Dragonheart

herdbeasts, and thinking of her as young. But as Fiona knew all too well, Talenth had only been out of the egg little more than ten months now.

“Anyway, she’s going to have to learn,” she said, hoping to clinch the argument; learning had a special place in Karina’s thinking.

“Why, are you planning on having lots of children?” Karina asked, and her eyes twinkled at Fiona’s sudden blush.

“That’s for the future,” Fiona told her, trying to will the heat out of her cheeks. “I was thinking that once we’re back at the Weyr, she’ll appreciate the company of the younger weyrfolk.”

“And you’ll have a steady supply of helping hands,” Terin observed tartly.

“Are you complaining?” Fiona asked, brows raised. When Terin shook her head quickly, Fiona added, “Anyway, it’s not so much for me as for her and the children.” Her eyes glowed. “I remember sleeping with Forsk when I was a child . . . I never felt so loved or peaceful.”

“You’re an odd one,” Karina said. “You seem happiest when in the center of a pile of warm bodies.”

“It keeps the cold away,” Fiona replied. More honestly, she added, “It feels like family would feel to me.”

Karina eyed her speculatively. “And you didn’t have that growing up the only child of the Lord Holder.”

Fiona said nothing.

“Well, if it pleases you, Weyrwoman,” Karina allowed at last, “I’ll see if the children are up for it.”

“Up for it!” Terin exclaimed in disbelief. “You’ll be able to trade a whole sevenday’s chores and  their best behavior for the honor.”

“And they’ll think they got the better of the bargain,” Karina had agreed with a grin.

So now, as Zirenth went between  in the last of the twilight, saluted by the luckless rider perched on his watch dragon near the Star Stones, Fiona still felt anxious over leaving Talenth behind, but was comfortable in the knowledge that her queen was surrounded by awed, amazed, and — she was certain — soon to be loving companions.

The cold, silent nothingness of between  was replaced in a sudden rush by the warm, noisy air over the wherhold as Zirenth spiraled quickly toward the landing place. Before them a specially erected trellis, lined with glows, stretched outward from the entrance of the wherhold to a raised platform at the end of the walk, where Zenor and Nuella would exchange their vows. Here and there, Fiona picked up the brighter glows of watch-wher eyes, brilliantly reflecting what little light there still was.

She deftly picked her way past the trellis and headed into the wherhold where, as she had half-expected, pandemonium reigned. The smells arising from the kitchen and the tenor of the overwhelming babble assured Fiona that whatever problems there were did not emanate from that location.

“I’m here!” Fiona called loudly, her voice echoing down the corridors. Hearing no response, she turned toward Nuellask’s lair.

She had just about arrived when a pair of arms reached out and pulled her inside.

“Good!” Silstra cried as she slid Fiona out of sight.

“What is it?” Fiona asked as her eyes adjusted to the faintly lit gloom.

“Did you know that M’tal would be here?” Nuella demanded, her voice pitched much higher than normal.

“No,” Fiona admitted. “But I should have guessed, come to think of it.”

“And  C’rion of Ista!” Silstra added, looking far more panicked than Fiona would ever have guessed possible.

“And Kindan,” Nuella added, her tone somewhat mollified.

“Kindan?” Fiona squeaked. “What if he recognizes me?”

“We figured it out,” Nuella said, gesturing for Silstra to explain.

“You’ll be the crafter girl you pretended to be when M’tal met you,” Silstra said tentatively.

“But M’tal said that he thought I looked so much like Koriana he thought about introducing me to Kindan!” Fiona wailed.

“What’s the harm in that then?” Silstra asked, cocking her head assessingly. “You’re nearly the same age — it might be good for him.”

“I’m the same age now !” Fiona exclaimed. “When I go back to my time, he’ll be ten Turns older. Besides — ” She cut herself off hastily.

“You know something of the future involving him,” Silstra guessed shrewdly.

“I want you beside me,” Nuella said. “I don’t think I can do this on my own.”

“That’s silly, and you know it,” Fiona declared undiplomatically. She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth and her expression showed it. “What I mean is that you’re more than able, Nuella. I’m flattered that you want me by your side but — ”

“If you can’t be there . . .” Nuella began, her eyes wide with fear. “Then Silstra will have to manage everything; Sula’s doing the cooking and there’s no one else — ”

“What about Terin?” Silstra asked, glancing toward Fiona in a way that made it clear she’d already tried this suggestion.

“Won’t Kindan be with Zenor?” Fiona asked suddenly.

“Y-yes,” Nuella allowed.

“Then there won’t be a problem,” Fiona told them. “He’ll be so busy with his duties and I’ll be so busy with mine that we won’t have any time to exchange pleasantries.”

“That’s good for the ceremony, but what about after?” Silstra wondered.

“I’ll get T’mar to take me dancing,” Fiona said, almost glad to have a reason to spend time with the bronze rider.

“That’s another thing — all those dragons!” Nuella sniffed. “How are we going to explain them?”

“We won’t,” Fiona said with a shrug. “Any colors the riders are wearing belong to Fort Weyr but I doubt they’ll be seen in the dark.”

“So how will you explain them?” Silstra asked.

“If pressed, we’ll say that they’re from Fort Weyr,” Fiona said. “That’s no lie.”

“And if not pressed?”

“Well, it would seem to me that C’rion will think that M’tal arranged it and M’tal will think that C’rion arranged it,” Fiona replied, her lips curving upward.

“That will only work if you keep the riders away from the Weyrleaders,” Silstra said.

“Yes,” Fiona agreed reluctantly. “I suppose you’re right.”

Talenth,  Fiona called, please tell T’mar that M’tal and C’rion are here .

He says that he’s already seen them,  Talenth replied a moment later.

“T’mar knows,” Fiona explained. She wiped her hands together briskly, as if wiping that problem off her hands. “Now, is there any other way I can help you?”

“Just hold my hand and don’t let go,” Nuella implored, reaching out a hand.

“Never,” Fiona vowed, clasping it firmly.

“Well,” Silstra said glancing around the room. “I think that everything is in order.” She glanced toward Fiona. “I’ll go tell Kindan to start the music.” At the door, she turned back. “When you hear the music, start out.”

“Oh, he’s playing?” Fiona asked excitedly.

“He sang at Silstra’s wedding,” Nuella said. “And I met him, when I was hiding, pretending to be Dalor.”

“Hmm, maybe that’ll work for me, too,” Fiona said.

“How do I look?” Nuella asked.

Fiona knew that for blind Nuella, the question was more than perfunctory. “How about we try an experiment?” she suggested as a bold thought came to her.

Talenth, could you relay an image to Nuellask?  Fiona asked.

I can try,  Talenth responded eagerly.

“Let me look at you,” Fiona said, turning to eye Nuella carefully in the brighter light of the hallway.

Nuella was dressed in a fine white dress with delicate white slippers, her blond hair wrapped up around her head in a French braid bound with pretty blue ribbon.

Fiona concentrated on her and concentrated on sharing the image with Talenth.