Moreta: Dragonlady of Pern 307
they shared the grief of a dragon who was unable to follow her rider in death, held to the Ground by the clutch of hardening eggs.
People had edged past the guardian dragons now, pausing briefly in deference to Orlith. Then K’lon recognized S’peren and F’neldril, closely followed by the other queen riders and Jallora. Kamiana turned with a peremptory gesture to the weyrfolk to remain at the entrance. But Jallora hurried to the steps, sliding to the blue rider. The healer murmured tenderly to Leri, stroking her hair, before she took the weeping woman from K’lon’s arms.
“She wanted to die,” K’lon stammered, lifting his empty hands in mute apology to Kamiana. “She nearly did.”
“We know.” Kamiana’s face was wretched.
“Pour some wine, Kamiana,” Jallora said, rocking Leri as K’lon had. He was obscurely relieved that he had, at least, done that right. “Use plenty of fellis juice. From that brown vial. Pour a cup for K’lon, too.”
“We could all use some,” Lidora muttered as she helped Kamiana.
But when Jallora held the cup to Leri’s lips, the Weyrwoman pressed them tightly closed over her sobs and turned her head away.
“Drink, Leri.” Jallora’s tone was deep with compassion.
“You must, Leri,” Kamiana insisted, her voice breaking. “You’re all Orlith has.”
The rebuke in Leri’s pained eyes was more than K’lon could stand and he buried his head in his hands, shaking with reaction. F’neldril laid a gentle arm across his shoulders to support him.
“Dear Leri, L’mal would expect it of you. I implore you. Drink the wine. It will help.” S’peren’s voice was hoarse.
“Oh, brave Leri, courageous Leri,” Jallora murmured in approval and K’lon looked up as the old Weyrwoman accepted the wine.
Lidora pressed a cup into his hand. It must be half fellis juice, he thought as he recklessly downed the draught. Not that it would do any good. Not all the wine in Pem could assuage the pain and remorse in his heart. He willed the potion to numb his senses but he couldn’t stop weeping. Even F’neldril’s seamed face was tear-stained as he stroked S’peren’s shoulder in comfort.
“Let’s get her up to her weyr,” Jallora said, motioning for S’peren and F’neldril to assist her.
“No!” Leri’s response was vehement. Orlith screamed in echoing protest.
308 Moreta: Dragonlady of Pern
No, said the voices and K’lon caught S’peren’s arm. “I’ll stay.” Leri pointed toward Orlith. “I’ll stay here.” “Will she?” Jallora asked the other queen riders, meaning the dragon.
“Orlith will stay,” Kamiana said in a barely audible voice while Leri slowly nodded affirmation. “She will stay until the eggs are ready to hatch.”
“Then we’ll both go,” Leri added softly. Her words would forever remain in his mind, K’lon knew, as indelible as the rest of the terrible scene. S’peren and F’neldril stood beside him, drooping in grief, their faces suddenly aged. Haura and Lidora clung to each other weeping, while Kamiana stood to one side, her figure taut. Beyond them, the arched entrances to the Hatching Ground framed the press of dragons, all gray in sorrow, and the silent cluster of weyrfolk bewildered by the grievous loss. Just then there was a stir and three riders slowly moved onto the Ground, Sh’gall escorted by S’ligar and K’dren. Sh’gall continued forward alone, his body bowed with grief. He fell to his knees, covering his face with his hands, unseen by the inconsolable Orlith who writhed in the soul-rending agony of separation from her beloved rider, Moreta.
AFTERMATH
Present Pass, 4.23.43
THE OCCASION OF a Hatching ought to be a joyous one, Master Capiam thought without a single buoyant fiber in his body as he watched the dragons glide to the knots of passengers awaiting conveyance to Fort Weyr.
He had not attended to what Tirone had been saying to him. Then the Masterharper’s parting phrase penetrated his gloomy reflections.
“I will be singing my new ballad, composed in celebration of Moreta!”
“Celebration?” Capiam roared. Desdra caught his arm and prevented him from being trampled on by Rogeth. “Celebration indeed? Has Tirone gone mad?”
“Oh, Capiam!” Desdra’s soft exclamation was unusually gentle for that caustic lady, newly made a Masterhealer. Capiam glanced quickly about to see why. Then he saw K’lon’s grief-stricken face as the rider dismounted.