“His rider only has a broken shoulder,” Nesso said with a sniff. “Tom harness.”
Moreta remembered another blue rider. Orlith, that blue weyrling has he returned from the ridge?
Yes, there was no Thread. He reported to the Weyrlingmaster. He wants to have a word with you about putting a very young rider at risk.
The lad would have been in more risk continuing his antics, and I’ll have words with the Weyrlingmaster on another score. “Let’s see Sorth,” she said aloud to Nesso.
“He’s an old dragon. I don’t think he’ll heal well.” Nesso babbled out of a nervous desire to regain favor in Moreta’s eyes, for she didn’t know that much about dragon injuries and far too much about how she thought the Weyr should be managed.
Moreta had also come to the conclusion at some point in the last few moments that she would have ordered someone to convey Lord Tolocamp had she been in the Weyr when the message arrived, despite any protest Sh’gall might have raised about breaking quarantine. Fort Hold would need Tolocamp more than Ruatha needed an unwilling guest. She wondered fleetingly if any were sick at Ruatha. If so, how had Alessan permitted Tolocamp to break quarantine?
Sorth had taken a gout of tangled Thread right on the forward wingfinger, severing the bone just past the knuckle. L’rayl was full of praise for Declan’s assistance, belatedly including Nesso in his recital while she glared at him. They had done a good job of splinting the bone, Moreta noted professionally, tying reeds into position on well-numbed flesh.
“Nasty enough,” Moreta commented as Sorth gingerly lowered the injured wing for her scrutiny.
“A fraction closer to the knuckle and Sorth might have lost tip
136
Moreta: Dragonlady of Pern
mobility,” L’rayl said with laudable detachment. The man had a habit of clenching his teeth after he spoke, as if chopping off his words before they could offend anyone.
“A soak in the lake tomorrow will reduce the swelling once ichor has coated the wound,” Moreta said, stroking the old brown’s shoulder.
“Sorth says,” L’rayl answered after a pause, “that floating would feel very good. The wing would be supported by the water and not ache so much.” L’rayl was then caught between a grin and a grimace for his dragon’s courage and, to cover his embarrassment, he turned and roughly scratched Sorth’s greening muzzle.
“How many riders were injured?” she asked Nesso as they turned toward the infirmary. With eighty-one sick of the plague, they might
have to send substitutes. “More than there should be,” Nesso replied, having recovered her
critical tongue.
Nesso hovered while Moreta made her expected brief appearance in the infirmary. Most of the injured riders were groggy with fellis juice or asleep, so she didn’t have to linger. She also seemed unable to extricate herself from Nesso’s company.
“Moreta, what you need right now is a good serving of my fine
stew.”
Moreta was not hungry. She knew she ought to eat but she wanted to await the return of Sh’gall and Leri. In a brief flurry of malice, Moreta struck across the Bowl to the Lower Cavern in a long stride that forced Nesso to jog to keep up. Annoyed with herself, Moreta silently put up with Nesso’s fussing to make sure that the cook served Moreta a huge plate. Nesso obsequiously cut bread and heaped slices on Moreta’s plate before making a show of seating the Weyrwoman. Fortunately, before the last of Moreta’s waning peni-tence was exhausted, one of the fosterlings came running up to say that Tellani needed Nesso “right now.”
“Giving birth, no doubt. She started labor at the beginning of Fall.” Nesso raised her eyes and hands ceilingward in resignation. “We’ll probably never know who the father was for Tellani doesn’t
know.” “Babe or child, we’ll have some trace to go by. Wish Tellani well
for me.” Privately Moreta blessed Tellani for her timing; she would have
Moreta: Dragonlady of Pern 137
respite from the Headwoman, and a birth after Fall was regarded as propitious. The Weyr needed a good dollop of luck. A boy, even of uncertain parentage, would please the dragonriders. She’d have a stem talk with Tellani about keeping track of her loverssurely a simple enough task even for so loving a woman as Tellani. The Weyr had to be cautious about consanguinity. It might just be the wiser course to foster Tellani’s children to other Weyrs.