“When bad fortune occurs, the unresourceful, unimaginative man looks about him to attach the blame to someone else; the resolute accepts misfortune and endeavors to survive, mature, and improve because of it.
“A fishing ship is blown off course in an unseasonal squall and that minor event has influenced us all.” Capiam’s expression was rueful. He glanced at Desdra, who was staring at him in a baffled manner. “If you view justice as the foundation of your life, then it has been servedfor captain, crew, and cargo are dead. We live. And we have work to do.” Capiam gripped Alessan by the shoulder, emphasizing his words by shaking him. “Lord Alessan, take no blame to yourself for any of this. Take credit for your vision!”
Outside Arith suddenly bugled in welcome and was answered by a deeper note.
“A bronze? Here?” Moreta hastily made her way to the entrance of the beasthold. M’barak stood by Arith, who was gazing skyward. The blue was not agitated even if Moreta feared that Sh’gall might have followed. “M’barak! Who comes?” Why hadn’t Orlith contacted her?
“Nabeth and B’lerion,” M’barak said without concern, shielding his eyes from the sun.
“B’lerion!” Moreta was relieved but, when a slender figure rushed down the ramp from the Hold, she began to understand B’lerion’s presence.
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Moreta: Dragonlady of Pern
Moreta: Dragonlady of Pern
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Arith rose on his hindquarters, emitting what Moreta could only interpret as a challenge.
“I don’t know what’s got into him, Moreta,” M’barak cried, embarrassed. “He’s gotten to be awfully protective of Lady Oklina.”
“There is a queen egg on the Hatching Ground, M’barak,” she said, and added when it was obvious her explanation eluded the weyrling. “Blue dragons are often very keen on Search. Arith would seem to be precocious, though.” She frowned, observing Oklina awaiting B’lerion. “I don’t think Fort Weyr has the right to deplete Ruathan resources …”
She swiveled around. Alessan was escorting Capiam, Desdra, and Tuero to the centrifuge. The big wheel was slowing and the next batch of serum could be examined. Turning her head, she saw that Nabeth had landed and B’lerion was sliding gracelessly from the bronze back. Oklina greeted him with restraint, pointing toward the beasthold. B’lerion caught her hand, and the girl fell in step with him willingly enough but did not reclaim her hand. As the pair turned down the roadway, Moreta could see B’lerion’s left arm was in a sling. He could not fly Threadfall. Had he been glad to escape from his Weyr when the High Reaches wings rose? Did B’lerion feelas she did when the wings rose without heran irrational compulsion to be with them? Or did he feel the injury was little more than a valid excuse to visit Oklina?
Drawing back into the shadow, Moreta turned to join the group by the centrifuge, standing a little to one sidethe better to watch Alessanas the healers discussed the quantity of vaccine they would need, the minimum effective dose, and how they could discreetly discover how many runners were in-holded.
“Body weight is always the factor,” Moreta said, slipping into the conversation.
“We must make the determination of dosage as easy for the uncertain and the inept as possible,” Alessan said. “Some of the handlers in the back holds are going to be incompetent as well as skeptical. Where handlers are still alive, that is.” He flushed as Capiam fixed him with a reproving eye.
“We have been relocating capable people and trying to ascertain where more might be needed. It is amazing what people can do when they have no other options available.”
“Master Capiam, how crucial is it that the runners be vaccinated
… at this juncture?” Desdra asked, her gray eyes intent on the Healer’s face.
“With zoonosis the determining factorand I thought we had agreed on that point”
“We have, but we cannot also waste effort.” Desdra indicated the ornamental glass, the layers of blood now at rest. “I am forced to admit to you now that we have barely enough needlethom to vaccinate the people, much less the animals. It would be unwise to reuse needlethoms,” Desdra went on softly. “The danger of contagion”
“I know. I know.” Capiam pulled his hand across his forehead and down his cheek, rubbing at his jaw. He gave a weak laugh, tossing his hand in the air in a futile gesture before he eased himself to a bale of straw, “And we can only be sure of eradicating the threat of plague if we vaccinate both.”