Dragonheart

”

“But you knew you were doing right at the moment, when you forced us to change,” Nuella corrected her. She waved her free hand dismissively. “You should understand how much being tied to the future hurts you.”

Fiona made a surprised sound.

Nuella and Arella both burst out laughing and Fiona found herself bristling, her cheeks hot with shame.

“They mean well, Weyrwoman,” Silstra assured her in a tone that told of long suffering with the wherwomen’s humors.

“If you just trust yourself, Fiona, you’ll do fine,” Arella explained when at last she recovered from her laughing bout.

“This wherhold is thriving — will thrive,” Nuella added approvingly. “And it is because of you, only because of you, that it is so.”

“But I knew it would!” Fiona declared, feeling that that should detract from her honors.

“No,” Nuella corrected with a shake of her head. “As you said, you only knew some things. You were responsible for making this, even if the future gave you hints.”

“M’tal’s here,” Silstra said to Arella.

“He’s down at the river,” Nuella added, raising Fiona’s hand invitingly. “So, Weyrwoman, what shall we tell him?”

“Hmmph!” Fiona snorted. “After all you’ve just said, it seems to me that you’ll figure it out.”

Nuella snorted, then nodded. “I’m sure I will.”

“He doesn’t know about Fiona or the Igen riders,” Silstra added.

“F’dan brought me,” Fiona said, “but he’s going to say that he’s from Fort Weyr.”

“As that’s the truth, there’s no problem with that,” Nuella agreed.

“I’ll get back to Sula — she’s doubtless in a tizzy by now,” Silstra said, nodding to each of them in turn, then marching quickly away.

As they made their way down toward the river, Arella and Nuella quizzed Fiona on her meeting with M’tal. Both giggled and glanced at each other when Fiona, red-faced, explained about her gift for Kindan.

“He’s quite a looker,” Arella told Nuella knowingly.

“I know,” Nuella agreed. “But I prefer redheads.”

“We know,” Arella said with a grin.

“He’s a handsome lad,” Fiona agreed. She saw Arella’s encouraging nod and, not wasting time to wonder how the wherhandler had divined her intentions, plunged on, “He’d be quite a catch.”

“Only if he’s willing to be caught,” Nuella said with a sigh. “I was hoping maybe when Nuelsk rose . . .”

Arella burst out laughing, pointing a finger accusingly at Nuella. “I never would have thought that of you!”

“Why not?” Nuella asked, her innocence vanishing. “I’ve heard enough about mating flights to hope — ”

“You are a sly one!” Arella exclaimed.

Fiona felt uncomfortable with the tone of the conversation, not scandalized but troubled all the same, feeling somewhat as though she were on the edge of a deeper understanding that only experience could provide.

“As it is,” Nuella persisted, “I don’t know if I can wait until Nuellask rises.”

“Ah, but it’d be so much better with a queen!” Arella said, grinning lecherously.

Something in Nuella’s silence calmed the other wherhandler, who shook her head, glancing toward Fiona with a meaning Fiona couldn’t fathom.

“M’tal doesn’t know my name,” Fiona told them as they drew near the millhouse.

“Probably for the best,” Nuella agreed. “Fiona’s not that common a name.”

“He’ll have met me by now,” Fiona said in agreement. “I mean the ‘me’ of four Turns.”

“If watch-whers can go between  like dragons,” Arella asked, her lips pursed thoughtfully, “can they go between  times like dragons, too?”

Nuella and Fiona gasped at the notion.

“Weyrwoman?” Nuella said, throwing the question to her.

Fiona shook her head. “I can’t see why not.”

“What’s it like, then, going between  times?” Arella asked.

“It’s hard,” Fiona told her. “It’s harder on riders than dragons or weyrfolk. Terin doesn’t feel it at all. But the riders — we feel like there’s a noise or tension, a tingling, a jangle on the senses. It comes and goes and we’re never sure when. Some days are better than others, and the days aren’t the same for all dragonriders. It leaves us both tired and edgy. Klah  is good when we’re tired, rest when we’re edgy.” She frowned as she admitted, “There’ve been fights. Fights that shouldn’t have happened.”

“Fights?” Arella asked, surprised.

Fiona nodded. “We — T’mar and the wingleaders — handle them. If a douse of cold water won’t bring them to their senses, we put them in a ring with a stuffing suit and let them have at it.”

“Stuffing suit?” Arella repeated.

“A set of clothes full of stuffing so that they can hit each other without breaking bones,” Fiona explained. “They usually wind up exhausted, all the fight gone out of them.” She gave Arella a grim look as she added, “And then they’re put on the worst details for the next fortnight or more.”

“I can imagine,” Nuella said thoughtfully. To Arella she said, “Remember that.”

“Aye,” Arella responded. She explained to Fiona, “We’re still sorting out how we’re going to handle the wherhold.”

“Arella’s been used to more watch-whers in the same place than I have,” Nuella said. “So I look to her for knowledge.”

“You’re the senior,” Arella reminded her. “You’ve got the gold.”

“You’re following Weyr traditions?” Fiona asked.

“It seems right,” Nuella explained. “At least until we learn differently.”

“Besides, all the watch-whers obey the queen,” Arella added.

“And dragons,” Nuella reminded her. Fiona noted Arella’s sour look as the woman acknowledged that remark. For a moment Fiona wondered what it would be like the other way around, if the dragons obeyed the watch-whers, and then she realized that they already had — in the night flight Nuella had led.

“I’m not so sure,” Fiona said much to Arella’s surprise. “I think the watch-whers are willing to listen to the dragons much the same way the dragons are willing to listen to their riders.”

“So, no difference,” Arella said with a dismissive shrug.

“No,” Nuella responded. “The Weyrwoman has a point. A dragon doesn’t have  to obey her rider.”

“Think of a hatching,” Fiona said suggestively.

“Or a mating flight,” Arella added appreciatively. “If your dragons are anything like our watch-whers, then a mating flight requires the greatest control a handler — rider — ever needs.”

“It’s in the Ballads,” Fiona said in agreement, suppressing an internal shudder — could she control Talenth when she rose? She forced herself to be calm; the event was still Turns away. Besides, Fiona couldn’t imagine Talenth ever fighting her.

“Shh,” Arella hissed warningly to Fiona. “We’re getting near.”

They found the group indoors, with Terregar leading M’tal on an impromptu tour of the new building.

“We’ve only got the beams for the second floor but we’re hoping to trade with Lemos for enough wood to lay in decent flooring,” he was explaining as they entered.

“I hate to say it,” M’tal replied, “but Telgar’s got better wood at lower prices.”

“I’d prefer not to trade with Telgar,” Zenor replied. “Besides, we figure that here we’re beholden to you, so that it’s good manners to work with other holds beholden to Benden.”

M’tal gave him a thoughtful look. “In old times this land would have looked to Igen Weyr for protection,” he said.

He found himself looking at a sea of hopeful faces and added, “I see no reason why Benden Weyr shouldn’t avail itself of such a great tithe. I’ll have a word with C’rion.”

The group gave a collective sigh of relief, untempered by M’tal’s mention of tithe.

“Ah, Lady Nuella,” M’tal cried as he caught sight of her. “How kind of you to join us!”