Dragonheart

spirit, quick wit, and steadfast loyalty.

“So what would you like me to do?” Tannaz asked.

“I think we should both spend more time with Fiona,” Cisca said. As Tannaz’s eyes narrowed, Cisca added quickly, “I don’t want her to feel that we’re intruding or being overly cautious, so I think if we trade off, that will cause her less concern.”

“Great, I’ll be happy to help,” Tannaz told her cheerfully. Cisca gave her an inquiring look and Tannaz shrugged, saying, “I wanted to get to know her; we’ll be working together for Turns to come.”

“We will, at that,” Cisca agreed, surprised that she hadn’t thought to introduce her two junior Weyrwomen earlier. She paused long enough to reflect on the matter: A large part of the reason she hadn’t thought of it sooner was simply because she was, as Senior Weyrwoman, quite busy, but she was also honest enough to recognize that it was partly due to her concern that the other two might find they liked each other more than her. It was a silly notion really, she admitted to herself, but she sometimes forgot that she  was the Weyrwoman now.

“Do you think there might be something in the Records?” Tannaz suggested.

Cisca frowned. She preferred to avoid the dusty Records when she could, but there were some times when there was no recourse — there were some questions that she didn’t feel secure asking the Weyr harper to research for her. Her frown turned to a happier look as she realized that this was not one of them.

“I’ll ask — “ She caught herself, and corrected: “Would you ask Harper Kentai to investigate?”

“Certainly,” Tannaz said. “Perhaps I should bring him with me to meet Fiona.” She added, “We could use the excuse that he needs to know what Teaching Ballads she might need to learn for her Weyr duties to give him a chance to observe her himself.”

“A good idea,” Cisca agreed. “Although I suspect his contact with the weyrlings has already given him a pretty good notion of the symptoms.”

Tannaz nodded in agreement. “Then I’ll check in on her now myself.” She patted Kalsenth’s neck with a finality that indicated that her grooming was complete for the morning and, with a reassuring smile to Cisca, headed off on her task.

Fiona’s weyr was next to Tannaz’s, the Weyrwomen’s weyrs being allocated according to rank. Tannaz found Fiona, as she’d expected, in the queen’s weyr, busily oiling the new hatchling. With a grin, she found a cloth, dipped it in the pail of oil, and started in at Fiona’s side. She was quite surprised at how long it took before the youngster noticed her.

“Oh!” Fiona cried when she spotted her. “Oh, my, how long have you been here?” She made a face and added hastily, “Not that I’m not grateful for the help, it’s just that . . .”

“They get bigger,” Tannaz said with a smile, marveling at how quickly they finished going over the young queen’s skin. She extended an oily hand to the girl. “I’m Tannaz, Kelsanth’s rider.”

Fiona looked at her in surprise, and then her face took on the abstracted look of a rider communicating with her dragon, followed by a more natural expression of irritation as she realized that Talenth had, as usual, fallen solidly asleep during her oiling.

“Kelsanth . . .” Fiona repeated, indicating that she was unfamiliar with the name and mortified. “Oh! She’s the other queen here!” “We sleep next to you,” Tannaz informed her, adding, “I’m surprised her snores haven’t kept you awake at night.”

Fiona shook her head, her hand rising to her mouth to stifle a yawn. “I’ve no trouble sleeping,” she confided. “It’s staying awake . . .”

“That’s always  a problem with a hatchling,” Tannaz agreed passionately. She cocked her head thoughtfully at Fiona. “Though I’d say you’ve got it worse than most.”

Belatedly, Fiona noticed Tannaz’s hand and reached for it, shook it quickly, and let it go.

Tannaz frowned at the motion, wondering what had gotten into the girl that she’d gone so cold so quickly. “What?” she demanded hotly. “Is my hand not good enough for a Lady Holder?”

“No,” Fiona replied, her face crumpling in despair, “It’s just that everyone  says I’m lazy.” And she surprised herself by bursting into tears. The tears streamed unchecked down her face, her oily hands hanging limply at her sides as her sobs wracked her body.

Tannaz didn’t deal well with tears or crying girls — her first tendency was to run away or slap them. But this girl’s behavior was different and Tannaz felt strangely moved by it.

“Fiona,” she said gently. When the tears continued and the girl’s body started to shake more violently, she tried again. “Fiona.”

In the end, much against Tannaz’s inclinations, she hugged Fiona close to her, whispering the gentle shushing noises that she’d used only with her own hatchling Turns earlier. Slowly Fiona’s sobs quieted and her tears dried up. Tannaz could measure the girl’s recovery by the hardening of her body and the way she slowly pulled away.

“I’m sorry,” Fiona said, her eyes cast to the ground. “I don’t know what got into me.”

“I do,” Tannaz told her gently, surprised at herself. “It’s not just that you’re tired.”

Fiona looked up at her.

“You’re afraid you won’t measure up, that we’re all judging you.” Tannaz shook her head, smiling. “And it doesn’t matter.” Fiona’s brows furrowed in puzzlement. “No one can take your dragon away from you.”

Fiona chewed her lower lip nervously before saying in a quiet voice once more close to tears, “But what if I can’t keep her?” Tannaz gave her a puzzled look and Fiona replied with a wave of her hands to the pail of oil and the sleeping dragon, “What if I don’t have the energy? What if — is it possible that she got the wrong person? I can’t seem to — can a person be allergic to Impressing?”

“Allergic?”

Fiona’s face worked through a range of emotions as she groped for the words. “I just seem so scattered, so lost. I never thought I couldn’t do this.” Fearfully she turned to her sleeping dragon and back again to Tannaz to whisper, “She can’t hear me, can she?”

Tannaz eyed the sleeping dragonet carefully before answering. “No, she’s fast asleep,” she said. “But you have to watch your thoughts — they can disturb your dragon even when she’s sleeping.”

Fiona’s eyes widened fearfully. “Now?”

“No,” Tannaz assured her. “She’d be twitching.”

Fiona heaved a sigh of relief but she persisted with her question, asking in a whisper, “So, could I be allergic?”

“I’ve never heard of such of thing,” Tannaz told her. “And I don’t think so in your case.” She paused for a moment before confiding to Fiona, “You’re not alone. All the weyrlings, even those from the last hatching, are behaving oddly.”

“They are?” Fiona repeated. Tannaz saw the way the girl’s whole body seemed to shift as she absorbed the news. “The ones from the Turn before, too?”

“Yes,” Tannaz assured her.

“Does anyone know why?” Fiona asked after a moment. Tannaz shook her head. Fiona looked down to the ground thoughtfully for a moment, then looked up again, asking, “Is anyone else acting this way?”

“That’s an excellent question,” Tannaz told her. Out of curiosity, she asked, “How would you find out?”

Fiona pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Well, if this were back at Fort Hold , I’d ask our healer if anyone had complained about feeling poorly.”

Tannaz nodded in agreement, then shook her head. “But dragonriders aren’t holders.”

“They might not want to admit to feeling poorly,” K’lior agreed that evening when Tannaz discussed her findings with the Weyrleaders.

“Hah!” Cisca snorted. “Getting you  to admit to a head cold took — ”

K’lior silenced her with a warning look.

“No rider wants to be grounded,” J’marin growled. “Even that silly D’lanor.”

K’lior gave the Weyrlingmaster a questioning look.

“That’s the one who couldn’t get his harness sorted . . . twice, ” J’marin explained.

“Riders are a healthy lot,” T’mar remarked.

Cisca snorted, looking squarely at K’lior. “Even healthy riders get sick sometimes.”