Dragonheart

Yes, Father, Fiona thought in an end to the imaginary conversation, you’re right as always.

She was at T’mar’s table. The riders there all stopped talking when they saw her.

“Weyrwoman,” T’mar said, inclining his head respectfully.

“Wingleader T’mar,” Fiona began, “I wish to apologize to you for my outburst this morning. I should not have been angry with you.” She bit her lip and forced herself to continue. “The truth you spoke was not one I was prepared to hear. I regret my harsh words.”

T’mar regarded her for a moment, then gestured for her to take a seat. His wingman hastily rose and moved to the end of the table, brushing aside Fiona’s protests with a shake of his head and a smile.

T’mar waited until she was seated, then leaned in close to her. “You are not weyrbred; you learned something today that our children know as soon as they can talk.”

“I am holdbred,” Fiona agreed, “but my father is a Lord Holder and many of the same truths apply to Lady Holders as it does to Weyrwomen.” She frowned. “It’s just hard to accept.”

“Harder as a Weyrwoman, I believe,” T’mar told her. “As a Lady Holder you could renounce your claim, but as a Weyrwoman . . .” He shook his head.

“Is it always this hard?” Fiona asked him frankly. “Am I the only one . . . ?”

“No,” T’mar assured her. “I think every Weyrwoman battles with this issue.” He waved a hand toward Cisca. “I know that she did, before Melirth rose.”

Fiona pursed her lips, her chest tight as she worried about how she would deal with Talenth’s first mating.

“You’ve Turns yet, Fiona,” T’mar said, guessing her thoughts from her expression. He grabbed her hands with one of his and clasped them tightly, reassuringly. “You’ll do fine, I’m certain.”

“Cisca . . . ?” Fiona asked tentatively.

T’mar grimaced and shook his head. “If she chooses to tell you, she will,” he replied. “Let’s just say that there was a great deal of relief that Rineth flew her.”

Fiona noticed that T’mar glanced down at the table immediately thereafter, as though reliving some painful experience.

She was wondering how she could learn more — perhaps Ellor would tell her? — when the night was pierced by a strange noise, not the sound of a dragon but of something else, a noise Fiona instantly recognized: a watch- wher!

“I didn’t know watch-whers came here!” she exclaimed, craning her neck toward the entrance.

“They don’t,” T’mar said, pushing himself up and away from the table.

Fiona saw that Cisca and K’lior were also rising and looking toward the entrance.

Talenth,  Fiona thought quickly, ask the watch-wher’s name.

Her name is Nuellask,  Talenth responded immediately. Can I meet her?

Wait,  Fiona replied, she might be frightened.

Of me?  Talenth asked in amazement. Fiona assured her that that was probably not the case while still managing to keep her young queen from prancing out into the Bowl.

“It’s Nuellask,” Fiona said, following T’mar. “She’s Nuella’s gold watch-wher.”

“Thread’s not due for two days,” T’mar said. “I wonder why she’s here?”

“Maybe she wants to coordinate with us,” Fiona suggested.

Cisca caught sight of her as they reached the exit and, shaking her head at the exodus, told Fiona, “Keep them back.”

Fiona nodded and found herself herding curious riders and weyrfolk back to their meals, all the while wishing she had a better chance to see Nuella and her gold watch-wher.

After a few minutes, T’mar returned, beckoning to Fiona. “Cisca wants Nuella to meet you.”

With a relieved smile, Fiona ceded her job to T’mar and headed out into the darkened Weyr Bowl.

Even in the dim light, Fiona had no trouble locating the knot of riders clustered around the small gold watch-wher. The watch-wher arched her neck high over the humans as Fiona approached and then snaked it down to bring her head with its huge eyes to bear directly on Fiona, issuing a soft, high-pitched greeting.

“I’m Fiona,” she told the watch-wher, reaching a hand forward, fingers outstretched tentatively to scratch the watch-wher’s nearest eye ridge. As Nuellask crooned in delight, Fiona smiled. “Forsk likes to have her eye ridges scratched, too.”

“Did you spend much time with her, then?” a strange woman’s voice asked from close beside her.

Fiona shook her head, then expanded, “Not really. She was up at nights, and Father always insisted that I be asleep.” She grinned in memory. “But sometimes, when I was lonely, I’d go into her lair and curl up with her when I was tired.”

“From catching tunnel snakes, no doubt,” the woman, whom Fiona realized must be Nuella, guessed with amusement in her tone. “Kindan complained of it to me on several occasions.”

“Complained?” Fiona repeated, feeling irked with Kindan. “I got a quarter mark for each head!”

“And never got bitten, except the once,” Nuella added approvingly.

Fiona looked at her in surprise. “How did you — how did Kindan know about that?”

Nuella laughed. “No one keeps secrets from harpers for long.”

“But I treated myself and kept the cut hidden!”

“You still needed stores and you had to ask someone, even if hypothetically, about treating snakebites,” Nuella replied, her voice full of humor. She held out a hand, which Fiona took and shook eagerly. “I’m Nuella, as you’ve no doubt guessed.” She continued, “And rest assured, no one would have known except that Kindan was keeping such a careful watch over you.”

Fiona was too embarrassed to reply.

“I  thought it was a particularly good idea to ask Kelsa if there’d ever been songs written about treating snakebites,” Nuella confided approvingly.

“She wrote one just afterward,” Fiona remembered, then groaned, glancing over to the older woman in horror, “and she consulted Father on it! You don’t suppose she told him . . .  ?”

Nuella laughed and shook her head. “I have no idea,” she replied. “All I know is that after the song was written, Kindan showed up at my camp very agitated and tried to slyly teach the song to me.”

“He was afraid you  were going to go after tunnel snakes?”

Nuella shook her head, her grin slipping. “I’d already done that,” she confessed. “I think he was just trying to be certain that I knew how to handle the bites if I ever did again.”

With a shock of horror, Fiona realized that Nuella was referring to her first watch-wher, the green Nuelsk, who had died of snakebite. She risked a glance at the older woman — who had nearly twice as many Turns as she — and was surprised by their similarities: both were blond and freckled. Nuella’s eyes were more of a pure blue than Fiona’s, but they could have been sisters or, at least, half-sibs.

“It seems that Kindan’s friends are always doing brave things,” Cisca remarked as she strode over to them, K’lior and H’nez trailing just behind her.

“Kindan sets the example,” Fiona said in unison with Nuella. The two glanced at each other in surprise, then laughed.

“Can I see your dragon?” Nuella asked when she recovered. “Nuellask said she’d like to meet her.”

“Of course,” Fiona said, calling to Talenth. The little queen eagerly scampered out of her lair, launching herself for a quick glide in the night. Shaking her head, Fiona called, “Show off!”

Talenth said nothing in response, just striding quickly over to the gold watch-wher. The two exchanged cautious sniffs, then inspected each other eagerly.

Can I play with her?  Talenth asked hopefully. Fiona could see the attraction: Nuellask was just a bit bigger than the little queen.

She’s much older than you,  Fiona warned her. I don’t think she’ll want to play.

“And you’re supposed to be sleeping, aren’t you?” Nuella added with a laugh. Sensing Fiona’s surprise, the wherhandler told her, “Nuellask gave me an idea of your queen’s eagerness.”

“She wants to play,” Fiona admitted.