“I’ll be needed at Fall this afternoon,” he said finally in a low uncertain voice. “How can I explain to A’murry? We can barely make up two wings as it is, and Ista can only supply one wing and ten replacements.”
“You may tell A’murry that we have been considerably worried about the pace at which you’ve been working. That we felt it more advisable for you to rest this afternoon, because you’ve been working so hard that your judgment in Fall might be impaired, and we can’t afford to lose you!”
“K’lon, we need you, too,” Moreta added.
“In fact, the Healer Hall and the Weyr are deeply indebted to you,” Leri said, her voice and manner kindly again. “Go on with you now, and send that scamp, M’barak, on any other duties Capiam scheduled for you. And you will never, K’lonnevermention to anyone, especially A’murry, that dragons can slip between one time and another.”
Holth’s eyes gleamed with a red tinge as she extended her neck toward K’lon. He pulled himself up straight, awed by the dragon’s fierce appearance.
“Yes, Leri.”
“And?” Leri indicated Moreta.
“Yes, Moreta!”
“We shall never refer to this again. Give our regards to A’murry.” Leri was all affability. “If it weren’t so damn cold here right now, I’d suggest that you bring him and his Granth to Fort, but I suppose he is better off in the sun at Igen!”
The chastened rider left the weyr with a heavy tread. The two Weyrwomen could hear Rogeth chirping.
“He’s going to act the martyr for a while,” Leri said with a sigh.
“Better that than a real one.”
Then Leri began to chuckle. “I had the worst time keeping a proper face, Moreta. He was very clever about timing it, I must say. If he hadn’t acquired that suspicious tan and bleached hair, we might never have guessed.”
196
Moreta: Dragonlady of Pern
“He had too much energy! Positively obscene if you knew how dragged out I feel! Can Holth keep track of him?”
“As long as he thinks she is, it doesn’t matter. You will check in on Rogeth now and again, won’t you, my clever love?” Leri thumped her queen with affection. “Now, if you’ll just harness her up, Moreta, we’ll be off to Fall.”
Moreta regarded her friend a long time until Leri gave an impatient shrug.
“Oh, go boil the fellis!” And she wriggled herself off the stone
couch.
As Moreta harnessed the old queen, she wondered, in a very private way, if there was any restriction Orlith could put on Holth to prevent their martyrdom.
No.
Moreta blinked with surprise because she had put such a careful cap on her worry. And she didn’t know which dragon had spoken, Orlith or Holth. Then she concentrated hard on the correct placement of the leather fighting straps. When Leri was ready, Moreta saw rider and queen to the ledge and watched them lumber off into the air with the two wings, Fort’s contribution to Pern’s protection against Fall. The bulging farewell from the Weyrbound dragons as the wings went between was a curious, prayerful compound of yearning, defiance, and encouragement. Moreta found that seeing so few dragons on the Rim reminded her that the Weyr was vulnerable, all the Weyrsand Pern. It was hard enough to think of her family’s hold, deserted, emptied by the pandemic in a matter of days. She knew but could not assimilate the fact that her personal loss was duplicated all over Igen, Ista, Telgar, and Keroon as well as at Ruatha. That wonderful Gather! To be so closely followed by such a
disaster!
Resolutely Moreta turned from the chill blue skies and busied herself peeling and preparing the fellis fruit for juice. Her hands were not as shaky as they had been the day before and for that she was grateful, as the knife was sharp and the tough skins difficult. As the thick pulp was coming to the boil, she ran an inventory of the remaining stocks, amazed that what she had considered ample only six days before could have been reduced to a few bags of this or that. With all the riders vaccinated, the Weyr should not require massive amounts of febrifuges, stimulants, and chest remedies. Which was a