As soon as Nabeth came to a graceful landing across the roadway from the beasthold, he turned to Oklina. “Surely some of the convalescents must be strong enough to do maintenance, Oklina. Did
270 Moreta: Dragonlady of Pern
you have a good look at the Hold proper? It’s a shambles. Here, Moreta, I’ll give you a hand.” Alessan slid down Nabeth’s side and extended his hands to her. It was, Moreta quickly realized, an excuse to hold her, and he kept one arm loosely about her shoulders as they backed far enough away from the dragon’s bulk for Alessan to address the other riders. “I’ll continue making the serum, Master Capiam, and wait for any further instructions. Oklina, have you seen what I mean? Then I’ll help you down. My duty to you, Nabeth, and my eternal gratitude.” Alessan bowed formally to the bronze dragon, who winked at him from eyes that whirled pleasantly green-blue.
“He says his duty was a pleasure,” B’lerion replied, smiling as he handed Oklina down to his dragon’s raised forearm. He waited until she was clear and then waved cheerily as Nabeth sprang aloft again.
They had made most of their farewells at Ista when Belior rose, round and greenly gold in the dark Istan sky. B’lerion would convey the two healers to their hall with the needlethoms. If more should be needed, B’lerion would harvest it discreetly at Nerat with Oklina and Desdra. Capiam had composed messages for the Masterherdsman and all the holds that bred or kept runners. Relays would go to drumless settlements.
The dust of Nabeth’s departure was blowing away from them when Tuero came out of the beasthold, a look of surprise on his homely face.
“That didn’t take you long,” he said. “Alessan, we can’t make up another batch unless M’barak finds more glass bottles. I don’t know what’s taking him so long.”
The three travelers recoiled in a group, but before Tuero could comment on their reaction, Arith and M’barak hurtled across the fields to land almost exactly in the spot Nabeth had just occupied. Moreta clung to Alessan’s hand for support.
“Who’s he got with him?” Tuero demanded. As the blue dragon settled, it was obvious he bore three passengers as well as the carry-nets.
“Moreta!” M’barak called, gesturing to her urgently. “Hurry up. I need help with these silly bottles and I’ve people here who say they can handle runners. And we’ve got to hurry because I have to prepare for the Fall. F’neldril will skin me if I’m late!”
So Alessan, Tuero, Oklina, and Moreta rushed to unburden Aritb of passengers and ornamental apprentice-blown glass bottles. Then
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Alessan gave Moreta a leg up to Arith’s back and if his hands lingered on her ankle as she settled herself, no one remarked on the Lord Holder’s behavior. As Moreta looked down at Alessan’s upturned face, she wished she might give him more than a smile in farewell. Then he stepped back and one of the newcomers touched his arm. The woman was tall and thin, with dark hair as close-cropped as a weyrwoman’s. She reminded Moreta of someone. Then they were airborne, and M’barak warned her that they’d go between as soon as Arith had air space.
Back at Fort Weyr, there was so much activity in the Bowl, ready-ing the two wings, that no one noted their arrival though M’barak had craftily come in over the lake. Arith glided to deposit Moreta at the Hatching Ground cavem. After remembering to give the blue’s ribs a grateful thump, Moreta ran toward Orlith across the sands, not totally surprised to see Leri’s figure beside her.
You’re here! You’re here! Orlith was bugling in relief, her wings extended, sweeping sand over Leri’s small figure.
“It’s all right, Orlith. I’m here! Don’t make so much commotion!” Moreta raced to her dragon, throwing her arms around Orlith’s head and hugging her as tightly as she could, then scratching eye ridges and murmuring reassurances.
“By the first Egg,” Leri was saying, leaning against Orlith’s side, “am I glad to see you! What have you been doing? Holth couldn’t find you either. Oh, do be quiet, Orlith! Holth!”