Dragonheart

Marla stared at her for a moment, still bemused. Fiona took matters in her own hands. “Follow me, I know the way.”

She led the way down to the medicinal storeroom. “We need echinacea the most, then ginger, cinnamon, comfrey, and hyssop,” she told Marla as she started pulling containers from cupboards built into the walls. The light in the room was dim. “Bring in one of the glows from outside.”

“I don’t know,” Marla began hesitantly, but Fiona gave her a look that sent the young holder rushing out of the room.

She returned a moment later with a glow basket, which she hung on a hook high up.

“Much better,” Fiona said, rummaging through another likely storage bin. “I won’t take more than half of your supplies — ”

“Half?” Marla squeaked, her eyes round.

“Dragons are big, Marla,” Fiona reminded her with just a touch of exasperation in her voice. “They need much more per dose than humans.”

“Did you think to ask the herders?” Marla said.

Fiona shook her head. “We’ll do that if we need more.”

“More?” Marla was astonished at the thought.

Fiona found a carisak and started to stuff it with herbs, each stored in their own jar or box.

“There!” she said briskly, shouldering the carisak. “That should be enough for a couple of days.”

Marla was reduced to making small squeaking noises.

“I’ll leave you to put the glow back,” Fiona said as she made for the door. “No need to follow, I’ll see myself out.”

“Did you get everything?” Neesa asked as Fiona stopped back at the kitchen for a quick good-bye.

“I only took half of what were in the stores,” Fiona told her, “just in case.”

“Well,” Neesa said consideringly, “you can always come back for the rest if you need.”

“We don’t even know if it works,” Fiona told her. “What we heard from Benden was that they were trying it.”

“What are the ingredients again?” Neesa asked. Fiona rattled off the list. “That sounds right to me,” Neesa allowed, “not that I know all that much about dragons.”

“I’m only just learning myself,” Fiona said.

“You learn fast; you’ll know it all soon enough,” Neesa assured her.

“I don’t know,” Fiona said, pursing her lips. “I seem to be so tired all the time.”

“I suppose that’s natural, what with a new dragon and all,” Neesa allowed.

“No,” Fiona said, shaking her head firmly, “it’s not.” She explained what Fort’s Weyrleader and Weyrwoman had told her, finishing, “So it seems that it’s worse than normal.”

“But not just for you,” Neesa pointed out. “They said others were affected, too, weren’t they?”

“Yes,” Fiona admitted bleakly. “But what if — ”

“If it’s to do with this illness, then they’d have the same problem at the other Weyrs, wouldn’t they?” Neesa suggested. Fiona frowned at that, thoughtfully. “So all you’d have to do is ask the other Weyrs, wouldn’t you?”

“I suppose,” Fiona conceded. She shook her head to clear off her morbid thoughts. She had a sackload of herbs to get back to the Weyr now. But before she could take her leave, a loud shout erupted from the Great Hall.

“Father?” Fiona called, recognizing the voice of Lord Holder Bemin in full rage.

“Fiona . . .” Neesa began, but Fiona had already raced out of the kitchen. Neesa followed the fleeing figure of the youngster and shook her head. She paused a moment, listening, then turned back to her pots. No matter what, she told herself, there’d be a meal wanted.

“Fiona?” Lord Bemin called out when he spotted his daughter rushing toward him from the kitchen. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come for some herbals,” Fiona replied, dropping her shoulder to show the carisak slung on it. “What are you doing bellowing like that? I haven’t heard you so angry since that time I got lost searching for tunnel snakes.”

“Tunnel snakes would be better,” Bemin responded, his expression sour, brows furrowed thunderously.

“Weren’t you at the Harper Hall?”

“I was,” Bemin snapped.

“Are you and Kelsa arguing again?” Fiona asked, her eyes dancing.

Bemin sighed and seemed to deflate where he stood. Fiona was surprised to see the worry lines around his eyes.

“She’s not upset about her gold?” Fiona wondered. Kelsa had Impressed a gold fire-lizard a number of Turns back and was quite attached to her. Fiona was certain Kelsa’s loss of Valyart had hit her hard. She also recalled that Kelsa and her father had made jokes about which bronze would fly when Valyart mated.

Even though she was the Lord Holder’s daughter, or perhaps even more because she was the Lord Holder’s daughter, Fiona had spent a lot of her youth with the herdbeasts and animals of the Hold; more than once she had helped a ewe birthing a lamb, or a herdbeast with a breech birth, so reproduction held no secrets for her.

And so it wasn’t difficult for her to take in her father’s stance and his bellowing, and come up with a shrewd guess: “Kelsa’s pregnant, isn’t she?”

“We were talking names,” Bemin said by way of confirmation. “Kemma if a girl, Belsan if a boy.”

Fiona did some quick thinking, her expression growing more radiant by the second. “You were going to tell me at the Hatching, weren’t you?”

Bemin nodded.

Fiona let out a cry of joy and ran up to hug her father.

“That’s great news!” she exclaimed. She stepped back. “When Talenth is old enough, I’ll visit every day — ” She frowned, then corrected herself. “ — every sevenday at least!”

She saw that her father still looked upset. “What?”

“We fought,” Bemin told her. “I wanted the child raised at the Hold, to be the next Holder, particularly if it’s a boy.”

Fiona could hear his unsaid words: particularly seeing as you’re now at the Weyr. She could guess how the discussion, then argument went, her father getting more and more irritated at Kelsa’s intransigence.

She snorted. “Father, you’re talking about a kilometer’s difference! Don’t be such a ninny!”

Bemin looked surprised at her response and opened his mouth to reply, but Fiona remembered her mission.

“We can talk about this later,” she told him briskly. “These medicines can’t wait, and Talenth may wake up any moment now.” She patted his arm and rushed by, headed toward the great doors. “Don’t worry, it’ll work out just fine!”

It was only when she was up on Zirenth’s back with T’mar and the dragon was thrusting up into the sky above Fort Hold that Fiona wondered bemusedly at her temerity in giving her own father advice on romance.

Then Zirenth went between  and she thought no more of it.

After delivering the herbs, Fiona raced across the Weyr Bowl toward the Queens ’ Quarters and up the ramp to her weyr to find that Talenth was just stirring from her long nap.

I itch,  Talenth complained as soon as she spied Fiona. Fiona grabbed the bucket of oil and a brush and sought out the offending spot.

There!  Talenth told her with a sigh of contentment. The patch was easily seen and soon dealt with. Much better.

Fiona smiled. “Only you could wallow in a simple oiling!”

Nonsense, I’m sure all dragons do it!  Talenth corrected her, craning her head around to look at Fiona, her faceted eyes whirling with a touch of worry. I’m not being mean to you, am I?

Fiona rushed to Talenth’s head and grabbed it, snaking an arm up to scratch the dragon’s eye ridges. “No, of course not!” she told her dragon emphatically. “You’re the most wonderful, marvelous, amazing friend a person could ever have!”

And you would tell me if I was being difficult, wouldn’t you?