It was nearing midday when T’mar finally gave the signal to Zirenth and the weyrlings he’d called to help in the transport.
As soon as T’mar had lowered her to the ground, she hobbled over to Talenth and grabbed her head in both arms, surprised that they barely reached around.
Fiona found no argument with her insistence that Nuella and her watch-wher be temporarily housed in one of the unused queen’s weyrs. She was thrilled by the way her offer was received by Nuella and, even more so, by Zenor, whose attitude toward dragonriders in general and Fiona in particular seemed to have undergone a complete and permanent revision.
“This is marvelous!” he said as he examined the bath and Fiona demonstrated the hot and cold taps. “And the water is hot all the time?”
“It should be,” Fiona allowed. “At least it is in Fort Weyr.”
She was touched by the way Zenor carefully arranged the room and then led blind Nuella around it, proudly boasting, “Once she knows where things are, she gets around just fine.”
The sun was just going down as Fiona led them to dinner, seating them at what she’d begun to think of proprietarily as the Weyrwoman’s table.
She was pleased to be greeted by the weyrling riders and the walking wounded, and even more pleased by the respectful manner in which they treated her guests.
“Watch-whers, eh?” K’rall said when he heard about Nuella. Then he peered more closely at her as recognition dawned. “Why, you don’t look — ”
“K’rall!” Fiona cut across him warningly. “Remember we are ten Turns in the past and what’s happened to us has yet to happen for Nuella and Zenor.”
K’rall cast her an affronted look that faded only after he digested her meaning. He harrumphed, then gave her a look that might have been a smile, before nodding respectfully to Nuella and Zenor. “Let me just say that I am honored you chose to come here.”
Zenor beckoned to Fiona, who leaned close enough for him to mutter, “Don’t hold back so much that you scare us away from the future.”
Fiona thought about that for a moment. “I’m sorry — nothing terrible, just frightening.”
“Oh,” Zenor said with a grin. “So nothing more than I’ve come to expect with Nuella.”
“I suppose that’s right,” Fiona found herself agreeing. After all, she’d heard not only Kindan’s ballads but also his stories firsthand. “Nothing quite so startling as being the first person to take a watch- wher
Dinner proceeded uneventfully after that, except that both Zenor and Nuella were surprised by the spicy dishes served them.
“It’s the heat,” Fiona explained. “Mother Karina, the oldest trader, explained that in hot climates it’s good to eat spicy-hot foods that aid in sweating.”
“The sweat cools the blood,” Zenor guessed. “Does that mean we need to drink more here?”
“Definitely,” T’mar agreed. “And here’s one of the special dishes that Terin has prepared for Fiona’s return.”
He gestured to a bowl that Terin had placed proudly on the table. It looked a bit like a white pudding or a solid cream but Fiona was certain that she had never seen its like.
“I’m sorry that we don’t have more than enough for a taste for each of us,” T’mar apologized as he scooped up a spoonful and put it on Fiona’s plate. “Terin has a nice cobbler to accompany it.”
Fiona’s nose crinkled, taking in the scent of warm cinnamon and apples wafting across the air as Terin proudly carried a warm pot to the table.
“We think the two will go together well,” T’mar said with a wink at Fiona.
Dubiously, Fiona took a nibble-sized portion of the white solid onto her spoon and put it in her mouth.
“It’s cold!” she exclaimed, nearly spitting it out. “It’s like ice, only it’s creamy.”
“Iced cream,” Terin said with a huge grin. “It took me a long time to convince J’gerd to help make it.” She leaned close to Fiona as she whispered, “We had to use a full kilo of ice!”
“It’s amazing!” Fiona said as she helped herself to a full mouthful. She turned an eye toward T’mar. “Something to trade?”
“Oh, indeed!” T’mar agreed wholeheartedly, contently mixing the iced cream and the warm cobbler into a cool mash.
“I’ve never heard that dragonriders trade,” Zenor observed mildly as he dubiously tried the iced cream. His brows rose in delighted surprise as he savored it and swallowed.
“No one is supposed to know we’re here,” Fiona said, unable to conceal her worry that too many people already knew, “so we can’t ask for tithe.”
“Besides,” T’mar added with an airy wave of his hand, “if we did and D’gan found out about it . . .”
“I couldn’t imagine he’d be happy with the prospect,” Nuella said. She took another bite of the iced cream, savoring it slowly before saying, “And if this need to trade has driven you to create
“At Fort Weyr the dragonriders knit sweaters and scarves, that they give to holders and crafters that are beholden to them,” Fiona said, feeling an urge to defend dragonriders.
“Your father is a Lord Holder,” Nuella replied. “You can’t tell me that he never griped about the tithe.”
“No,” Fiona admitted. “But he never skimped on it, either.”
“Speaking of tithe,” Zenor said, glancing toward Nuella, “we have a list of questions about this hold you’re proposing — ”
“And a list of needs, no doubt!” K’rall interjected. Fiona glanced nervously in his direction, afraid that the old rider was affronted, but she was surprised to see a huge grin on his face. “No more than your due, I’m certain.”
The byplay was not lost on Zenor, who gave Fiona an appraising look before continuing, “Our biggest need will be smithcrafters.”
“Yes,” T’mar agreed. “And we’ll want you to have them because, unlike the other holds, we are hoping you will give us tithe.”
“We haven’t even settled!” Zenor protested hotly.
“We think that once you have, you’ll find that there’s more than enough for you and yours,” T’mar told him. He shook his head emphatically. “We are not Telgar. We will not demand more than a fair tithe.”
“Also,” Fiona added, “don’t forget that we’ll be supplying you with stakehold, an investment of our own, as it were, and should expect — as traders — to see a return on it.”
“You can’t have it both ways, Weyrwoman,” Zenor cautioned her. “Either we tithe or we trade.”
“Trade and tithe,” Fiona told him. “You’ll find that we have many things worth trade.” She gestured to the iced cream bowl, now empty. “And we won’t stint our friends.”
“Very well,” Zenor said after checking Nuella’s expression.
“Your biggest need is food, anyway,” Nuella said. “Your Weyr and our wherhold will make a large dent in the available herds.” She turned her face toward Fiona. “How many watch-whers are there at Aleesa’s?”
Fiona was chagrined to admit that she didn’t know. “Two, for certain,” she said. “Both Arella and Jaythen have them. Arella is bonded with a green and Jaythen is bonded with a bronze.”
Zenor frowned.
“What about the other eggs in this last clutch?” Nuella asked.
“They were all spoken for already,” Fiona told her.
“That’s both good and bad,” Nuella said to Zenor.
