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McCaffrey, Anne – DragonQuest. Chapter 3, 4

Reprimands were not likely to break Lessa of that habit either, thought F’lar. Then he noticed what Lessa had in her hands and rounded angrily on Mnementh. “I’m barely touched and you babble on me like a weyrling!”

Mnementh was not the least bit abashed as he backwinged to land lightly by the Feeding Ground. Thread hurts.

“I don’t want Lessa upset over nothing!”

I don’t want Ramoth angry over anything!

F’lar slid from the bronze’s neck, concealing the twinges he felt as the gritty wind from the Feeding Grounds aggravated the cold-seared lacerations. This was one of those times when the double bond between riders and dragons became a serious disadvantage. Particularly when Mnementh took the initiative, not generally a draconic characteristic.

Mnementh gave an awkward half jump upward, clearing the way for Lessa. She hadn’t changed from wher-hide riding clothes and looked younger than any Weyrwoman ought as she ran towards them, her plaited hair bouncing behind her. Although neither motherhood nor seven turns of security had added flesh to her small-boned body, there was a subtle roundness to breast and hip, and that certain look in her great gray eyes that F’lar knew was for him alone.

“And you complain about the timing of other riders,” she said, gasping, as she came to an abrupt stop at his side. Before he could protest the insignificance of his injuries, she was smearing numbweed on the burns. “I’ll have to wash them once the feeling’s gone. Can’t you duck ash yet? Virianth will be all right but Sorenth and Relth took awful lacings. I do wish that glass craftsman of Fandarel’s — Wansor’s his name, isn’t it? — would complete those eyeguards he’s been blathering about. Manora thinks she can save P’ratan’s good looks but we’ll have to wait and see about his eye.” She paused to take a deep breath. “Which is just as well because if he doesn’t stop raiding Holds for new lovers, we won’t be able to foster all the babies. Those holdbred girls are convinced it’s evil to abort.” She stopped short, set her lips in the thin line which F’lar had finally catalogued as Lessa veering away from a painful subject.

“Lessa! No, don’t look away.” He forced her head up so she had to meet his eyes. She who couldn’t conceive must find it hard, too, to help terminate unwanted pregnancies. Would she never stop yearning for another child? How could she forget she had nearly died with Felessan? He’d been relieved that she had never quickened again. The thought of losing Lessa was not even to be thought. “Riding between so much makes it impossible for a Weyrwoman to carry to term.”

“It doesn’t seem to affect Kylara,” Lessa said with bitter resentment. She had turned away, watching Mnementh rend a fat buck with such an intense expression in her eyes that F’lar had no difficulty guessing that she’d prefer Kylara thus rendered.

“That one!” F’lar said with a sharp laugh. “Dear heart, if you must model yourself after Kylara to bear children Weyrwoman, I prefer you barren!”

“We’ve more important things to discuss than her,” Lessa said, turning to him in a complete change of mood. “What did Lord Asgenar say about the Threadfall? I’d have joined you in the meadow, but Ramoth’s got the notion she can’t leave her clutch without someone spying on them. Oh, I sent messengers out to the other Weyrs to tell them what’s happened here. They ought to know and be on their guard.”

“It would’ve been courteous of them to have apprised us first,” F’lar said so angrily that Lessa glanced up at him startled. He told her then what the Lemos Lord Holder had said on the mountain meadow.

“And Asgenar assumed that we all knew? That it was simply a matter of changing the timetables?” Shock faded from her face and her eyes narrowed, flashing with indignation. “I would I had never gone back to get those Oldtimers. You’d have figured out a way for us to cope.”

“You give me entirely too much credit, love.” He hugged her for her loyalty. “However, the Oldtimers are here and we’ve got to deal with them.”

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Categories: McCaffrey, Anne
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