Dragonheart

this is far more dignified.” She turned back to view Talenth, who was still mauling half-dead fowl, and turned back again to confess to the Weyrwoman, “Except, perhaps, this time.”

“Go on,” Cisca called encouragingly to Talenth. “You’re hungry! Eat it!”

Startled, Talenth paused mid-strike, and the mauled bird scampered away.

“Oh, by the first Egg!” Cisca exclaimed in exasperation. She pointed at Fiona. “You  go show her how!”

Fiona was just about to when Talenth, whether by design or blunder, neatly swallowed her intended lunch whole.

“Chew!” Fiona yelled.

“If she chokes, you’ll have to go down her neck after it,” Cisca teased.

But Talenth didn’t choke and did chew, her back teeth making short work of both muscle and bone.

That was fun!

“It’s supposed to be eating, silly,” Fiona chided her, shaking her head.

“Well, now I’m  hungry!” Cisca had declared, turning back to the Kitchen Cavern.

Now Talenth was so eager to join them that she was already waiting for them by the stairs.

“We would have come for you,” Fiona told her.

But I’m hungry  now, Talenth replied, turning toward the pens and charging off resolutely.

“You’d hardly think she was . . .” Fiona paused, struck once again with an attack of muzzy-headedness. Why was it that she seemed normal most times, but not when she was confronted with sums or other deep thinking? Clearly it wasn’t the illness, but it was something.  It seemed like these days, since Impressing Talenth, if she didn’t have someone like Xhinna to remind her, she’d never know where she was supposed to be. She needed more klah.

“She has sixty-four days since her hatching,” Xhinna supplied smoothly. “Two months and eight days. She’s just right for her age.”

“Of course she is,” Fiona said agreeably, picking up her stride to catch up with her dragon. Secretly, she was irked not only at her own forgetfulness, but at Xhinna’s quickness in picking up on it.

It was obvious from the speed with which Talenth selected and dispatched her prey — a rather substantial young sheep — that the queen was really quite hungry.

“They say that when the queen is ready to rise, she’s supposed to blood her kill,” Xhinna said unexpectedly from Fiona’s right side; Fiona had been so engrossed in Talenth’s hunger that she hadn’t heard the other girl catch up.

“They say it’s the queen rider’s responsibility to keep her from gorging,” Xhinna added conversationally.

Fiona gave her a sharp look, snapping, “She’s not gorging now, is she?”

Xhinna went red and shook her head quickly. “No,” she said, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Queens get proddy, too,” a deeper voice added from behind them. Fiona spun on her heel and found herself facing T’mar. The bronze rider grinned and gestured toward Talenth. “She’s growing well.”

He turned to Xhinna. “Ellor has requested you in the kitchen.” Xhinna’s eyes widened as she tried to imagine what trouble she might have caused this time, and then, with a nod to both dragonriders, she took off in a sprint.

T’mar moved forward to stand beside Fiona. He glanced down at her and said conversationally, “I’ve discovered that when times are hard, I need my friends most.”

Fiona glanced up at him, her expression blank even though she had a gnawing suspicion of his intentions.

“So it is a shame to see you treating the one person who is most attached to you so poorly,” T’mar finished, catching her eyes with his own.

Spluttering, Fiona searched for words with which to deny the accusation but she couldn’t find them: T’mar was right. She let out her breath with a deep sigh.

“It’s just that everyone is always looking at me, judging me,” she complained.

“And is this any different from growing up at Fort Hold ?” T’mar asked politely.

Fiona shook her head.

“Of course, you haven’t exactly gone out of your way to avoid notice,” T’mar pointed out. Fiona glanced up sharply at him. “You generated quite a bit of gossip by having Xhinna stay with you.” “She helps me,” Fiona declared simply.

“She’s with you all the time,” T’mar observed. “Night and day, it seems.”

Fiona flashed him an angry look. “We’re friends!”

“I know that,” T’mar replied. “But have you considered what will happen to Xhinna when your Talenth rises and chooses a mate?”

From the look on Fiona’s face, it was obvious that she hadn’t.

“That’s Turns away!” she declared.

“And in all those Turns, where will Xhinna’s affections lie?” T’mar wondered, shaking his head firmly. “No matter what your intentions, it will be a brutal adjustment for her to make.”

“But she’s my friend!” Fiona blurted, her face twisted into a sad expression. “Why can’t she still be my friend then?”

“She can,” T’mar agreed. “But only if you keep her as a friend.” He gestured back toward the kitchen cavern. “If you treat her like a drudge, just because you’re out of sorts — and we all are — then what sort of friend will she be?

“And,” he continued as he saw Fiona gulp as she absorbed his observation, “if you aren’t careful to respect her emotions — all of them — what sort of pain will you cause when your dragon rises to mate?”

“And what about me?” Fiona demanded. At T’mar’s puzzled look, she went on, “What about my  emotions when my dragon rises to mate?”

“You’ve about three Turns to figure that out, Weyrwoman,” he replied shortly. He shook his head. “Not as much time as you’d imagine.”

I’m done,  Talenth declared and Fiona looked over to her, seeing that the gold had cleaned herself as best she could in the lake.

“We’d best get you back to the weyr, then,” she said aloud.

“She’ll sleep,” T’mar said by way of agreement. A small smile played across his lips and he nodded toward Talenth. “She’s growing well, which speaks well for her rider.”

“I thought you didn’t like me,” Fiona exclaimed in surprise.

T’mar snorted. “Just because I am willing to tell you how I see things doesn’t mean that I don’t like you.”

Fiona gave him a look of incredulity.

“If you think about it,” he continued, “I arranged to have this quiet talk and also to give you and your dragon some time alone together.” He gestured toward her weyr and nodded to her. “I’ll bid you a good afternoon.”

And, with that, he strode off in the opposite direction.

“. . . So i just wanted to say that I’m sorry for snapping at you,” Fiona apologized after she had recounted her conversation with T’mar to Xhinna as they lay in bed late that evening.

“It’s all right,” Xhinna said dismissively. “You’re a queen rider; I’m just a weyrfolk — and not a proper one at that.”

“No,” Fiona corrected, “it’s not all right. You deserve to be treated with respect and kindness.” She reached over and hugged Xhinna. “You’re my friend and I shouldn’t forget that.”

Xhinna returned the hug impassively and Fiona cocked an eyebrow at her. When the other girl said nothing in response, Fiona took it upon herself to say with a groan, “Look! We’ve been over all this before. You’re my friend — I’m glad to have your company and your help.”

“But T’mar’s right,” Xhinna said with a glum look.

“Yes, he is,” Fiona agreed. “And some day, Turns from now, Talenth” — a fond smile played across her lips — “will rise and mate and things will be different for me in many ways.” She was silent for a moment as all the ramifications of that time crashed upon her and she shivered fearfully. Quietly, she continued, “And then