“I could see the attraction,” Nuella agreed. She turned toward Talenth, shaking her head. “I’m afraid that Nuellask and I have to get back to our lair. We’ll be flying Thread in two days’ time.”
Talenth hung her head until Nuellask chirped at her soothingly.
“I’m sure you’ll meet again,” Nuella promised the queen dragon, “when you’re older.” She turned to Fiona, adding, “When you’re both older.”
Before Fiona could respond, Nuella turned toward the knot of riders, saying to K’lior, “Then it’s agreed, Weyrleader, that the watch-whers will ride the Fall?”
“After your last performance, I wouldn’t have it any other way,” K’lior replied feelingly. “But if there’s any danger — ”
“Your H’nez will be on duty at Southern Boll,” Nuella interjected. “If there’s any need, we’ll contact him.”
“I still think it’s a bad idea,” H’nez grumbled. “The Records say nothing of watch-whers fighting Thread — ”
“Actually,” Cisca interrupted smoothly, “they do.”
“When?” H’nez asked abruptly.
“As of last night, when I wrote the report,” the Weyrwoman told him.
H’nez was not amused. “If they’re so useful, why was there no mention before?”
“I doubt anyone ever thought to mention it because it was obvious,” K’lior told him. “Watch-whers watch at night and guard holds — we all know that. Probably no one thought it worth mentioning that at night they also guard the holds from
“We haven’t trained for this,” H’nez protested.
“I accept responsibility for that,” K’lior said.
“If all goes well, we won’t need you,” Nuella assured H’nez.
“Not need . . . ?” H’nez repeated, his tone full of disbelief.
“If the weather holds, the Thread will all be dead,” Nuella said, “and then neither dragon nor watch-wher will have to fight.”
“That would be good,” K’lior said. “And it would give us time, afterward, to train together.”
“I thought dragons didn’t like flying at night,” Fiona said.
“They don’t,” Cisca agreed. “But they hate missing Thread more.”
“I must return,” Nuella said, turning back toward her watch-wher and feeling for the saddle. Nuellask gave her an encouraging chirp, turning her head to guide Nuella. After Nuella mounted, the others stood back as the queen watch-wher beat her tiny wings, rose slightly in the night air, and was gone
“Let’s hope the Thread freezes,” K’lior said.
The new day dawned cold with snow flurries falling, clothing the Weyr in a damp blanket of slush and mist — snow rarely stayed long in the warm Bowl of the Weyr. Farther up, in the weyrs, it was a different matter.
“I don’t know how this cold will affect the sick dragons,” Tintoval said when she met Cisca for breakfast that morning. “I know that dragons are usually not bothered by cold but — ”
“ — dragons don’t usually get sick,” Cisca finished for her, nodding in agreement.
“We could ask them,” Fiona suggested. The other two looked at her in surprise.
“I suppose we could, at that,” Cisca said.
“But would they know?” Tintoval wondered. The two Weyrwoman glanced at her. “People who have a fever feel cold when they’re really hot, and those who’ve suffered from being frozen sometimes think they’re too warm.”
“Would it hurt to keep them warmer?” Xhinna wondered. “Even if they felt all right, would it hurt?”
“I think we should worry about the riders,” Fiona said. “If they’re cold, then it’s likely that their dragons are, too.”
“And they don’t have the illness, so they’ll know,” Tintoval added approvingly.
“I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” Cisca cautioned.
“Why?”
“Dragons and riders share a bond,” Cisca replied, “and a dragon’s confusion can fuddle a rider.”
Tintoval bit her lip and nodded.
“It’s better than nothing,” Fiona said.
“Yes, it is,” Cisca agreed.
“I’m going to be busy getting ready for the Fall,” Fiona said to Tintoval. “Do you think you can manage on your own?”
“If not, see me,” Cisca said.
“Can I have Xhinna?” Tintoval asked.
Fiona turned to her friend. “Do you think you can survive a day without trying to beat the weyrlings at sacking firestone?”
Xhinna spent a moment torn between her desire and her sense of duty. Duty won. “Of course, Healer.”
“I’m glad we’ve got the right firestone,” T’mar remarked as he and Fiona watched the younger weyrlings preparing spare sacks of firestone. “In this weather, the older stuff would have to be salted and then rolled in grease before we could bag it.”
“And even then it was still dangerous,” Tajen added as he eyed the weyrlings’ efforts critically. “This is
“We’ve got enough for a full Flight,” Terin reported after a final glance at her tally slate. “Do we need more?”
T’mar glanced up at the darkening sky, still flecked with falling snow, and shook his head. “I don’t think we’ll need it.”
“The weather will be different down at Southern Boll,” Tajen cautioned.
“But it’s still winter there,” T’mar said.
Tajen flipped open his hand in a gesture of agreement.
H’nez, M’valer, and K’rall departed on Thread watch shortly before dark.
“Send word at any sign of black dust,” K’lior reminded them before they departed.
“I expect all the Thread will drown,” M’valer said with a sour look.
“That would be good,” K’lior said. “We could use the rest.”
“Rest!” H’nez exclaimed. “We’ll be up all night.”
“I’ve never found that a problem,” M’kury called from beside K’lior. He turned to the Weyrleader. “Perhaps you should send me instead?”
H’nez’s disgusted snort echoed around the Weyr Bowl, un-dampened by the muffling snow.
“Good flying, wingleaders!” K’lior called in the ceremonial salute.
A moment later, the three wingleaders were gone,
When K’lior returned to the Living Caverns, Cisca greeted him with, “Why the troubled look?”
“I don’t know,” K’lior replied, shaking his head. “I suppose I’m concerned with the way H’nez and the others are so convinced they’ve nothing to worry about. They don’t seem ready. Alert.”
“I can understand them,” Cisca replied. “With this beastly weather, as long as the watch-whers are on duty, there’ll be no call for dragons.”
K’lior pursed his lips, then nodded absently.
“But it’s warmer down south,” Fiona remarked.
“We shouldn’t worry,” Cisca decided. “Not with Nuella minding the watch-whers.”
Her words did little to assure either Fiona or K’lior, who exchanged worried looks.
“Nuella’s been training for this for a long while,” Tintoval said in reassurance. “She’ll have no trouble managing the watch-whers, I’m sure.”
“I said no,” Zenor repeated forcefully, turning Nuella toward him. Behind her, Nuellask gave them a questioning
“But I must,” Nuella replied calmly. “You know that.”
“The first time, yes,” Zenor agreed. “You needed it for peace of mind, if nothing else. But Nuellask” — and he shot the gold watch-wher an acknowledging nod — “knows what to do now, so she doesn’t need you.”
