“Here are the names of my wingleaders and seconds, since naming people seems to be a deficiency in our queens. I’ve listed my riders in order of their competence for assuming command of either wing or Weyr. B’lerion is my choice of a personal successor.” Then a rare and brilliant smile crossed the High Reacher’s face. “With Falga’s complete accord.”
K’dren roared with laughter. “Didn’t she suggest him?”
S’ligar regarded K’dren with mild reproof. “It is the wise Leader who anticipates his Weyrwoman’s mind.”
“Enough!” M’tani called irritably. His dark eyes were angry under heavy black brows. He threw his lists down to join S’ligar’s. “T’grel has always fancied himself a Leader. He reminded me that he hadn’t been to either of the Gathers so I’ll reward his virtue.”
“You’re fortunate,” K’dren said with no humor in his voice. He added his lists to the others. “L’vin, W’ter, and H’grave attended both Gathers. I’ve recommended M’gent. He may be young but he’s got a natural flair for leadership that one doesn’t often see. He wasn’t at the Gathers.”
F’gal seemed unwilling to lose the sheets he unwound. “It’s all on these,” he said wearily, letting them flutter to the sand.
“Leri suggested me,” S’peren said with a self-deprecating shrug, “though it’s likely Sh’gall will make a change when he recovers. He was too fevered to be told of this meeting so Leri drew up the lists.”
“Leri would know.” K’dren nodded. He went down on his haunches to pick up the five slips of hide, aligning them at the top before rolling. “I shall be pleased if these can gather dust in my weyr.” He stuffed the roll in his pouch. “It is, however, a comfort to have made plans, to have considered contingencies.”
“Saves a lot of unnecessary worry,” S’ligar agreed, bending to scoop up the scraps into his long-fingered hand. “I also recommend
150
Moreta: Dragonlady of Pern
that we use entire wings as replacements, rather than send individuals as substitutes. Riders get used to their wingleaders and seconds.” The recommendation found favor with the others. “Full wings or substitutes is not the real worry.” L’bol glowered at the lists as he assembled them in his hand. “It’s the lack of ground
crews.”
K’dren snorted. “No worry. Not when the queens have already decided among themselves to do that job. We’ve all been informed, no doubt, that every queen who can fly will attend every Fall.”
M’tani’s scowl was sour and neither L’bol or F’gal appeared happy, but S’ligar shrugged diffidently. “They will arrange matters to suit themselves no matter what but queens keep promises.” “Who suggested using weyrlings for ground crews?” M’tani asked. “We may have to resort to them,” S’ligar said. “Weyrlings don’t have enough sense” M’tani began. “Depends on their Weyrlingmaster, doesn’t it?” K’dren asked. “The queens intend”S’ligar put in before M’tani could take offense at K’dren’s remark“to keep the weyrlings under control. What other choice have we in the absence of ground crews?” “Well, I’ve never known a weyriing yet who would disobey a
queen,” F’gal admitted.
“S’peren, with Moreta ill, does Kamiana lead?” “No. Leri.” S’peren looked apprehensive. “After all, she’s done it
before.”
The Weyrleaders murmured in surprised protest. “Well, if any of your Weyrwomen can talk her out of it, we’d be very relieved.” S’peren did not hide his distress. “She’s more than done her duty by the Weyrs and Pern. On the other hand, she knows how to lead. With both Sh’gall and Moreta sick, the Weyr at least
trusts her.”
“How is Moreta?” S’ligar asked.
“Leri says Oriith doesn’t seem worried. She carries her eggs well and she is very near clutching. It’s as well Moreta is sick or they’d be out and about Pern. You know how keen Moreta is on runners.”
M’tani snorted with disgust. “This is not the time to lose an egg-heavy queen,” he said. “This sickness hits so fast and kills so quickly, the dragons don’t realize what’s happening. And then they’re gone between.” He caught his breath, clenching his teeth and swallowing
Moreta: Dragonlady of Pern 151
against tears. The other riders pretended not to see his evident distress.
“Once Oriith has clutched she won’t go until they’ve hatched,” S’ligar said gently to no one in particular. “S’peren, have you candidates safely at Fort Weyr?”