falling asleep?” His voice carried an edge of anxiety despite his flippant words.
“I can always reach my own weyr.”
“Can she, Orlith?”
“Lord Alessan!” The audacity of the man consulting her dragon in her presence.
Orlith turned her head, her eyes sleepily golden. He means well.
“You mean well, Orlith says!” Moreta knew that fatigue was mak-ing her sound silly, so she made herself laugh. She didn’t wish to end the marvelous evening on a sour note.
“Yes, my lady of the golden dragon, I mean well. Safe back!”
Alessan gave her a final wave and then moved slowly through the disarray of fallen benches and messy tables, toward the deserted roadway where most of the stalls had been dismantled and packed away.
“Let’s get back to Fort Weyr,” Moreta said softly, reluctantly. Her eyes were heavy, her body limp with a pleasant if thorough fatigue. It took an effort to think of the pattern of Fort Weyr’s Star Stones.
52
Moreta: Dragonlady of Pern
Then Orlith sprang off the dancing square, the standards whipping about with the force of her backwing stroke. They were aloft and Ruatha receding, the darkness punctuated by the last few surviving
glows.
CHAPTER IV
South Boll and Fort Weyr, Present Pass,
3.11.43
“WELL?”
Capiam raised his head from the pillow he had made of his arms on the small wooden table in the dispensary. Fatigue and the tremendous strain disoriented him and at first he couldn’t identify the figure standing imperiously in front of him.
“Well, Masterhealer? You said you would return immediately to bring me your conclusions. That was several hours ago. Now I find you sleeping.” A
The testy voice and overbearing manner belonged to Lord Ratoshigan. Behind him, just outside the door, was the tall figure of the Weyrleader who had conveyed Capiam and Lord Ratoshigan from Ista’s Gather to Southern Boll.
“I sat down only for a moment, Lord Ratoshigan”Capiam lifted his hand in a gesture of dismay“to organize my notes.”
“Well?” The third prompting was a bark of unequivocal displea sure. “What is your diagnosis of these …” Ratoshigan did not say “malingerers” but the implication would have been plain enough even if the anxious infirmarian had not repeatedly told Capiam that Lord Ratoshigan regarded any man as a malingerer who took his aA bread and protection but did not deliver a fair day’s work in return, v