Dragonheart

Treating it as a game made it easier for Xhinna to survive Melanwy’s sour humor and bitter jibes.

“Seems you’ve found a leash for her, Weyrwoman,” Melanwy admitted grudgingly as Xhinna dipped her head politely to the old headwoman. “She hasn’t said a word once.” Melanwy paused for a second, then added maliciously, “Usually no one can shut her up.”

Xhinna’s eyes flashed, but she caught Fiona’s look and let the insult pass.

Tannaz ate, although slowly and mechanically, her sick dragon looking on as best she could.

“The food will do her  good, too,” Melanwy said, jabbing a gnarled hand toward the dragon. She glanced at Fiona. “Good on you to find a way to get her to eat.”

“She’s my friend,” Fiona said simply. Tannaz glanced more alertly in her direction and almost managed a smile. Fiona smiled back at her and told her, “You should get some rest.”

“I’ll watch your dragon,” Melanwy declared.

“Actually,” Fiona said, trying to sound as diplomatic as she could, “perhaps both  of you should rest and we’ll  watch Kalsenth.”

“What about your  dragon?” Melanwy protested.

“She’s right next door,” Fiona said with a dismissive shrug. “I can pop right round to her if she needs. Besides, she’s sleeping. You know how they sleep,” she added fondly.

“Weelll . . .” Melanwy drawled reluctantly, “I suppose a nap wouldn’t do either of us any harm.”

“Quite right!” Fiona agreed emphatically, gesturing for Xhinna to guide Tannaz to bed and raising an arm invitingly to the old headwoman. “I’ll escort you to your quarters, if you’d like.”

Melanwy glanced sourly after Xhinna, then shook her head and rose to her feet. “I can manage on my own,” she muttered as she tottered off.

Xhinna helped Tannaz into her bed and covered her with a comforter, then returned to Kalsenth’s weyr. The sick queen lay curled up with her head wrapped in front of her body, resting on her tail.

“You did well,” Fiona told her, patting Xhinna on the arm. “And you know the reward for a job well done?”

Apparently Xhinna thought she did, for she groaned.

But Fiona surprised her. “You can stay and watch Kalsenth,” she said, gesturing to the chair that Melanwy had vacated. “I’ll be next door with Talenth — call or come get me if you need me.”

“But — ”

“You’ll do fine,” Fiona assured her.

“What if she dies while I’m watching?”

“She won’t,” Fiona said firmly. She tried not to betray any doubt. “At least, I don’t think she will. Tannaz would wake up if that were to happen, I’m sure of it.”

“But Melanwy wants to be here if she dies,” Xhinna protested. “She does?” Fiona asked, surprised.

“She wanted to go with Nara and Hinirth,” Xhinna said. “She never forgave her for going between  without her, so she’s hoping to go with Kalsenth.”

“Why not one of the other dragons?” Fiona asked.

“Only a queen will do for her,” Xhinna replied sourly.

“Oh, I see!” It almost made sense. It wasn’t as though Melanwy were very comfortable in her old age and she must  know that her wits were out of kilter, which must be hard on someone used to being regarded as an honored member of the community. Going between  with a dragon and rider would be an honorable, dignified end for her.

“Well, I’m hoping that she’s chosen the wrong dragon,” Fiona declared.

Xhinna turned her head in the direction of Tannaz’s quarters, murmuring, “I hope so, too.”

Against Xhinna’s dire pleadings, Fiona brought the weyrgirl to dinner in the Kitchen Cavern with her. She made Xhinna sit next to her, closest to Cisca, in the place that Tannaz would usually have taken.

Cisca and K’lior nodded to the younger girl, and Cisca gave Fiona an inquiring look, but nothing was said until the desserts were served.

“Weren’t you the girl who swiped a candidate’s robes and snuck onto the Hatching Grounds during the last Hatching?” K’lior asked as he heaped a large helping of apple crumble onto his plate.

Xhinna tried to disappear by scrunching low into her seat, but her bright red face was evident to all.

“I wish I’d  thought of that,” Fiona declared.

“She wasn’t the first, I assure you,” Kentai added with a wry grin. “It’s a long-established tradition in all the Weyrs.”

“It didn’t work, though, did it?” Cisca asked, not looking at Xhinna but at Fiona. Her look was odd: Fiona couldn’t understand what she meant by it.

“The dragons always know,” H’nez said from his place beside Kentai. “They know blue riders from bronze riders, too.”

What was that  supposed to mean? Fiona wondered.

“I thought all the weyrfolk were allowed to stand on the Hatching Grounds when they’re of age,” she said, glancing at Kentai for confirmation.

“We usually limit the number at each Hatching to not more than twice the eggs,” Cisca said as she took a forkful of her cake. Noticing Fiona’s curious look, she explained, “So as not to crowd the hatchlings or have too many pointless injuries.”

“I won’t do it again,” Xhinna murmured, looking miserable.

“Yes, you will,” Fiona declared, glancing fiercely in Cisca’s direction. “As long as you’ve the right.”

The senior Weyrwoman met Fiona’s look steadily, then flicked a hand in acceptance.

“I don’t want to make trouble,” Xhinna persisted.

She looked ready to flee, so Fiona placed a hand over her wrist. “She helped me with Tannaz today,” she said quickly. “I’d like her to stay with me, to help.”

Cisca’s furrowed her brow and gave K’lior a questioning look.

“Stay with you?” H’nez repeated.

“That way she could get things in the middle of the night if I have to stay with Tannaz or Kelsanth.”

Cisca’s expression cleared and, beside her, K’lior nodded. “I don’t see any harm in it,” he said to the Weyrwoman.

“You wouldn’t!” H’nez said with a derisive snort.

“Actually,” Cisca declared, glancing directly at H’nez, “I think it’s an excellent idea, particularly with Kelsanth in such straits.” She turned back to Fiona. “I almost wish I had thought of it myself. After all, the weyrlings in the weyrling barracks get plenty of help, not just from each other but from their friends and family.”

“A rider rides his own dragon,” H’nez retorted.

“And makes his own straps, hauls his own firestone,” K’lior agreed equably. “But a rider doesn’t make his own food, or raise his offspring without help.” He reached across to clasp Cisca’s hand. “Fiona is alone here in the Weyr. It makes sense that someone raised here should help, particularly as Tannaz is indisposed at the moment.”

“I think,” Cisca declared, “that even if Kelsanth were not sick, it would make sense to have someone available to help a queen rider.”

“Like a drudge?” H’nez said with a sneer as he regarded Xhinna. “Certainly she  fits the role.”

“H’nez!” T’mar growled warningly.

Fiona glared angrily at H’nez, then turned away from him to Cisca in a move that was an obvious dismissal and slight. The man might be a bronze rider and many Turns older than she, but he had a lot to learn about manners.

“Fioonna,” Xhinna murmured fearfully beside her.

“Weyrwoman, Weyrleader, thank you,” Fiona said with a polite nod for each. She pushed back her chair and rose, nudging Xhinna to do the same. “I think we’d best get back to my weyr so that we can assist Tannaz as she needs.

“Harper,” she said, nodding to Kentai. Her gaze skipped over H’nez and rested on T’mar, as she said, “Wingleader.” With that, she turned sharply and, still clutching Xhinna’s arm, marched out of the cavern.

“Discipline is much lacking in this Weyr,” she heard H’nez declare loudly after her.