“Like everything else,” a wit called out.
“Consequently it’s only a matter of time before we know how to treat it. However”Moreta altered her voice to a serious tone “Master Capiam warns against any congregating”
“He should have told us that yesterday”
“Agreed. We may have Fall tomorrow but I want no heroes. Headache and fever are the symptoms.”
“Then K’lon had the plague?”
“It’s possible, but he’s hale again.”
A worried voice came from the eastern side of the cavern. “What about Berchar?”
“Caught it from K’lon, more than likely, but he and S’gor have isolated themselves, as you are probably aware.”
“Sh’gall?”
An uneasy stir rippled around the Cavern.
“He was fine ten minutes ago,” Moreta said dryly. “He’ll fly Thread tomorrow. As we all will.”
“Moreta?” T’nure, green Tapeth’s rider, rose from his table to speak. “How long does this quarantine condition last?”
“Until Master Capiam rescinds it.” She saw the rebellious look on T’nure’s face. “Fort Weyr will obey!” Before she finished that injunction, the unmistakable trumpeting of the queens was heard. No lesser dragon would disobey the queens. Moreta thanked Oriith for the timely comment. “Now, in view of Berchar’s indisposition, Declan, you and Maylone share responsibility for the injured. Nesso, you and
110 Moreta: Dragonlady of Pern
your team must be prepared to assist. S’peren, can I rely on your help?”
“Anytime, Weyrwoman.”
“Haura?” The queen rider nodded, none too keen. “Now, are there any other matters to be discussed?” ‘
“Does Holth fly?” Haura asked quietly.
“She does!” Moreta spoke in a fiat voice. She would not have that right challenged by anyone. “Leri, as is her custom, will speak to the ground crews, keeping her distance up on Holth.”
“Moreta?” T’ral spoke up. “What about ground crews? I know Nabol and Crom will turn out tomorrow, but what happens next Fall over Tiliek and, after that, at Ruathaif this plague spreads and we’ve no ground crews?”
“Time enough to worry about that in the next Fall,” Moreta said quickly, with an unconcerned smile. Ruatha! With all the Gatherers there, crowded in! “The Holds will do their duty as the Weyrs discharge theirs.”
An approving applause capped her restatement as she sat down, signaling that the discussion was at an end. Nesso stepped up on the dais with a plate of food.
“I think you should know,” she said in a low voice, “that all the drum messages sign Fortine as sender now.”
“Not Capiam?”
Nesso shook her head slowly from side to side. “Not since the first one this noon.”
“Has anyone else noticed that?”
Nesso sniifed in offended dignity. “I know my duty, too, Weyrwoman.”
The headache didn’t know when to quit, Capiam decided, trying for another position in which to ease his aching skull and his feverish body. His clock was slow: He had another hour before he could take a fourth draught of fellis juice. His heartbeat was more regular thanks to the aconite. Carefully the Healer rolled onto his right side. He forced himself to relax his neck muscles, let his head sink into the fiber-filled pillow. He was certain he could count every strand within the case from its pressure on the sensitized skin of his cranium.
To compound his misery, the drum tower began to transmit an urgent message. At this hour? Were they manning the drums on a
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twenty-four-hour basis? Could no one sleep? Capiam recognized that the message was being relayed to Telgar Weyr but that was as far as he could force himself to concentrate.
An hour before he could take more fellis juice? It was his duty to Pern not to be insensible as the disease followed its course with his resisting body. Sometimes duty was a very difficult task.
Capiam sighed again, willing his execrable headache to abate. He ought to have listened to that message to Telgar. How was he to know what was happening on Pem? How the disease was progress-ing? How could he think?
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