asked.
Debera took a good look in the direction he pointed and saw six skinned
carcasses, swaying from butchering tripods.
Weyrlings were busy with knives carving flesh off the bones, or at the
table chopping raw meat into dragonet morsels.
Me?” Debera gave a cynical snort. Not likely.” Good,’ T’dam said
approvingly. Some of your peers are.
Come now, Morath,’ he added in a totally altered tone, loving and kind
and wheedling, you’ll need a little rest and the sands by the lake are
warm in the sun .
Morath lifted her head, her eyes glistening bluey-green as she regarded
the Weyrlingmaster.
He is a nice nian, she said and began to waddle towards the lake: her
swaying belly bulged lumpily with her meal.
When you’ve settled her, Debera, be sure to get your own breakfast in
the kitchen. Good thing you’re not squeamish he said, turning away, but
his chuckle drifted back to Debera’s ears.
It’s awffilly far to the lake, isn tit, Debera? Morath said, puffing.
Not really,’ Debera said. Anyway, it’s much too rocky underfoot right
here to make a comfortable bed for your nap.
Morath looked down her long nose, her left fore knocking a stone out of
her path. And she sighed. She kept going, Debera encouraging her with
every slow step, until they reached the sandier ground surrounding the
lake. It had recently been raked, the marks visible between the paw-
and tail-prints of the drago nets Debera urged Morath further on to the
sand, to an empty spot between two browns who were tightly curled with
wings to shield their eyes from the autumn sun pouring down on them.
With a great sigh, Morath dropped her hindquarters to the sand, with an
I’m not going a step further attitude and sank slowly over to her right
side. She curled her tail about her, curved her head around under her
left wing and, with a sweet babyish croon rumbling in her throat, fell
asleep.
Once again, Debera could barely bring herself to leave the dragonet,
lost in the wonder of having been acceptable to such a marvellously
lovable creature.
She’d been lonely and lacking in love for so long – ever since her
mother had died and her oldest full brother had left the family Hold.
Now she had Morath, all her very own, and those long years of isolation
faded into a trivial moment.
She’s perfectly safe here,’ Debera told herself finally, and forced
herself to leave Morath and make her way across that quadrant of the
Bowl to the kitchen caverns. Enticing smells of fresh bread and other
viands made her quicken her steps.
She hoped she’d have enough restraint not to bolt her food like her
dragonet.
The kitchen cavern at Telgar Weyr was actually a series of caves, each
with an entrance, varying in size, width and height.
As Debera paused at the entrance of the nearest and smallest one, she
saw that hearths or ovens were ranged against the outside wall, each
with a separate chimney protruding up the cliff face. Inside, the many
long tables where last night guests had been entertained were reduced to
the number needed by the regular population of the Weyr.
But the interior was busy as men and women went about food preparation
tasks.
Breakfast’s over there, a woman said, smiling at Debera and pointing.
Porridge’s still hot and the klah’s fresh made.
Help yourself.” Debera looked to her left to the farthest hearth, which
had tables and chairs set invitingly near it.
There’ll be fresh-baked bread soon, too, and I’ll bring some over,’ the
woman added and proceeded on her own business.
Debera had only just served herself a heaping of porridge – not a lump
in it, nor a fleck of burn – and a cup of klah when two boys, looking
bewildered and not at all sure of how to proceed, wandered in.
The bowls are there, the cups there,’ Debera said, pointing.
And use that hunk of towel to hold the pot while you spoon out the
cereal. It’s hot.
They sent her tentative smiles – they must just be old enough for
Impression, she thought, feeling just a trifle older and wiser. They