Dragonheart

was much quicker than trailing two at a time.”

“Why did we never do it this way before?” Fiona wondered.

“Because it only makes sense in certain circumstances,” T’mar replied. “It works when there are grown dragons fit enough to haul firestone but not fit enough to fly a Fall.”

“And when the Weyr is short of able weyrlings,” Tajen added.

“Yes,” T’mar agreed, glancing toward the Hatching Grounds and quickly back at the others as if questioning why there weren’t more weyrlings old enough to haul firestone. “And it’s hard work: hard on the dragon, hard on the riders.”

“More weyrlings is definitely the better choice,” Tajen agreed.

There was a sound above them and all three craned their necks upward: The rest of the Weyr was returning.

Fiona watched in wonder as the dragons of the six fighting wings dispersed, first dropping their riders off and then heading either to the Feeding Grounds or their weyrs for a much-needed rest. Her expression changed as she noticed how ragged each of the wings appeared — small, disordered . . .

“It’s the illness,” Tajen said.

Fiona looked over at him and saw that he’d been watching her. “The wings are disarrayed because of sick or lost dragons.” His voice choked on the word “lost,” and Fiona realized that rarely did anyone refer to the dragons as “dead” — it was just too hard to say.

“But they’ll fight well enough,” T’mar declared, glancing over toward K’lior as he and his riders dismounted.

“I wonder how it went with the others today?” Tajen asked. No one doubted that he meant the other Weyrs.

“We’ll find out soon enough,” T’mar said, slapping the other man on his shoulder. “Let’s get cleaned up and meet with K’lior.”

Cisca wants you.  The “voice” was that of a grown female dragon: Melirth.

Where?  Fiona asked, craning her neck around the Bowl and not spotting the Weyrwoman.

The Records Room.

Fiona turned to explain her summons to the two men but they were already on their way to their quarters. She walked briskly back to the Weyrwomen’s ledge and on to the Records Room, where she found K’lior, Cisca, and Kentai. The harper had chalk in hand and was writing on a slate. Fiona saw that he had divided the slate into two columns: on the left he listed the names of the Weyrs, and on the right he listed numbers.

“This is the fighting strength of the Weyrs as best we know,” Kentai said out loud.

“Does that include dragons with the illness?” K’lior asked.

“We can’t say for certain,” Cisca replied. “I got the numbers by asking the Weyrwomen of each Weyr.”

“So Benden has one hundred and seventy-five,” K’lior began. “How many did they lose against Thread today?”

“They started with one hundred and eighty-five,” Cisca replied. “But we don’t know how many were injured, or how seriously.”

“Ista has only thirty-four?” Fiona exclaimed as she examined the numbers. Cisca nodded bleakly.

“And this one hundred and fifty for Telgar . . .” K’lior asked skeptically.

“That’s the number Lina’s Garoth gave me,” Cisca replied with a shrug. “It wasn’t too clear if that included dragons with the sickness or not.”

“I wonder if D’gan wouldn’t just think they were all slacking,” K’lior agreed with a sour look on his face.

“Why isn’t there a number for High Reaches?” Fiona asked.

“Because Sonia would only say that they had enough dragons, wouldn’t be able to lend any, and wouldn’t need any more,” Cisca replied, her annoyance undisguised.

“That doesn’t seem very nice,” Fiona remarked.

“D’vin and Sonia have been very aloof for a number of Turns,” K’lior said.

Kentai meanwhile had totaled the numbers and he frowned at the tally.

“Four hundred and ninety-five?” Cisca said, standing up to read over his shoulder. “Between four Weyrs we have less than Telgar started  this Pass with?”

“That number stays in this room,” K’lior said, his voice full of authority. Kentai raised an eyebrow questioningly, and K’lior answered, “Oh, I’ve no doubt that others can do the sums, but I would prefer to leave them to do it on their own.”

“Leave it for gossip rather than fact?” Kentai guessed.

“That and it would be best if this news didn’t come from us,” K’lior said.

“Everyone knows about Ista, though,” Fiona said. “Even the weyrlings are talking about it.”

“I wish we knew how many injured there were at the Weyrs, and how soon they’d be fighting again,” Cisca said, frowning at the numbers.

“We can guess from our own, though,” K’lior said. “We’ve got thirty-five dragons who won’t be flying the next Fall.”

“We can’t know for certain, though,” Kentai reminded him. “There are too many variables.”

“So, are you saying we shouldn’t guess?” K’lior pressed. “That we shouldn’t make plans?”

“No,” Kentai replied with a quick shake of his head. “I’m saying that we shouldn’t put too much faith in our guesses.”

“There are some things we know, though, don’t we?” Fiona asked, looking hopefully at the adults. Cisca quirked her mouth into a half-smile and motioned for her to continue. Fiona hadn’t planned on saying more, so it was a moment before she continued, “We can say that Ista Weyr can’t fly a Fall unaided, right? I mean, it takes at least three wings usually to fly a full Fall, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” K’lior agreed. “Fortunately, Benden has agreed to help out.”

“And we know that High Reaches Weyr won’t help anyone,” Cisca added, her expression grim.

“And I’m not sure if Telgar can be counted on for much,” Kentai remarked.

“So what we know is that we’re pretty much on our own,” K’lior surmised. He glanced at each of the others in turn for agreement, then continued. “And we know that our fighting strength today is just a bit more than four wings.” He paused for a moment and murmured to himself, “We could send out a Flight and have a wing in reserve.”

“They could haul firestone,” Cisca suggested.

“Or carry extra firestone and join the fight after they’ve replenished the rest of the Flight,” Fiona suggested hopefully.

K’lior turned to jab a finger toward her. “That  is an excellent idea!”

“It is at that,” Cisca agreed warmly.

“What about the dragons that are ill?” K’lior wondered, glancing toward Cisca. “Could they haul firestone?”

Cisca shook her head. “M’tal said that they lost too many of their feverish dragons between  in their first Fall.”

“If they weren’t ill, we’d have fifty more dragons at this moment,” K’lior said with a grimace. “Then  we’d have two full Flights!”

“But we don’t,” Cisca said.

“I just wonder how many of the other Weyrs are in the same situation,” K’lior replied.

Cisca shrugged, conceding the point. “If Tannaz hadn’t gone between,  Kalsenth would be rising soon . . . she might even have risen by now.”

Fiona reflected on that. “What if she rose during Threadfall?”

“According to the Records, no queen has risen during Threadfall,” Kentai told her.

“Does that mean that the queens know when Thread is coming?” Cisca wondered.

“I suspect it’s simpler than that,” K’lior replied. To Cisca’s raised eyebrows, he explained, “Thread falls every three days, so there are more Threadfree days than not.”

“Hmmm,” Cisca murmured appreciatively.

K’lior pursed his lips and turned to the door. “I think we’ve spent all the time out of the glowlight that we can