lofted it easily back to his bed.
“I believe that you are somewhat improved in spirit. Now drink the soup.” She set it down on the table.
“Are all healthy here?”
“All here, yes. Even the officious Tolocamp, immured in his quar—
Moreta: Dragonlady of Pem 157
ters. He’s more likely to catch pneumonia while standing at unshuttered windows to check up on the guards.” Desdra chuckled maliciously. “He’s got messengers stationed on the forecourt. He sails notes down to them to take to offenders. Not even a tunnel snake could slip past his notice!” A tiny smirk curved Desdra’s lips. “Mas-ter Tirone had to talk long and hard to get him to set up that internment camp in the hollow. Tolocamp was certain that offering shelter would be an invitation to undesirables to lodge and feed at his expense. Tirone is furious with Tolocamp because he wants to send his harpers out with the assurance that they can return, but Tolocamp refuses to believe that harpers can avoid infection. Tolocamp sees the disease as a visible mist or fog that oozes out of meadows and streams and mountain crevices.”
Desdra was trying to amuse him, Capiam thought, for she wasn’t normally garrulous.
“I did order a quarantine.”
Desdra snorted. “True! Tolocamp ought not to have left Ruatha. He overruled the brother when Alessan fell ill. And with every other breath, Tolocamp is said to moan for abandoning his dear wife. Lady Pendra, and those precious daughters of his to the mercies of the plague rampaging at Ruatha.” Desdra’s chuckle was dry. “He left them there on purpose. Or Lady Pendra insisted they all stay. They’ll have insisted on nursing Alessan!”
“How are matters at Fort Weyr and Ruatha?”
“K’lon tells us that Moreta is doing as well as can be expected. Berchar probably has pneumonia, and nineteen ridersincluding Sh’gallare weyred. Ruatha is badly hit. Fortine has dispatched volunteers. Now drink that soup before it cools. There’s much to be done below. I can’t stay to chat with you any longer.”
Capiam found that his hand shook violently as he picked up the mug.
“Shouldn’t’ve wasted all that energy tossing that pillow,” she said.
He used both hands to bring the mug to his lips without spilling. “What have you put in it?” he demanded after a careful swallow.
“A little of this, a little of that. Trying a few restoratives out on you. If they work, I’ll make kettlesful.”
“It’s vile!”
“It’s also nutritional. Drink it!”
“I’ll choke.”
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“Drink it or I’ll let Nerilka, that laundry pole daughter of Tolocamp’s, come nurse you in my stead. She offers hourly.”
Capiam cursed Desdra but he drained the cup.
“Well, you do sound improved!” She chuckled as she closed the door quietly behind her. ,
“I didn’t say I liked it either,” Leri told S’peren. “But old dragons can glide. That’s why Holth and I can still fly Thread in the queens’ wing.” Leri gave Holth an affectionate clout on the shoulder, beam-ing up at her life-long friend. “It’s the tip, the finger, and elbow joints that harden so the finer points of maneuverability go. Gliding’s from the shoulder. Doesn’t take much effort, either, with the sort of wind we’re likely to get now. Why did it have to get so bloody cold on top of everything else? Rain’d be more bearable as well as more seasonable.” Leri adjusted the furs across her shoulders. “I wouldn’t trust the weyrlings to such dull work. They’d do something fancy, like the stunt young T’ragel tried on the ridge with Moreta. “Now, you said L’bol is grieving badly?” “Indeed he is. He’s lost both sons.” S’peren shook his head sadly before he took another sip of the wine Leri had served him “to wet your throat after the dust at Red Butte.” S’peren took comfort in the familiar act of reporting to Leri. It was like the old times, only a few Turns past at that, when L’mal had been Weyrieader and S’peren had been much in this weyr. He almost expected to see L’mal’s chunky figure swing into the chamber and hear the hearty voice greeting him. Now there was a Leader to encourage and comfort in this disastrous Turn. Still, S’peren thought with a blink, Leri was as brisk and quick as ever. “Could Igen put eight full wings up to Fall?”