door in her nervousness to open it, T’dam poked his head out of the
boys’ barracks next door.
Back, are you? Well, she hasn’t moved so much as a muscle. And I
don’t think you will either, will you?” She shook her head, too tired to
speak. She opened one side of a door wide enough to accommodate
wing-trailing drago nets and slipped inside, turning to close it after
her but T’dam came in as well, reaching up to turn the glow basket open.
As well he did, because Debera would have knocked into the first of the
dragonet beds.
These were basically simple wooden platforms, raised half a metre above
the ground, ample enough for dragons until they were old enough to be
transferred to a permanent weyr apartment. The rider’s bed was a
trundle affair to one side of the dragon’s, with storage space
underneath and a deep chest at the foot.
She skirted the bed, relieved she had not awakened the occupant, and got
to Morath’s, the next one in. And hers.
There were several items of clothing on the chest.
Tisha sent in some other things since you weren’t able to bring any
changes with you,’ T’dam said. And a nightdress, I believe. Open the
glow above the bed and then I’ll shut this one.
When she had done so, he closed the larger one and then the door behind
him. Immediately he had, she examined Morath, curled tightly on her
platform, wings over her eyes.
Was that how drago nets slept? Wondering at the good fortune that had
happened to her this day, Debera watched the sleeping dragonet as dearly
as any mother observed a newborn, much wanted child. Morath’s belly
still bulged with uneven lumps from all the meat she had eaten.
T’dam had laughed when Debera worried that the dragonet would make
herself sick with such greed.
They repeat the process six or seven times a day the first month,’ he’d
warned her. You’ll end up thinking you’ve spent all your life chopping
gobbets until she settles to the usual three meals a day.
But don’t worry. By the end of her first year, she’ll be eating only
twice a week – and catching her own at that.” Debera smiled, remembering
that conversation and thinking that T’dam had no idea what a relief it
would be to have such an easy job, the doing of which would be a labour
of love and so gratefully received. She held her hand over her beloved
Morath, wanting to caress this so-beloved creature but not wishing to
disturb her – especially when Debera was all but asleep herself. She
lingered though, despite weariness, just watching Morath’s ribs rise and
fall in sleeping rhythm.
Then she could no longer resist fatigue.
She was the lone human in the weyrling barn . . . no, barracks.
Well, the others had their families to celebrate with.
Who’d have thought that Debera of Balan Hold would be sleeping with
dragons this night? She certainly hadn’t. She slipped out of the fine
dress now, smoothed the soft fabric of the green gown one last time as
she folded it. It had felt so good on her body and was such a becoming
colour: quite the loveliest thing she had ever worn. Gisa had got all
her mother’s dresses which ought by custom to have come to her.
Debera shrugged into the nightgown, aware of the subtle bouquet of the
herbs in which it had been stored. Once she’d had time to gather the
fragrant flowers and leaves for sachets with her mother.
She pulled back the thick woollen blanket, fingering its softness, and
not regretting in the slightest the over washed and thin ones she had
shared with her step-sisters. The pillow was thick under her cheek,
too, as she put her head down, and soft and redolent of yet more
fragrances. That was all she had time to think.
Back at the College, Sheledon, Bethany and Sydra arrived a-dragon back
full of the ardent reception they’d had at Telgar Weyr.
I don’t know why we didn’t think of Teaching Ballads before now,’ said
Sydra, slightly hoarse from all the singing she’d done the night before.